As Many as Touched Him by Eglanton Thorne

IT was a cold winter's night, more than ten years later, and the streets of Charmouth presented a dreary appearance, as a drizzling rain fell on the slushy pavements, and a chill breeze swept round the corners. It was miserable everywhere, even in the broad thoroughfares and ample squares, along which persons hurried, eager to get comfortably housed as speedily as possible; but the rawness of the night was especially felt on the quays and in the narrow gloomy streets adjoining them. On such a night, no one cared to be abroad, and it was little wonder that many, both young and old, should be crowding into the gorgeously lit gin-palaces, which were so numerous in the lower part of the town. To many of the dwellers in this neighbourhood, these taverns offered more attractive shelter than their own dismal homes afforded.

But in one of the narrow alleys, a warm light was streaming from a building which had no resemblance to a gin-palace, save that all comers, no matter how poor and miserable, were welcome to cross its threshold and seat themselves on the comfortable benches with which the interior was furnished. A board over the door informed the public that this was a mission hall, and the words "God is love" bore witness that the Father had not forgotten His children, nor the Saviour His lost sheep.

Towards this hall two persons were hastening, whose appearance differed considerably from that of most of the people whom they met. The elder of the two was a tall, bright-faced young woman, who, wrapped in a thick woollen shawl, stepped along bravely, and seemed quite unconscious of the disagreeable character of the weather. Her companion was a young man of slight stature and delicate appearance, with a singularly sweet expression of countenance. He seemed scarcely strong enough to be abroad on such a night, but he was warmly clad, and a thick comforter shielded his throat and chest from the raw atmosphere; and the purpose which had brought him out was one for which he would have encountered a far greater risk.

As he passed along these dark, noisome streets, his heart was full of pity for the wretched beings he met.

"Oh, Ellen, to think how little one can do! " he said to his sister. "All this sin and misery; so many treading the paths of death, and so few stretch forth a hand to their rescue! Oh, if only I could do more!"

"You do all you can, Jerry, I'm sure," replied Ellen Mansfield. "I feel quite ashamed of myself when I see how hard you work for others. If only I could do more! But it seems that sewing is the work God intends me to do, for I am so fully occupied, that I get little time for anything else."

"But sewing may be done to His glory," returned Jerry; "and you have an opportunity of guiding and helping other workwomen. By the bye, what has become of that Julia Coleman you used to talk to me about?"

Ellen's face grew sorrowful.

"Oh, Jerry, I have seen nothing of Julia for years," she said, "and I am afraid when I think of her, for she was so wild and wilful, and seemed so bent upon pleasure. Aunt bore with her heedless ways as long as ever she could, but she was obliged to dismiss her at last. Then she found work in a shop, but soon lost her situation through idleness. And now I don't know what has become of her, but I fear no good. I feel very unhappy when I think of Julia."

"Let us pray for her, Ellen," said Jerry; "let us ask the Great Physician to bring her back to Himself, that He may heal her sins."

But now they had gained the hall, where already a good congregation awaited the arrival of the young preacher. For Jerry's cherished wish had been realized, and he lived to tell others of the Saviour whom in his childhood, he had found so gracious.

He and Ellen had made a little home for themselves in Charmouth, and spent many a happy hour together, though Ellen still passed the greater part of each day in her aunt's work-room. Some of their brothers and sisters had also settled in the town, so that they were not separated from their family. And whenever they could take a holiday, they hastened back to the dear home, to receive a warm welcome from their parents and the children, who would soon be children no longer.

Ellen was thinking of the old home as she entered the mission hall.

She was recalling the days when Jerry lay helpless on a bed of pain, praying to the Saviour to give him health, and she rejoiced to think how wonderfully his prayer had been answered.

Probably Jerry had similar thoughts, for he chose to speak to the poor, wretched-looking people who gathered about him of the Great Physician, and took for his text his favourite words, "As many as touched Him were made whole. " He blessed God for his theme as he looked at the sad faces turned towards him, and thought of the sickness and sin and misery which marred the lives of these people. Who could have had the heart to go into their midst, did he not bear them glad tidings of a mighty Friend, who "Himself took our infirmities and bare our sicknesses"?

Jerry's words were simple and loving. He told of the Saviour's love to sinful man; how, when He was upon the earth, He had had compassion on all who came to Him, healing their maladies, deadly though they might be; relieving their distress, however great; forgiving their sins, howsoever numerous. He spoke of the woman who, too fearful to ask for mercy, had crept behind Jesus in the crowd, and laid her fingers on the hem of His garment. He described the case of the leper who cried, "Lord, if Thou wilt, Thou canst make me clean," and received the gracious answer, "I will, be thou clean. " And told the story of the sinful Magdalene, who dared but to bathe His feet with her tears, yet was bade to go in peace with sins forgiven.