And was this mighty Saviour given to him?

“Yes,” cried the man who was speaking; “to you; to you, who have lost name and place; to you, that nobody cares for; to you, who have been down in the gutter.  God has sent you a Saviour to take you up out of the mud and mire, to wash you clean, to give you strength to overcome your sins, and lead you home to his blessed kingdom.  This is the glad tidings of great joy that the angels brought on the first Christmas day.  Christ was God’s Christmas gift to a poor, lost world, and you may have him now, to-day.  He may be your own Saviour—­yours as much as if there were no other one on earth to be saved.  He is looking for you to-day, coming after you, seeking you; he calls you by me.  Oh, accept him now!”

There was a deep breathing of suppressed emotion as the speaker sat down, a pause of solemn stillness.

A faint strain of music was heard, and the singer began singing a pathetic ballad of a lost sheep and of the Shepherd going forth to seek it: 

“There were ninety and nine that safely lay
  In the shelter of the fold,
But one was out on the hills away,
  Far off from the gates of gold—­
Away on the mountains wild and bare,
Away from the tender Shepherd’s care.

“’Lord, Thou hast here Thy ninety and nine;
  Are they not enough for Thee?’
But the Shepherd made answer:  ’’Tis of mine
  Has wandered away from me;
And although the road be rough and steep
I go to the desert to find my sheep.’”

John heard with an absorbed interest.  All around him were eager listeners, breathless, leaning forward with intense attention.  The song went on: 

“But none of the ransomed ever knew
  How deep were the waters crossed;
Nor how dark was the night that the Lord went through
  Ere He found His sheep that was lost. 
Out in the desert He heard its cry—­
Sick and helpless, and ready to die.”

There was a throbbing pathos in the intonation, and the verse floated over the weeping throng; when, after a pause, the strain was taken up triumphantly: 

“But all through the mountains thunder-riven,
  And up from the rocky steep,
There rose a cry to the gates of heaven,
  ‘Rejoice!  I have found my sheep!’
And the angels echoed around the throne,
‘Rejoice, for the Lord brings back His own!’”

All day long, poor John had felt so lonesome!  Nobody cared for him; nobody wanted him; everything was against him; and, worst of all, he had no faith in himself.  But here was this Friend, seeking him, following him through the cold alleys and crowded streets.  In heaven they would be glad to hear that he had become a good man.  The thought broke down all his pride, all his bitterness; he wept like a little child; and the Christmas gift of Christ—­the sense of a real, present, loving, pitying Saviour—­came into his very soul.