OLD JOE; OR, THE POWER

OF PRAYER.

In one of the Southern States of America lived a coloured man, Joe, the "property' of a wealthy member of a Baptist church. He was one of the servants given to his master by his father on his marriage and settlement in life; he was born and reared on the same farm with him, was devotedly attached to him, and sought his interest in everything to the utmost of his ability. Joe was not converted to God till nearly fifty years old. He was very intelligent,

free in conversation with his associates in retirement, and also ready to give a reason of the hope that was in him, to any who asked him; he was always in his seat in the assembly of the saints, an attentive and devout worshipper, yet could never be induced to speak or pray in meeting, as was the custom, and, when asked his reason for being silent, would say, "Poor Old Joe can't talk 'fore folks;" evincing a true humility of heart, which was, from his first conviction, a leading feature of his character.

At the time of which I am about to speak, Uncle Joe was about seventy years of age; he was still active and industrious; and, although not required to perform any specific labour, he was the busiest man on the place, overlooking the flocks and herds, and fields and fences, and superintending the other servants, and instructing them in the various branches of labour assigned them, or reporting to his master any needed outlay on the plantation, or any improvement he wished to effect. Joe was fully appreciated by all on the place, both whites and blacks. He was much in secret with God, and would walk nearly three miles on the evening of every Lord's day and Wednesday, to attend the prayer meetings of the church. He enjoyed sound health, and was never absent from meeting, except one of the family was "at the point of death."

At length a universal declension in religion came over the church, and the prayermeetings were almost abandoned; but Joe's corner was never vacant.

Finally, at one meeting, Joe was the only male member of the church present, four young ladies being the remainder of the audience. Joe's heart was stirred within him, and when some balf hour had passed,

after the usual time for meeting to commence, Joe got up, and, with great diffidence said,

"I came here dia evening 'specting to meet Massa Jesus here and some of de brederen. Massa Jesus come. but de brederen not here; and it too bad nobody come to speak to Massa Jesus, when he so good, and take de trouble to come and see what we want, and send it to us; and if de ladies 'scuse me, I try and talk a little to de Lord 'fore we go 'way."

One of the girls signified their consent to his proposition, and he kneeled down and prayed earnestly for the out-pouring of the Holy Spirit upon the church and community; then calling the young ladies each by name, implored blessings upon them, as he supposed they needed; also named families and individuals not present, and presented their case to God.

When Joe concluded half an hour had passed away, but it was not time to dismiss meeting, and, after a few moments' reflection, he said, modestly:

"Polite people don't send company away till time to go home, 'specially if dey like de guests! and as Master Jesus is the Great Guest here to night, we better treat him well till time to go home. I can't read or sing. If de ladies read a chapter and sing a hymn, I try and pray once more."

The ladies declined, so Joe prayed again, and wept much, because there was no one present to pronounce the parting blessing, which the Lord had come down to bestow upon his people. The young ladies went away quite indignant at Joe's impertinence in calling their names in prayer, and manifested their resentment by declaring they would not attend the next meeting; but two of their companions went, to see Joe "perform," as they contemptuously said. As they, with Joe, were all that were present, he proceeded much as before, and beginning earlier, prayed three times. These girls also felt insulted by Joe's ignorance, and went home angry because of their ill-treatment. Rumour now charged Joe with having broken up the prayer-meetings of the church; and the half-dead members, glad to have an excusefor neglect of duty, felt no scruples about circulating the story of Uncle Joe's rude.

ness.

Being entirely ignorant of what was reported of him, Joe persevered in going every meeting night, and prayed, and prayed, and talked, and wept before the Lord, till time to go home. At length Deacon Baldwin heard of Joe's doings. He lived a mile from Joe's home, on the road to the chapel. Being disabled by a chronic disease, he had not attended a night meeting for several years. He determined, however, to know for himself what Joe was about; and, watching for him as he was on his way to meeting, called him to assist him into his carriage, and drive him to meeting. Joe's joy at having the deacon to meeting, amounted to ecstasy, "for," said he, "dis is de first answer de Lord send to my prayers, and now I know he will send all de rest." The deacon said his infirmities would forbid his occupying all the time, and Joe must assist all he could; Joe's previous labours had kindled a flame in his heart which had consumed all his fear of man, and he went forward readily. After a season of prayer, Deacon B. entered into a devotional conversation with Joe, respecting the spiritual interests of the church and community; and Joe, with all sincerity and simplicity, related the trials he had endured, and the anguish of heart he had experienced, from the low state of religion, and expressed his sense of insufficiency in himself to do anything to help the church, or to do any good; but when nobody came to pray, he felt so bad that Master Jesus had nobody to wait on him, that he had come to be waiter.

Deacon B.-"Be waiter, Joe, what do you mean? what does the Lord bid you do ?"

Joe." Oh, master, he say, 'Joe, what you come here for?' I say, Lord Jesus, I come to see you here, and see what you want me do.' He say,' Joe, I come here to see what the church wants,-what you want; can you tell me?' Den I fall down -on my knees and pray; den I wait, and see if any body else come to pray; and when nobody come, den I think about all de brederen and sisters, and de parson dat live two mile off, and dont come,-den I think, and see if I pray for all the things we need, den I pray again once or twice, and when nine o'clock come I go home and cry all night, cause all de gentlemen and ladies stay home, and nobody come to wait on Master Jesus, but poor old Joe."

Deacon B.-"How long is it since any

other member of the church has attended one of these prayer meetings?" Joe.-"About tree weeks."

Deacon B.-"Do you not feel lonely, and get discouraged, coming here and praying all alone?"

Joe." Oh, no, Deacon; de Lord Jesus good company. He always come early to meetin'; he never get tired, or sleepy, or want to go home, fore meetin's out."

Deacon B." So, it is three weeks since there has been any one here but you, Joe?"

Joe."O no, Deacon; de last time, I begin to think, de Lord send nothin' down yet, and he never will, if nobody come to pray but poor old Joe: den I fall on my face and groan and cry loud-I can't speak no more. Den Master Jesus say, 'Joe, why you cast down? why thy heart disquiet in you? hope in God; you shall yet praise him.' When the great King speak to me, den I get up quick, and his train fill de temple; den I cover my face with my hands, and keep silent. He says again, 'Delight dyself de Lord, and he will give dee de desire of dy heart;' so I go home, and praise God all night till daylight."

Deacon B.-" Well, Joe, I hope you do not forget to confess the sins of the church, and plead with God for pardon?"

Joe. "I think about a great many sins dey tell about de brederen, Deacon; one, dey say, got drunk; nudder swear; nudder cheat his neighbour; nudder go work Sunday; de young folks dance, and tell stories about anudder,-I think about how de Lord hates all dese sins, and I want tell him 'tis wicked, and I sorry; den old Joe's sins stand up, look me in de face, and say, 'Joe, look at me;' den I look at em, and dey so big, and close by me, I dasent speak about anudder man's sins way off yonder; Joe biggest sinner in dis hull world: den I fall down and cry, God have mercy on me sinner!' For if he forgive me, he forgive every body else. If he love me, he love every brudder in de church, great deal more."

Deacon B.-" Why, Joe, do you commit such sins, as you have been telling of?"

Joe." Not now, Deacon; you know I serve de devil most fifty years; den I do everything bad; den de Lord came and take me 'way from Satan, give me a new heart, and tell me, love him, pray to him, and work for him. He say, he give us our prayer whatever we ask in his name, and

he give his Holy Spirit to dem dat ask him; so I pray de Lord to revive his chillon, and make em holy, like he is holy; den dey work for him, and sinners turn to God and be saved, and his name get great glory."

Deacon B.-"Do you not feel sometimes as though he had forgotten his promise ?" Joe. "Yes, that thought comes sometimes, den I say, I not let him forget dat promise; I tell him about it every time de hour come, so by and bye he get tired, like the unjust Judge, and send down his spirit in great shower. You see, Deacon, dis time he fetch you to meetin,-may be, next time, he send more, till all come back, and sinners come too, and be saved!"

They had another season of prayer, and then returned home, grateful for the privilege they had enjoyed,-Joe getting the Deacon's consent to continue his meetings, though no one else should come.

Joe's master's youngest son, with three other young men of the neighbourhood, had returned from college a few months previously they spent their time in gunning, cock-fighting, horse-racing, sailing, and pleasure-parties, and, to Joe's ideas, seemed going down to eternal death with rapid strides. Young master George was a great favourite with uncle Joe, and he never forgot him in his approaches to the mercyseat. These young men heard of Joe's proceedings, and they resolved to go, and to conceal themselves outside of the house near the windows, where they might enjoy the sport of witnessing the attempts of the gray-headed, illiterate negro, to officiate in a religious meeting, and to laugh at his bad English. They came the very next meeting, and placed themselves near the window where Joe sat, and when he commenced praying, they commenced deriding, repeating his broken words, and echoing, in a suppressed tone, his deep groans. But Joe was too much engrossed with his employment to be disturbed by anything out of doors; he continued to wrestle with God in prayer for various individuals, till at length he called the name of his young master George, and pleaded with God in his behalf, with so much affection, earnestness, and faith, that it carried an arrow of conviction to the young man's heart. hung his head, was silent, and longed to get out of his hiding-place, unobserved by Joe; but his guilty conscience augmented his fear, and he dared not move. The

He

youth nearest to George noticed the change in his manner, and supposing he had a headache remained silent also; this gave him, too, an opportunity of hearing every word of the remaining part of Joe's prayer. His name was called next; and mercy implored for him; then each of the others in their turn. By this time George began to feel as though the windows of heaven were open, and God was looking down upon that guilty group with just displeasure. He was much alarmed, but dared not speak his feelings to his companions. After a few moments' thought he rose suddenly, and stepped forward in the direction of the door; then looking back at his friends, said, in a choking voice, "Come, Blackstone, I am going in," and without waiting for any reply crept in, and knelt beside Uncle Joe. Blackstone soon followed his example. When Joe paused, George begged him to pray God to have mercy on his soul. Joe seemed to catch a new inspiration, and renewed his petitions for his young master. The other two were astounded; and alarmed lest they were going mad determined to go in, and get the foolish fellows out and take them home. They entered the door on light foot, and waiting for Joe to conclude, not daring to interrupt his earnest supplications; but when Joe ceased to pray, George began to plead for mercy; and when he closed, Blackstone took up the strain, each imploring God's mercy on their other companions by name. When Blackstone ceased speaking, Otway, who had stolen down by his side, raised his voice to God in prayer, and Augustus followed him. Here was a scene unexpected by all, and Joe's anxiety and gratitude to God knew no bounds. They read the Scriptures, and talked, and prayed, till midnight, then went home with George; but instead of retiring they went to Uncle Joe's cabin, and prayed till morning. When it was day Joe went to his master's room, informed him of the night's transactions, and requested him to pray for the young men. The family was called together, and a melting season of prayer participated in by all who were disposed to engage.

After breakfast, each of the young men returned to his own home, and, in secret, sought mercy through a crucified Redeemer. Their families soon became apprised of the state of mind of the young men (all of whom were near twenty-five years of age),

who desired their friends to ask God's mercy upon them. The pastor was sent for, and conversation held with each, which roused his paralyzed energies, and loosed his tongue to speak of eternal things on the succeeding Lord's-day with unusual earnestness. After some days, all these young men obtained a good hope through grace, were buried with Christ by baptism into the likeness of his death,--and not only went on their way rejoicing, but spake their joys abroad among their young and gay companions, till their dancing and pleasure parties were given up for the prayer meeting. The work spread, ministerial help was obtained, meetings were held every day for six weeks, and in about eight months more than two hundred souls were born into the kingdom of God's dear son, and added to the church, Some were in extreme youth, some in the prime of life, and others at an advanced age; several of them were found among Joe's descendants. When the meetings were well attended, Uncle Joe again kept silence in his quiet corner; but the calm smile of holy joy that illumined his countenance, and the deep suppressed groan that now and then stole out from his heart, evinced the earnest interest he felt, and the devout share he bore, in all the duties of public and social worship; and more than once, when he beheld a company of happy young converts coming up out of the water, he clasped his withered hands in grateful adoration, and exclaimed, "Now, Lord, lettest dou dy servant depart in peace, for my eyes have seen dy salvation."

THE UNHAPPY WANDERER.

BY THE REV. AARON DUFFY. (Concluded from our last number.) "Father has sent you this letter of poor John's to read, sir; it came this morning," said Emily Kewen, with emotion, to Mr. Aydie, as he entered his parlour, where she had been asked to wait while he was called from his study. This was early one morning about a week after the search in London by James.

"Poor fellow, poor fellow ! What a strange and affecting thing it is," ejaculafed the pastor, as he read the letter again and again.

He could not restrain his tears, as absorbed by the contents of the letter he slowly folded it up and returned it to the

weeping sister, saying, "I will come directly and speak to your father about it."

According to his own account, the wretched man had resolved to go to France, and had taken a ticket for the journey by Southampton and Havre. The train had not been long in motion before he wished to get out of the carriage. Soon he found himself just recovering his consciousness, and on doing so perceived that he was lying on the ground by the side of the rails. He had evidently thrown himself from the carriage in which he had been riding. Most astonishing is it that he was not instantly killed. A bruised shoulder and a sprained ankle were the only injuries which he received. It seems rightly said that a specially kind Providence watches over little children and those whose minds are deranged. This occur rence did not change the deluded one's purpose of leaving England. He walked on to Guildford, and continued his journey to Paris by Newhaven and Dieppe. He reached Paris, but could not rest. Next he went to Le Mans, which is about one hundred and twenty miles south-west of the French capital. His letter was written in a café in this town. It was only the day before he wrote that he arrived there, but he said he felt that he must return to Paris the next day. Everything which he wrote indicated that his mind was in a very disturbed state. He had been strongly tempted to lay hands upon himself, but he expressed his hope that now the critical day was over, as he called a particular day, he should be kept from it.

over.

It was now thought that the worst was His disorder seemed to have reached a crisis, and if he had sent his address, and spoken of remaining some days in the same place, he might soon have been restored to his sorrowing family. Information was sent to Paris, and a reply was received from the British embassy saying, that if he were met with he should be secured till he could be taken charge of by his friends.

But, as before, the family received the first tidings from the sufferer himself. Poor John returned to Paris. He was met with in the street by an English working man, who took him to such a miserable lodging that he determined to go into the country the next day. He started on foot, but when he had got to the township of Paugirard, about three miles from Paris, he found himself incapable of walking on

account of the great pain in his foot. Knowing only as much of the French language as he had in a few days picked up at cafés, he felt extremely lonesome and awkward. Yet, since he must have rest and food, he ventured to go into a wine-shop which attracted his attention. Here the God of his fathers showed his goodness to the strayed and suffering son. This, though a mean-looking place, was kept by one Antoine Denis, who proved to be a model of kindness and simplicity. With astonishing promptness he interpreted the English stranger's signs of his wants: nor was he less sympathising than discerning. Denis's mother soon set about attending to the bad foot. Shuffling along in list slippers, and leaning on old Mrs. Denis's arm, John got across the Champ de Mars to the house of an English doctor, of the name of George, who resides in the Rue Université. Under

his treatment the foot got better, and through the kindness of the Denis family the patient was much improved every way. All concerned, on becoming acquainted with these facts, felt constrained fervently to bless the Father of men, who had directed the frenzied fugitive to the house of these generous people.

John prolonged his stay at Paugirard till he had no more money left with which to pay for what he required. In a much more calm and coherent manner than before he Bow wrote home for aid, and expressed his wish and purpose to return to his family. Although his friends were delighted at the prospect of his restoration to them, they feared to transmit money to him, lest, after receiving it, he should go off in another paroxysm, and again be lost A reply was

returned to him to the effect that if he would write again, saying that he would be at the same place a few days longer, assistance should be rendered. Late on a Saturday night the welcome news came that he was still at Denis's. At once Mr. Aydie and James Kewen agreed to start early on Monday morning to seek the lost one. As was aptly said by one of the family, the pastor's conduct on this case was a beautiful practical illustration of the shepherd leaving the ninety and nine sheep to go after the one that was lost. Some friends thought that it was a little imprudent of Mr. Aydie to leave his congregation and family to cross the heaving waters of the sea on such an errand; but many prayed sincerely that he might be permitted to

bring the wanderer home. Through Divine favour he and his fellow-traveller reached the house of Antoine Denis in safety, and there in the midst of a dozen or fifteen French workmen, who were vociferating, smoking, gesticulating, or sipping sour wine, sat John Kewen, whom they had gone so far to seek.

Supper, with sundry explanations to the amazed and delighted Denis, being over, the pastor and the two brothers retired to their chamber. They could just find space to kneel between the two bedsteads which filled the little dirty room, and there bowed before God, they praised him for all the mercy that had already appeared in the wanderer's mysterious case, and prayed that he would grant them speedily to reach together their anxious friends. With as little delay as possible the pastor and the brothers returned. John seemed to be recovering his wonted manner, and after a few weeks he resumed his former duties, and it was hoped that he would be effectually restored.

Fears were, alas, soon excited that he would suffer a relapse. Again he talked of the wrong he had done, and the harm that would happen. Once or twice he was stopped when he seemed to be intending to go away again. He was told repeatedly of the folly of his notions, and was reminded of the anxiety he had caused his family, and of the expense which had been already incurred on his behalf. Mr. Aydie and other christian friends urged him, if he was troubled by thoughts of sin, to make a full confession to God, to seek pardon from Him, and to comfort himself with the persuasion that if he earnestly sought forgiveness from God through Jesus Christ, his sins were blotted out, the Most High was his friend, and no real injury could befal him. These things evidently engaged his thoughts, for sometimes at midnight his father went to his room, and saw him upon his knees in prayer.

Oh, that it had pleased the Lord to hear the cry of that burdened soul! Oh, that Jesus Christ had been there to say to the devil that tormented him, "I command thee to come out of him!"

About the willingness of God to forgive sin there is no room to doubt. Full salvation for every seeking soul is to be found in Christ. But God still reserves to himself the right to deal with the bodies of his creatures as he pleases. So that he may