Note by note the tune was given, which has not been changed from that day to this. As the singing ceased a great sigh seemed to go up from the meeting, and I knew that the song had reached the hearts of my Scotch audience. Mr. Moody was greatly moved. Leaving the pulpit, he came down to where I was seated. Leaning over the organ, he looked at the little newspaper slip from which the song had been sung, and with tears in his eyes said: "Sankey, where did you get that hymn? I never heard the like of it in my life." I was also moved to tears and arose and replied: "Mr. Moody, that's the hymn I read to you yesterday on the train, which you did not hear." Then Mr. Moody raised his hand and pronounced the benediction, and the meeting closed. Thus "The Ninety and Nine" was born.

A short time afterward I received, at Dundee, a letter from a lady who had been present at the meeting, thanking me for having sung her deceased sister's words. From correspondence that followed I learned that the author of the poem was Elizabeth C. Clephane, a resident of Melrose, Scotland, one of three sisters, all members of a refined Christian family. She was born in Edinburgh in 1830. Her sister, in describing Elizabeth, says: "She was a very quiet little child, shrinking from notice and always absorbed in books. The loss of both parents, at an early age, taught her sorrow. As she grew up she was recognized as the cleverest of the family. She was first in her class and a favorite with the teacher. Her love for poetry was a passion. Among the sick and suffering she won the name of 'My Sunbeam.' She wrote 'The Ninety and

Nine' for a friend, who had it published in 'The Children's Hour.' It was copied from thence into various publications, but was comparatively little noticed. She died in 1869."

When Mr. Moody and I returned from England, in 1875, we held our first meeting on a Sunday afternoon in front of the old Congregational church in the village of Northfield, Massachusetts, Mr. Moody's home. On reaching the church we found it overflowing, and more people surrounding the church outside than were inside. Mr. Moody, when entering the pulpit, said: "I always speak to the largest crowd, and as it is outside, I will speak from the front of the church." The congregation retired to the open air, and the small cabinet organ was carried to a position on a small porch in front of the church, where it was placed with just room enough for me to take my seat. After a few of the congregational hymns had been sung, Mr. Moody announced that I would sing "The Ninety and Nine." Nearly opposite the church, across the river, a man was seated on his porch. He had refused to attend the service in the village, and was quite angry because his family and neighbors had all gone to the meeting. But the singing of this song reached him, and two weeks later he attended a prayermeeting at a small school-house near his home, where he rose and said that he had heard a song which greatly troubled him, sung by Mr. Sankey at the meeting held in the open air at Northfield, and that he wished the Christians to pray for him. This they did, and he became converted. He then removed to North

field and joined Mr. Moody in his work in connection with the schools, where he continued for many years.

On the occasion of laying the corner-stone for the new Congregational church in Northfield, Mr. Moody asked me to stand on the corner-stone and sing "The Ninety and Nine" without the organ accompaniment, as he hoped that this church would be one whose mission it would be to seek the lost ones. While I was singing, Mr. Caldwell, the man who had heard the song across the river, lay dying in his cottage near Mr. Moody's home. Calling his wife to his bedside, he asked her to open the south window, as he thought he heard singing. Together they listened to the same song which had been used to lead him into the way of life. In a little while he passed away to join the Shepherd in the upper fold.

At the close of our meetings at Newcastle-on-Tyne one of the most efficient workers in connection with our services, Mrs. Claphin, decided to go to the Continent for a season of rest. When passing through London she purchased a large number of the penny edition of "Sacred Songs and Solos," for distribution on the way. At the Grand Hotel, in Paris, she left a number of them on the reading-table, with a prayer for God's blessing upon those who might find them there. A few weeks later she visited Geneva, Switzerland, and while attending a prayer-meeting there one evening, the minister of the church told a touching story about a young English lady, who was a member of his church. She had received a letter from a longlost brother, who was ill at the Grand Hotel in Paris.

The young lady asked her physician if he would allow her to go to see her brother. The physician said: "You will die if you do." She replied: "I will die if I don't." A few days later she started for Paris, and on reaching the Grand Hotel she was taken to the room where her dying brother lay. After a warm greeting he took from under the pillow a copy of "Sacred Songs and Solos," and pointing to "The Ninety and Nine," said: "This hymn was the means of bringing me to Christ." Mrs. Claphin, who was in the audience and heard this story related, thanked God for having put it into her heart to distribute the little hymn-books. "One day I

A friend sends me the following: was talking with a woman of the most abandoned sort, who had hardened her heart by many years of drunkenness and sin. Nothing I could say made any impression on her. When I was about to give up, our old Scotch cook, who was fond of poetry, began to sing: But none of the ransomed ever knew

How deep were the waters crossed;

Nor how dark was the night that the Lord passed through, Ere he found His sheep that was lost.'

She was in the kitchen, and was not aware that any one was within hearing. Her rich Scotch brogue lent charm to the verse, and it seemed a message from God. For the poor woman to whom I had been talking, and who was so hardened a moment before, burst into tears, and falling on her knees, began to pray to the Good Shepherd to receive her. She was converted, and has often testified to the fact that the song led her to Christ."

Mr. Blane, of South Africa, relates: "I knew a young man who was the only unconverted member of his family. At home he was constantly hearing of Christ, and being asked to accept him as his Saviour. He determined to rid himself of all home restraint, and to enjoy himself by making a tour of the Continent. He set out, and for some time all went well. At one of the hotels at which he stayed there was an old Christian woman. As was her constant habit, having first obtained the consent of the proprietor, she went from room to room, leaving upon the table of each a little tract or book. She entered this young man's room, and with a prayer to God for guidance, took out a small copy of Sankey's hymns, opening it at the one beginning,

'There were ninety and nine that safely lay

In the shelter of the fold.'

Under the guidance of the Holy Spirit she took her pencil and drew a stroke under the words of the third line, 'One was out on the hills away.' Soon the young man entered his room, and at once the book caught his eye. He went over and read the penciled line. Like a flash the image of his home came up before him, and all the dear ones there, until his stony heart was broken. Throwing himself upon his knees, he cried for mercy and besought the Father to receive him for Christ's sake. Soon the answer came, and he rose to his feet a new man in Christ Jesus."

Mr. Thomas Leigh, of Liverpool, who assisted in our meetings in that city, writes me as follows: "At