"Have you forgotten your home with God? Or do some of you wish and long to get back to Him? Well, God has sent Jesus to seek for you, and to show you the way back. He is seeking for you now, as Mary sought for Him sorrowing; and if He find you, all His sorrow will be turned into great joy. He will be satisfied for all the sore pain you have given Him.
"You cannot see Him, you cannot hear His voice; but He is here amongst us, close beside us. I am speaking for Him, because you can hear my voice, and see my face. And I say to every one of you, Jesus Christ is seeking you, is calling to you. Are you willing to be found? That is the question. He cannot force you to go home. Do you wish to have a home with God?
"Lost, are you? Yes, you are lost. Some of you in drunkenness, perhaps; some of you in thieving: all of you are lost in sin and misery. But I have this message for every one of you:
"'Jesus is come to seek and to save those who are lost.'
"You have only to speak to Him, to call to Him, as a lost child calls to its mother, and He will save you."
Sandy did not miss a word; though he could not understand them all, simple as they were. There was a hymn sung, and a short prayer uttered, and then the small congregation melted away, and Sandy strolled on to London Bridge. He turned aside then, into one of the abutments, and stood leaning over the parapet, as if he were watching the river beating and whirling against the great pillars below him. The water was flecked with light from the setting sun, but he saw neither the river nor the sky. His mind was full to bewilderment of new ideas. His brain was pondering over this story of a Child who had been once lost like Gip, but who was now seeking those who were lost. A person whom nobody could see, but who went up and down the streets always to take people home to God. Could not this Jesus help him to find little Gip?
"You was lost once yourself," he said, speaking half aloud without knowing it; "and you was found again all right. When you're goin' about lookin' for folks now, maybe you'll come across little Gip, and please to take care of her for me."
"Who are you speaking to?" asked a voice as quiet as his own, close beside him.
Sandy turned round quickly, and almost angrily, ashamed of having been overheard.
Behind him stood a boy of his own height, supported upon crutches, with a face as wan and pinched as little Gip's. But there was a pleasant smile in his eyes as he gazed straight into Sandy's face. His clothes were shabby, but warm, and he had a red woollen comforter round his neck, and worsted gloves on his hands. He seemed almost a gentleman to the ragged and barefoot boy, who was about to steal away, half shy and half angry, when the stranger stretched out his hand to stop him, and, in doing so, dropped one of his crutches. He would have fallen on the hard stone pavement, if Sandy had not caught him in his arms.