to be too flagrantly sinned against. I am afraid that is all that is in the thoughts of many people. They are not converted; they are not Christians in sincerity and in truth. The Lord is still outside their hearts. Whatever they do religiously is only what Lydia did before Paul came, bringing the revelation of God in Christ with him.

But still we have to notice that she was there, and she was using the light which she had; and by using the light which she had she came to more. "Whose heart," says the narrative, "the Lord opened, that she attended to the things which were spoken of Paul." Notice, then, how here in this narrative the preacher is suppressed, and notice how the sermon is suppressed, and notice how the hearer is lifted up into prominence. This is a grand subject for a preacher. This subject takes your eye off me, and turns your eye upon yourself, my hearer. The next story of conversion, or the next again-the story of the Philippian jailor-elevates into prominence the preacher of the Gospel. In that story you have the sum and substance of the Gospel eternally: "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved." That is our message; but in this story see how Paul is set aside, and the sermon is set aside, and the hearer is lifted up and analyzed once for all: 'Whose heart the Lord opened, that she attended unto the things which were spoken of Paul." Notice, then, that attention, humanly speaking, is the avenue by which the Lord Jesus Christ, with all blessings of His Gospel for time and for eternity, comes into the human soul. Attention. It is a small thing, but I am afraid a rare thing. Why are there so few conversions in Regent Square? There may be two answers to that question. It may be because you do not get much to attend to. That may be. I am willing to bear my share. It may be because you have not Paul preaching, and because you have not the Gospel that Paul preached. If that be so, may God shut my mouth and take me hence, and send a man in my place who will give you Paul's Gospel to attend to. But the other side may

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also be true, that even supposing that you had that great Apostle, and even supposing that you had him preaching the Gospel as he knew it, and as he felt it, and as he preached it, with fervour and vigour, with all the resources of a great big mind and heart, and a burning desire for the salvation of souls, still conversions in Regent's Square might be very scanty indeed if the audience did not attend to the things which were spoken by the preacher. And it is not so easy as we are apt to imagine.

It needs the power of the Holy Spirit to enable Paul to preach, and it needs the same power to enable the hearer to hear. Just look for a moment at the thousand and one things that make attention difficult. Remember the awful issues that hang upon simple absorbing attention to God's message, and then the whole aspect of sermon-hearing is changed. The preacher stands up, and he begins to preach. The person sitting next you may want to get the Gospel. He may not have had the Gospel. He may never really have attended to the Gospel, and he is just beginning to attend to the Gospel with personal, breathless, thrilling interest for the first time as a message which has some personal reference to himself, when the devil starts a tickling in your throat as you are sitting next him. You begin to bark and cough, and the attention is broken, and the enemy wins. He could not attend, and he went away without having heard, and without being saved. I want to put it as broadly and bluntly and plainly as that, for that is the truth. That is only one thing. There are many other things. The more we try to attend, the more we shall be made to find that it is not easy. The more we shall be made to find that every time we gather into the church to hear God's Word, it becomes a kind of theatre on which contending forces display themseives, trying to carry off the soul of the worshipper. While I am speaking, how many things help to distract attention. Although your face is to me, where is your mind just now ? Thinking of the state of things at home? Thinking of something that was in your business yesterday? Thinking

of something that is to be in your business to-morrow? Thinking, thinking, thinking. Even while it is "eyes front," and there seems to be " attention," you are thinking of everything rather than the Lord Jesus Christ, who speaks to you wherever the Gospel in simplicity is being proclaimed. Ah, how many of us are like the wayside hearers! Who are the wayside hearers? Those who hear the Word, but do not attend. “Hail makes as much impression on a slated roof as the preaching of the Gospel makes upon your mind," for you do not bring your mind with you to the church. You bring your Sunday looks and your Sunday books. But your immortal soul? God knows what you do with that. You do not give it to me. You would have been converted like Lydia—you might have been converted like Lydia long, long ago, if ever once you had listened with attention and intention for five minutes to the poorest preacher who ever stood here. It was not want of the Gospel. I will say that for myself, and certainly I can say it for the grand men who went before me. It was not want of the Gospel. You are unconverted, not because of a poor preacher here, but because of a mighty poor listener down there. "Whose heart the Lord opened that she attended." Send your soul up to your ear. At that gateway listen and watch for Almighty God as He passes by. That is what we have got our ears for. That is what we have got our eyes for. That is why we are here, compos mentis. That is why we are here with a sound mind in a sound body, that God may have us in the best condition for getting simply but entirely into our being. Hear," says the prophet," and your soul shall live."

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Then see how this simple narrative brings out the mystery of conversion. The plainness of it: "She attended unto the words which were spoken by Paul." The mystery of it: Her heart was opened by the Lord. Do not ask me to explain that. I cannot explain it. I can only point you to the fact, but what a blessed fact it is. For this comes to me and says to me as it says to you, and as it says to all of us,

“Oh, human soul, hast thou ever really attended to the word of the truth of the Gospel? Dost thou think that thou dost know Him who is its message, even the Lord Jesus Christ? Do you know Him? And if you can honestly say that you think you do, "Then," says the narrative, "Blessed art thou Simon Barjona, for flesh and blood never revealed that unto thee." It was not the preacher, although he had the eloquent tongue of men and of angels. It was not a wonderful sermon, though it may have been preached by Spurgeon or Moody. It was not the earnest, eloquent, pointed sermon that revealed Christ Jesus to thee. His own hand unlocked thy shut heart. It was Himself who stepped in through the open door and took possession. This work God will not give to another. This first, last, essential work of opening the shut heart and opening the blind eye, and unstopping the deaf ear, and quickening the dead soul, is God's glorious prerogative. He, and He alone, opens the shut heart of even worshipping men.

I say that that is a comfort. I am glad of that. I am glad of that little bit of spiritual analysis-spiritual psychology, If my heart has been opened, it was divinely done. I have been the subject of a mysterious but Divine operation. Never again can I be what I once was. My heart has been opened. Would, God, it might be done to-day! Oh, what a strange thing is the heart of man! Not long ago, in sport, a man handed me a purse with money in it, and I felt it and I heard it jingle. He said, "Open it"; and in spite of my doing my utmost, I could not. I turned it over and over, end for end; tugged it now this way, tugged it now that way; pressed what seemed to be one spring, pressed what seemed to be another; but it was too cunningly and too curiously contrived. It absolutely baffled Such is the heart of man. It is worth the opening. The Son of God would like to get into it. Lift up your heart, man, woman, where you sit. Lift up your heart in your hand to God and say, "Open this mystery; for, O God, it is true what the preacher is saying. My heart

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is shut against Thee shut hard and close and fast, double bolted, double locked, double barred. Oh, take me in hand Thyself, for this McNeill, of Regent Square, will never get the Gospel into my heart. I am too cunning for him. I am too subtle for him. I am too deep and tortuous and twisted for him. I am too intellectual for him. He might save some sinner in the slums; but, O God, I am going down to hell to the hell of the critics who attend only to "pick holes and tear to pieces." If there is a hotter hell than another, you are on the road to it, my friend! May God save you from it. Hand up that round, black, cold, shut heart of yours which I have gone all round in my stupid, blundering way. I have tried it here and I have tried it there; and I have pushed here, and I have touched the other place-reason, will, conscience, affection, love, fear, hate. God knows that I have touched all the springs about you which I know, and I have failed. Hand it up to God. Do it yourself. Do not be put off any longer. Hand up your heart to God, and say, "O God, do for me what Thou didst for Lydia. Open my heart." If I may use the figure, God will hold your heart down in front of you in His hands, just before He opens it, and He will say to you, "I will open it; but would you care to see in? Would you like to see what is in it?” Out of the heart proceed evil thoughts, murders, adulteries, thefts, fornications, blasphemies. These are the things that are in it. Do you want to see them ?-that is another reason why it is hard to attend to the Gospel. If the heart were empty-but it is not, it is packed full. Oh, that God might open our hearts to-day, as He opened Lydia's, and that He would let us see them, for I rather fear that our first thought when our hearts are opened will be, "He will never come in!" Ah! but He will. He will. I think I see the Lord Jesus Christ doing what I did out in the country one day some time ago. I came to a little cottage away out in a lonely moor, and I went round, but the shutters were up against the windows, and I went round to