somewhat impaired. He had never seen the good man when he cou not say, " Though father and mother forsake me, the Lord will take 1 up.” He did not say he had never seen the righteous fall away fro his steadfastness and wander from duty. He himself had broke through the fences of law and had madly gone astray. But even i such unworthiness and disgrace he had not been forsaken. In hi very wanderings the goodness and mercy of the Lord followed him and brought him back, and put into his lips the song which falle angel has never been able to sing, “ He restoreth my soul, He leadet me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake.” So far as this lower creation is concerned, is not a good man th pooblest work of God? For the production and preservation of th righteous, what cost and care have been expended! Wherever we se true goodness, we may fearlessly affirm that for the creation an development of that goodness, God has spoken by His prophets, has wrought by His Spirit, He has ruled in His providence, ar suffered in the person of His Incarnate Son. Is not this sufficient make it certain that the righteous shall never be forsaken? Go speaks of Himself after the manner of men, as having all a workman fondness for his own work, all a parent's love for his own offsprin all a Creator's attachment to His own creation. “But now thus sai the Lord that created thee, and He that formed thee, Fear not; thou a mine. When thou passest through the waters I will be with thee. have mide and I will bear, even I will carry and will deliver you, There is great force in the prayer which they say Queen Elizabet frequently presented, “ O Lord, look at the wounds in Thy hands, an then Thou wilt not forsake the work of Thy hands." The grand old Latin hymn urges the same plea : “ Wearily for me Thou soughtest Can there be more than one answer to that appeal? “My love and labour shall not be wasted. I am to see of the travail of my soul ant be satisfied.” In all that has been done for the godly, we see so many pledges that He who hath begun the good work will complete Labour never exhausts true love. The love that has not done much for the loved ones may dwindle and die, but diligent and devoted lor finds in all its labours the fruit of a tree of life whereby it keeps itsel immortal. Faith is reason when, on the ground of what has been done it rejects the thought of desertion, and confidently looks for a continu ance of the Divine presence and power and blessing. “ The Lord wu perfect that which concerneth me; Thy mercy, O Lord, endureth ja ever; forsake not the works of Thine own hands. HE HATI SAID, I WIL NEVER LEAVE THEE NOR FORSAKE THEE.” * * The second of the two things David had not seen will be the subject of the best paper of the series. E OLD MAN AND HIS GRAND-DAUGHTER AT ENVILLE. BY THE LATE REV. J. H. EVANS, M.A. was towards the close of a fine ing towards the park, when an open in the autumn, when Henry grave arrested his attention. and passed through the village There was nothing remarkable in nville on his return from the the grave itself, wherefore he should be led to it, and yet led to it he vrland was what the world called was. asy tempered, amiable young Perhaps as he looked down into Deprived at a very early age the narrow and dreary mansion, or s father, from whom he in saw the bones and skulls which had ed rather a large fortune, with been thrown up on either side of it, iny particular taste for the the thought might have rushed into of the day, he was thrown his mind, “WERE THAT MY he midst of temptation which GRAVE?" it himself unable to resist. In Let this be as it may, he stood for , he was gay and thoughtless some minutes on its brink, lost in ' in the pursuit of pleasure; thought; and probably he might thing was valued by him, only have remained much longer, had not promoted his darling object. the tolling of the bell, and the sound ncying that happiness was to of approaching footsteps, roused und in the world, he sought for him from his meditations. re; and although disappoint-| Half ashamed to be seen in such had hitherto attended his a place, he was hastily withdrawing, h, he expected from the future when he observed a small funeral which the past had never procession stop at the churchyard red. So true it is, “the way wicket. ače they know not” (Isa. lix. His heart seemed to tell him that cl. ii, 1–11). here was the tenant of that grave his usual question, as he which he had been viewing. The ed at the inn- What is there thought induced him to stay still i seeing here?” the master of longer; and seated on one of the nn replied, by informing him tomb-stones, in a part retired from the seat of Lord S- was observation, he there awaited the a quarter of a mile distant, and consignment of the body to that jhe park abounded with beauti- | dust from which it was formed. ews. A coffin now entered the church. is was enough for Morland. yard. The pall, supported by six ig his servant that he should females in white, was followed by n in the course of two hours | a few mourners, some of whom, if rthest, he strolled out with an sobs and tears mean anything, were tion of seeing the grounds. mourners indeed. The appearance e path towards the park led of the whole was simple and affectigh the churchyard of the ing. The service was soon conse; and for some time he amused cluded, and all, as Morland imaelf with admiring the simplicity | gined, had retired, when curiosity, le church tower, the peculiar or something perhaps more than ness of the graves, and the mere curiosity, led him again to the ular beauty of the situation. grave which he had but lately !, however, wearied with this quitted. loyment, he was slowly advanc- ! As he approached the spot, he observed a very old man standing | shall hunger no more, neither thirs over the grave lost in thought. To any more, neither shall the sun lig! all appearance he was nearly eighty on her, nor any heat, for the Lam years of age. Time had scarcely left which is in the midst of the thror him any hair on his head, and the shall lead her unto living fountain few locks that were there were white of waters, and God shall wipe away as snow. all tears from her eyes.” There was something in his “You think then that she is countenance which left an impression happy?” on the beholder, which it would be “Think, sir," replied the old man difficult, perhaps impossible, to de- | “I know that she is.” scribe. “How is that possible ?” said · Morland was struck with its ex Henry. pression, and as he observed the “Sir,” rejoined the other, “Mary tears slowly chasing one another was a believer in the Lord Jesu down his deeply furrowed face, and Christ.” marked his full eye, raised towards “But are not all Christians bę heaven, he thought that such a | lievers P” countenance he had never seen be "All who are Christians indeed fore. but not all who are called Christian There is something sacred in ‘He that believeth on the Son sorrow, and a mind possessed of God hath everlasting life.' This i any delicacy of feeling knows that a plain and positive declaration ; 1 there is. condition is attached; no exceptio Such a mind was Morland's, and he is made; he that believeth th was therefore once more on the point of retiring, when the old man, fixing hath everlasting life. If all pro his eyes upon him, arrested his foot fessed Christians therefore were steps. believers, all professed Christians Henry involuntarily touched his must be saved.” hat, for he felt himself an intruder, " True,” replied Henry, and he “Stranger,” said the old man, in paused for a moment—“that is true," a tone of kindness and respect, “let he repeated. “But,” said he, renot my sorrows drive you away. In covering himself, “how did your his grave is buried all that re- grand-daughter differ from those mains in this world of one, whom who, as you say, are only professed when alive I loved but too fondly, Christians ?” and now, when dead, I too deeply “My poor girl," replied the old lament." man, “was acquainted with One " Some one nearly related, per whom the world despises. She haps ?” knew Him whom to know is life * My grand-daughter. She alone eternal.” remained of all my family; my poor “What is His name?” said boy died soon after his marriage; Henry. his wife soon followed him; and “ His name is Jesus. Here was Mary was all that they left behind; all her expectation of everlasting and now she is gone-she too has life. Upon this Rock did she build left membut," he added, and a sweet for eternity. In Him was her hope smile passed across his countenance of salvation, not in herself. In His while he spoke," " she is gone to her works was her trust, not in her own. home; she has left a poor and empty From what He had done did she world for that place where the look for acceptance with God, not wicked cease from troubling, and from what she herself did, or ever where the weary are at rest. She I could do. It was not always so, sit. g did she try to save herself, but , which God gave of His Son, she saw ould not do. In vain I told her | herself one with Him-in Him salvation was not to be found pardoned-in Him justified-in Him his path. Tenderly as she loved complete--in Him saved for ever.” she thought that I was mis “ But how," continued Morland, n, and she believed me not. To “could she know all this p" the heart of man, is not man's “The faith of my daughter,” rek, but God's. She laboured plied the old man,"was a very simple 1 for the prize, but she strove one. Mary's creed was drawn, not lawfully. She sought salvation, from the systems of man, but from she sought not in the way of the word of God. Reading the Bible 's appointment. Her prayers, one day, she came to this verse: tears, her Bible, her Church, her Christ Jesus came into the world I and gentle temper, as she to save sinners' (1 Tim. i. 15). "To ght, were in part, at least, to save sinners,' repeated she-sinher; from these things she ex ners, and to save them. Great God ! ed peace, but from these things what good news is this !' The truth found it not; but it pleased the seemed instantly to present itself to i to open her eyes to the truth, her mind; and, like Lydia of old, lead her to the cross of Christ the Lord opened her heart to receive t, and there she found it.” it. She read it-she believed it, But,” replied Morland,“although she was at peace. annot think that our own good “Methinks even now I see those ks can altogether save the soul, eyes, languid as they were, once more surely they must be done to pre sparkle with intelligence, when I upon God to forgive sin.” said to her, Glorious to be one with The believer in Christ Jesus," Christ.' 'Yes,' replied she; and I ied the old man, “as one who is seem to see again those lips, dry ed from all his sins, as one who and parched, move with the sweet perfectly righteous before God in words, Glorious indeed to be one righteousness of another, as one with Him-no longer seen in the ) has everlasting life, cannot be first Adam, but always beheld in the constantly exhorted to the per Second-chosen in Him-accepted nance of all good works. Mark, | in Him-holy, yea, without blame in 3seech you, the perfect and entire Him-He made my sin-I made His hange. He took our sin, who righteousness—the righteousness of w no sin ; we take His righteous- | God in Him-as He is, so am I in this , who knew no righteousness. world. Soon shall I see Him, to be d so complete was it, that we like Him, to see Him as He is, and e not more sinful than He was to dwell with Him for ever. This de sin in God's sight; neither is was her rejoicing. Oh, had some more righteous than we are one gone to her bedside, and told hteous in Him." her to take comfort in herself—in "These things," said Morland, her holy desires-in her spiritual rem too vast to be true.” affections—in her past life. Miser. No, sir, their very vastness is an able comforter !-she would have jument in their favour: were they said,-No-Jesus is my comfortlerwise than vast, how would they my salvation-my hope-my life m to proceed from an infinitely my all. He is my peace. It is not se God ? In the receiving these self, but Jesus; it is not my work iths into her heart by the power but His work; it is not my rightthe Holy Ghost, my dear Mary eousness, but His righteousness, ind that peace which passeth all which can give my soul rest. derstanding. Believing the record! “And yet, stranger, let me say that Mary received the truth not in 1 deceive you, I could pray that th word only, but in power and in the conversation might not pass aw Holy Ghost. As far as men can and be forgotten. In taking 1 judge of the faith of another by out leave of you, perhaps for ever, ward conduct, hers was indeed the would not forget that I am sayi faith of God's elect. In her life and farewell to one whose name may ! conversation she adorned the doc written in the Lamb's book of li trine of God her Saviour—but she is before the foundation of the worldgone, and these eyes shall see her no one who may sing the praises of tł more." Lamb for ever and ever. But befol The old man paused, for his tears I say that farewell, I would ad trickled fast. remember that salvation is for sit It was now sunset, and Morland ners; that the door is open to th seemed inclined to depart, for he most unworthy, yea, to the viles had many miles to go. He thanked and that numbers, the most though the old man again, and gave him less and vile, have, through grad his hand, telling him, half smiling, entered in, and found peace to the that he had never talked so much souls. Remember, too, that ov of religion before in his life. the door is written, "Whosoever wi “Ah, sir," said the other, as he let him take the water of li pressed his proffered hand, “I may freely."" never see you more. This feeble As he spoke the words, he too hand shall soon be stiff and motion from his side a small pocket Bibl less-these eyes shall soon be closed “This book," said he, “has bee in death. And you, stranger, who under God, my solace in many have so kindly listened to an old wintry hour. Often, when all ha man's tale, you too must die. Every been lowering without, and dark an thing around tells you so. That cheerless within, have the truth withered leaf which feebly flutters," therein contained been brought hom and he moved his hand gently to my soul, and whispered peace. I backward and forward as he said it, was written for poor sinners, and as if imitating its motion," and therefore it suits me well. Now my then falls silently down-that set daughter is gone, I shall use no ting sun whose last beams stretch Bible but hers, and if you would across the valley—that evening bell not wound my heart, take this one which says another day is gone-- from me. May He, who is able, seem but a still small voice whisper make it your solace too; and when ing death is near, and after that the you look upon its time-worn pages, judgment. sometimes think of the old man and "Eternity! awful word ! Eternity his grand-daughter, at Enville, and --which never knows an end-there remember he spoke to you of is something fearful in it! Eternity Jesus.” that ocean without bottom and with Henry Morland pressed his hand out shore! Oh, sir, should you try again and again; his heart was too to pass that ocean on the shattered full to speak. With hasty steps he plank of your own righteousness; returned to the inn, while the ola should you dare to stand before man retired to his cottage. God, and such a God too, so holy, so It was about a year after when just, so faithful, so true, in your own Morland passed through Enville unholy, unrighteous works, what again; without losing a moment be will, what must, the issue be, but ran to the cottage of his old friend, endless, hopeless misery ? Passing but he there learned that he had was as you are, sir, a young man, through a fortnight before. a world where everything will try to! Once more he went to the cu |