the quiet village church-the little band of worshippers gathered there. And this I have left,' I exclaimed,' to come among a people who seem to have no fear of God before their eyes! My heart smote me. The sense of my own weakness, and liability to be led away by evil example, overwhelmed me with dread. I fell upon my kness, and buried my face in the sofa pillows, to shut out the sights and sounds around, but I could not stifle the stingings of self-reproach within. Those words of St. James seemed to thunder in my ears-" Let no man say when he is tempted, I am tempted of God. Every man is tempted when he is drawn away of his own lust and enticed." It may seem exaggerated to say so; but truly my agony of mind during those moments is not to be described. Weak faith struggled like the flickering light of an expiring lamp; I seemed to have let go all my hopes, and even to forget that there was One unto whom I might cry in my trouble, who would deliver me out of my distress. This must certainly have been a device of Satan, and indeed it could have been no other, since its effect was to keep me away from God, and to weaken, nay destroy, while the feeling of despair lasted, my trust in him.

At length, finding no relief in prayer, and being unable to endure this mental pressure any longer, I rose, hoping to obtain some comfort from that blessed source of consolation, the word of God. Opening the bible, which lay on the table, the first words that met my eyes were these " Thy shoes shall be iron and brass, and as thy days, so shall thy strength be.” (Deut. xxxiii. 25.) Had this cheering promise proceeded from the Divine lips which once uttered those

gracious words, "Daughter, be of good comfort," the effect could not have been more soothing, more instantaneous. They were indeed like oil on the troubled waves of my spirit; and though many may consider the idea enthusiastic or presumptuous, I did then, and ever shall, feel strongly convinced that God, who despises not the sighing of a contrite heart, had himself in his tender mercy directed me to that passage. The parallel texts were peculiarly applicable, and fraught with consolation. "God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able, but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it.” (1 Cor. x. 13.) Also Isaiah xli. 10; Joshua i. 9; Deut. xxxi. 8, &c. These I wrote out at the time, and placed the paper containing them in my bible, there to remain, and keep alive a constant and thankful sense of my Heavenly Father's love. We need these little memorials; for, alas! feelings, however strong, while they last so strong that we think the impression can never, never fade-pass away from our deceitful hearts, and leave no trace behind. Wave follows wave in the restless current of life:-new trials, new mercies, come with the gliding years, and the sorrows and blessings gone by are forgotten; lost, and washed away by their successors on that ever changing stream.

But to turn from self, and mention two or three instances similar to the above, calculated to strengthen our faith, and to bring home to our hearts the delightful assurance of the constant presence and mindfulness of our God. That he is, indeed, about our path and about our bed, spying out all our ways, and witnessing our conflicts, is a truly happy conviction.

Could we realize it, and feel it as we ought, we should never have an uneasy moment, but should experience the ample fulfilment of that beautiful promise in Isaiah, "Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee, because he trusteth in thee."

One who had been long living without God in the world, and who, owing to the early loss of parents, and an education in foreign courts, was destitute even of that head knowledge of religion which most nominal Christians possess, was brought from darkness to light by means of severe affliction. Her natural disposition was very untoward, and from being nursed in the lap of luxury,' and unaccustomed to controul, many evil tempers had gained a powerful ascendancy. These, when she became spiritually enlightened, were a source of constant and bitter regrets:―her struggles with herself were most painful, and never did I see such deep and utter selfabhorrence as hers. Every fall,-and they were many at first, was succeeded by pangs of remorse, and often by the most distracting and agitating doubts as to her state. On one occasion, when her wayward temper had again caused her to transgress, the distress of mind that followed was such as, to reduce her almost to despair. She thought of her sin with horror; its magnitude in the sight of Him who is too pure to behold iniquity, made her believe she could never find acceptance. 'I have been deluding myself with a false hope,' she exclaimed. No; I have not been really renewed by that Holy Spirit, to whose meek and gentle fruits my ungovernable passion is so contrary: surely I am not, I cannot be, a child of God.' After coming to this hopeless conclusion, she took her bible, more with the idea of seeing

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this wretched sentence against herself confirmed, than with any expectation of finding relief in her distress. The first passage that presented itself was this:

"O thou afflicted, tossed with tempest, and not omforted! behold I will lay thy stones with fair colours, and lay thy foundations with sapphires.”

"And all thy children shall be taught of the Lord; and great shall be the peace of thy children." (Isaiah liv. 11-13.)

Think what were my feelings,' she said, on reading those beautiful verses; and how they strengthened me in my after conflicts with myself.' The last was peculiarly cheering; it touched a tender chord, for she was a fond and anxious mother, and the spiritual welfare of her little ones was the object nearest her heart. I cannot forget her beaming and hopeful countenance as she repeated the words a second time with the deepest feeling. And it was fulfilled, that promise; not in the way perhaps that poor, weak, short-sighted human nature would have desired; but divine grace triumphed over the yearnings of the mother's heart, and consoled her, even in the midst of her tears, with the view by faith of the great peace of her children' in that better land to which their Heavenly Father so soon removed them. The next instance is a well-known one, occurring as it does in a book familiar to all, The Retrospect.' I cannot resist the temptation of transcribing it here; first, because it is so exactly a case in point; and, secondly, becouse of the sanction its authority confers on the foregoing. For surely no one who is acquainted with the sober, rational, sailor-like, straightforward character of the author of 'The Retrospect,'

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stamped as it is with such frank and manly simplicity on every page of his writings, will accuse him of yielding to imaginary fancies.

He says: Sitting alone, and for the first time reading the Pilgrim's Progress, I felt much interested; and though I understood but little of its spiritual import, I made a general application of it to myself. I considered life as a journey, beset with innumerable dangers, and myself as a traveller, surrounded by so many and great difficulties that I deemed it almost impossible but I must one day fall under them, and never reach the celestial city. It was no trifling season. I closed the book, and for the first time in my life wept over myself as a sinner exposed to much spiritual evil and many peculiar snares. Then it was I experienced what some may condemn as enthusiasm, but what I at this day humbly hope was the still small voice of God. While weeping over my forlorn condition, these words, "I will never leave thee nor forsake thee," were impressed on my mind with such a distinctness and power, that, had a voice pronounced them, they could not have been received more distinctly. I had then never seen or read them, to my knowledge; but from that instant I felt confident they were a part of holy writ, and conceived some hopes of their being sent as an assurance of the Lord's mercy and goodness to And will the Almighty never leave, never forsake me? I said to myself. The thought filled my eyes and my heart, as they had never been filled before, and as I cannot describe to others.'

me.

And now may I venture, in conclusion, to relate a circumstance not very dissimilar to the above, which was told in nearly the following words by a clergy