I will be patient, Lord, I will not doubt Thy word : How can I perish, clinging to Thy side, FROM "THE PATHWAY OF PROMISE." Is this the way, my Father?-'Tis, my child. But enemies are round?—Yes, child; I know My Father, it is dark.-Child, take my hand; Cling close to me,-I'll lead thee through the land; Trust my all-seeing care,- -so shalt thou stand 'Midst glory bright above. My footsteps seem to slide.-Child, only raise eye to me, then in these slippery ways, I will hold up thy goings; thou shalt praise Thine Me for each step, above. Oh Father, I am weary !-Lean thy head Upon my breast; it was my love that spread Isaiah xlii. 16. And I will bring the blind by a way that they know not; I will lead them in paths that they have not known; I will make darkness light before them, and crooked things straight. These things will I do unto them, and not forsake them. HYMN. How few, who from their youthful day In colours soft, and bright, and free; The gentle heart, that thinks with pain, And, if it dared its life to scan, Would ask a pathway low and still! Often such lowly heart is brought To act with power beyond its thought: And they, the bright, who long to prove, How fresh from earth their grateful love What matter what the path shall be? For He, through ways they have not known, (See Hymn 314, Martineau's Hymn Book.) LESSON XXI. GOD'S FAMILY. Ware's Sermon on "The Duty of Usefulness; " Vol. III. of Ware's Works. (John Chapman, 121, Newgate Street.)-See also the 56th Chapter of "Katherine Ashton." (Longmans, London.) AT last the autumn came, and Walter and his mother began to count the days till the 2nd of October; for on that day his sister Bertha was to come home from school. It was pleasant work getting everything ready for her arrival! The little room in which she was to sleep was to be papered; and they chose a pretty paper with honeysuckles upon it, because they knew honeysuckles were Bertha's favourite flowers. Then they had a pretty little book-case made for her books; and Walter placed them in order upon the shelves, leaving one shelf empty for those she would bring home with her. But what was nicest of all, was a picture which had been nicely framed and hung up in Bertha's room, where she could see it from her bed. It was a very precious picture,-her mother had kept it carefully locked up in a drawer till now; but she knew Bertha would value it, for it N was a likeness of her father, who had died a short time before she went to school, and she loved him very dearly, and they knew it would be a great pleasure to her to have his picture in her room, to help her to remember his kind looks. Well the day arrived, when she was to come home-a cold, wet, dirty day; but this only made things look more cheerful within at last all was ready for her. It was beginning to get dark out of doors, but the fire blazed brightly in the parlour, where they were to have tea;-the kettle stood singing and steaming on the old-fashioned hob, a pair of warm slippers which her mother had worked for her lay ready on the rug, the fire shone cheerily upon the white table-cloth, and was reflected in the bright cups and saucers. It was too wet and too late for Walter and his mother to go and meet her, but they had not long to wait for her coming, and they were at the door to welcome her. It was a very happy evening. When Bertha was in bed that night, and her mother had kissed her and taken away the light, she still lay awake thinking of the events of the day, and of the happiness of being at home again. Dear, dear mother!" she said to herself, "how thoughtfully she has prepared my little room for me! What can I ever do for her in return for so much love and kindness? Oh how I hope she will let me help her: I long to be doing something to make home |