If thou art worn and hard beset

With sorrows that thou would'st forget;
If thou would'st read a lesson that will keep
Thy heart from fainting and thy soul from sleep,
Go to the woods and hills! No tears

Dim the sweet look that Nature wears.

In each breeze that wanders free,
And each flower that gems the sod,
Living souls may hear and see,
Freshly uttered words from God!

Had we but a searching mind,

Seeking good where'er it springs,
We should then true wisdom find,
Hidden in familiar things.

Shells and pebbles on the shore,

Buds and leaves by Nature wrought,

Would contain, for evermore,
Food for philosophic thought.

If the Mind would Nature see,
Let her cherish Virtue more :
Goodness bears the golden key
That unlocks her palace door.

R. C. Waterston.

The stately lilies of the field

Know neither toil nor care;
In calm and quiet loveliness
Their Maker's seal they bear.

And yet the pomp and majesty
Of mighty kings may fade,
Before the beauty of the flowers
Which for a day are made.

O weary one, cast thou away

Each troubling, anxious thought; He watches o'er thee, full of love,

By whom those flowers were wrought.

If He so much hath cared for them,
How shall He care for thee?

Dry up thy tears, shake off thy fears,
Let God thy comfort be!

W. Gaskell.

LESSON XXXIÍ.

GOD SPEAKS TO US.-REVELATION.

"God manifest in Christ:" a Sermon preached July, 1854, by the Rev. W. Gaskell :-And "The Father seen in Christ;" by the Rev. T. Sadler. Both published by Whitfield, 178, Strand.

THE next day, when Walter's mother was ready to sit down quietly to her sewing, she called her children to her that she might tell them about the Great Teacher. Bertha heard her speak, and came directly, but Walter was at the other end of the garden; and his mother, instead of calling him, sent Bertha to tell him she wished him to come.

"Dear children," she said, when they had seated themselves beside her, "you found out yesterday some other ways in which God speaks to us, besides by the voice of conscience."

Bertha: Yes, mother-by signs; there are signs all about us and within us, and we must try to hear and see and feel them, and learn to understand them. Mother: Yes; but there is yet another way in which God speaks to us.

Walter: What way, mother? I can't think of any other way.

Mother: When I wanted you to come to me just now, Walter, how did I tell you my wishes?

Walter: You sent Bertha, mother.

Mother: Yes, she was my messenger-I spoke to you by a messenger. And in a similar way God has spoken to His children. Little Samuel, of whom we were reading yesterday, was one who was charged with a message from God, and He has sent many other messengers, to show us, in part, the meaning of life, and of all we see and feel around us, and to teach us something of His will. We read of many, and the chief of them in the Bible; but, dear children, He sent one above all-even His beloved Son, to be a light to the whole world, to open to our souls the way to God, to show us the Father. "He spake the words of God, for God gave not the Spirit by measure unto Him"-"He is the way, the truth, and the life. No man cometh unto the Father but by Him." This is the Great Teacher I said I would tell you of―Jesus Christ the Saviour of men! the light of the world! for He came like a beautiful beam of light, when men were groping about in darkness to find out God and their own souls-longing and sighing to understand God's signs around and within them—but seeming to get more and more confused the more they searched into the hidden secrets of sin and sorrow-life and death-man and nature.

He not only showed us the Father, but He showed us our own souls, as we never should have known them without Him. He was human religion,human goodness,-showing us what our souls should also aspire to,-teaching us how we must aim to become one with Him, even as He was and is one with the Father. You are too young, dear children, fully to enter into the meaning of what I am saying, but I will tell you what it is like.

The world, before Christ's coming, was like a great school full of scholars of various ages. The walls, ceiling, and floor of the school were all covered over with beautiful pictures and curious signs,—but the light was dim, and the air was thick with noxious vapours, and the scholars could not see the beautiful pictures clearly, nor understand the curious signs. Yet the little glimpses they did catch were so beautiful!—so wonderful!—oh, how they longed for light!-light to enable them to see,—and a voice to explain. For they could not agree about these signs; one thought they meant one thing, another, another thing one fancied that a shadow was a reality, another, that reality was a shadow: in the self-same sign one saw something terrible, another saw only beauty angry feelings arose, and there were sharp disputes; and they gazed, and groped, and longed, and perplexed, and wearied themselves with their useless efforts to see and understand. Ah! dear children, what a scene of confusion and misery would