always thankfully received. She found it rather hard sometimes, it is true, to make both ends meet, but she never grumbled; her look was always bright, and her words cheerful, and her little room as neat and trim as her own old-fashioned self.

But time went on, and a great trouble came—a sudden stroke of paralysis laid Mary Green on a sick bed, changing at once her busy, industrious, self-supporting life into one of pain and inactive dependence. But her cheerfulness did not forsake her, hard and painful as the trial was. She had saved a little money since her mother's death, and for a while, with careful economy, she was able to supply her daily wants, her kind landlady charging only a nominal rent for the little room she had so long called her home. But the day came when the last shilling had to be changed for the necessary loaf, and actual want stared poor Mary in the face. As she lay in her bed that rough February night, she thought with dismay of the little piece of bread, just sufficient for one meal, which alone remained, all her little savings spent, and the few relatives still left to her apparently forgetful and careless of her illness and necessities. Tears fell slowly down her thin cheeks; her faith was wavering; nothing but the workhouse appeared before her. She shrank from the thought of it, but she could not banish the dismal prospect from her mind. To die in the workhouse !-she who had always prided herself on her independence and ability for self-support-was this to be the end? All looked dark and dreary in the future. For once in her life Mary failed to realize the watchful Providence which she had so often traced with joy before, and the murmur rose in her heart, if not to her lips, "Why am I thus left helpless and afflicted, with no one to care for me? If only my health had been left me, I should have wanted nothing more."

The rough, boisterous night had changed into a calm, sunny morning, when Mary Green was awakened by a gentle tap at her door, and her landlady, a kind, brisk,

benevolent-looking little woman, entered her room, holding a letter in her hand.

"Good morning, Miss Green," she said, in her bright, cheerful way, as she came to the bedside; "only to think of there being a valentine for you to-day!"

The invalid smiled at the idea as she returned Mrs. Downing's greeting.

"Is it the 14th of February, then ?" she inquired, taking the letter with surprise; such a thing was rarely seen now as an envelope with her name on it.

"Yes; didn't you remember that ?" replied Mrs. Downing. "It's from some old sweetheart of yours, depend upon it." And she laughed heartily at the joke.

Mary turned the letter over and over, and examined the direction closely-a neat, ladylike handwriting, but one quite unknown to her; then her trembling, almost useless fingers broke the seal and disclosed the contents-very simple ones-only two shillings' worth of postage stamps and an embossed card, on which was written in a clear, distinct hand

"The Lord will provide."

In a moment rushed into poor Mary's mind the fears of the past night, her murmurs, her anxiety and want of trust as to the future: there, in that one little sentence, lay the answer to it all—

"The Lord will provide."

Provision, small indeed, but sufficient for present wants, had been sent by an unknown friend. Was not this a proof of the watchful care of her heavenly Father, who would not suffer her to want in sickness or old age anything that should be necessary for her? With a burst of tears the helpless invalid acknowledged her want of faith and trust, and the ingratitude she had been guilty of, which had been so signally and strangely rebuked.

A day or two only elapsed, and then another letter was put into Mary Green's hand, this time from a distant relative,

offering her a comfortable home, and promising she should be well taken care of for the rest of her life. The well-timed message had indeed been fulfilled, "The Lord will provide.”

Two years have passed away since then, and Mary Green still lies on her couch, a prisoner night and day. Though still ignorant of the sender, yet with never-ceasing power comes back ever and anon the bright memory of that message which came to cheer her troubled heart and rebuke her murmuring thoughts on the morning of the 14th of February, 1868-

"The Lord will provide."

•Stribe to enter in.

HE Sovereign wisdom of God has made striving necessary to salvation. Who knows the way to heaven better than the God of heaven? When men tell us we are too strict, whom do they accuse, God or us? If it were a fault, it would lie in Him that commands, and not in us who obey. These are the men that ask us whether we are wiser than all the world besides? and yet they will pretend to be wiser than God. How can they reconcile their language with the laws of God? "The kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the violent take it by force."1 "Strive to enter in at the strait gate; for many will seek to enter in, and shall not be able."2 Let them bring all the seeming reasons they can, against the holy violence of the saints; this sufficeth me to confute them all, that God is of another mind, and he hath commanded me to do much more than I do ; and though I could see no other reason for it, his will is reason enough. Who should make law for us, but he that made us? And who should point out the way to heaven, but he that must bring us thither? And who shall fix the terms of salvation, but he that bestows the gift of salvation? Baxter.

In doing the Lord's work, we may expect the Lord's smile.

We shall have plenty of rest and comfort at the end, if we have but little by the way.

Every day will bring its own troubles, and God will every day give us more grace.

Jesus died for the ungodly: are you such? He died to bring them to God is that where you are going?

You will never love God to purpose, until you heartily believe him to be LOVE.

Do you feel you are weak? This is the Spirit's bidding you go to God for strength.

The greater your wants, the greater your encouragement to go to God for supply; for the greater will be his glory in supplying them. He says, 66 'Open thy mouth wide, and I will fill it."

Fear God, if you would rise above the fear of man.

When you think of the grave, remember you are only going where Jesus has been.

Never dare go where you have reason to question whether God will go with you. A Christian should never willingly be where there is not room for his Saviour.

However dark the night of affliction may be, light is sown for thee, and will eventually spring up.

There is mercy for you every moment: you need it, and God is willing to bestow it.

You never can find the Lord too much engaged to attend to you; wait always on him.

The Lord's love is free as the air; full as the ocean; boundless as eternity; immutable as his throne; and unchangeable as his nature.

Mrs. Bolton and the Bible.

oo big by half! so that's what Sam Dawson thought about you,” said Mrs. Bolton, looking down lovingly at the large Bible which lay open before her, as if by her love she would try and make up for the slight that had even for a moment been cast upon her treasure.

This was how it happened. It was late in the evening; the children were all in bed, except the two eldest, who had gone with their father to a working man's lecture; so Mrs. Bolton having supper all ready for them had sat down to have a quiet time with her Bible, when in came Sam Dawson, one of the neighbours, and seeing what she was about, he laughed at her for her pains, as he expressed it.

"It's no pains to me," she said; "but the greatest pleasure I have. Why what should I do without it ?"

66

Well, as to that, some of it's well enough, but there's no denying that it's too big by half?"

“I should like to know what part you would have left out ?"

"Oh, ever so many; for instance, I like well enough to know that God is merciful, and that he is willing to forgive us; for, I suppose, when it comes to dying, the best have something that they'd want forgiven; but as to all it says about God's justice, and truth, and power, they're nothing to me, I'd have out every word about them.”

"If they're nothing to you, I can tell you that they're everything to me: what use would God's mercy be to us without his justice, and his power, and his truth?" Sam looked at her quite surprised, so she went on: "If you owed a thousand pounds, and could't pay it, and your creditor was going to put you into prison, and I pitied you ever so much, would my pity keep you out of prison if I hadn't the money to pay your debt?"