quickly, "to have a word now and then with any servant of the Lord."

"Then it will be a pleasure to me to have a chat with you now and then, if you will permit me." And so we parted.

This was my first meeting with Richard Booth; but for three years scarcely a week passed without my seeing him, and learning something from him. Considering what he had been, and what he had lost in worldly circumstances, I never knew a more contented old age. From his bench in front of the Union he could see fields which once belonged to him. Every carriage that passed, the bleating of the lambs, the lowing of the cattle, the attention paid to visitors, and the quiet dropping of coin into the hands of inmates, reminded him of what he had been, and would never be again. He had literally lost everything-the wife of his bosom, the two sons who were the joy of his heart as children, and his pride as they grew into manhood, his farm and stock, all his worldly goods. Yet he earnestly thanked God for the reverses which had brought him something better than house and lands, for the hour of trial had become the day of salvation to him. He learned lessons then that he had never learned before, and had never felt any interest in learning. He was enabled at last to say, "It is the Lord; let Him do what seemeth Him good." When, in his old age, he could buffet with the world no longer, the House in which he had taken such interest in earlier days became his home.

Although wealthy, he had never been an educated man ; but in the House no one was treated with more respect, even by the officials. Uncomplaining, silent, kind, and hopeful at all times, he seemed to say to every one who entered, "Things might have been worse; things might have been worse!" It was he who first in Wellworth Union originated private prayer-meetings and little gatherings, in which aged people would quietly tell the melancholy story of their lives, and then kneel down to tell them to Him who was mightier and more loving than the kindest and most sympathetic of earthly friends. It was he who, by his Monday-morning

conversations, first set on foot week-night services in the House, which were blessed to the instruction and comfort of many of the inmates. It was he who caused tract-distributors and district-visitors to reckon the House amongst their places of visitation; and he seconded their efforts by telling in his own way the stories which the printed messengers conveyed, and frequently adding another or a new moral from the story of his own life. Richard, though he never knew it, was a power in the House. There was that in his quiet example, his cheerful, hopeful spirit which helped to make the most impatient calm and resigned, and which gave hope to the most depressed.

After many talks with him, from which I learned more than from some of the most learned books on my shelves, I said one day to one of the guardians, "Ought we not to get old Richard out of the House? It is not the place, you know, for a man who has been brought up as he has, and who can do the work he is doing."

My friend looked at me with a somewhat alarmed countenance. "If you take him away," he said, "I do not know what will become of the House. He is happy and useful there; do not suggest such a thing for a moment. A man's 'place,' as you term it, is where he can do most good; and no one has done more good, in my recollection, here than Richard Booth, and I do not think he would do so much good anywhere else."

And so old Richard remained until the end, a living epistle to the inmates of the Union. I never heard a sigh over departed riches, or over friends who might have helped him in his hour of need. He was in a second holy childhood, and had its gentle, tender thoughts. When he spoke of the past it was of little things which few remembered but himself, but which were a very wellspring of delight to him. At such times his face seemed to grow young again, and there was a touch of a boy's freshness in his words and actions. When he spoke of the future, the quietude of a hope too big for utterance gave a solemnity to his features,

such as I saw the first evening I met him as he was watching the setting sun. Quietly as that sun went down behind the horizon, at the appointed hour did the old man disappear from the midst of us, "to sink to-day, but to rise again tomorrow," as he said. His departure occasioned general and deep regret; and, until this day, even the memory of old Richard is not without its good influence in the place where he spent his declining years, and from which he ascended to the Father's house.

Mercy and Judgment.

Jow delightful is it to trace the tenderness and lovingkindness of our God to His people, and to recognise in it the truth of His own remarkable declaration, when, speaking of punishment, He calls it "His work," "His strange work," "His act," ""His strange act;" acknowledging, indeed, that it is His doing, but at the same time His most unwelcome occupation, reluctantly forced on Him by the sins of His creatures, but cheerfully suspended, or withdrawn, the moment its absolute need is over. We should love to contemplate God in this character, to feel, under our severest chastenings, that "He does not willingly afflict or grieve" us; and that we cannot rejoice more sincerely in the removal of any trial, than He does in giving the word for its departure. How strongly does this view draw out the heart in grateful love to God! How powerfully do we feel in every change, whether it be the increase or decrease of a trial-this is God's work! This comes from the hand of One who loves me! This will surely be sanctified to me! Yes; He who sends the chastening will never leave it to accident or chance to produce its effect, but will Himself engage that this "light affliction, which is but for a moment, shall work for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory."

Blunt on the Pentateuch.

BELIEVE confidently, pray fervently, expect largely, walk humbly, and repent daily.

If you exercise faith on God's promise, you will daily live in dependence on God's power.

If you go to God with an empty hand and an empty heart, you will never be sent away without a supply: He filleth the hungry with good things.

In the wilderness of sorrow, temptation, and care, Jesus often goes forth to meet and converse with His people; and when He meets with them there, He speaks to their hearts.

A free pardon produces a grateful heart.

God loves you too well to give you unnecessary pain; not a pain can be dispensed with, if God is faithful to His character and word.

The love of God is a boundless ocean; but it only flows on earth in little rills; but evéry rill leads back to the ocean whence it flows; the love of God always leads to the God of love.

A short race, a rough pilgrimage, a dangerous voyage, a fierce combat, a hard day's work; and then a glorious prize, a happy end, a good home, a complete victory, and an eternal reward: fear not, the end crowns the whole.

Faith believes God's word, Patience waits God's time, Hope expects all God has promised, Love urges to obey all God's commands, Humility bows low before God's throne, Submission shuts the mouth in trying times, and Resignation cheerfully surrenders all to God's disposal: when all these graces are found together, the character is complete.

The divinity of Christ is the basis of Christianity; if this is removed,

all falls to the ground.

F

The Holy Women of old.

IRST in transgression, but last at the cross,
First at the sepulchre, mourning their loss,
Sad and faint-hearted, together they come,
Bearing their off'rings of love to the tomb:
Finest of linen and sweetest of spice,

Balms the most precious, and ointments of price.
Loving hands folded the napkin and shroud,
Sprinkled with tears that were hid from the crowd;
Hearts full of sorrow were heard in that word--
"Oh, tell me where ye have taken my Lord!"

First to rejoice that the bonds of the grave
Could not hold Him who is "mighty to save,"
First to proclaim the glad tidings abroad
That Jesus was risen, our Saviour and Lord;
Not "stolen away," but self-raised from the tomb
Had their most glorious Redeemer now come,
Filling their sad hearts with gladness and joy—
Joy which earth's sorrows could never destroy.

All through His life they had followed their Lord,
'Ministering substance," and hearing His word;
Washing His feet and anointing His head,
Following closely wherever He led;

Sitting so meekly to learn at His feet,

Rev'rently touching His robe in the street.

Faithful to death were those sheep of His fold;
Such were the true, holy women of old.
Christ-like in holiness, meekness, and love,
Christ-like in having their treasure above,
Christ-like in service, to them it was given

To live in this world on the threshold of heaven.
In the world-but not of it-they lived to do good,
And in their vocation each did what she could.
They brought up young children, and opened their door
To pilgrims and strangers, the sick and the poor;
Made clothes for the naked, and washed the saints' feet,
And with diligence followed good works, as was meet.
True daughters of Zion! Their record's on high;
A glorious reward shall be theirs by-and-by.

"Well done, faithful servants!" their Master shall say ; "What ye've done to the poor ye have done unto me!"