"But, mother," says little Henry, "won't God send us something to eat to-morrow?" 66 • Seek See," says the mother, "what the Bible says: ye not what ye shall eat, nor what ye shall drink, neither be of anxious mind. For your Father knoweth that ye have need of these things.' "But, mother," says little Mary, "if God is our Father, and loves us, what does he let us be so poor for ?" 66 Nay," says the mother, "our dear Lord Jesus Christ was as poor as we are, and God certainly loved him." "Was he, mother?" 66 Yes, children; you remember how he said, 'The Son of man hath not where to lay his head.' And it tells us more than once that Jesus was hungry when there was none to give him food." 66 Oh, mother, what should we do without the Bible?" says Mary. Now, if the rich man, who had not yet made up his mind what to think of the Bible, should visit this poor woman, and ask her on what she grounded her belief of its truth, what could she answer? Could she give the arguments from miracles and prophecy? Could she account for all the changes which might have taken place in it through translators and copyists, and prove that we have a genuine and uncorrupted version? Not she! But how, then, does she know that it is true? How, say you? How does she know that she has warm life-blood in her heart? How does she know that there is such a thing as air and sunshine? She does not believe these things, she knows them; and, in like manner, with a deep heart-consciousness, she is certain that the words of her Bible are truth and life. Is it by reasoning that the frightened child, bewildered in the dark, knows its mother's voice? No! nor is it only by reasoning that the forlorn and distressed human heart knows the voice of its Saviour, and is still. Should all the forms that men devise THE LAST STAGE OF THE JOURNEY. EIGHTY-FOUR to-day! Surely I have come very nearly to the end of this, the last stage of my journey. God has dealt with me very gently; but the longest life must close. I hope I am not impatient; still, if I might choose, I have a desire to depart.' But I wait the Lord's will; yet before I go, I should like to write down a few of the Lord's dealings with me, and to recall the successive stages of the way along which he has led me. There are those who love me dearly who will be glad to read my remembrances; and, by God's blessing, it may lead some of the younger of them to trust him with all their hearts." JUNE, 1865. G So mused good old Mr. Gilbert, as he sat in his easy chair in the library after breakfast on new-year's morning, 186-. He was a retired London merchant, and lived in a pleasant little village a few miles from town. Everything about his house indicated the possession of competence. The shelves of his library were well furnished with books; a bright fire burned in the grate; and a few volumes, evidently favourites, lay on the table. His Bible was nearest his hand; in fact he had just laid it down. Further on were a Devotional Commentary, Baxter's Saint's Rest, Leighton on Peter, and a few other books of kindred character. His countenance bore the indications of a soul at perfect peace; and the index was a true one. He knew and loved his Saviour, and he hoped soon to be with him. His two daughters, with their husbands and their children, were to dine with him that day. They wished to spare him the fatigue; but he would not hear of it. "No, no," he said, " it may be the last time. Come all of you. I can leave you a little in the afternoon." He was expecting their coming; and very likely that had something to do with the purpose he now formed. Rising from his chair after a little reflection, he took his place at the table, spread a sheet of paper before him, and began to write. His hand had lost the command of his pen it had possessed in former days, and he wrote tremblingly; still the characters were clear and distinct. The manuscript was found in his desk after he had gone, labelled, "For my dear grandchildren." "I have been looking back to-day on the way the Lord has led me, not forty years only, but more than twice forty. I think the end of my journey cannot be far distant; and that thought has led me to recall its successive stages. There are some things in the retrospect which revive in me very sad feelings; but the feelings that most predominate are those of heartfelt gratitude. Surely goodness and mercy have followed me all the days of my life.' "The first stage of my journey-my childhood and the earlier days of my youth-was passed in a little village far away in Northumberland, in the beautiful vale of the Coquet. I think I see it now as distinctly as though I had left it only yesterday, embosomed in the hills, with its fine old castle, and the walks by the banks of the river, and the squire's house-the only well-built house in the place. My father was a small farmer, occupying a few acres of land, just enough to afford us a mere subsistence; but never did I meet with a better man; and my mother was one of the kindest, best women that ever lived. Tears fill my eyes even now, as I think of them; and to this day I bless God that I was born of such parents. They taught us to love the house of God, to keep the sabbath holy, but most of all to believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and to take the Bible as a guide of our whole life. I remember well the serious solemnity of our family worship, the psalms we sung, my father's very tones as he read the word of God, and the earnestness with which he prayed. We were not a very large familythere were four of us, three brothers and a sister; but few as we were, there was no prospect of our finding occupation in H; and so it was resolved that whilst my elder brother and my sister should remain at home, my younger brother and I should be sent out into the world. Father and mother struggled hard to give us a good education; and fortunately for us, the minister was willing to educate a few pupils with his own boys. When I was fifteen years of age, through the good offices of a friend in Newcastle, a situation was found for me in a merchant's office on the Quay-side. It was a time of mingled hopefulness and sadness when I left home. My mother had bought a new Bible for me two or three months before; and the night before I left, she took me aside, put it into my hands, and made me promise that I would read a portion of it every day, and not forget to pray. Another thing she insisted on very earnestly. I hear,' she said, ' that in large towns they don't keep the sabbath as we keep it here. Now, my dear boy, promise me that you will never forsake God's house, or go pleasure-taking on his day.' With all these requests, I gave a ready compliance; and it proved a great safeguard to me that I did. 66 My father went with me to Newcastle; but though we had to start at four o'clock in the morning, we must not think of leaving, he said, without family prayer. Oh, how he prayed for me that morning! I remember it all the more distinctly because it was the last time I ever heard him pray at our beloved family altar. It was a long journey; but I was sorry when it was over; so kind was he, and so loving were his counsels. There was little more than he had often said in different forms before; but it seemed to me, as I thought about them afterwards, that they were the closing summary of all his teachings. He found me a humble lodging; called with me at the place of business where I was to be employed; and took me in the evening to call on a good minister, whose ministry he wished me to attend, and who promised to show me what kindness and attention were in his power. He stayed with me that night, and early the next morning he set off home again. He was a strong man, and had generally great command of his feelings. Indeed, I believe he made a point of showing them as little as possible. I never saw him overcome till that day; but then he was overcome. What took place afterwards caused these things to make a deeper impression on me than they might otherwise have done. "I had now entered on the second stage of my journey. I liked my work, for there was a good deal of variety about it. I was, besides, encouraged by finding that my services were appreciated, and that I had good reason to hope that by diligence and industry I should succeed in life. Still my work was not without its temptations. It threw me amongst sailors,-open-hearted, generous fellows, but too often addicted to vice. There were also young men on the Quay-side, in our own and other offices, who were anything but what they ought to have been; and they did their utmost to lead me astray. It seems most wonderful to me that I stood; for I do not think that as yet I had God's grace in my heart. There were, however, several things which helped to keep me. First of all, there were the remembrances of home. I thought of the principles which had been inculcated upon me, of the promises I had made, and of the grief into which my parents would be plunged, if I did wrong. Then, I found it necessary, for the purpose of conversing with the captains of foreign vessels, that I should learn German and French; and I saw, too, that if I could master those languages I should be able to secure the post of foreign clerk. So I set to work, with what help I could get, to learn them. The minister to whom my father had taken me, too, was very kind. He had a large congregation, and he was much occupied; but he showed me a great deal of attention which did much to keep me from evil, and for which I shall ever revere his memory. But most of all, I believe |