starting forth as she did so. Shall I have the courage to speak before a number of young people? and yet, ought I to shrink? Jesus Christ pleased not Himself; and if I am about His work, He can supply strength and courage."

She rose a moment after, and walking to her little window, stood looking out on her favourite hills, and thinking how easy it was for Him who framed those hills to instil into her heart strength for every difficulty. Her Bible lay close beside her on the table; she opened it almost mechanically, but her eye fell on words that seemed the echo of her thought. "I can do all things through Christ that strengtheneth me."

That was what she wanted; she asked no more. All was contained in that sentence. Christ's strength made perfect in weakness, His grace in every time of need-what more could she desire ? And yet she, in the weak unbelief of her heart, had shrunk from His service-dreading to enter on a path that promised so much of good and blessing, because she had looked at her own feebleness, mistrusted her own strength, and forgotten that "underneath are the everlasting arms," ready to support and bear up and sustain in every emergency!

How often, fellow-Christian, do we the same? How often are we found looking at the waves and forgetting Him whose power is to still them, and who so often in His loving way rebukes our fear with His gentle "O ye of little faith, wherefore dost thou doubt ?"

Mother! surrounded with thy little ones, wilful, difficult to manage, grieving thee daily with their evil tempers and strong wills, art thou not often ready to

sink beneath thy load, to look forward with dread to the future, to older years, and stronger, more unbending wills? Art thou trembling at their future prospects? Thou, too, art looking at the waves; looking at thine own weakness. Art thou alone in thy trouble? is there none to share thy burden? Thou art not alone; thou canst not be alone whilst Jesus is thine-thine to bear all thy burdens—thine to sustain and comfort thee, and lead and guide thy wilful ones! Hast thou gone to Him with thy burdens? hast thou sought for His influence in thy household? Art thou still seeking for His protecting, sustaining care? Ask on, and doubt not; leave with Him thy darlings. He will safely keep them and comfort thee!"

And thou who art weary with thy daily life, sick and weary of its monotony-day after day the same dreary employment-month after month, and little to vary its routine, and no anticipation of any change in the future to buoy thee up in the present; this, too, is a sorrow thou mayest safely confide into the loving ears of Jesus. He has medicine for heartweariness, as well as every other sorrow. He can rest thy weary spirit. He can give life to its monotony; and, if so please Him, change thy whole life's current. Only carry this thy burden, whatever it may be, to Him, and straightway it shall be lightened.

The troubled, dismayed look on Emily's face had vanished, when at last she left her bedroom and came out into her kitchen. The little room looked bright and pleasant, for the rosy sunlight had stolen in, and fell cheerfully on the neatly-arranged table,

on the bright cups and saucers, and japanned teatray. Emily busied herself in completing the preparations for tea, filling a cut glass with Gilbert's favourite jam, and cutting open the light tea-cakes her own hands had made and baked that morning. A salad from their own garden, and a vase with two or three roses and a stem of fuchsias, gave freshness and fragrance to all. Tea was waiting, when Gilbert at last came in.

"Everything looks very bright and cheerful, and so does my little wife too," said Gilbert, as he smilingly sipped his tea. "I wonder, now, whether I am to have any answer to my proposition ?"

"Do you expect one?" said Emily, looking up with a bright smile and blush.

"Assuredly I do, dear. Have you considered the question ?"

"Yes."

"And prayed over it, Emmy?"

"Both, dear Gilbert," she returned, leaning forward and hiding her face on his shoulder; "I shall not shrink from duty. I believe God will give me the strength I need."

"I am sure He will, darling—sure He will ;

"Whoever asked for help in vain,

Or praying, sank beneath his load?'"

You will have all the help you need; and I pray most earnestly that a blessing may rest upon you and your charge. Have you thought anything about the place of meeting, and the time?"

The young

"Yes; I thought of this room. people will not mind the walk, I am sure; and the

time, every Tuesday evening," she added, with a smile.

"The evening I am out, eh, Emmy? Are you afraid of the pastor peeping in upon you? Well, perhaps that will be best. And now, darling, the next thing to be done will be to gather your little band. Maggie will help you in that, nicely. Thank you, my little helpmate-your work is ready for you."

CHAPTER XV.

THE FIRST GATHERING.

"Prayer is a creature's strength, his very breath and being; Prayer is the golden key that can open the wickets of mercy. Wherefore, pray, O creature, for many and great are thy wants."

TUPPER.

IT was the Sabbath evening, balmy and bright with moonshine. There had been a large gathering at the evening service, and Gilbert Owen had been more than usually impressive. He had been dwelling much upon the influence of prayer,-its positive necessity. He had quoted Montgomery's often-quoted hymn, resting particularly on these lines:

"Prayer is the Christian's vital breath!
The Christian's native air!"

Instance after instance, from the Bible, of answers to prayer came flowing from his lips. Assurance from God's own voice, that He would not only hear but answer, were reiterated; and he finally wound up the whole by himself most earnestly praying that upon his people-the people of his charge-the spirit of prayer might indeed descend, and blessings abundantly be given.

It almost seemed as though the spirit had descended there, for a singular calm ran through the little