make her comfortable, though she can hardly move out of her chair.”

Well, said I, as I arose to take leave, I am glad to see you so cheerful and contented. "Contented," said he, “Dear me, sir, there are not two happier persons in the city than we are. Our friends are very good to us, and they send us now and then some cold victuals, and often the little children come up and read their Bibles, and repeat their hymns, which I explain to them. It is a pleasant sight, indeed, and it cheers my heart to see them play together."

As I looked round that small room, (the only furniture in which was a bed, a table, two chairs, and a few books on some old shelves,) and beheld this poor woman and this venerable man, I could not but feel how good God is "to those

who put their trust in him." I would that you had been there to have seen him. As I was about to go, he said,

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us.

am glad that you have called upon You see how happy we live, and how good God is to us. We forget not our old friends, but morning and night they come up in remembrance as we offer our daily prayer. Some of them have gone down to the grave; we are just on its brink, and soon shall meet them in another world." Tears of joy and gratitude flowed as he spoke, and bidding them adieu, I left the house, though I would gladly have staid longer; and I carried from thence a rich reward in what I had seen and heard from this good old man.

There he was, poor as he could be, dependent on the charity of others, in a

land far from his home; the friends of his youth all gone, and he just ready to depart. Yet, what a beautiful sight! Here was a Christian whose soul was fixed on his heavenly Father; no povty or distress turned him aside, and it truly might be said of him, that

"His heart did find delight in praise,
And seek relief in prayer."

This person was the same old man whom I often went to see when I was a little boy; and this visit brought the question to my mind, as I sat at my well-supplied table on Thanksgiving day Is my gratitude like his? Is my love to my Father like his?

Words are too poor a medium to express the happiness this poor man enjoyed. I loved to think of him in his garret; I loved to go there to kindle my

piety and increase my gratitude to my Father in heaven. The thought of this Christian, and the source of his happiness, was the reward I received for my visit. I present it to you; treasure ät, think often of it, and then perhaps you may better understand the meaning of those beautiful words of the Psalmist, "Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright, for the end of that man is peace."

"Then, while with visage blank and sere,
The poor on earth we see,

Let us not ask what he is here,
But what he soon will be;

And look beyond this earthly night,
To crowns of gold, and bowers of light."

IN the cross of Christ I glory,
Towering o'er the wrecks of time;
All the light of sacred story
Gathers round its head sublime.

When the woes of life o'ertake me,
Hopes deceive and fears annoy,
Never shall the cross forsake me;
Lo! it gleams with peace and joy.

When the sun of bliss is beaming
Light and love upon my way,