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burden and bear it for us. Having all power and wisdom, He is able to guide to the best of issues things that have quite passed beyond our power and control. When you have once committed any matter of business to a friend who is able to carry it through, and is himself absolutely trustworthy, you lay aside the burden from your own mind. You are satisfied that in his hands all will be well. Can you not do the same when the friend to be trusted is God ? He never fails to bring to the best possible issue whatever is trusted to Him; never disappoints any hope that rests on His promise. It would be a great thing to have the friendship of the wisest man on earth, and be able to consult him in any perplexity; a great thing to have the richest and most powerful monarch as our friend, and be able at all times to fall back on him for help; a great thing to have the kindest heart that beats beneath the skies to sympathise with us in time of trouble. But God is all this, and more than all this, and we are more than welcome to go to Him with our anxieties. We are to go with the greatest; they are not too great for Him to remedy. We are to go with the least; they are not too little for Him to care for. Whatever troubles us, whether it be real or imaginary, great or small, we are to carry to God in prayer and supplication. The man who has a grief that crushes his very soul; the woman whose heart is almost broken by sorrow; the child with its childish care-a care that older people might only laugh at-is asked to carry that care to God. He can understand the child's heart as well as that of the man and the woman, and it is a joy to Him to see the young draw near to seek His sympathy and help. Let the merchant come with the cares of his business, the mother with the cares of her household, the father with the cares of his family, the youth with the troubles he meets, the maiden with whatever vexes her, the boy with the troubles of his school-days-make them known unto God. All are welcome, and are always welcome. Do not imagine any trouble too trivial to carry to God. It is often the little troubles of life that make it a desert. Go with the most insignificant to God. · Whatever troubles you, He will not regard as beneath His notice or unworthy of His attention. He who watches the flight of the sparrow, and knows the number of hairs upon our heads, will gladly listen to our prayers. It is His delight to meet with the trust of a human soul in Himself, and the more we carry our cares to Him, the more do we show that we really trust Him.

There is one element, however, that must not be forgotten. Along with prayer there is to be thanksgiving. Much care arises from our looking too extensively on the dark side of things, looking too much at our griefs and cares, and forgetting our joys and comforts. It is in itself, in many cases, almost a cure for care and sorrow to turn the mind to look at our blessings and privileges. The Apostle would have us look at the bright side of things, and this in order that we may give thanks unto God for the blessings we have received from Him. Try this plan of his, and carry it out as a whole. Go to God in prayer, and tell Him what troubles you; ask His help, and tell Him you commit this thing to His care. Then having done so, look at your own circumstances and position. Think how much you enjoy that many want. Think even when you have loss and suffering, how many are far worse than you, and specially how many there are who know nothing of that Friend to whom you can carry all your griefs. Then give thanks unto God for all His mercies toward you.

Try this as a cure for your cares. Try it and you will find your soul refreshed, and the sky above you cleared as if a breeze from Eden had swept across the land. Oh, do not think this is a useless thing! Try it, honestly, earnestly try it, and one of two things is sure to come to pass; either the burden of your care will be removed, or such strength will be given you to bear it that, instead of your becoming exhausted and weakened thereby, you will grow stronger and stronger through the healthful exercise.

IXTY years ago to-day,—yes, just sixty years ago

to-day,—I turned down that leaf in my Bible," said an aged Christian to an old friend who had just

come in to see her. “Sixty years," and the tears filled her eyes, “and I've never turned it back again, for it has always been true.”

She placed her finger on the open page, and almost unconsciously it seemed to find its way to the verse, so well remembered, so deeply treasured, in the 50th Psalm. Slowly, and with deep emotion, she read it.

Call upon Me in the day of trouble : I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify Me."

Then she continued. “You've known me now for many years, but I've never told you my history, for I can hardly bear, even now, to speak of it; but I've thought sometimes, it may bring glory to His name, who has been so faithful to me; so if you would like to hear it, I will tell it you."

I told her I should be much interested. So she proceeded.

“Sixty years ago to-day, a day that can never be forgotten; I was a young widow; my husband died when I was only twenty-three, leaving me with three little children, the youngest just two months old. I was in the very depth of sorrow; it was almost too much for me; still I determined to do my best to keep a home for myself and the little ones, if only the parish would give me some assistance. I applied to the guardians, but in vain; their answer was an order for me and the children to go into the workhouse. At first I refused. What, break up my home, and be separated from my children! No, it was impossible; I would try alone; and I did try, but things got worse and worse with me, starvation stared us in the face, I could not earn enough to keep us, and, having parted with all the furniture that could be spared for food, I was obliged to yield, and again applied to the parish. The answer came; an order for us all to go into the workhouse the next Friday. It was the day before we were to go; all day long I bore up pretty well for the sake of the children, but the evening came; they were all in bed sleeping sweetly, I was alone, and in despair; I had not found a Friend in Jesus then, or I should have known, what I have since found to be true, that in no circumstances can one be utterly miserable if He is with them; but I was alone then. The darkness of night came on, still I sat up, I could not go to bed, I was too wretched. Suddenly the tempter came to me with a fearful, terrible temptation. What was life worth to me or to my children ? he suggested ; why not take away theirs and my own too, and so put an end to my misery? I hailed the thought, and again and again turned it over in my mind. Yes, I determined to do it. Starting up, and taking the carving-knife in my hand, I rushed up stairs; but the sight of my little ones overcame me, I could not touch them ; I went down again, and sitting over the fire, tried to work myself up to do it. It was just midnight, the tempter came again : "Think what they may have to suffer, to bear,' he said ; 'better do it, yes, better do it.' And once more I caught up the knife, and had reached the top of the stairs, when I seemed to hear a voice speaking to me, as distinctly as yours speaks to-day; it said, •Call upon Me in the day of trouble : I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify Me.' Who can it be? I thought. Surely there cannot be any one in the house; and yet I was persuaded there must be. Quickly going down again, I searched the room, and then the house in every part, but there was no one there. And then the thought came, it must have been God's voice to me: I was very ignorant, could scarcely read at all, and knew but very little about God; but the words seemed to draw me to Him; falling on my knees, I repeated over and over again, Lord have mercy upon me, Lord help me. A long time I thus remained, then a strange calm came over my spirit; I felt as if He had heard me, and would help. I put away the fearful knife, went up to bed, fell asleep, and slept soundly. Early ïn the morning there came a knock at the door; I went down and opened it; it was my husband's brother.

Mary,' he said, “I've been walking half the night, so as I might get here early, to tell you that some further application was made to the guardians for you yesterday, and they have agreed to allow you so much a week, and you can stay in your own home. I could hardly seak, my feelings overcame me; the neighbours came in, they had been very kind, and were glad to hear the good news, and we rejoiced together. But I longed to be alone, to think over my wonderful verse; I felt convinced now that it was the Lord who had put it in my heart to keeping one of the neighbours behind, who was a good scholar. I asked her whether she could find that verse for me? 'Oh, yes,' she said. Reaching down my mother's old Bible, which had not been used for many a long day, she opened it where you see it to-day, and I turned down the leaf. I could not read it, but I did not tell her so. When they were all gone, and I was left alone again, my heart did praise Him who had so wonderfully helped me in my trouble. I determined from henceforth I would seek to serve Him, and also to learn to read.

The next Sunday I took my Bible, and the children with me, to God's house; I asked some one next me to find the chapters that were read, and the hymns I knew a little, and carefully following the words, I soon got to know them, and being very regular in my attendance, thus learned to read. Very soon after, I found Jesus as my Saviour, my Friend; and felt that the guilt, even of the terrible crime I had contemplated, was cleansed in His precious blood.

“But my faith was often sorely tried. Again and again I had need to call, for many a time I have been in the greatest straits. More than once I have gone to bed without a penny in the house; but I have never called in vain, my wants have been always supplied. Once you came to see me, now many years ago; I had not tasted food that day, but I did not tell you my need, and you went away without giving me anything; and then, if you

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