Again I looked, and all was still, Yet there amid the graves I heard I know it, my Redeemer lives, The reign of wrong is not for long, O grant Thy Spirit, Lord, to me, That I may find that crown of life And build my hopes upon the Rock O Saviour! I would trust in Thee, Thy promises are sure. Thou promisest to hear our cry, And help us when we pray; And suppliants from Thy throne of grace I wait upon Thee, O my God! I kneel beside Thy footstool, Lord, Of every evil thing in me, The sage took up the stylus sharp And wrote upon the page the words, In sooth a proverb for all time, It is but for a passing hour The sands that tell our saddest hours And earthly glory fades like light I thought upon the sage's words, With rhythmic cadence as I mused When I beheld the children's glee, I looked again, and in their place Yet while I listened to their so I looked again; I saw not youth But men and women there, was afraid you were going to be late! been ready ever so long." h an impatient little woman," replied her t isn't half after twelve yet; however, we Do much time, I expect, for there's always a ts and things in Gracechurch Street, and we'll : perhaps half an hour to get you and the baby ell, let's make haste then; 'two a dreadful My God, deliver me from sin, I cry from out the dark to Thee, Speak to the darkness, Lord, and then And then Thy light I shall behold, Thy glory I shall see : And in the vision of Thy face Wrong's wrong, and Right's right. T was twelve o'clock on the first Saturday in August, and the whistle that told the men engaged on the great block of new buildings in Kensington that work was over for the week, sounded shrilly through the sultry air. The busy clink, clink of numerous trowels, the more distracting sounds of hammer, saw, and plane that had reigned since early morning, ceased as if by magic, and in a few minutes the men were hurrying home through the hot dusty streets, and the big unfinished houses were left silent and deserted. One of the last to leave was a young carpenter of pleasant appearance, even in his soiled work-day clothes. Monday was Bank Holiday, and he gave a last look round to see that he had all his tools safe in his bag. "Are you off anywhere to-day, Allwright?" asked a fellow-workman as they left the buildings together. "Ay, I'm going to take the missis and baby down to Southend till Monday," he replied, with a broad smile of delight. "You're a lucky fellow," replied his mate. "We've too many youngsters to do more than a boat to Greenwich or Kew for the day." "Well," replied Allwright, "you see I've done a good stroke of work this summer, and my little woman has been a trifle weak ever since the baby was born last May, and this hot weather tries her; our street's close and hot, and a blow by the sea will be better nor a doctor's bill." "You're right there, mate. here." Good-day, mate!" Good-day to ye. I turns And Charles Allwright hurried away home, for they were to take the 2.27 train to Southend that they might have as long as possible in the fresh country air. His lodgings were in a side street off Fulham Road, and there he found his young wife eagerly waiting to start; the few simple things they needed to take with them were ready packed in a neat bag, the baby dressed in her clean pelisse and fresh white linen hat; whilst a soft shawl lying across the bag showed that the thoughtful young mother had not forgotten that the sea-air might be keener than baby was accustomed to encounter in the close London streets. Part of a cold-meat pasty stood on a plate upon the table with a small jug of ale beside it. Charles Allwright smiled as his rapid glance took in all these details, and then rested on the beaming face of his wife, as she turned quickly from the glass, before which she had been putting the finishing touches to her holiday attire, to welcome him. 66 Oh, Charlie, I was afraid you were going to be late! Baby and I have been ready ever so long." "You are such an impatient little woman," replied her husband. "It isn't half after twelve yet; however, we shan't have too much time, I expect, for there's always a block of carts and things in Gracechurch Street, and we'll have to wait perhaps half an hour to get you and the baby across safe." “Oh, well, let's make haste then; 'twould be a dreadful |