the mind's harp, and every chord vibrates in answering rapture. And in a thousand other ways, which it would be impossible to enumerate, your life is brightened and blessed, even by that very constitutional sensibility, which, in another sense, greatly diminishes its happiness. So that, if the cold and unimpressible can move composedly through the world, without being greatly annoyed by the "pin-pricks" they meet with in the way, they also pass carelessly by many a hidden spring of the purest and most intense delight. And even as the one counterbalances the other, so, also, the one cannot be separated from the other. If, therefore, you would escape from some sorrow, it must be at the cost of the joy which is linked with it. We would, in conclusion, point you to the only true source of comfort "in all time of our tribulation"-the remembrance of the Saviour's tenderness and love. In every struggle, in every feeling of weariness and weakness, His eye is upon you and His arm underneath you. Your name, yes, your name, reader, if, indeed, you have unreservedly given yourself to Him, is engraven on His breast, and for you He constantly pleads before the throne on high. In Him you may trust, and find Him an unfailing support, while every earthly confidence will fail and leave you desolate. His word is pledged to supply "all your need," and surely with this you can lack nothing! He appoints for you exactly the discipline which is most needed, and which alone can fit and prepare you for the higher service of the temple above. And, whilst you are undergoing that discipline, He sustains you with the richest consolations of His grace, for He can be touched with the feeling of your infirmities, and has Himself drained to the very dregs the bitter cup of human woe. He has not forgotten His adopted one, but still can say of you, as in ancient times of His peculiar people, "I know your sorrows." With such an assurance, what can you fear, even though the clouds may gather closer round you, and the onward path look dark and cheerless? Be still, and trust. Every step brings you nearer to the rest of your Father's house, where the toils of the way shall be remembered no more. Look up, for the dawn is breaking. The darkness of this world's sorrow and loneliness shall pass away like a dream of the night, and the "days of thy mourning shall be ended." CHAPTER VIII. THE HIDDEN CROSS. "To the still wrestlings of the lonely heart The virtue of His midnight agony When none was nigh, Save God and one good angel, to assuage "Oh, Father, not my will, but Thine be done;' Be this our charm, mellowing Earth's ruder noise That we may cling for ever to Thy breast CHRISTIAN Year. NOTWITHSTANDING all that has been said and written about the happiness of childhood and early youth, it is, nevertheless, true, that neither is beyond the influence of that decree, alike the just penalty and the consequence of sin, by which "man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward." The tear on the cheek of childhood scarcely flows ere it is dried again, yet none can look back to their own early days, without feeling that the fountains of sorrow were none the less bitter for being easily stirred. The cloud may soon pass away, but, while it lasts, the whole sky is overshadowed. And when childhood is exchanged for youth, who shall say that sorrow is also left behind? Surely its touch falls most heavily on the young and untried spirit, which the stern discipline of life has not yet taught to "suffer and be still!" How soon, how effectually, does reality dispel our bright visions of perfect happiness in our "teens!" There is no home so carefully guarded that death may not enter it. A father's place may be left vacant-a mother's voice may be silent-a brother's manly form may be laid low, and even the gentle sister, in whose life your own seems to be bound up, may leave you to tread the wilderness path alone. Sickness, too, may come. Days of pain and nights of weariness may be your |