See Hymn 457, Martineau's Hymn Book; or the

following

Trust to thy God for aid,
In grief to Him repair;
Trust and be undismayed,-
Seek thou His tender care.

He who directs the way

Of winds and clouds and snow,
Shall He not mark the path
Where safe thy feet may go?

Oh cast away thy fear!
Poor soul on Him rely;
He all thy griefs will bear,
To thy requests draw nigh.

Then on His mercy trust,
And wait the joyful hour
When the bright sun shall rise
In all his glorious power.

Up, up! and bid good night
To griefs that throng around;
Look to the cheering light,

For there thy God is found.

What tho' thou rulest not,

Nor can these clouds dispel,
Our God Himself directs-

And ruleth all things well.

From Thomson's Hymn to the Seasons.

Should Fate command me to the farthest verge Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes, Rivers unknown to song; where first the sun Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam Flames on the Atlantic Isles; 'tis nought to me : Since God is ever present, ever felt,

In the void waste, as in the city full;

And where He vital breathes there must be joy.
When e'en at last the solemn hour shall come
And wing my mystic flight to future worlds,
I cheerful will obey; there with new powers,
Will rising wonders sing: I cannot go
Where Universal Love not smiles around,
Sustaining all yon orbs, and all their suns, &c.

All scenes alike engaging prove

To souls impressed with sacred love :
Where'er they dwell, they dwell in Thee,
In heaven, in earth, or in the sea.

To them remains nor place nor time,
Their country is in every clime;
They can be calm and free from care
On any shore since God is there.

Could I be cast where Thou art not,
That were indeed a dreadful lot;
But regions none remote I call,
Secure of finding God in all.

LESSON XV.

WHITHER SHALL WE FLEE FROM HIS PRESENCE ?

Greenwood's Sermons to Children.-Also, especially, "The Storm at Sea," from "Agathos and other Sunday Stories," by a Clergyman. (Published by Seely, Fleet Street, London.)

THE next morning was damp and cloudy, but Walter said to himself, "I will try and make it a comfortable day, nevertheless:" and he was busy helping Martha to shell peas, when he heard a carriage stop at the gate. It was his uncle Henry in a gig. He told Walter that his aunt Mary was better, and he hoped his mother would soon be able to come home: but perhaps it might be some days yet, so he was come to ask Walter if he would like to go and see his mother, and have dinner with her? You may be sure Walter was glad enough to go. Martha

wrapped him up nicely to shelter him from the

rain, and in five minutes he was off with his uncle; and they had a very pleasant drive, notwithstanding the rain.

When they got to uncle Henry's home, Walter went up into the room where his mother slept; and by and bye she came to him there, and was as glad to see him as Walter had been to come. Walter soon began to tell her about his trouble the day before he received her letter. mother," he said, "I did so want you that night! I felt more lonely and miserable when I went to bed, than I have done any other night since you went away."

"And

Mother." My poor child, I can well believe it! When a friend is angry with us, it seems as if we had lost that friend. And you felt that God must be displeased with you. You had disregarded his whispers in your soul, which reminded you that you ought to forgive and to love still. You had yielded to the wrong feelings, and allowed them to get possession of your heart. You had not exerted yourself-struggled -to rise above them; and God's holy Spirit seemed lost to your heart. The holy feelings were gone, and God's love and sympathy seemed gone with them! You might well feel lonely! Ah! my child, it makes me weep sometimes, to