have walked in the way of my own heart, to my grievous hurt, although my Friend's counsel was before my eyes. But this impartation of a wisdom superior to my own has delivered my eyes from tears and my feet from falling. I thankfully, therefore, accept the conclusion that with my Friend for my Guide, I shall be ever safe.

My Friend is equally remarkable for the assistance he affords when assistance is needed; and this, I need not say, is very often indeed. In this respect his conduct is very much at variance with that of some who are ready enough to give advice, but who never think of giving help as well, or who, if they would, are unable to give it. It is not enough to say that he is a very able Friend, the fact being that his resources are most extraordinary, so that it may be affirmed respecting him that "all power is his;" and that he is able to do for all whom he befriends " exceeding abundantly above all they ask or think." This help is constantly at my disposal; and if at any time it has seemed to be withheld, I now confess, to my shame, that I have not had because I have not asked, or because I have had improper motives in asking. I could give very many instances of my Friend's great power and willingness to give me help in time of need; but I must pass on to say that

My Friend is ever accessible. Other friends I have, who, in their degree, are kind, loving, sympathizing, faithful, judicious, and ready to help; but I cannot at all times apply to them. Distance, sickness, sorrow, and many other obstacles may intervene; but there are no such obstacles between my Friend and myself. He is ever near at hand, and not afar off. I can go to him at any hour of the day, ay, and of the night too; and his kindness and generosity is such that

"He bids me always freely come,

And promises whate'er I ask."

Strange that I should have to confess, to my shame—
"But I am straitened, cold, and dumb,
And count my privilege a task."

Yet so it sometimes is.

Ah! you know by this, if by no other token, who my gracious, loving, gentle, forbearing Friend is. There is no need, surely, to name his name. Yet will I name him, with one of old, and say, My Lord, and my God!" and add in solemn supplication

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"Lord, many times I am a-weary quite
Of my own self, my sin and vanity;
Yet be not Thou (or I am lost outright)
Weary of me.

"And hate against myself I often bear,
And enter with myself in fierce debate :
Take thou my part against myself, nor share

In that just hate.

"Best friends might loathe us, if what things perverse.
We know of our own selves, they also knew:
Lord, Holy One, if thou who knowest worse,

Should'st loathe me too!"

But he does not loathe, because he is an unchangeable friend: "Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, and to-day, and for ever." And he whispers to my soul, "I have loved thee with an everlasting love; therefore with loving-kindness have I drawn thee."

Reader, is my Friend

your

Friend? He will be if you seek his friendship, for he invites you to seek it.

"Come, then, with all your wants and wounds,

Your every burden bring;

Here LOVE, unchanging Love, abounds,
A deep celestial spring."

Come and put his kindness, sympathy, and pardoning grace, and justifying righteousness to the test; and you, with all saints, shall be able to comprehend what is the breadth, and length, and depth, and height; and to know the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge;" and in the joy of your heart, you will break forth in songs of praise, singing

"How vast the treasure we possess !

How rich thy bounty, King of grace!
This world is ours, and worlds to come;
Earth is our lodge, and heaven our home.

"All things are ours, the gift of God,
The purchase of a Saviour's blood:
While the good Spirit shows us how
To use and to improve them too.

"If peace and plenty crown my days,

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They help me, Lord, to speak thy praise;

If bread of sorrows be my food,

Those sorrows work my lasting good.

'Father, I wait thy daily will;

Thou shalt divide my portion still :

Grant me on earth what seems thee best,

Till death and heaven reveal the rest."

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"THY WILL BE DONE."

YOUTHFUL SELF-DENIAL.

Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright; for the end of that man is peace."-Psa. xxxvii. 37.

THERE came a hasty summons at midnight into a peaceful home, calling away the head of the household into the presence of God, and leaving a band of loving mourners to commit to the grave the dear form of husband, father, master, until the hour when, for those who sleep in Jesus, death shall be swallowed up in victory. So, great as was the shock, the survivors sorrowed "not without hope," and "comforted one another" with the "words" of holy promise.

The additional trial of a great reverse of circumstances seemed scarcely realized by the widow and her daughters, in their first distress at the calamity which caused it; and the only one who fully comprehended their position, inwardly resolved, that the further consequences of his father's death should fall as lightly as his care could make them, on the heads least able to bear the burden.

Mrs. Bracey was in ill health, and required many indulgences hitherto liberally supplied: her son would not allow them to be diminished. Mary, the eldest daughter, was essential to her mother's comfort, and must not leave her; Amy, the half imbecile, the object of her father's anxious solicitude, must be as a sacred charge for life; and Louisa, herself delicate and fragile, was the only one who could thoroughly manage her often wayward sister; while Grace, the youngest, had not yet completed her education. How then could any of them help to maintain the family?

"Cannot we keep a school, Edward?" pleaded Mary, when she began to understand the necessity of certain changes in their mode of life; "I am ready to do my best in any way you point out.”

"I know you are, dear sister, but our mother needs your care; and if you were otherwise engaged, she must be left to servants."

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She would not mind that if it is right."

Very true, but is it right? It is uncertain; it would be a constant drag upon your energies, mental and bodily. Amy could not be of any use to you; and Louisa must

look after her. No, Mary, it does not seem right, at least not at present; for it would involve such an establishment as we are not justified in maintaining, as a forlorn hope, even for another month.'

"Well then, brother, if we cannot earn, let us at least save every needless expense. Let us have a very small house, sell all our large heavy furniture, and learn to wait upon ourselves."

"I believe it must come to nearly that, dear Mary," said her brother, mournfully.

"And then

"There are debts to be paid. I have examined into everything, and met my father's creditors, who are willing to wait. With time I expect every farthing will be paid. I am obliged to tell you these things, that you may see how we are placed."

“Then what shall we have to live on, Edward ?" asked Mary, in surprise.

"On the portion of my salary not set apart for the debts," replied he. "It is to be raised now, through the kindness of my employers; and I hope, with good management, we shall not want after all."

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"I will do needlework," said Mary, eagerly. "Emily will help me as long as she stays; she is so good and clever, and is longing to be of use to us."

The brother's countenance changed a little, but Mary was not looking at him, and did not perceive it. "Mary, dear," said he, presently, "don't you think Emily had better return home?"

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Oh, must she indeed go so soon? She has been a true blessing to us in our sorrow, and I don't think she would wish to go if she knew she could do any good by staying." "But we are poor now, Mary. Does Emily know

that?"

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Yes, I suppose so, for mamma was telling her something about it, and saying that she dreaded lest a too heavy burden should fall upon you; and Emily said she was certain you would do all that a good son and brother could do."

"Emily shall not be disappointed in that expectation. Now go, dear sister, for I have much to think of and arrange."

And so he had, and to begin in the hardest place too, the secret recesses of his own heart. There had long lain a

fond project which must now be given up; for with all that was before him as 66 a good son and brother," any dream of self-indulgence was utterly inconsistent. "Thy will be done," he had meekly said, when God, by the late sad providence, had constituted him the guardian of his mother and sisters; and, when all that such a trust involved gathered forcibly before his mind, and touched the innermost shrine of one opposing wish, Thy will, not mine, be done," came again, firmly though with crucifying meaning from heart and lip.

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In the first awakening of his soul at the call of God's Holy Spirit, Edward Bracey had sought the Lord Jesus Christ as a perfect and pardoning Saviour; and having felt that Jesus had given his life for him, the simple, natural return of a grateful heart must be, that he should give himself to Jesus, to serve, obey, and follow him whithersoever he pleased to lead. And he did so in no mere superficial make-believe sort of way, but with a devoted heart, and a resolute will; not in his own strength, but in the greater strength that triumphs over human weakness, and makes " more than conquerors all who claim it. He wished to be a follower of Christ, not only as a believer in his doctrines, but by becoming Christ-like, and drinking deep of "the mind that was in Christ;" and a vigorous, manly Christianity, trustworthy and true, shone out in life and action when the time of trial came.

"How fortunate that young Bracey has a good situation and is so much respected in it! What would his poor

mother and sisters do without him I wonder?"

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Ah, but, poor fellow, it will be hard work for him : he can have no hope of settling in life for himself for years to come, for they can do but little towards supporting themselves."

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Perhaps he will be looking out for some better post."

"Edward Bracey is not the man to lose the substance in search of the shadow: he is wise enough to avoid risks and fluctuations under his circumstances, and has not only undertaken to support the family, but has pledged his word to pay all his father's debts. Happily they are not great, but sufficient to hamper him for some years I believe."

"I knew Bracey would come up to the mark; for a more honourable fellow never lived, in spite of his religion."