for, yet he loves to rehearse all his trials and sorrows, and

To fill his fellow-creature's ear
With the sad tale of all his care.'

The next verse of this admirable hymn will suggest itself to the minds of my readers; would that it were more often present to that of Mr. O. and all who resemble him; or rather let me say, would that the manifestation of the divine will in the apostle's exhortation, “in every thing give thanks,” were enforced on the mind of every discontented Christian, whenever the repining or murmuring thought arises there. Then should we have fewer complainers, more frequent songs of praise, and a better compliance with that almost parallel injunction of the same apostle, "Rejoice in the Lord always, and again I say rejoice." (Phil. iv. 4.)

X. Q.

A LESSON OF STILL.

'A LESSON of still-what a very odd title!' It is so, my reáder; and if you do not happen to belong to the society of Friends, who would understand it at once, I must introduce you to Miss Emilie Horton, a quiet invalid, who, as she lies upon her sofa, has been thinking about it, and she shall explain it in your hearing to a gentle and pleasant friend, who is come with her work-bag to spend an hour by her side.

'And so, dear Emilie, you sent me word that you had been taking 'a lesson of still.' If it will not tire you to talk, will you tell me what you mean?'

'I was thinking, my dear madam, of a young Quakeress I met at Sidmouth last year. She had three lovely children; and sometimes when I have been spending the day with her, she has called one of them to her knee, saying,' Now, little Mary dear, let us have a lesson of still;' she would then take out her watch, and, for five or ten minutes, the child would seat itself in its small chair, and remain perfectly quiet. They were very early trained to this habit, and were remarkably happy and good children.' 'Well, my love, and now for the application.?

'I think that as their mother acted towards them, my heavenly Father is now acting towards me; and I wanted you, dear Mrs. Lardner, to come and help me to learn the lessons which he is meaning to teach me.'

'Most willingly, my Emilie, if it is in my power, though you are looking already to teaching which is better than mine. Was this young mother in the habit of presenting to the child's mind any food for thought at these times of still?"

'Occasionally she would whisper in its ear a text of scripture or a verse of a hymn, which she had previously impressed upon its recollection; but I believe that the habit was cultivated as a foundation for the serenity and peace of demeanour which you know belongs to that sect of Christians, and which would, in a measure, be well imbibed by every child of God, in whatever division of the fold.'

And now, my dear, supposing yourself to be this child in God's hand, how were you employed when it pleased him thus to say to you, Be still? You have been laid aside for several weeks, to the sorrow of many a kind friend; indeed I have much sympathy to bear to you this morning, from those whom you are yet unable to see.'

I am sure I thank them for their sympathy; but if they knew how needful this stillness has been to me spiritually, they would rejoice in my affliction, rather than sorrow for it. You asked me what occupied me when I was taken ill? As far as action was concerned, I was at work in God's vineyard and have been compelled to leave my work at a time when there seemed the most for me to do.'

'You do not speak this as a murmur, Emilie!'

No, my dear friend, I trust not now; for if this was my feeling at first, God has further humbled me, and shewn me that he can well dispense with my little all of effort and energy. I have noticed that, with all your tenderness which abounds towards me,

you have not once yourself expressed sorrow for my present disabilities, in common with my other friends.'

'Because, my beloved, it is not my habit to express sorrow for the dispensations of a heavenly Father to his children. I endeavour to watch against it. These dispensations are exactly fitted to our need, and this is fitted to yours. Whilst I would comfort you under your affliction, I desire that you should look upon it as a mercy from heaven, and dive deeply into your own heart, to find out why it comes. "Shew me wherefore thou contendest with me!" My own soul has so often found the greenest pasture after the falling of the dark cloud, that I dare not wish for my best friends, that they should never dwell beneath its shadow.'

6

That is the voice of one who has felt, as I am feeling now, the blessings of the brook Cherith. I have been reading the good book of Dr. Krummacher's Elijah the Tishbite.' In speaking of situations where we must be alone with God, he says, 'By these we are shut in with Elijah, by the brook Cherith, but such seclusion, how blissful and salutary may it become; numberless Christians have been constrained to declare that it was in their lonely sick chamber that they entered really into their own hearts, and ascertained their true spiritual state. The leaven of the pharisees was then put away from them, and worship was no longer paid to an imaginary Saviour. They began to long in earnest for close communion with him, and the wrestling prayer of Jacob, lasting until day-break, which they had only talked of before, now became a matter of reality and experience, an event in their own personal his

tory; and a hundred other things pertaining to inward religion, which they had only in imagination appropriated hitherto, were then individually realized. Therefore, be of good cheer, ye that dwell by the brook Cherith.'

'I am glad such a book has found its way to you just now. Books are quiet friends, and we should take care of their character at all times, but especially in sickness. A light, trifling volume, then, will fritter away the sound of the still small voice of God; and in that case, why are we here alone? But you must not read much, at present. Remember it is 'a lesson of still' to body and mind: I hear your physician prescribes two moral medicines, patience and repose, and says to you, "Be content to lie fallow a little longer." Is this difficult, my child?'

'Very difficult, but I find it is necessary; the character of my disorder is lingering and relapsing; I have gone back again several times after getting forward too soon, and rise from each attack with added weakness. I am told I should save my strength as it returns, and not use it again directly, but this is a new lesson to one of active habits, and it is, as you say, 'difficult.'

'I dare say it was difficult to the little rosy child in the small chair at first, but the principles which were enough for her, will suffice for you-Love and obedience to Him" who maketh thee to lie down in green pastures-who leadeth thee beside the still waters, for so he restoreth thy soul." I trust he will be pleased ere long to restore bodily health likewise. I should like to give you a hint or two on this head.' 'You have long been my mentor both for body and mind. I should like to know what the hint would be.'