have neglected them, when they were like the grass which groweth up: in the morning it flourisheth; in the evening it is cut down and withereth. My soul contemplates the number who are cut off suddenly by sickness; who rise in the morning, and are dead in the evening; and dying in their sins, they wither into everlasting destruction. My soul contemplates the forbearance and long-suffering of God: but ingratitude and sin, at length, excite his anger, by which in a moment they are consumed by a just punishment. Thus by "God's wrath are we troubled," on witnessing these awful visitations.

The eighth verse declares: "Thou hast set our iniquities before thee, our secret sins in the light of thy countenance." My soul contemplates God's omnipresent eye, which sees our every action and every thought. My soul contemplates the covetousness, malice, hatred, envy, and pride which man fosters in his heart, while his external front and outward deportment assumes the very opposite of these. He is not sensible that God is present, and that his hypocrisy is recorded in heaven against him. My heart contemplates, my love, the vast number of my own sex, who are all complaisant, -how courteous in the presence of their acquaintance! while in their hearts they entertain feelings of abhorrence and disgust: my soul contemplates,

and joins in unison with the Psalmist: "Thou hast set our iniquities before thee, our secret sins in the light of thy countenance."

The ninth verse continues: "For all our days are passed away in thy wrath; we spend our years as a tale that is told." My soul contemplates the transgression and evil which must be ever before God; how his holiness must be offended at such enormity and vice; and that the days of man are passed away in deceit and desperate wickedness. My soul contemplates our useless lives, which pass away as a tale that is told."

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The tenth verse : "The days of our years are threescore years and ten; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labour and sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away." Here my soul is cast down, in contemplating how fleeting are the days of man, and how the heart is bent upon useless and frivolous things-how the heart idolizes its wealth-how man exerts every means for his poor frail body. What peace, what joy, what comforts, he sacrifices in search of the things of this world, as if he was to live in it for ever! And my soul in union with the Psalmist says, "if by reason of strength, his years are fourscore, they are but labour and sorrow." Bankers fail, rogues purloin, or speculations are thwarted-all for

the poor frail body; no care of the soul, no thought of God: great preparation is made for a subsistence to lay up for old age, but none for the next world; none for eternal life: the present is soon cut off, and we fly away.

The eleventh verse: "Who knoweth the power of thine anger? Even according to thy fear, so is thy wrath." My soul fails me when I think of God's anger on the day of judgment; and when I see daily the foolhardy and unbelieving dare his wrath by their impenitence.

Twelfth verse: "So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom." My soul rejoices in the Lord, and earnestly prays that he will keep me from the error of my ways, and apply my heart to the true wisdom of learning heavenly knowledge, of making myself master of his Scriptures, of praying constantly for the Holy Spirit to have me in his holy keeping for ever

more.

Such, my love, are the meditations induced from reading the Psalms, or indeed any part of the Bible. A verse will occupy a pious mind with hours of contemplation and delight. The Bible is indeed full of interest to those who look to futurity and eternal glory; and if, my love, you were to live a hundred years, it would always give some new thought, and

greater delight, if perused with a meditating heart, and humble dependance upon God's teaching.

Let it suffice me to say, that God, after the sentence on David was realized, restored to him his throne and kingdom; but wicked Absalom, as he pursued his venerable parent, a branch of a tree caught his head-dress, by which he was caught up from his horse, and there he hanged, and was finally killed. But, my love, I must stop here; it is getting late. On another occasion, you shall know more of David.

I want to know, Mamma, also, of the second Adam, and his paradise.

The second Adam, my love, was the son of David, of whose history you shall hear on another occasion. Papa is coming home; we must now prepare for dinner.