Dost wonder at the path thou'rt called to tread? E'en by a way they knew not, to the rest Near unto Me. So, faint not if the path be rough, the way E'en in the darksome valley thou shalt prove Then on, press on, thou'rt nearing fast thy home; Near unto Me. Oh, 'tis enough, my Lord! I long and haste Nearer to Thee. Then through the ages long my song shall be, Near unto Thee, my God, nearer to Thee! A STORY FOR THE NEW YEAR. HE bells rang out a merry peal. Sweetly, and yet solemnly, sounded the chimes on the still, frosty air at midnight. And the sexton's little daughter lay awake and listened. What said those full, glad notes? passing away, and of a time to come. dying out, and the New Year coming in. They told of time Of the Old Year She was a strange child, and had a strange young history. She had grown up among the quiet graves in that secluded graveyard at one end of which they had their home. She and her father-there were but two of them-she was the child of his old age. At the other end was the pretty, picturesque church with its clambering ivy. It had a grand new entrance, which opened upon a very high, wide flight of steps leading to a busy street without. Somehow, standing in the old porch and looking down, the world seemed very far off to the sexton's little daughter. She had no companion but her father, unless it were the quiet dead, who were not dead to her. As far as she could she had learned from him their life histories, and peopled this solitary resting-place with living memories for which many a mourner, had they known it, might have blessed her. She never became so familiarised with the scene as to lose a certain awe and respect for it; it only made her quiet, contemplative, imaginative. Neither sad nor gay. I have said she had no other companion. She might have told you herself she had; but perhaps this was fancy. In one corner of the quiet churchyard, where the trees bent lowest and the tall grass waved highest, was one small mound, which she tended with especial care. It was the grave of a little sister who died many years ago when her mother was on earth, and bore this inscription only--- RUTH. "In heaven their angels do always behold the face of my Father which is in heaven." The image of that sister was often present with her; and the angels, they were living creatures indeed-real, surrounding influences, to the sexton's little daughter. She had asked her father once the meaning of the text, and, with an air of more importance and intelligence than usual, he had answered: "Some people supposes as little children has guardian angels who watch over them, and see God. Some, that their spirits are always before Him in heaven when they die. I don't know, I'm sure." The child mused. "Are the angels ever around us ?" she inquired. "I don't know, I'm sure," he repeated, looking about him with a startled, uncomfortable air, as if he expected to receive a brush of their wings. He derived his impressions from representations of chubby faces and curly heads in old masonry and gilt cornices, and no wonder he shrank from the thought of such visitants. It was not so with her; henceforth she was not alone. So much for the past, for the Old Year ringing out. What of the future? of the New Year coming in? A dim, deep, uncertain haze; a dark void. Poor child! Some time since she had a heavy cold which affected her eyes; she recovered, but her sight was decidedly weaker. Neither did it regain strength; it failed day after day, and never had she realised it so much as this night, when she had tried to read the big letters in her book by the light of the solitary candle. What if she should go blind altogether? She tried to pray, there in her little bed, while still the sweet chimes rang, but could not. Nevermore to try and make out the inscriptions on the tombstones. Nevermore to clear away the weeds from her mother's grave, and the little one in the corner. Nevermore to see her father's facethat was the worst of all; her dear, dear father-nevernevermore ! She knew it was bad for her eyes to cry, but she could not help it. God is very merciful, however; as the last notes died away, the weary young watcher fell asleep. Next day there was a New Year's service, and, hand-inhand, she and the old man passed through the churchyard and took their accustomed place in the church. She greatly enjoyed the hymn; it quieted her, she scarcely knew why. After it was over she found her way to the frequented corner; there the full tide of feeling would have sway, and,, bowing her head on the cold stone, she sobbed out : "Oh, Ruth, little sister, you are with God and the angels, and I here, soon not even to see your grave, or our dear, dear father who called me his only comfort! How can I be the light of his home now?" A gentle hand was laid upon her, a soft touch and kindly, and, turning up her face, she dimly saw a young lady dressed in black, whose sweet countenance was bent pityingly towards hers. She was her Sunday-school teacher. "My dear child," she said; "my dear child!" The fond words of sympathy went straight to the burdened heart, and the next moment the sexton's little daughter was weeping on her breast. "If I could only see my father," she wailed out, "I would not mind anything else. I am not like other children who care only for play; and I might still feel the bright sun here.. But he may grow old, or sick, or pale, and I can never see it." "Dear Margaret," said the young lady, "you know who spoke these words- I am the light of the world: he that followeth Me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.' Believe me, if you trust Jesus His love can make you happy in spite of outward circumstances. Why, dear child, people have been shut up in dungeons for His name's sake-deep, underground places where a ray of sunshine could not reach them; without a friend to speak a word of comfort, or repeat a passage of God's Word, and they have been so happy that a king on his throne might have envied them. Poorly fed, and cruelly dealt with in every way, as the dreary hours dragged on they have sung hymns in the gloom for very gladness of heart. And if you and your father belong to Christ, if you trust in what He has done, and are washed in His blood, you will surely see His dear face again among the redeemed in glory. And not only Him, but better still, Jesus, who so loved you-Jesus, whom you love. Believe-pray that you may behold Him now by faith, and look forward in hope to the glad time. when this shall be fulfilled;" and the lady rapidly turned over the leaves of her Bible, and, finding the place, read: "Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf shall be unstopped." "Thine eyes shall see the King in His beauty; they shall behold the land that is very far off." Neither spoke after this for some time, but the child's face was hidden in her hands. Silently she prayed, "Lord, take a poor, sinful child. Make me to see Jesus!" And God granted her that which she requested. Was she unhappy from thenceforth? Oh no! All who attended that church, young and old, rich and poor, knew, and many loved, the blind child-the sexton's little daughter. Many stedfastly looking upon the expression of settled peace which made her countenance shine with an almost unearthly light, "saw her face as it had been the face of an angel." Kind friends were raised up, who had her taught many useful things, and she was then perhaps more than ever the light of the old man's home. She lived till he, like aged Simeon," departed in peace;" and when she was about to be called away from earth to join the blessed company who shall have "part in the first resurrection," over whom "the second death hath no power," she left some money to erect a headstone in the well-known corner, bearing this inscription" Whereas I was blind, now I see." E. E. H. |