Is Christ thy hope, thy trust? yea, day by day,
Thy guide, thy staff, thy lantern, and thy way?
Canst thou for him renounce thy worldly pride?
Is he thy riches? Is all dross beside ?

Is he thy sword and shield in peril's hour?
Thy rock, thy refuge, thine abiding tower?
If, with thy wealth around thee, thou canst bend,
And seek with all thy soul the sinner's Friend,
A beggar still at mercy's open door,

Then art thou rich indeed-if not, thou'rt poor.

WHO ART THOU ?

Art thou young, and this world dost thou love?
Oh, why should'st thou thoughtlessly roam ?
Thy Father is calling thy young heart above,
And the beautiful heavens are thy home:
To thy home, truant boy, to thy home.

Hast thou number'd the years of a man?

Oh think, then, in time, of thine end;

Though thy griefs may be many-though life be a

span,

Yet God is thy Father and Friend:
To thy Friend, man of grief, to thy Friend.

Art thou aged in years and in woes,

And weary, and worn, and oppress'd?

There's a peace for the pilgrim, a place of repose, And heaven is appointed for rest:

To thy rest, man of years, to thy rest.

N

JESUS DIED."

With erring heart I went astray,
In paths of sin, and wander'd wide,
Till Mercy met me in my way,

And softly whisper'd, "Jesus died.”
Offended at that sudden sound,
Indignantly I turn'd aside;

But still the voice was heard around,
And still it whisper'd, "Jesus died."
Then Justice cross'd my path, and stood
Erect and stern to quell my pride;
His glittering sword was bathed in blood;
Ah! well for me that "Jesus died."
"Come forth, thou traitor, to thy God,"
His voice in thundering accents cried;
Oppress'd, I sank upon the sod,

And faintly answered, "Jesus died."

E'en as I falter'd forth the word,

He strove his blushing face to hide, And sheathed in haste his blood-stain'd sword, And then I shouted, “Jesus died!”

COURAGE, CHRISTIAN.

Though thy sins were untold as the sands, Thy Saviour has scatter'd them wide;

Oh, look on the palms of his hands,

And the rent and the stream at his side.

So long as thy Saviour shall reign,

And the throne of his glory endure;
So long will his promise remain,

And thy pardon and peace be secure.

The glowing piety apparent in some of the preceding contributions, and others in this volume, partook of a more subdued and chastened character in the Christian life of their author. His piety was indeed of a quiet and unobtrusive character. With great meekness, he would, at times, refer to the lowly, abasing views of himself which possessed his mind. He felt that he must lie very low at the foot of the cross, seeking for salvation only for the righteousness' sake of his Divine Redeemer. But whatever were the sentiments as to his own religious experience, those who knew him best in the family circle, or in the intimacy of friendship, felt that they might, without irreverence, apply to him the Saviour's commendation of Nathaniel, "Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile!"

CHAPTER VI.

LAST DAYS OF OLD HUMPHREY.

YEARS passed away in active literary engagements until Mr. Mogridge became a real "Old Humphrey." But with advancing age came weakness and affliction; chiefly from the effects of a sprained ankle. He thus describes the occasion of his inconvenience and pain : "I was returning home late (sadly too late for one of my years, for it was eleven o'clock at night, but I had been unexpectedly detained), when suddenly I set my foot on a broken flag-stone. Something gave a snap, but at the moment so intense was my agony that I knew not whether it was my leg or a piece of wood on the flagstone. A deathly coldness came over me, and I thought that my senses were about to leave me ; so, steadying myself against a closed shop-window, I awaited the crisis. A cold perspiration having somewhat relieved me, and being near my abode, I hopped to some palisades by the roadside; and with the assistance they afforded me,

contrived to reach my own habitation. What a blessing it is to be calm and collected in bodily affliction! This has hitherto almost always been the case with me, and it was so on the occasion to which I have alluded. I succeeded in getting off my boot, and perceiving how much my foot and ankle were bruised, swollen, and inflamed, immediately applied to a surgeon: happily no bones were broken."

This painful casualty elicited the sympathy and kind attentions of all to whom Mr. Mogridge was known; which he acknowledged in his own cheerful and agreeable way, in the two pieces, "On a Sprained Ankle," and a "Little Gossip about a Lame Foot; "* pieces, which, it is known, have afforded profitable instruction to some similarly afflicted. It soon became evident that the effect of the injury was an impaired state of health. From that time, he was unable to visit his favourite localities, and but seldom to enjoy the society of endeared friends. Instead of revelling in the meadows and among the hedgerows of the country, his study was now the chief scene of his meditations. Here he continued to pen those "Addresses," and "Observations," and "Appeals," which were welcome to thousands of

* "Old Humphrey's Friendly Appeals," pp. 109 and 294.