all my fancies. And really that rose does look nice-like a little bit of hope in the midst of your great sorrow."

A word sometimes takes deep root, especially in a mind like Lucy's. She thought over what her aunt had said; for she was a thoughtful girl, and she had not sorrowed as one without hope. Why, then, should her dress give no expression to the hope, but only to the sorrow?

That very moment she looked up, and saw how the sun, which was breaking through a heavy cloud, had given to it its "silver lining;" and Lucy's heart was not slow to receive the lesson. But she said nothing. She was in the habit of looking up, not at the earthly sky only, and the material sun. The spirit within looked up, and sought the illumination of the Sun of Righteousness.

Every night, before Lucy went to bed, she read a few verses in her Bible, and thought about them, praying that her mind might be enlightened to understand them. And she tried sincerely to act out what she read. She was reading through St. Paul's Epistles; and this night she read the 5th chapter of the first of Thessalonians, as far as the 16th verse-" Rejoice evermore."

There she stopped; for she wanted to read it all again. Three verses particularly struck her.

First, St. Paul says, we are "all the children of light and

the children of the day" (verse 5).

.

How often words like these are used in speaking of those who follow Christ! And does not "the light" and "the day" mean joy as well as purity?

Lucy thought it must; and the 10th verse gave her such a feeling of reunion with her mother, that she found a reason for rejoicing, and learnt the verse before she closed her Bible: "Who died for us, that, whether we wake or sleep, we should live together with Him."

Such comfort this gave her that she wondered less at the words "Rejoice evermore" when she came to them the second time, and felt that it might be possible, after all, even to rejoice in suffering.

As Lucy put away her Bible, her eye fell upon the white rose which was lying on the table, looking faded and sad enough. "Poor rose!" she said to herself; “I will give you some water. Mother was so fond of roses."

The next morning it was quite revived, and she fastened it again into her dress. As she did so, some thoughts which came into her mind about it gave her a lighter heart than she had had a long while. She entered her aunt's room with a look more than resigned; it was cheerful, for a flood of light seemed to have broken in on her cloud of sorrow.

Before the day was over she put a white frill into her dress, as Ellen had requested her. "After all, it's more Christian," she said to herself. “Surely Ellen is right; and one ought always to have a little white in one's mourning." Perhaps, reader, you would like to know what Lucy's thoughts were about the flower. Well, I will tell you.

As she noticed how it revived in the water, she remembered that God's Holy Spirit is often compared to water in the Bible; and she thought, "God will pour it upon me if I ask Him earnestly for it;

and it will just give me fresh life every day, and help me to be cheerful."

After this, Lucy would as soon have forgotten to wash her face in the morning as neglect to ask for that dew from heaven which she wanted so much to refresh and strengthen her soul. She became quite noted for her cheerfulness; and, though she had many severe trials, she was always ready to forget her own sorrows in trying to sustain and comfort others. The Lord had indeed given her "the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness."

She lived to find herself a widow, and to lose her only child; and at first her heart felt as if it must break, so desolate had her home become.

But again the sun broke through the clouds, and glorified them. Then she became anxious to comfort others, and was so busy in relieving the miseries which she found pressing upon the poor around her, that she had little time for the indulgence of her own sorrow. When her cousin Ellen

came to see her, she expressed surprise that she could still smile and look cheerful.

But Lucy said, "I feel as if I had seen my loved ones safely off on a happy journey, and I am waiting to follow them. We shall not be long divided. Besides, was it not you who first told me to put a little white in my mourning?"

"I've never learnt my own lesson," said poor Ellen, humbly; "but I will try."

J. B.

God our Shield.

N ancient times, no warrior's equipment was complete without a shield; indeed, it was his principal means of defence. With it he turned aside the

swift arrows and fiery darts of his enemies, warded off the sharp sword-thrust, or protected himself from the shower of stones or other missiles. It was worn upon the left arm, and proved a most effectual defence while the wearer faced the foe, but formed not the least covering for a coward's back. It was considered such a disgrace for one to lose his shield, or be wounded in the back, that the patriotic Spartan matrons ended their parting salutations to their sons, "Return with your shields or upon them."

As shields were a necessity in ancient warfare, they varied in size, shape, or material, according to the notions or resources of the people. In the earliest ages, they were made of the bark of trees, osier willows, and the skins of animals ; but as nations advanced in wealth and civilization, shields were made of brass, steel, and other metals, and often of great beauty of finish, though none the less a means of defence. They might almost be looked upon as exponents of the degree of refinement to which a nation had attained. As weapons of offence changed, those of defence changed, and shields gradually diminished in size, but gained in

beauty and adornment, until, at last, they became merely armorial bearings, to display heraldic designs. Shields are no longer used in modern warfare; and as we have no practical illustration of the protection afforded by them, we lose much of the force of the Psalmist's exclamation, “Thou, O Lord, art our shield !”

Many passages in the Bible that make mention of the goodness or greatness of God are beautifully illustrated by the modes of agriculture, or warfare, or the peculiar customs of the times in which they were written, and we need fully to understand these in order to appreciate the beauty or force of such passages. When Abraham was sojourning in a land whose inhabitants were continually at war, God spake unto him, "Fear not, I am thy shield." And so, all down through the ages, He was the shield of all that put their trust in Him. He led Israel from bondage, often delivered them from their foes when every help of man was vain; sustained David, when hunted, as a partridge on the mountains, or hidden in the dens from the relentless Saul; protected the timorous Elijah from the persecutions of Jezebel. Indeed, the Holy Book is full of confirmation that God has ever been a sun and shield to His chosen people.

Paul, amid all his hardships by sea and land, his "fightings without and fears within," ever found God his "shield and exceeding great reward," and, after his varied experience, exhorts us to put on the whole armour of God, "above all, taking the shield of faith.”

This shield does not promise immunity from bodily hurt, but it protects that which is of infinitely more value—the soul. So long as with our face to the foe we follow the Captain of our salvation, He will lead us on to victory, and nothing shall be able to hurt or destroy the soul that is protected by the "shield of faith" in him. No subtle, sinpoisoned arrow of unholy desire, no sword-thrust of worldly policy, no shower of thick-rushing temptations, shall be able to overcome its power; for "God is our strength and shield, and nothing shall prevail against Him."

LI BEN AMRAM was one of the richest of his tribe. He had risen from humble circumstances to high honour-from poverty to great wealth. His ships floated on many seas, his merchandise was the produce of numerous lands, his fame resounded through all his nation. Yet did not the fortunes of Eli Ben Amram