aid meekly, "It is well,"
So when Sophia lost her infant boy,
And felt how dear-bought is a mother's joy,
When with green turf the little grave she spread,
"Not lost, but gone before," she meekly said.
And now they sleep together 'neath the willow
The same dew drops upon their silent pillow.
Return, O mourner, from this double grave,
And praise the God who all her graces gave.
Follow her faith, and let her mantle be
A cloak of holy zeal to cover thee.

The danger which he incurred from the shepherds in this region, and
other similar perils to which he was exposed in company with others,
have been recorded in the _Narrative_. Out of them all the Lord
delivered him; and not from these perils only did He save him, but
from many severe trials to his health, to which variety of climate and
discomforts of accommodation subjected him. And now we were
traversing Prussia, drawing nearer our own land. It was about five
months since we had received letters from Scotland, our route having
led us away from places which we had anticipated visiting, and where
communications had been left for us. We pressed homeward somewhat
anxiously, yet wondering often at past mercies. In a letter from
Berlin, Mr. M'Cheyne remarked, "Our heavenly Father has brought us
through so many trials and dangers that I feel persuaded He will yet
carry us to the end. Like John, we shall fulfil our course. 'Are there
not twelve hours in the day?' Are we not all immortal till our work is
done?" His strength was rapidly increasing; the journey had answered
the ends anticipated to a great extent, in his restoration to health.
He was able to preach at Hamburgh to the English congregation of Mr.
Rheder, from whom it was that the first hint of a Revival in Dundee
reached his ears. He heard just so much both of Kilsyth and Dundee as
to make him long to hear more. A few days after, on board the vessel
that conveyed us to England, he thus expressed his feelings:--

"Sailing up the Thames, _Nov. 6, 1839._

"MY DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER,--You will be glad to see by the date
that we are once more in sight of the shores of happy England. I
only wish I knew how you all are. I have not heard of you since I
was in Smyrna. In vain did I inquire for letters from you at
Cracow, Berlin, and Hamburgh. You must have written to Warsaw,
and the Resident there has not returned