ghtful owners came. I arose to retire, but was beckoned to remain.
So I resumed my seat, thankful for the privilege. Group after group
entered, but faces of strangers were all around me. Presently a
white-haired old man came slowly along the aisle, and, entering the
chancel, ascended to the pulpit. I had not expected this. Our
minister was far advanced in years when we left the village, yet
here he was! How breathlessly did I lean forward to catch the sound
of his voice when he arose to read the service! It was the same
impressive voice, yet lower and somewhat broken. My heart trembled,
and tears dimmed my eyes as the sound went echoing through the room.
For a time I was a child again. I closed my eyes, and felt that my
mother, my sister, and my brothers were with me.

I can never forget that morning. When the service closed, and the
people moved away, I looked from countenance to countenance, but all
were strange, except those of a few old men and women. Still
lingering, I met the minister as he came slowly down the aisle
towards the door. He did not know me, for his eyes were dim with
age, and I had changed in twenty years. But, when I extended my hand
and gave my name, he seized it with a quick energy, while a vivid
light irradiated his countenance.

I will not weary the reader with a detail of the long interview held
that day with the old minister in his own house. It was good for me
that I met him ere leaving Brookdale under the pressure of a first
disappointment. His words of wisdom were yet in my ears.

"As you have found the old church the same," said he, while holding
my hand in parting, "amid ruin and change everywhere around, so will
you find the truths which are given for our salvation ever
immutable, though mere human inventions of thought are set aside by
every coming generation for new philosophies, and the finer fancies
of more brilliant intellects. Religion is built upon a rock, and the
storms and floods of time cannot move it from its firm foundation."

"THE WORD IS NIGH THEE."

DWELL'ST thou with thine own people? are the joys,
The hopes, the blessings of "sweet home" thine own?
"The Word is nigh thee;" hear the sacred voice!
At morn, bow with thy loved ones round the throne;
At noon-tide read and pray; and in the hour
When evening's shades close round thee, let the truth
Subdue thy heart by its transforming power;
That thou, whom God has blessed, may'st serve hi