its eternal destiny on the
words of God. A few days before this he had said to Mrs. Knowles:

"You remember when we first talked of the Shepherd's Psalm, I said I
should be glad when I could say: 'When I walk through the valley of the
shadow of death, I will fear no evil' Now," he added, emphatically, "_I
can say it._ I fear no evil, for thy rod and thy staff they comfort me."

His listener then went on to speak of the beautiful figure of the rod
and staff.

_Sunshine and Shadow._--God leads his little ones gently, the Good
Shepherd bears the lambs, that the enemy may not too much affright them
through the dark valley.

"Is your peace never disturbed, William?" I asked one day.

"Not often," he answered. "Sometimes there comes a cloud--it is a
temptation, I suppose."

"Yes," I said, "Satan, perhaps, envies you. He knows that he will never
get your soul, but he will trouble you a little."

"I suppose so," he replied thoughtfully.

Wishing to express to me his happiness in God, and not knowing quite
how to do so, he said:

"It is like this, sometimes--I feel like a boy let out from school; I
am so happy, I want to shout." At another time he said:

"I have much _communion_." Then, as if to illustrate this, he added:

"Last night, I awoke about two o'clock, and I was praying in my sleep."

"Can you recall your prayer?" I asked.

"No," he said, "but I was praying to God."

"God is very good, William, to let you talk with him so in the night."

"Yes," he answered; and then turning his face toward his pillow, he
said, in a low voice: "Praise God!"

"And bless his holy name," I responded.

We were both silent for a few moments, and then--I think it was in
connection with this conversation--I asked:

"William, if you were to get well now, do you think you would try to
live to the glory of God?"

"Indeed, I would," he answered.

"And bring others to know him?" I asked.

"Yes," he said again.

"Well, William, I suppose you think that here upon this bed you cannot
do much; but I think you can glorify him here on this very bed."

"Yes," he answered, a little doubtfully; then added: "I try to pray to
him all the time."

I was half sorry for the suggestion, which seemed somewhat to bewilder
him, and said: "That is all you can do, is it not?"

"And that is little enough," he replied sorrowfully.

I tried to make him understand that to receive much of God's grace was
the surest way to serve him.

"Wha