be weary, and shall walk and not
faint."

Then he spoke of the Helper ever near--the "dear Jesus ever at our
side," in looking to whom in faith and prayer, not trying to walk in
our own strength, we may get

"the daily strength,
To none who ask denied,"--

the strength to overcome temptation and conquer sloth, and do whatever
work He gives us to do. Something, too, he said of what that work is:
First, the faithful discharge of daily duty, whatever its nature; then
the more voluntary work for Christ and our fellow-men with which the
corners of the busiest life may be filled up--the weak and weary to be
helped, the mourner to be sympathized with, the erring brother or
sister to be sought out and brought back, the cup of cold water to be
given for Christ's sake, which should not lose its reward.

He ended by speaking of the grounds on which Jesus is the "author and
finisher of our faith," the great salvation won by Him for us on the
cross,--a salvation to be entered upon now, so that during this life
we may begin that glorious eternal life which is to go on for ever.
Then he besought his hearers, by the greatness of that love which had
prompted the infinite sacrifice, by the endurance of that mysterious
depth of suffering which the Son of God bore for men, that He might
"save them to the uttermost that come unto God by Him," to come at
once to have their sins washed away in the Redeemer's blood, which
alone could "purge their consciences from dead works to serve the
living God."

Many and many a time during Lucy's after-life did the words of that
sermon come back to her mind, associated with her father's earnest,
solemn tones, with the peaceful beauty of that summer Sabbath
evening--with the old church, its high seats and pulpit and
time-stained walls, and the old familiar faces whom all her life she
had been wont to see, Sunday after Sunday, in the same familiar seats.

And what of the others? Bessie Ford, too, had noticed the coincidence,
and had listened to the sermon as attentively as a somewhat volatile
mind would allow her, and had gathered from it more than she could
have put into conscious thought, though it was destined to bring forth
fruit.

And far back, in a dusky corner of the little gallery, gleamed the
bright brown eyes of little Nelly, who had ventured back to the
church, and, hearing the familiar sound of the text, listened intently
and picked up some things which, though only ha