HYMN FOR THE DYING.
The day of life is closing,
Its last faint beams have fled;
Yet faith, on Christ reposing,
Can death's cold waters tread!
The dark sea spreads before me,
Upon the brink I stand,
Oh, guide me, Lord of glory!
To heaven's blissful strand!
To Thee, Lord, I flee;
My trust is in Thee.
O death! where is thy sting? O grave! thy victory?
No longer here detain me;
I hear my Saviour's voice,
I feel His arm sustain me,
I triumph and rejoice!
The Lord will bless for ever
Those who His love have known
Nor life nor death can sever
The Saviour from His own!
Victorious and free
His people shall be.
O death! where is thy sting? O grave! thy victory?
After receiving the solemn, fervent blessing of the sufferer, Flora quitted the cottage, followed by her companion. Ada felt that she had been standing on holy ground; she was awed for the moment, sobered by the scene of which she had been a witness. Did she envy her cousin that dying blessing?
At the gate of Mrs. Arkwright's little garden they were met by the silver-haired clergyman, evidently on his way to visit the suffering member of his flock.
"Just where I should have expected to meet our Flora," he said, with a beaming expression on his benevolent face.
He courteously greeted Ada, to whom he had before been introduced, and expressed his hope that her visit to the country would be a prolonged one.
"Oh no! I leave Laurel Bank at the end of next week; and I wish," Ada added, laying her hand on her cousin's arm, "to carry away Flora with me."
"Carry away our Flora," cried the old clergyman, shaking his head; "would you rob our poor village of its sunshine?"
Flora and Ada walked on some way in silence. "I wonder," thought the latter, "who would miss me were I to go to New Zealand to-morrow! Would there be one smile the less amid my gay companions? would I leave a blank in the brilliant assemblies which I have frequented so long? should I be more regretted than one of the flowers which deck the ball-room for a night, to be thrown aside withered and faded in the morning? After all, I am not certain whether Flora's life is not happier than mine; at least I suspect that it will be pleasanter to look back upon when youth and all its follies are past!"
CHAPTER III.
CONFESSION.