My head thou dost with oil anoint,
And my cup overflows.
Goodness and mercy all my life
Shall surely follow me;
And in God's house for evermore
My dwelling place shall be.
Said an old Christian (a member of my church) seventy-eight years of age, whose dear partner of his joys and sorrows whom I called to see in her deep affliction (for she had fallen and broken a limb), as I read the above psalm to them before engaging in prayer, "I remember when a boy at home of hearing my dear kind mother rocking the children to sleep singing that good old psalm of the Hebrew bard."
I received a telegram recently to call and see a wealthy manufacturer's mother from Ayrshire, who was stricken with paralysis. As I entered the room and took her hand, I said:
"I suppose you feel now in your sickness that the Lord is your shepherd."
"Yes," said she, "and He leadeth me beside the still waters." Shortly afterward she peacefully fell asleep in Jesus.