I just looked round at the wife, who seemed to be startled at my sudden appearance, and the six fine children who sat near her, and then said, “You were going to pray; I must beg of you, without regarding me, to go on as if I were not here.”
The man, whom I could not but love and reverence, with a simple, unaffected, modest, and devout demeanour, did as I requested him. His prayer was full of tender affection and sincerity, expressed with great Scriptural propriety, and was in all respects such as became the preacher of those sentiments which I have overheard him deliver to his wife just before.
When he had finished, each of his children, according to the good old patriarchal custom of better days,
kneeled down before him in turn to receive a father’s blessing.
It was now late, and the rain was over. I gave the poor man my blessing, and received his in return. I wished them good night, and went onwards to my own home, reflecting with much self-abasement of heart, what an honour and comfort it is to be a poor man, rich in faith.
A VISIT TO THE INFIRMARY.
I went a few months since to visit a parishioner, then in the county infirmary, within some miles of which I reside, and was informed that in an adjoining ward there lay a very good old man, confined by a mortification in his foot, who would take particular satisfaction in any Christian conversation which my time would allow me to afford him.
The nurse conducted me into a room where I found him alone on a bed. The character of his countenance was venerable, cheerful, contented, and pious. His hoary hairs proclaimed him to be aged, although the liveliness in his eye was equal to that of the most vigorous youth.
“How are you, my friend?” I said.
“Very well, sir, very well. Never better in all my life. Thank God for all his mercies!” replied the man, with so cheerful a tone of voice as at once surprised and delighted me.