When a young man, he was several times beguiled by the tempter into forbidden paths, and his eyes were not opened to behold the danger until the fangs of the serpent pierced deeply into his heart. Then most fully did he realize that he was poor motherless William; that he was abroad in the world without those most effectual safeguards against sin, a good mother's counsels and a mother's daily prayers; that while others could express unreservedly to their mothers their hopes or fears, their success or misfortune, their faithfulness in the hour of temptation or weakness under its power, and be counselled, encouraged, urged or entreated anew,—he could only go to his mother's grave and shed bitter tears of repentance in loneliness, or withdraw himself from all around him, and, a poor motherless child, call up the dim remembrance of that young and cheerful being who once called him her precious son, her treasured child,—and weep the more bitterly that no answering voice or smile, or look of encouragement or hope, met him in this sinful world!
Oh ye who have hearts to feel, who profess Christian principles to guide you, and the holy love of our Master for your example, seek out the motherless child of the poor, the ignorant, the vicious, and by the power of Christ which is within you, according to the measure of that power, strive to be like fond mothers to the thousands who cry "We have no dear mother—our mother is in heaven—is dead—and we know not what is right or what is wrong!" Help and pity them. Rescue them from that heart-breaking loneliness and sorrow that prey incessantly on the feelings of a sensitive, intelligent, motherless child.
FAITH.
BY MRS. E.R.B. WALDO.
Upon the peaceful breast of Faith
My troubled soul hath found repose,
Free from the sad and starless gloom
That doubting scepticism knows.