of death I will fear no evil, for thy rod and thy staff comfort me:" was the exclamation of the royal psalmist, and has also been the language of many other pilgrims in the vale of tears in their last moments. Death to them has lost its sting, the grave its victory; they are now going to enjoy the glories of their heavenly Father's house, where many mansions are prepared for them. Now they are going to their long-wished for home. In this world they have been but as travellers and sojourners, pressing on toward that rest, which remaineth for the people of God.

"Strangers and pilgrims here below,

This earth they know is not their place;
But hasten through this vale of woe,

As restless to behold his face;
Swift to their heavenly country move,
Their everlasting home above."

Here they have had trials and difficulties innumerable to pass through, yet out of them all has the Lord delivered them. His grace has been sufficient. Now they are going to that glorious place where they will be free from all perplexing doubts and fears-meet those who have been endeared to them while on earth, and with whom they have oftentimes taken sweet counsel-sing the praises of their glorious Redeemer, and be for ever happy with the Lord.

And now, my dear children, do you not repeat the exclamation of Baalam, "Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his ;" but then, remember, that if you will die the death, you must live the life of the righteous. To trust

your salvation to a dying hour is the greatest folly. There is enough to do on a sick bed without having to seek the Saviour. The pains and the aches of the body are enough to contend with, and not unfrequently, reason looses its seat; and if we die without having on the " wedding garment,' we cannot enter heaven; for as the tree falls, so it lies: as death leaves us, judgment will find us. Oh! my dear children, be persuaded by one who loves you, to seek the Lord while in health and strength-seek him while he may be found-call upon him while he is near-devote your best days to his service, and in adversity and affliction, he will never leave, he will never forsake you.

Come to Christ and your reward shall be “everlasting life." Come now, the Spirit and the Bride say, come; and let him that heareth say, come; and let him that is athirst, come; and whosoever will, let him come and take of the water of life freely. Behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation.

Altrincham.

THE WAY TO GET A GOOD HEART.

AN ANECDOTE.

AN Indian woman came to one of the Moravian Missionaries, and told him, that as soon as she had a good heart, she would turn to the Lord Jesus.

"Ah!" replied he, "you want to walk on your head! How can you get a good heart, unless you first come to Jesus, for the sanctifying grace of his Holy Spirit?"

ST. DECLAN.

In the county of Waterford, in Ireland, is Ardmore, whose first bishop was St. Declan, who is represented to have been the friend and companion of St. Partrick.

He travelled for education to Rome, resided there for some years, was afterwards ordained by the Pope, returned to his own country about the year 402, and about that time founded the abbey, and was made Bishop of Ardmore.

St. Declan lived to a great age, and his successor, St. Ulthan, was alive in the year 550. A stone, or holy well, and a dormitory in the churchyard, still bear the name of St. Declan. St. Declan's stone is on the beach it is a large rock, resting on two others, which elevate it a little above the ground. On the 24th of July, the festival, numbers of the poor Catholics do penance on their bare knees round this stone; and with great pain and difficulty creep under it, in expectation thereby of curing or preventing rheumatic affections. In the churchyard is the dormitory of St. Declan, a small, low building, held in great veneration by the people in the neighbourhood, who frequently visit it in order to procure some of the earth which is supposed to cover the relicts of the saint.

On the 24th of July, there are, indeed, grand doings at this part of the kingdom. Several persons, of all ages and both sexes, assemble at Ardmore. The greatest part of the extensive strand which forms the western side of the bay, was, when I was there, literally covered by a dense mass

of people. Tents and stands, once for the sale of whiskey, were now raised for the sale of lemonade, ginger-pop, and apple-water. They were placed in parallel lines, with here and there a private whiskey bottle for the convenience of those who could conscientiously take the "cratur" as a medicine. Each tent had its green ensign waving on high, bearing some appropriate motto.

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At an early hour those whom their popish feelings had drawn to the spot commenced their superstitious exercises, by passing under the holy rock of St Declan.

Two hundred and ninety persons of both sexes, knelt down, at one time, and indiscriminately, around the stone, and passed separately, under it on the other side. This was not effected without

considerable pain and difficulty, owing to the narrowness of the passage and the sharpness of the rocks. Stretched at full length on the ground on the face and stomach, each devotee moved forward as if in the act of swimming, and thus squeezed or dragged themselves through.

Upwards of a thousand persons were observed to go through the ceremony in the course of the day. A priest, who stood by part of the time, was heard to exclaim, "Oh! great is their faith!" Several of their reverences passed and repassed to and from the chapel, close to the Holy Rock, during the day. The Holy Rock is of so great veneration, as to be believed to be endowed with miraculous powers. It is said to have been wafted from Rome upon the surface of the ocean, at the period of St. Declan's founding the church at Ardmore, and to have borne on its top a large bell for the church, and a vestment for the saint.

At a short distance from this sacred memorial, in a cliff overhanging the sea, is the Well of the saint. Thither the crowds repair, after the devotions of the Rock are ended. Having drunk plentifully of its waters, they wash their legs and feet in the streams that issue from it, and, telling their beads, sprinkle themselves and their neighbour with the fluid.

The performances over, the grave of the patron saint is resorted to: hundreds at a time crowd round it, and crush each other in their eagerness to obtain a handful of the earth, which is believed to cover the mortal remains of Declan. A woman stood breast-high in the grave, and served out a