ram. No. 34. "BE YE ALSO READY." MATTHEW XXIX I 44. Henry D was a laborer irf a farmhouse on the outskirts of my parish, and as the church of the adjoin- ing parish was nearer to his master's farm tban my own, he always attended the services there. He was a fine powerful yorng man. His life had been steady and reg- ular. He had been a faithful, trustworthy man, and was a great favorite w>th his employer. He had'excellent health ; but inflammation seized him. He was ill six days, and now his soul is before God. ' To-day is Monday. It was only on Friday morning that I heard of his illness, and of course" before the day closecLI visited him. On that day and on Saturday, he seemed to take very little iiterest in what I said to him. Oh that I had pressed the subject more, that I had been even more importunate with him ! On Saturday there was some apprehi juflRtednot to fell him, as the medical man feared that it miijht have an unfavorable effect upon the disease. I remonstrated, but to no purpose ; and I left a message that I hoped the medical man, who was expected that evening again, would tell trim. On Sunday I walked round to see him after my ser- vices, and found him better. There was hope .that he would recover. There was a change also in his manner. verses I had read # to hijn^^ 2 \be y.e also He wished to know whorelrae verses I had ?ea\Mo h'jjra* were to be found; lie joined heartily in the prayers I offered up; "dwelt especially on one verse I had read, "If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature; old things are passed away ; bthold, all things are become new;" and heartily said "amen" to the petition that he might become such a new creature. You will not wonder that I now dwell on these things. The end was close at hand, closer than I then thought; for this, of which I am speaking, was only yesterday, and I am writing in the early morning of Monday. I had intended to sea him by nine o'clock to-day, but I was to see him before that time. This morning at early dawn I was awoke by a request to go and see poor Hen- ry. I at once feared the~worst. I arose, and in a very few moments was on my way to the farm. The village was quiet, its inhabitants for the most part being wrap- ped in slumber. The bus}' smith, the stroke of whose hammer early and late has often been a reproach to me, was not astir. The birds were awake and glad in the early March morning. WLat a walk it was ! how solemn, how prayerful !- How weak I felt and ignorant. ! how completely dependent upon God's Spirit ! Arrived at the house, all the usual signs of sickness and watching are apparent at once. Henry I learn is much worse ; they are applying a blister, and I must wait a few moments. In the interval, I call in the mas- ter and a friend of the dying man, that we may pray for him. As we rise from our knees, Henry's uncle, who had arrived last night, entfirs the room; he has been trying, he says, to arrange about his temporal affairs, but can get no definite answer. He thinks that Henry will k BE TE ALSO READY. 3 tell mc his wishes. Will i try ? 1 refuse. • 1 have other masters, I say, more important to attend to. They have had all night to arrange about the few clothes, the watch, and arrears of wages ; I may have onl} r a few minutes to speak about the soul. Then- I ask> Has any one told him his danger since the unfavorable change took place? Can it be believed, he has not yet been told? " God, and he so near tirv judgment !"' J go-up stairs ; he knows me, and grasps my hand. Tenderly I tell him that he cannot live. My heart is full. I beseech him to give me all his attention. lie takes some ice to cool his mouth, that he may better attend to me 5 and then he is " rea-