and then I come home, and mother says not to cry, for may be
I'll do better to-morrow. Sometimes I get my basket almost full, and
then put it by for to-morrow; and then, if next day we have enough, I
take this to a poor woman next door. Sometimes I get only a few bits in
my basket for all day, and may be the next day. And then I _fast_,
because, you know, mother is sick and weakly, and can't be able to fast
like me.'"

These my friends, are some of the "short and simple annals of the poor."
But those of whom Gray spoke rest peacefully in the "country
churchyard;" their spirits are in heaven, and their history is embalmed
in his own immortal Elegy. But _these_ records are of those who yet live
and suffer--"Martyrs _without_ the palm."

And could I summon them here to-night, and would the Master but enter as
when upon earth, surely he would look upon them in tender pity; would
bless them; would take in his arms those whom the world has cast aside
and overlooked. Nay, perhaps he would transfigure their actuality into
their possibility, and we might see "the angels in their faces,"
pleading with us before the Father's throne!

THE HELP OF RELIGION.

DISCOURSE VIII.

THE HELP OF RELIGION.

For here have we no continuing city, but we seek one to
come.--HEBREWS xiii, 14.

There are a good many people who, apparently, are never troubled by any
speculations arising out of a comprehensive view of things. They are
keenly alive to all objects within their sphere; but their eyes are
close to the surface, and their experience comes in shocks of sensation,
and shreds of perception. They know the superficial features of the
world and its conventional expressions; are conversant with its business
and its pleasures; with the market, the fashions, the town-talk, the
worldly fortunes of their neighbors. Sometimes, a powerful affliction
startles them in this smooth routine, and for a moment they are
surprised to find how wide the universe is, and among what great
realities we dwell. But, usually, their existence is a narrow revolving
disc, bringing around the same group of incidents and the same
associations, morning, noon, and night. They comprehend Life as they
comprehend the expanse of yonder harbor, dotted with shifting but
familiar forms, ruffled by a passing wind or bright under a summer sun,
and whose tides duly rise and fall. But they little think of the oceanic
vastness which it represents; and h