re was something that seemed to call
for tears or complaints. To all of these the day answered--"But rather,
giving of thanks."

It was dark enough when Faith awoke; and she sat up in bed a minute or
two, listening to the wild blasts of wind and the heavy pattering of
the rain,--hearing the screech of the locomotive as the train swept by
in the distance, with a pang at the thought of its freight of
homeward-bound and expected dear ones,--then taking the day's motto,
and gently and quietly going about the day's work. But the first of its
work for her, was to cancel the bit of work it had already done by
itself; and for that Faith went to her Bible,--went first to the list
of texts that had come with it; endeavouring to realize and make sure
her ground on that verse of the 91st Psalm--then on from that to its
following--

"For in the time of trouble he shall hide me in his pavilion."

It was not a "time of trouble." Faith would not call it so. Never so
bright a Thanksgiving day had risen upon her, spite of its clouds. But
trouble might come; in the course of life-experience she knew it was
pretty sure to come; and she sought to refuge herself beforehand in the
promise of that pavilion of hiding. The driving wind and storm that
emblematized another kind, gave emphasis also to the emblem of shelter.
How Faith blessed her Bible!

The next verse enlarged a little.--

"Thou shalt hide them in the secret of thy presence from the pride of man:
thou shalt keep them secretly in a pavilion from the strife of tongues."

Then followed the joyful acceptance of that promise--

"Thou art my hiding place; thou shalt preserve me from trouble; thou
shalt compass me about with songs of deliverance."

Then its result--

"I am like a green olive tree in the house of God: I trust in the
mercy of God for ever and ever."

"From the end of the earth will I cry unto thee, when my heart is
overwhelmed: lead me to the rock that is higher than I. For thou hast
been a shelter for me, and a strong tower from the enemy. I will abide
in thy tabernacle for ever; I will trust in the covert of thy wings."

What strong refuge! what riches of trust!--How very bright Faith's
fire-lit room looked, with the wind whistling all about, and the red
light on her open Bible. She turned on. And like the full burst of a
chorus after that solo, she seemed to hear the whole Church Militant
say,--

"Lord, thou hast been our dwelling-place in al