s the angels' songs must ascend to the
summit of God's Throne.

"In the glad morning of my day,
My life to give, my vows to pay,
With no reserve and no delay,
With all my heart I come.

"Just as I am, young, strong and free,
To be the best that I can be,
For truth and righteousness and Thee,
Lord of my life, I come.

"And for Thy sake to win renown,
And then to take the victor's crown,
And at Thy feet to cast it down,
O Master, Lord, I come."

It was the sweet, enchanting strain of a pure and innocent soul
registering its determination to be worthy of the God from Whom it
sprung.

Day followed day, and week in week out, in sunshine and in rain, Ned
sold his papers and won his way. All came to know and admire and love
little Irish Ned. His honest, bright, little face and winsome, dimpled
smile won him hosts of friends; but he never forgot the dearest friend
of all, his good old Granny. And still as long as evening twilight
lingered, the setting sun, peeping through the western window in the
green frame church, found the two kneeling on the chancel step offering
up the prayer of Faith and Love.

CHAPTER IV.

The summer days were ended. The bright fall days were come. All nature
had donned her many coloured garments made beautiful by the frost
before she laid them away for the winter rest. The world was beautiful,
but darkness and dismay reigned in the newspaper offices, for Irish Ned
was missing. "No one to take his papers?" "Where is he?" "At home,
sick." "What?" "Typhoid fever." Yes; the curse of Winnipeg in its
earlier days, the dread disease responsible for so much poverty and
suffering, had Ned in its grip, and held him fast. He lay on his bed
very, very ill, and his grandmother tried to comfort and soothe and
bring him back to health--her darling, her loved one, her only one--but
all in vain. His course was run, his hour had come, his brief day of
trial was over. "Oh, sir," he said to the Rector, "I know _you'll_ tell
me the truth. The doctor won't tell me, and Granny tries to, but she
can't, you know, sir; but you will, I know: Am I going to die, sir?"
The good man asked, "How do you feel about it yourself, Ned, my son?"
And the lad bravely answered, "I think I am, sir." Then the Rector
said, "Ned, my own brave boy, you will see Jesus before we do; are you
afraid to go to Him?" And the sick boy answered, "No, sir; not now,
sir." Quietly and