.

Search the Scriptures. Use them chiefly as a mirror in which you are to
see yourself. Dwell on the writings of the Psalmist. They speak to human
experience as few books, even in the sacred volume, address us. You will
feel no joy, for which they have not the language to express your
gratitude. No sorrow will so deluge your heart, that God will not,
through them, send a holy wind, to assuage the waters. Peruse especially
the life of Christ. There is your model, an incarnation of the Divinity.
Rest not until you also have begun to grow in the image of God. Do you
love what he loved? Are you living as he lived? Have you the same high
purposes, to "please your Father," and to "go about doing good?"

Pour out your soul before the Lord. Prayer is our spiritual aliment. It
teaches us humility. For who can carry self-important and haughty
feelings to the throne of Infinite Purity? Prayer will teach you to see
the hand of Providence in all that befalls you. While you present all
issues before Him, second causes will not disturb and distress you.
Submission is the fruit of devoutness. "Thy will be done," be this your
petition, and it will not only reconcile you to those overwhelming
events, which would else prostrate you in the dust, but it will be a
daily sedative amid the disquieting cares of your lot. And, though you
feel burdened with guilt, do not restrain prayer before God. He is the
friend of the penitent. Nor let a cold heart keep you back from this
service. The habit of being instant in prayer is indispensable to
salvation. Besides, who can tell that, even while you are speaking, the
cloud will not roll off, and the face of your Father, a view of his
love, deep, unutterable, and divine, and the sense of his precious
presence, revisit your soul?

You are now in the prime of your being. Commence to-day the life of the
soul, and you will enter on that course, which leads to an immortal
virtue. Time is short; why should you give to it your noblest energies?
This world is but a passing shadow. Oh, do not consent to build your
dwelling, as if the suns, that scorch and blast the soul, could not
strike you. That Being, in whose hand is your breath, has placed you,
for a few swift-winged years, on a vessel, propelled by fearful
elements. In an hour you least imagine, that, which now bears you
brightly onward, may burst its confines, and scatter on the wild waves
the black fragments of all that is mortal. Yet fear not death;