72 THE HAWTHORN. 



told me a tale of hope and confidence. Returning 

 still in their appointed season, they were never 

 sought in vain. Why ? " For that He is strong in 

 power, not one faileth." Day and night, summer 

 and winter, seedtime and harvest, came and went. 

 Their quiet rotation none might interrupt : they 

 were ordained as tokens of a covenant between 

 God the creator and his creature man ; and this 

 again was the type of a better covenant between 

 God the Redeemer and his ransomed family. I 

 had no express promise that such or such a soul 

 should be saved at my request : but I had in my- 

 self a token for good ; — the spirit of earnest, per- 

 severing, importunate prayer, for one who was to 

 me as a second self. I had waited and prayed 

 through eight successive years, — still reading upon 

 the simple hawthorn flower, an admonition to 

 pray and to wait, — before a gleam of actual glad- 

 ness broke upon me. On the ninth anniversary, 

 from the period whence I ventured to date my 

 own deliverance from spiritual darkness, I was 

 privileged to deck my brother's hearth with the 

 snowy flower ; and while his little ones aided in 

 the task, I could send up a secret thanksgiving, 

 that at length the means of grace were vouchsafed 

 — at length the glorious gospel was weekly pro- 

 claimed to him ; and while I numbered the buds, 

 I numbered the promises too : for that He is strong 

 in power, not one had yet failed. 



