RURAL HOURS. 
wisdom of our Heavenly Father, are displayed in so great a de- 
gree of condescending tenderness to unworthy, sinful man, as 
must appear quite incomprehensible — entirely incredible to reason 
alone — were it not for the recollection of the mercies of past years, 
the positive proofs of exjjerience; while Faith, with the holy 
teaching of Revelation, proclaims " the Lord, the Lord God, mer- 
ciful and gracious, long-suflfermg, and abundant in mercy and 
goodness." What have the best of us done to merit one such 
day in a lifetime of follies, and failings, and sins ? The air we 
breathe so pure and balmy, the mottled heavens above so mild 
and kindly, the young herb beneath our feet so delicately fresh, 
every plant of the field decked in beauty, every tree of the forest 
clothed in dignity, all unite to remind us, that, despite our own 
unworthiness, " God's mercies are new every day." 
Perhaps some of us have carried heavy hearts about with us 
during the month of May. There is sorrow on earth amid the 
joys of spring as at other seasons, but at this gracious and beau- 
tiful period the works of the Great Creator unite in themselves to 
cheer the sad. Often during hours of keen regret, of bitter dis- 
appomtment, of heavy grief, man is called upon to acknowledge 
how powerless is the voice of his fellow-man when offering con- 
solation. It seems as though at such moments the witty became 
dull, the eloquent tedious, the wise insipid, so little are they en- 
abled to effect. Not, indeed, that true friendship has no balm to 
offer the afflicted ; the sympathy of those we love is ever pre- 
cious, and God forbid we should despise one kindly feeling, one 
gentle word. But as the days roll onward amid the sorrows, the 
stiifes, the deceits, the cares which beset our path, it must often 
happen that the full measure of our grief — it may be of our 
