He first briefly sketched the history of the rebellion of Israel in departing from the God of her help, and in transferring to the idols of the heathen the allegiance which was due to the living God. He vividly described the "destruction" which must be the natural result of such a departure from the source of her highest life. Then he spoke of the means by which God sought to bring her back,--of the purifying judgments which He sent, in love and mercy, to restore her to spiritual health, and of the inexhaustible supply of "help," of tender compassion and restoring power, with which He was ready to meet her on her return. Having finished this part of his subject, he drew a striking parallel between the ancient Israel and the multitudes of human beings in every age, who, instead of loving and serving the living God with all their soul, are continually setting up for themselves earthly idols of every variety, which fill up His place in their hearts, and exclude Him from their thoughts. Wealth, splendour, position, power, fame, pleasure,--even man's highest earthly blessing, human love itself,--were set up and worshipped, as if they contained for their worshipper the highest end and happiness of his soul. What was the cause of all the broken hearts and blighted lives from which is continually ascending such a wailing symphony of sorrow without hope? What but the perverse determination of the heart to find repose elsewhere than in its true resting-place,--to set up the very blessings which flow from the hand of its God in the place of the Giver? Then, in a few touching, earnest words, he showed how God must often, in mercy to the soul, send severe judgments and afflictions to bring the wanderers back to their "Help;" and of the depths of compassion, of love, of tenderness, of healing, of purest happiness, which were to be found in that divine Helper, who hath said, "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Never had Lucy heard the speaker more impressive, and she thanked God in her heart her cousin should have been brought to listen to truths which she had probably never before heard with any real understanding of them. Sophy sat back in a corner of the seat, her head resting on her hand, and her face hidden in her thick black veil. She remained almost motionless until the sermon was concluded, and then they silently left the church, Lucy not daring to speak to her. Before they reached home, however, Sophy suddenly broke the silence by saying, in a low, agitated voice: "Lucy, you seem to be what people call a Christian. Can you say, from your own heart and experience, that you believe all that is true about Christ giving such peace and comfort in trouble?" Lucy replied, earnestly and sincerely, that she could,--that she had felt that peace and comfort when sorrow had been sent her. "And how does it come? how do you get it?" Sophy asked.