“Philip, my son,” said the squire, “My eyes are open at last, thank God! God’s dealings with us have been wonderful, and I am bound to say that His providential guidance has all the while been answering Adam Olliver’s prayers. Your own and Lucy’s conduct, under circumstances of the most trying kind, had furnished proof which there is no gainsaying, of the great and holy power of real religion. The beautiful loyalty to duty, the ungrudging self-sacrifice, the elevated motives which actuate Lucy Blyth, led me to study Christianity from a new stand-point; and your own clear, triumphant testimony of the saving grace of God, compared so grandly with the cold and heartless scepticism I had largely imbibed, that my prejudices were compelled to give way, and at length beneath the shadow of the Cross I found ‘rest to my soul.’ As for Lucy Blyth, good and pure and beautiful in every relation of life, I will not, do not wish, to place a straw in the way of her becoming your wife, and I believe her to be singularly fitted for the high station she will be called upon to fill. Strange to say, I have now doubts which tend to sadden me, that she will not be induced to accept the alliance which once I opposed with all the bitterness of prejudice and pride. This one thing I know, that if you can but win her consent, I will welcome her to my house and heart, as a daughter, with as warm a love as I give my son.” We draw the curtain on the scene, and leave the two, now one in a higher, holier, happier sense than they had ever been before. * * * * * As may be imagined, Philip did not permit the grass to grow under his feet, but speedily made his way to the village Forge. Nathan Blyth had regained his old cheerfulness. The light of his hearth had been re-lit by Lucy’s return, and so, as of old, he was singing the songs of Zion, as his hammer rang on the anvil, making merry music because his heart was glad. The red forge fire sent its inviting glow in long ribbons of rosy light athwart the December gloom, crimsoning the light snow-flakes which besprinkled the frosty ground, tinging the hedgerow and the tall poplar boles with its radiant hue, and gilding the implements of husbandry which were gathered for repairs outside the door. When Philip approached the smithy door, Blithe Natty’s voice was heard above the ringing anvil, and this was the harmonious blacksmith’s song,-- THE RIVER OF THE WATER OF LIFE. _Ezekiel_ xlvii, 9. O glad proclamation! The stream of salvation Is flowing from Calvary’s Cross-crownèd hill; Is flowing for ever, And faltereth never, And every sinner may drink to his fill. From Satan’s enslaving, These waters are saving-- From sin and corruption it washeth us free; Peace, pardon, and blessing, And joys without ceasing, It bears on its bosom for thee and for me.