"We started. The man who came for me was kind as he could be,--helped me carefully into the wagon, (for I had no strength,) and drove on. For miles I spoke not a word. Then the silence would be broken by the driver uttering some sort of word the horse seemed to understand; for he invariably quickened his pace. And so, just before nightfall, we halted at the institution, prepared for the HOMELESS. With cold civility the matron received me, and bade one of the inmates shew me my room. She did so; and I followed up two flights of stairs. I crept as I was able; and when she said, 'Go in there,' I obeyed, asking for my trunk, which was soon placed by me. My room was furnished some like the 'prophet's chamber,' except there was no 'candlestick;' so when I could creep down I begged for a light, and it was granted. Then I flung myself on the bed and cried, until I could cry no longer. I rose up and tried to pray; the Saviour seemed near. I opened my precious little Bible, and the first verse that caught my eye was--'I am poor and needy, yet the Lord thinketh upon me.' O, my mother, could I tell you the comfort this was to me. I sat down, calm, almost happy, took my pen and wrote on the inspiration of the moment-- "O, holy Father, by thy power, Thus far in life I'm brought; And now in this dark, trying hour, O God, forsake me not. "Dids't thou not nourish and sustain My infancy and youth? Have I not testimonials plain, Of thy unchanging truth? "Though I've no home to call my own, My heart shall not repine; The saint may live on earth unknown, And yet in glory shine. "When my Redeemer dwelt below, He chose a lowly lot; He came unto his own, but lo! His own received him not. "Oft was the mountain his abode, The cold, cold earth his bed; The midnight moon shone softly down On his unsheltered head. "But MY head WAS SHELTERED, and I tried to feel thankful." ***