In alluding to the change from the seventh to the first day of the week, now observed as the Christian’s Sunday, the poet uses very beautiful and expressive imagery to account for the alteration. “The brightness of that day We sullied by our foul offence, Wherefore that robe we cast away, Having a new at His expense, Whose drops of blood paid the full price That was required to make us gay, And fit for paradise. * * * * * Thou art a day of mirth, And where the weekdays trail on ground, Thy flight is higher, as thy birth.” It is related that, on the Sunday before his death, Mr. Herbert rose suddenly from his bed, called for one of his instruments, and, having tuned it, sang the following verse from the same poem. “The Sundays of man’s life, Threaded together on Time’s string, Make bracelets to adorn the wife[2] Of the eternal, glorious King. On Sunday Heaven’s gate stands ope’. Blessings are plentiful and ripe, More plentiful than hope.” Our poet-pastor was no gloomy ascetic. He revelled, so to speak, in this good gift of God, and sang His praises with a joyful heart. Whilst picturing all the varied aspects of the country parson’s life, and noting its sad experiences, he gives us a picture of him “In mirth.” “As knowing that nature will not bear everlasting droppings, and that pleasantness of disposition is a great key to do good;” and “Instructions seasoned with pleasantness both enter sooner and root deeper. Wherefore he condescends to human frailties, both in himself and others, and intermingles some mirth in his discourses occasionally, according to the pulse of the hearer.” Other duties ended, “At night he thinks it a very fit time, suitable to the joy of the day, either to entertain some of his neighbours or be entertained by them, and to discourse of things profitable and pleasant. As he opened the day with prayer, so he closeth it, humbly beseeching the Almighty to pardon and accept our poor services and to improve them, that we may grow therein, and that our feet may be like hinds’ feet, ever climbing up higher and higher unto Him.” I feel sure, my dear girls, that in giving you these beautiful pictures of Sabbath joy, I have done you a real service. I have never forgotten either the words of my village friend or the effect produced on me by the first reading of the country parson’s “Sunday.” Both reflected the mind of the Master they served, and to-day their example and words are well worthy of our imitation.