“The birds, without barn or storehouse, are fed; From them let us learn to trust for our bread; His saints, what is fitting, shall ne’er be denied, So long as ’tis written, ‘The Lord will provide.’” As he went on, he was spoken to by a servant in livery, whom he recognized at once as the footman of Lady Armistead, a rich and pious old lady, who lived at Basford Hall, about three miles from the village where he resided. “You seem to be in good spirits, Andrew,” said the servant, who was an old acquaintance. “You sing so well, one would think you had swallowed Lady Armistead’s bullfinch. It’s been missing these two days. I’m going home now, for it’s no use seeking any more. Her ladyship takes on dreadfully about the bird, for it was a great favorite, and a regular tip-topper at singing.” Then Andrew asked him to go home with him, and said he should find his bird again. As they walked along towards the cottage, Andrew told his friend the story of his troubles; how he had prayed; what God had said to him out of his Book; and how the bullfinch came and cheered his heart; how he had been to the landlord’s, and had got another week to turn round in; “and look you here John Morris, my rent’ll be ready when it’s wanted, as sure as my name’s Andrew; for that bird was sent from my heavenly father, and brought me His message on its wings, ‘for his mercy endureth for ever.’” So John got the bullfinch and took it home to his mistress. When she heard about it, Lady Armistead sent for the tailor. His simple story moved her to tears. She thought more of her bullfinch than ever, since God had made him a messenger of mercy to one of his suffering children. She gave the tailor money enough to pay his rent, and told him that he should have work from Basford Hall as long as he lived. “God bless your ladyship,” said Andrew, with a grateful heart. Just then the bullfinch struck up its favorite tune, and Andrew joined in the song. “Praise God from whom all blessings flow.” Lady Armistead smiled with sympathy, and Andrew added—“Yes, yes: Praise the Lord, for his mercy endureth forever.” Now, however long old Andrew might have lived after that, I think he would never read over that verse in the seventy-second Psalm—“He shall deliver the needy when he crieth,” without remembering the lesson we are here taught by the burial of Christ—and that is, how wonderfully he fulfills his word. _The next lesson we learn from the burial of Christ is about—THE WORKING OF HIS PROVIDENCE._