This appropriate remark made a deep impression; he looked at his mother, but said nothing. His recovery was as rapid as his relapse had been dangerous; and though his strength was greatly impaired, yet he was able to leave his room in the early part of the ensuing week. Being now rescued from the brink of death, and animated with the hope of returning health, as he sat alone musing over the awful scene through which he had so recently passed, he laid his hand on a hymn-book, which was placed on the table, and read the following hymn with intense interest:-- "When with my mind devoutly press'd, Dear Saviour, my revolving breast Would past offences trace; Trembling I make the black review, Yet pleased behold, admiring too, The pow'r of changing grace. "This tongue with blasphemies defil'd, These feet in erring paths beguil'd, In heavenly league agree. Who could believe such lips could praise, Or think my dark and winding ways Should ever lead to thee? "These eyes, that once abused their sight, Now lift to thee their wat'ry light, And weep a silent flood; These hands ascend in ceaseless pray'r; O wash away the stains they wear, In pure redeeming blood. "These ears that, pleased, could entertain The midnight oath, the lustful strain, When round the festal board; Now, deaf to all th' enchanting noise, Avoid the throng, detest the joys, And press to hear thy word. "Thus art thou serv'd in ev'ry part; O would'st thou more transform my heart, This drossy thing refine; That grace might nature's strength control, And a new creature, body, soul, Be, Lord, for ever thine." While reading these verses, the determination he had formed to live and die without hope, was shaken; but after a momentary pause, he involuntarily exclaimed, in an under tone of utterance, "It would be an act of presumption for me to indulge a hope of ever feeling the power of 'changing grace.' No, it cannot be; my heart is too hard. I am too impure, too depraved, too guilty." This novel train of thought was broken off by the entrance of his mother into the parlour, who was surprised and delighted by seeing him with the hymn-book, which he still held in his hand. Without appearing to notice it, after a casual reference to the good prospect of his speedy restoration to health, she said, "I hope, my dear George, as you are now able to visit your friends, that you will accompany me in the evening to chapel, where you will hear a most excellent minister." "I will go to oblige you, but I can anticipate no other pleasure." "But you may derive some profit, for there the Lord condescends to make the truth effectual to the salvation of them that believe.' "But I cannot believe, no, I cannot; I would, but I cannot!"