BE TRUE. 25

is broken; another, and another, till,
distrusting all earthly help, we fly to
Christ, and hide ourselves in his
sheltering arms.
My Beloved, safely hide me,
In the drear and cloudy day ;

Ere the wint’ry storm hath tried me,
Hide my trembling soul, I pray.

Such, I am happy to say, was
Laura’s prayer; for, young as she was,
the first rude blast of sorrow had
made her apprehensive of more to
come.

“She is changed, greatly changed,”
said the neighbors, as they looked
into her sweet, pensive face; but
they knew not what sorrow was do-
ing for that young heart, nor how
necessary was that work in a prepa-
ration for future trials.

“Tam sure that mother has not