The Setons Part 46

Goodness and mercy all my life Shall surely follow me; And in G.o.d's house for evermore My dwelling-place shall be."

It is almost the first thing that a Scots child learns, that the Lord is his Shepherd, that he will not want, that goodness and mercy will follow him--even through death's dark vale.

_Death's dark vale_, how trippingly we say it when we are children, fearing "none ill."

Mrs. Thomson's hand sought her husband's.

She had been unutterably miserable, adrift from all her moorings, bewildered by the awful march of events, even doubting G.o.d's wisdom and love; but as her old minister read her childhood's psalm she remembered that all through her life the promise had never failed; she remembered how stars had shone in the darkest night, and how even the barren plain of sorrow had been curiously beautified with lilies, and she took heart of comfort.

G.o.d, Who counteth empires as the small dust of the balance, and Who taketh up the isles as a very little thing, was shaking the nations, and the whole earth trembled. But there are some things that cannot be shaken, and the pilgrim souls of the world need fear none ill.

Goodness and mercy will follow them through every step of their pilgrimage. The way may lie by "pastures green," or through the sandy, thirsty desert, or through the horror and blood and glory of the battlefield, but in the end there awaits each pilgrim that happy place whereof it is said "sorrow and sighing shall flee away."

"We shall sing the whole psalm," said Mr. Seton. "The tune is 'French.'"

[Transcriber's note: Italicized text is indicated with _underscores_.]