heard, passing over the ravine, singing these words:-
Oh! let the prisoners' sighs ascend
Before thy sight on high;
Preserve those by thy mighty power,
That are ordained to die.
And again, while they still stood speechless, another voice sung, in tones of exultation:—
Though ye have lain among the pots,
Like doves ye shall appear,
Whose wings with silver, and with gold
Whose feathers covered are.
After standing for some time looking at one another, some of them thought they had left other worshippers in the moss-hag; others thought that the sound echoed from a greater distance. "Whoever or wherever the words come from, we have little concern," said John Brown; "one thing we may take comfort from; they are God's words to his Church in affliction; and that is our situation. Who lie among the pots? We scullions, black in the opinions of our enemies. But God sees us not as man sees us, but compares us to doves—doves on the wing, whose feathers of gold and silver are best seen when they fly. It may be, we are on the wing to an eternal world, and this Bethel meeting is preparing us to mount up with, wings like eagles. If so, let us keep in mind that we have nothing to boast of, but grace, grace; unto it is our acknowledgement." While he spoke, his countenance beamed the pleasantest ever they had seen; and when he parted from them, they stood and looked after him. It was the last time they saw him in life, and the last time they heard him speak. "He had a most uncommon talent in communicating information and consolation to others, and
