"TO SEE THY POWER AND THY GLORY, SO AS I HAVE SEEN THEE IN THE SANCTUARY."--Psalm lxiii. 2.
Of all deprivations, none is so great, or as painfully felt by a truly devout soul, as the loss of religious ordinances. With what deep pathos does the Psalmist lament his long exile from the scene of solemn rites and holy sacrifice!
'How amiable are Thy tabernacles, O Lord of Hosts! My soul longeth, yea, even fainteth For the courts of the Lord; My heart and my flesh crieth out For the living God.'
He envies the birds of the air, that free and unfettered, build their nests hard by the temple of his God, while he, a banished man, must seek a refuge in the wilderness.
'Yea the sparrow hath found an house, And the swallow a nest for herself, Where she may lay her young; Even thine altars, O Lord of Hosts, My King and my God.'
Mrs. Lyth loved the habitation of the Lord's house, and deprecated the prospect of separation from its privileges, which was rendered extremely probable by her increasing weakness. Eastfield House was about a mile from the village, and between three and four from York. In case of decided failure of health, she would not only have been cut off from active usefulness in which she delighted, but entirely excluded from christian ordinances. With the view of a little relief, she had already relinquished one of her classes in the city, and turned her attention more exclusively to the village; but now there was every likelihood that she must soon give up the other. These circumstances, with some others of less moment, determined the propriety of a removal back to York. Shortly before this took place, in one of her walks thither, for the purpose of meeting her class, a circumstance transpired which is worth relating. She met on the road an odd old man, whose extraordinary appearance made him, at that time, well known in York and its vicinity. At one time above the average stature, he was now bent nearly double with age, and hobbled along with two sticks. A huge bunch of the old fashioned matches, attached by a string to his neck, hung down before him, and was sufficient sign of his occupation; while a long white beard, reaching well nigh to the ground, completed the singularity of his appearance. This latter appendage was, however, conveniently made to take off and on at pleasure. He was fabulously reported to be a hundred and twenty years old; and there was little doubt that he, and also his wife who sometimes accompanied him, were on the eve of celebrating their centenary, if they had not already done so. When Mrs. Lyth met him, she was strongly impelled to speak to him on the subject of religion; but being alone, and a little timid, she passed on. When she had proceeded about a hundred yards, she felt so much pained with the omission of her duty, that she hastened back, and faithfully discharged her conscience. We need only add, that the old man and his wife began to attend the chapel, and ultimately became members of Mr. Lyth's class. The old man got rid of his beard and his sins together, and, about two or three years later, both died in the hope of eternal life.