A tourist lately, whilst crossing a mountain height alone, over almost untrodden snow, felt a drowsiness stealing over himself, to yield to which he knew would be fatal. As the night closed in the snowflakes fell thick and fast, and the freezing blast grew apace; he tried to reason with himself, and with his utmost energy to free himself from the sleep of death fastening upon him; but all to no purpose. Just, however, when he was about to succumb, and his weary eyelids were closing never again to open, he stumbled against a heap that lay across his path. It was no stone that his foot struck, although no stone could be colder, or apparently more lifeless. On examination it proved to be a human body, buried beneath a fresh drift of snow. The next moment the traveler had a brother in his arms; was chaffing his hands and wrists, his chest and brow; breathing upon his cold lips bluely swelling" the warm breath of a living soul; pressing the still, silent heart of his companion to the rapid pulses of his own generous bosom. And what was the result? The effort to stoop down and assist another had removed the ominous pressure upon his brain and eyes, and imparted to him renewed life and vigor. He was himself again. And the record stands "He saved a brother, and was himself saved." Is there not here the groundwork of a parable to illustrate the truth, that active Christian work is a necessary and ordained means, not only for benefiting others, but for the sustaining and saving of our own soul and spirit? --E. Neil
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