None perish that Him trust.

 In a little Perthshire town there was a minister of the Gospel whose name filled the district round like ointment poured forth. A Highland drover had occasionally to pass through this town. On one occasion he tarried over the Sabbath day and went to the church. He could not make much of a continuous English discourse. But at the end he heard the minister give out for singing a part of the 34th Psalm in the Scotch Version, of which the last verse is—


Ill shall the wicked slay; laid waste

Shall be who hate the just.

The Lord redeems His servants’ souls;

None perish that Him trust.

He understood the last line, and he waited for the minister in the vestry. “Sir,” he said, “you read from the Psalm Book, ‘None perish that Him trust.’ Is that true?” The man’s heart was opened. Often afterwards as he pursued his business and passed through the little town he went to see the minister. Locking hand in hand, the one or the other broke the silence by just saying, “None perish that Him trust.”

When I was in my native place, I went to see an old pupil who was on his death-bed, and I told him the story. A few days after my visit he died; and his parents told me that many a time, when he thought no one was noticing, he was heard during these days softly murmuring to himself, “None perish that Him trust.” He went into eternity leaning on that confidence.
Dr. Edmond, 

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