- ,Sim ramodf hfted Lucy."-p 15-
ANWrI BUUNDAY.SCIOOL UNXgM.
=m a- f
Bmi muhgt (a SId NW4m beae UK bra
Amzahz UUNDAT4ZONL MONIS
in to uIm om"atn to Nol owe Oa~te n. fu DA 4t
ap 3.1b %of pwe VdAu4 V A UIMn4ma mV
uim. '- r r ra I~ ~ Puus t
&we ud Nif -m bus wo d ftb be4 P d Ni
ago" Vv- ud fma -V Id to=o&= w bf
m d as onae don
OoiuTo Jua s.......... ...........u... ...........
sclammussraw..... ,...... ...... ........ ......... .
a]fewoUn .... :.......- .
A VON20 TO.I ... ....... ..,......... 3S
A Viuzu us u bu n. 7 .
Tm ha u& A-I A-y 48
' ImaNA: Ts Oman w OO 'eva. Jmah-or Chihtl
Qnms al Dutis llustant Is the Ih oft ddi.L. M
MNAUSA, CoMruM-Hr Lm of God-Of H0 i Wor-
ip mad OmuwcIm- Holy Woad-Hm Pr0t
--at cllm ........ ...... ................. ,............. 7
O PTrsaT-Silapl DhIrMot -TYr Utl lGirl'i
dHIoqy--Why God dore not always mrsw prayr 64
Gaenm l m sa.o.. ..mV... .................. ..
IT may add to the young readers b
terest to know, that the various mO i
which compose thi small volume W
actually addressed to a class of girls be-
tween the ages of nine and twelve, Md
that the simple narratives it contains re
sketch of real incidents and chaneraers
touming to itnu.
MT DAR TYONG FruXDq-As I xp6et
to be absent from you nearly all mamure,
I feel that it will be both a pleasre md
a privilege to write to you oeemioaMy *
SI intimated when I aw you
"When I sw you lst I"
tell, my dear children, what Pplemtsa
reemrances are recalled as I writ
words. I go baok to the laus sbhbA
spent in the city,-etr th hmous d G
and take a well-known seat ia r -e
modious Sunday-.ohool room. P*rI
I ua omonvouime by a glmp d 4i
girl, wvbo pleasant mile ad A hemll
10 GOT os VU)AY2t0oNLAMrS
voices tell of in-dwelling love and kind.
nes, at least for the present oocaio.
Oh I may this ever be mid of them.
May their hearts ever be full of love to
God and good-will to their fellow-crea
I imagine, as I have already said,
that my little pupils gather around me.
They are all there. Yeo,--g are all
tare. How pleasant this is to a teacher
you cannot well know. When she looks
at bha little flok and sees them all be-
ose hi-noe prevented from attending
by dialing sickneM, or death-ahe
i t i onely happy and thankful fr God's
igodne-s but she prays that she may
em y7 meet them in a world where
aMr Meknes, death, nor aversim to
ofMireM evr known. Then she cam
vAdsM theia silent prayer to tw good
aasberd, and earnestly hseehes blb
owmaI a m f *-
to oMaiv them each am4 all Wto h
safe and pleaMnt fold. .
Now, my d~eaw caid I wibh y to
think oeriouly of what I am about ,*
may. Imagine that you lived at the tifs
our Seviour was upon the earth, uad
that, a you pas near a spot where he
is -ittag and .nvering with many pem .
sons, a parent or kind friend invites ye
to go to him. You have often heard of
him, of the great love which led him to
to cme down fion heaven to die for Asi
ners; but you have never eet him
SYou have never beheld that lovely Pie
You have never head that pg li
voice. You know him not .. .
But you appear not to notion the bti-
tati of your fhidd. Hge arge, 4e -
trats you to go and look at this gpmm-
Fead--" the Lamb of God that t&h
say the mi of the wod." But ye
n GERm M&a UIVDAT4OLARkL
are more interested in your play than in
what he ays, and you reply,
"No, I cannot go now,-I am not
ready." You cannot leave that which
you most love, to go to Him who left his
glorious and happy home in heaven to
sufer and die for you
But I think I hear each of your voieea,
my pupils, earnestly exclaim,
"Oh, ye, we would We surely would
have left every thing to go and se Jesus,
if we had lived at that time."
Dear children, you can go to him now
and give him your affections, and obey.
his voie, and learn to do his will, by
daily prayer and reading of the Bible.
We will suppose that there ae other
children near, when the kind &iend in-
vited you to go to Jesu. They hear his
initation. They listen. They think
each one within hereel; "Oh, I shoui
love to go to him." Yao tsaeo e
by their attentive attitude ead sAmA
looks, that they are i6t1iita is -Ia
word. He turn to them and ay^
"Will you come to Jw7esr Pearq
they reply, We fer he will not regard
us among so many," or W e aire f
children; we are afrid to go, lest he .
should not receive us booame of our saM;
but we would love to Me Je ."
They oaese to speak. They hear a
voice. They listen; for it sees vry
near, and appear to be meant for them
.--A >r in ttle ilda., to MM s mb
mo, aMd 0ir6d Ai t .ni; /fr q ss 1
A. ingdom i f" Aq/arnoM.
It is full of love and tendermw .
aieots their young heatW. They tarn
to look, and behold I te Mbepherd e
ral, who is id to carry the lambs in
his bo wait to receive them. They
14 m I6onB sNAr-so4noLAIas.
run to tum. He extends his hands t4
them, takes them in his arms and blesses
them. Now are they safe and happy;
for they whom Jesus blesses must surely
be both safe and happy forevermore.
I have made this supposition to illus
trate to you the willingness of Jesus to
regard the faintest desire to love and
serve him, if that desire be sincere. But
if it be sincere, it will lead you to gis
up something in order to follow him.
By your own admission, you have not
yet begun to seek the Saviour, while
some children, who have not been taught.
so long as you, and who have had much
fewer advantages-having had no reli-
gious instruction at home-have given
their hearts to him, and are showing by
their lives that they love him.
Two from our school, Mary Westam
and Eli Gillett, are about publicly to
prfes their oie to him. Smily the
blessed Jesus has been into our Siduay
school and gathered these Iamb into his
fold. It seems to me that he has been
so near that you could hear his gracious
voice, saying, "Come unto me."
And will you still refuse You know
the danger of delay. You know that you
must all stand before him in judgment
Which of you would be willing to be found
at his left hand, and among those to whom
he will amy, "Depart, ye cmed I"
You have heard of his loe. You
know the way to him. I will not wery
you now by pointing it out to yea; but
once mare, I would affactionately ereast
you to epent ad believe on him,that
you may hear him my to you, at the lat
day, "Come, ye bleed of my Father,
inherit the kingdom prepared fr you
rom the foundation of the wrd."
16 omn 3o0 sisnoAMM.&a.
I hope I hllB hear ,ome yeo ofte
. during my absence, and that I hall co-
mainnaily receive a letter frm each one,
as you have given me this pleasure in
times pat It will be prEftable to you
and pleasant to me, if you will tell me
your thoughts on the subject we have
often talked about. Such confidence is
very pleasing to a teacher.
It is my intention to send you, samn
times a letter, and sometime a sketch,
drawn om real occurrence, and Mim
Urwin, who has kindly Affed to take
charge, f your aewingeiol, will ead
With knd wids fo your happimn
Yoew AmnnrraI Tacam
to rurta gustes.
Mr DEA PoIJa,-You haYIe Ac
heard me speak of the importabe d
always giving beed to that madry
oime within, which we cdl aO.Mi--
How important this is to the wa llbing
of your soul well m to your hapi
nea, I cannot lay. Did you alwd y
heed its momitions you would manly
stray from the path of duty; tr it
always otte its warning whm yu m
about to do wrog. Can you aInt
member uome aot of diabe M to
paiento, or of ua ithfaele dityt
And do you not, also, remmb ther
.* 0 IT
S1 em m msee-3aKon1a.
previous gentle warning of comsaioet
. Had you heeded it, you would have
acted right, and been peaceful and happy,
but by resting it, you sinned and we
I well recollect a early act of di>.
obedience,-perhsap it was my first. As
I was about to commit the ioful deed,
the fimdly voie eanmed to call loudly,
"MIry, stop --I hmitted. It rn .
MsteMd. "WIa would your moi.e
srr "Oh,i itis seh a little tibeg
will not aBM," I inwzdly nplid,
amd, -a-ie-f-d the kind whisper.
IigBfc g ond" you of apeated
smtae tr rrnm and .hw, *sa tibne
I hardt. i oil meUoeth geot m
s--tam, am how, t lngth, it w master
to a th at Iert and kadh e to yms
b4tiwl giM e Je w Motuer am mei:s
(oa *- ,. -* : .
LAW* 140d.t c series wmas -111010
They.111, I boo wqua7 vl fria y U.4
mid ha&d emvqed t*e -e ,s m ad
vmtapuJ They orre f.hd of .mak
otheroi hty, m4d umafy arpeed wd
togth ,Brut B M vof-*'diluffare is
Louy was oomcisatoug and-truth.
ful child, wh, in A11 thingW sles.
voued to do what waaright. I do usk
thiakahe as o ewr guilty of dimobedime.
or of Wling anmunth or ofpMvmril
ting isi my. way. -Se namedi to haVe
thsa6 'Gedas her, and. bhabik
- hmy r d*57 'yedfi vio
Gothwim hasog &w11t
Qhegsou iA we, aR te o hslv the
so* v. * 1 breM 4.w
M Oem oT w sUnAeT MROM.
he and anxiety, if not punishmint
She could be fithfl in duty, at school,
and at home, when it happened to suit
her, or beeame she was ambitious and
wished to be thought well o, or when
ever it did not interfere witL her own
will and pleasure. Then it was that
restraint was irksome and temptation
strong, A the following incident will
One day, returning from school,
earlier than usual, they were solicited
by some schoolfellows to remain and
play with them upon a wide oommon, by
which they had to pa on their way
The armoon was bright and plea
ot, and the temptation to ply upon
the Saot gra or long the margin of the
pon, after having been in school all
day, wa very gnst But they lkwr
thry wm nt imk dtoo oe rWithoat
peramiioa, ad Lauy aS once emiMed.
Ctheirin beditateid. 8she tied t
think these would be no harm, netwith
standing an inward oonvitian to the
contrry. She wanted to do a ting
which wa wronm becas she eeold ot
otherwise eajoy the tempting plearie
which at premst ,otied her. So be
sought to permade hmmelf and oehs
that it ws no more then right, aad in
reply to an elportulatioa of her 6si4e6
be Mid, 4
We might as wel be playing on ie
M au to be in Mhool, lbh *er MA
ham had to be if it had not I W*aI
sooa We haB o N t home Ia.lar
then a other dew."
SBut moth h1 poitively sai we
mast Wk* dAy without ikhame g &b
hWd pa maa of her," replihed Lupa.
* e*W 1e0t WNDAT4XWOLAr.
"Oh, she i only afraid we shell stay
out too late. But now it is so early
there is no danger. Let u go only this
once,-mother will not care, I know."
Bt God wic awe, Oa4y; God woi
surely awre wheathr we do eight or wrong, "
replied her sister, as she stopped at an
opening of the fence, through which they
must pae to go home, and looked to see
if Catherine would follow.
Catherine followed, ashamed to be
thought disobedient; but not ashamed
of the thoughts of disobedience which
were in her heart. In hear hte had
brokken *te imd -ammant, as d%
m ti afterward, saw and oonfesed.
Se had often slighted the voice of coa-
since, and would not now have emrw
pled to diobey. It was only her siter's
firamne which pevented. Cold she
have done so without expomsur A
would bar re gained to ply. As it
wam, she reluctantly llUowd Locy,
secretly saying, "I shell be glad wha
I am a woman, and then I can act as I
"God woU oarse --Oh, how many
times, ip after year, did these waond
of.a dear sister.oome to Catherine's
mind, when that sisters voice wai silent
in the grave.
"'God will care whether we do right
or wrong'--and you believed this ma
acted upon it, dear u "t.-4 wol
often mentally eornli in 6P A
biter lamentation for past Ar-i .
like th, above, of whih the mlin '
wa painfl; secret lS, Mias of best
oi imtetion-not open acts of tEm
rioo. Such, when her heart we
M em. mrse sa 41eaor1.
egenerated by the Boly Spirit, dl si
nudim to be equally oft ive in the
sight of God with the actual omminua '
Often did she weep, in bitter sorrow,
at such remembrance. Often at the
midnight hour would these lines, which
she had learned in childhood, come to
mind with a new and peculiar force,-
Amighty God, thy pierig eye
Sktribe tough ta dhMe of Bight,
And our met .our Aonos ie
All open to thy ighA"
The is, to me, much point in thee
werds, theaQP but the language o a
hi'ObdiB wilr aar vMikw do
~4^ God will care, or he would not
hav written in him holy wad oam
sma. for you to keep- for AirI b
God will ew, or be w~a m ot have
pled within your bmm tha ftimydl
monitor, to eouami you to do i to
warn you when about to tra, mad to
commend you when you do welL
Yes, dear children, God dom ea
whether you do right or wrgm, and
knows it too. His holy eye bold
your secret thoughts your daily ou .
duct; approves of what you do well;
condemns what you do wrong.
If it is with any ne of you an
habitual endeavour oommiento6ulytto
do your duty, at home, a child, or a
sister; or at choel, as a'pm*l 0 m0,.
panion,--f this be yowur aalcy Ind
if you daily seek diiRne id -e toS
do this, and ae watoh and psa
and traly penitent when yoes a, y
osmaot have better evidmenos tA yem
heart is mewed.
OWf IMa UUIDAT4inOSAU
But i, on the contrary, your conduet
is carelese,-if you are undutiful a a
child; selfish, disobliging, or unkind -a a
sister or playfellow, you have no reason
to think yourself a Christian, however
diligently you may read your Bible, or
however punctual and constant you may
be in observing the forms of devotion
and prayer. If the conduct be habitu-
ally wrong, the heart must be wrong.
As a tree is known by it fruit, so is a
child by his doings.
If such has, heretofore, been your
daily life; if you have so repeatedly
slighted and resisted the voice of con-
Mene, that its warnings have become
sa faint as to be esarcely perceptible;
bea from this very time to reform,
eking and depending continually upos
divine gra. Begin with your vey
next temptation. You ae, I will mip
pase, tempted to light that wirk, to
hurry oer that leson, that you maq
have mom the to play. Or your ao
other call, and you obey reluctantly, mal
lenly, and are ill-humoured or direpect
ful. Stop now a moment, and think,
"If I go on in this way, I shall be an un
principled child, and then an unprincipled
woman; without the fear of God before
my eyes." Oh, what a spectacle in the
sight of a holy God and his holy angels I
Check the wicked thought; resist the
evil disposition. Call earnestly to God
for his gracious help, and obey the man
date of that faithful bosom friend, o
It will be hard, at rskt, to return to
duty. But e swk ti as the aheva
will give you utrengt, and it will be
emer to do right the next time. I~A
m--aways seeking help from abow.
19 *OM MR MnDA-4 OLAr.s.
I ill give you the following lines to
lern, wad I would have you always
remember them on awaking in the
m My Go, ow from alp I wa.,
The Iol pomser of me take,
Guard my frt springs of thought a wll,
And with thylf y spirit All.
Direot, cotrol, suggt, thi day,
All I deign, or do, or say;
That all my powers, with ab their might,
b thy sol glory may uite."
Youv AraonoNATr TzAznma.
i trson from t)t Sirb.
Mr DaR PvpFI,-I have oftentimes
wished you were here, if it were only to
look at the beautiful little birds, which
are hopping in the paths and walk be~
fore the windows, or lying among $e
branches of the numerous trees near the
house where I am.
My little friend, Maia, ha been wateh
ing them with me or nearly an hour, aad
listening to the sweet melody with which
the little warUen fi6 the air frim a n-
ing to night. Long before sunrise this
morning my ear wa delighted with the
haumony of the busy little iiM
sO fin Pox &UNDAT-4oLANL
singing their Maker's praises before an-
gaging in the various employment of
the day. It made me think of ome
children I know, whose pleasant voices
are first heard by their parents in their
moringeong of praise, Then I thought
of my dear Sunday-scholars, and won-
dered if Am voices might be heard in
prayer every morning, thanking the kind
hnmd who has watched over them and
awakened them once more in health and
happiness, to receive again their kind
pamrtet' oae, and to enjoy the love and
society of brother and sister Never
qait 4hi ahljy,amy dear children: it is
eaoeedimf) ulpaatlklh, and, of consae
But to retn to the bird. I have
haen sheured by their udWdy, and I think
ye waold be charmed toob The choedl
witter of the wallow, the little rohi
r1M *ohirp m ld t e "w -d eetiio"
ft ot~: afdme viitur, hnommmuo
minglin toghep woOld, I know, plm
you much wore you hereto eqjoyi And
then you would be plead to otie their
arieA, for which a very good oppcrtnmity
is afforded here. It is unaui se a.o
many near a house; but atb very
retired spot There i no noeisd~ t di"ib
them, and the trees a very thick. .~lI
we se the gayly-dremed aiole, itti
like a fame fom. tree to trm-ba -sw
low, with him gloy black cent ad whib
irms-th beautimf blhaird sad do
bMr4estem robinb-4 boigt Mb -s
ilambia nd the rpowrt- -.-- md
humble Mlib pe uAowr, i. aml
tboutg i tbe, is a t bmmt* the motiM
fit rr Feimd abM since "mot med
em can fall to the ground witme4w -
U eol U M mnAT.OtCULAI.
Tpne industrious little oreatue a m
now on the wing in search of materials
to build their nests; for th is a very
buy season with them. I love to watkc
their motions, and while I see them so
busy and happy, I think I learn a good
leson, which is.this:
UMidM employment tends to happine,
and il, in aUZ ordinary case, sure it.
I have sometimes seen birds quarrel-
ling, when oonfled, although they have
plenty to eat and drink; but I never saw
birds in the open air at war among them-
lives. If.it be a fact that the latter
never quarrel, I think the reason must
be, not only that they have not time,
bat that they fel too happy; while
the former, having nothing to do but
eat and drink, become crosm ad qua
Wether this be .e bi
Whether this be true of birds, I h--r
LIO 120= I maIND
not; but I am pretty mei it is eiply
the cam with boys and gir. Iamquit
certain, my little girl, that if you had
nothing to do but to play, you woald
soon become very miserable.
A little girl, once spending a day with
a lady who knew her well, and who took
great interest in children, complained to
her that she had so much to do--so
many lemons to learn, kc. She saM
this in a tone of complaint quite unusual
The lady replied, "Well, my dear, g
home and thank your mother that dsh
keeps you so well mployed."
The child was s.rpru d, and looea t
up inquiringly. The lady ontiabed:
"Yea, Lucy, you have ned to be ery
thankful that you have so wise a m.
their; for of all the little girls I know,
(mad I know a great many,) you always
84' erGT O SmrDAT-OeOLA u.
deem the happiest at your play. You
enter into it more heartily and with mor
true enjoyment than many. It would
not be so if you had more time to spend
in play. Do you not enjoy play very
"Oh, yes, ma'am, only I do not have
"If you had more, you would not en-
joy it so well," returned the lady.
Lucy thought a good deal of what the
lady had said. She thought it must be
true, because so good a person had aid
it; but she could hardly believe it, and
she felt as if she would like to know for
.. bursl So she went home and told he:
+ mother all that had been said, and also
the experiment she wished to try, skin
her if she might not have a much time
to play as she wished, for a week.
Ber mother consented, and Lucy
ImUoM ]MOR =u1 JIMS.
egan-not with claiming the whole of
her time for play; for she was a sensible
little girl, and did not desire this;-but
she chose all her time out of school.
This was a much greater proportion
than she had heretofore been indulged
in. For she had been taught to consider
that a part of this time ought to
to making herself useful by little
in the family.
At the close of the first Lay's trial, she
did not feel quite satisfied with herself;
yet could not help thinking what a good
time it had been to her.
The next day she did the same, and
the next; but towards the close of the
third day, though she did not absolutely
quarrelwithher brothers andsisters,every
thing seemed to go wrong, and feeling
very ill-humoured at night, she did not
as aOm mI s nrAYcT-OOLAs.
care to inquire into the cause of it, or to
reflect much upon any thing.
In the afternoon of the fourth day, she
was glad to sit down by her mother's
side to work, and while there said, "Mo-
ther, I think I will not finish this week
as I began it."
Her mother replied, "You had better
aondnue, Lucy, and then you will feel
dbore eatified, and quite ure which is the
Lucy did so; but she more than ever
missed the pleasant requests for her little
services, and lost many a precious oppor%
tunity to feel happy at the thought of
having done something for her mother and
the younger children.I Before the week
eloed, she shed many tear; for she felt
lonely and sad in the midst of a large
and happy family. She also wept to
think she had not had more confident
mo wM m an,
Ia goe o M hm aILd moar, wo
gld r a w to blm to her et
J ,B i a ln abil. .Ow hwedy
Father has ma ndsa that to be tr
happy or hemly we qxt be #tsv, mrd
he ha also oainmed ta ftappine wi
oa urse lnem. Then he has give
emtantoppeortuaiiM te be efel. o
a bdy--or ev1 n hoa a peoml'Ws
we wre wake and werl, a wbia h lth
i unt uonathibg uedfl to be dm te
---A ^L- A -- * im ^
In diod&W dewa I Wm glsw
yak As ciOne to Ateik upo
*a WWmUL sh eM r 1T a .iP
With kiAnd emqBr
a risit to tt 4comh.
A raw days since, I was called to
attmd the funeral of a little friend and
creative. Edward Dale, an active little
boy nine years of age, now lay in his
narrow coffin, ready to be conveyed to
the sent tomb-to be borne away for
ever from the houm which had been hi
eathly home. Friends were aMemble
to pay the last tribute of afectison to one
whom they had know and loved.
Little Edward had been well instructed
at home and in the Sunday-schooL We
think he truly repented of his sins, that
he loved God, and was accepted through
:A m V"Ma, a 2 'e a;
he merits and atoning aedfiee of our
blessed Bedeemer; and when, at his
funeral, the eergym- repeated the
words, "~Afr gta lidAe chailb to come
unto me and forbid them noto r qfuea
is te kingdom dof hewn," bereaved friends
felt a cheering hope that his redeemed
spirit wa among the number of happy
children that surround the throne of God.
The service at the house being over,
the remains were removed, and surviving
fiends followed the little body to its lat
eetingplaoe. The remaining buriaA.e
vice was performed at the entrance of the
vault, which was beneath the church. .
The eotatat between the buty, noisy
crowded tet we had just left, andthis
till oite y plaoe, where no smnWhim
ever enfw, wa strikig and imprecmiv~
But there was-saoething more imp~wes
till. which could not fail to affect every
10 em sr mRSATY4 oZLAas.
heart, as we walked silently up to the
entrance of the opened tomb, at the
farthest extremity of the aisle. It was
the sound of those sublime words, re-
peated with feeling and emphasis, "Iam
the resurrc on and the lfe: he that bdeievet
in me, though he were dead, yet shall he is.
And whosoever lieth and bedieeth in me
ha l never die."
Here is light-light in the tomb-light
and hope and even joy. Our Redeemer
has passed through the tomb before us-
as it were to light the way-and if we
love him, we need not fear to follow.
The body shall be raised by his mighty
power, and the soul, we know, shall never
die-it "shall not be hurt of the second
death." How gloomy a plm is the
tomb without this hope! The prison
like walls-the iron doors-the moulder
ing ooffin piled together-who would
& ~ .1
want to lie ieret Oh, a we I)b a
new tenant here, till bearing some ose.
balance of life, what need have we ofI sud
an assurance as this, "I Aowd a wie
from Maven, ivjWg, Blaseed are tih dead
which die n tie Lord from Aenwsort."
This is a voice from heaven indeed, and
we heard the cheering words repeated by
the lips of God's servant, just as Edward's
little body passed the gloomy portal, to
be placed beside the dark old cffins
I looked into the narrow house of death.
There were many coffins of various sizes;
among them two very small ones, e"dh
of which once contained a tender infaat
form, now probably mouldered into dust
The n ue looked bright and clean
oomparmwith those already there, but
they were once as new as this, and this
would soon become like them. At the
42 em "I SV'NDAY-MOOLA1
door of this tomb, some of the tenants of
these very coffins had wept on placing
the dear objects of their love within its
walls; yet their turn came to die, and so
must ours. Let us then set our affections
on things above, and not on things on the
earth, and endeavour to lay up treasures
in that blest word, where
"Free from sorrow, free from strife,
In the world of love and life,
Where no sinful thing hath trod;
In the presence of their God,
Spotless, blameless, glorified,
Pioun children shall bide."
While the body moulders back to dust,
as it was, the spirit returns to God who
Q 1 iittlf (girl on tbt sta3t.
ONE fine summer afternoon, a party
of children, under the care of a female
attendant, were enjoying themselves by
the seaside. Some were occupied in
gathering shells and pebbles, others in
running to and fro along the smoot-
sandy beach, and others in watching the
waves as they alternately approached
and receded from the shore.
They were delighted with the liberty
given then and with the novelty of the
Having amused herself for a while
with the others, one of the elder little
44 or T o sunDAY-scOOL8as.
girls might be seen to stand and gaze in-
tently on the vast expanse before her,
and then up into the deep, blue sky
above. It was a quiet and retired spot,
and being unobserved by her compa-
nions, she withdrew to a little rocky
nook, and while she appeared to be ar-
ranging the flowers and grasses she had
gathered by the way, her thoughts were
more busily occupied.
The scene around her had deeply im-
pressed her mind with a sense of the
greatness, power and majesty of God.
a Oh, how wonderful is that God, who
can hold this great, great ocean under
his control 'Thus far shalt thou go
and no further, and here shall thy proud
waves be stayed.' Oh, how mighty he
is 'He taketh up the isles as a very lit.
tie thing.' And can this great God no-
tie a creature so small as I am, so s to
Tim Lurs alL oN m u llAo. "
care much for me I am only a speck
on this large earth, and know scarcely
any thing. My father and mother can
praise him and serve him; but I can-
not. They know a great deal about him;
but I know nothing. Oh, he cannot no-
tice such a child, or care whether I love
him or not."
The moment she gave admission to
this thought, there followed a struggle
in her bosom; for the tempter was
suggesting unworthy conceptions of God,
and endeavouring to increase her doubts
of his personal care and interest in the
smallest of his creatures. Conscience
remonstrated; for she had been better
taught, and she felt an inward uneasi-
ness and depression.
You need not think any more about
these things" suggested the tempter;
and she arose and endeavoured to banish
U -S! an m a S 5'4=ROL&LA
the thoughts, while she gathered sme
red berries that grew on a viae which
crept over the rook. She did not mno.
Jeed, however, in banishing thought.
She could not rest in the idea that God
did not care for her; although she had
net a realizing sense of his care. In
the first place, she did not really believe
it, and in the next, she did not wish to
believe it; for there was in her heart a
secret and even earnest longing for the
protection and love of God. She wished
to have him for her friend, and this feel.
ing had increased of late.
SShe was unhappy. There was in her
heart a secret yearning after God. Who
had implanted that yearningdesire? That
very feeling was an evidence of his in.
terest in her; for he wished her to love
him and be happy; therefore he had
excited in her young heart desre sfter
THIWM U e.U ON MU sA 4,
his favour and love. He wa near her,
though she saw him not. Be wM lead
ing her, though she knew it not and his
Holy Spirit was teaching her through
his works. In this way he sbows hi
condescension. In this way he visits
the children of men and strives to draw
them to himself.
She sat down again, with an anxious
feeling at the heart, and a melancholy
expression of countenance, saying, in-
"Oh, if I only knew that God cared
for met I have been told so; but I
canno mnae i seam so." And, in her un,
easines, she thrust her hand into her
pocket and drew thence some shells.
They were small, some of them ex-
tremely so; yet she perceived that they
were the habitation of some animal; for
in two or three, she saw the little orer
48 em oA BUinrAT-BsooLAM.
ture still living and moving. In consi-
dering them, a train of thought was sug-
gested like the following.
"God has made these little creatures.
I should not have thought he would
care to make such small things. They
are smaller than I, and do not seem to
be of any use; ye he cares for them and
keeps them alive. Oh, I do not know
that either; larger fish may eat them up,
or they may die. Yes, but while they
do live, they enjoy themselves. go mo-
ther says, that all living creatures enjoy
life, and that God made them for that
purpose, and to be useful to other cre-'
tures. If then God cares for these small
things, I should suppose that he would
care more for me; for he has given me
a soul, and that is worth a great deal
more than the earth or any thing that is
in it; and why did he give me a ouon if
T uLrrLsu ea ow 2mr iaon. 4
it were not to glorify him and enjoy
him for ever. He surely wished me to
be happy; for he is a good and kind
Being; and mother says, that to be
happy, I must love him."
A new idea seemed to be presented to
her mind, and on her way home, it ap-
peared to her that she could see God in
every thing. As she looked up to the
trees, and heard the soft breeze murmur-
ing among them, it seemed a voice, say-
ing, "God is hre." The little flowers
seemed to look up, with a smile, and say,
"God is low." The birds, as they flew
to and fro, or sung on the leafy boughs,
seemed to be calling her to love God,
who had made them so happy.
She could not escape from these
thoughts, and she wondered why they
made her feel sad. But the reason was
this. God had revealed to her some-
68 eon o SUnr -AT-SouLAS.
thing of his goodness, holiness and love.
She felt that she ought to love him,
and it was the consciousness of a want
qf such loe that made her sad. At
length, she could not help praying, si-
lently, in her heart, "0 God, show me
the way to love thee."
Then these words came to her mind,
as if a voice had spoken them, "I am the
way,, and the uth, and the life."
She had just reached home. The
younger children, having run on before,
had gone into the house. She had
walked home silently by the side of
Nanny, the servant girl, and while the
little ones were relating their adventures
to their mother, she went up to her own
room, and no one being there, she kneeled
down and prayed, in these words, though
she sobbed almost aloud:-
Oh, blessed Jesus I thou art the way
TH. tULIn emOom O a mnA. U1
to God.. Teach me how to love him
and to serve him. I am a very sinfia
child; do not look upon my slans but
forgive them, for thou didet die for me.
I cannot bear to live thus any longer.
Oh, be my friend, and help me to do my
duty every day, and to avoid that which
is displeasing in thy sight; for I ean
never become good and holy without
thy help, and I am full of sorrow be-
cause of my sins. Oh, hear me and
pardon me, and make me thy child.
She arose, and wa rurpaied to find
how peaceful she elt. The weight that
before seemed so heavy on her heart
was gone and she wipgl y her tears.
It wa in this way dshe m herelf to
God. In this short prayer, she con-
fessed her sins. She rested on the
bleed Saviour for forgiveneLs She
6S GeOr sFO sUDAT-w OLAVs.
sincerely desired to become a holy child,
and she felt that she could not become
so without his grace; therefore, she
resigned herself to his teaching and
From that time, she commenced a
religious life, which she yet endeavour
steadfastly to continue.
it Stanftful pot.
"OH, mother, where are you gaing Y
said Lucy to her mother, by whose side
she walked, as she turned to enter a
dark, narrow alley, with miserable4ook-
ing houses on each tide, and dirty, raged
children playing about in the lane, or lt
tng shivering in the door-ways of their
"I am going to show you a beastif
sight, aky dear, replied her mother.
"What, hPs, mother? How can it
"Y6u shall see," returned her mother,
hoping to speak toa little Irish boy,
4M eGnrIT oN roDAT-o4H0I.
who was about to pes her, though, at
the same time, he looked timidly up into
her face, with a smile of recognition.
Well, Jerry," said she, "did you go
to Sunday-school yesterday r
"Yes, ma'am, and look what Miss
Gilson gave me," continued he, drawing
a little book from his pocket, his eyes
glistening with delight.
"A very pretty present, Jerry. Con-
tinue to be a good boy, to obey your
teachers, and mind your book, and you
will always find a friend in me," said
Lucy's mother, as she parted from him.
What a poor little boy, mother I He
has no warm clothes this cold day, though
he is not ragged nor dirty. He loves to
"Yes, Lucy, and you see how he
pries one little book, the only one he
has, except a Testament and his sobool
M umum szeua .
books. Can you not learn a Iman fom
Lucy thought a moment, and aid, I
suppose it ought to make me careful of
mine, and when I have done with them
give them away to those who have
A good answer, Lucy. At the same
time, let me remind you it should fill
your heart with emotions of gratitude to
Him who has given your parents the
means and the disposition to provide
you with many good books; although
they have not riches to bestow."
"Oh,mother,is it Aee you are going?"
asked Lucy, as they entered the door ot
a dimnal-looking house, and began to a.
oend the dark stairway.
STes, Lucy, it is here," sid her mother,
sad be opened a door at the head of the
starn and went in with her little girL
S GrIm 01 SnrIAT-4BILNAB.
Lucy found a much neater looking
room than she expected, and began to
klok around her, the moment she en-
tered, wondering what it could be that
her mother had promised to show her.
A man and his wife were sitting by the
scanty fire, and two children beside them.
In one corner of the room was a bed,
and in another what seemed to Lucy to
be a child's crib, covered with a cloth of
the purest white. "Oh," thought Lucy,
ms she saw tis, "there must be a little
baby lying there. That is what mother
"While Lucy at silently listening, her
mother had been making kind inquiries
do the father of the children, respecting
his health; for he had been very sick.
She then added, "hall I ee your baby
and the woman roe, and, going to the
crib4 drew back the sheet which oovered
M MAMUSTL 81mu,.
it Lucy's mother took the hand of hw
little daughter and led her to the side o
There lay, indeed, a beautiful child,
about a year old. Its eyes were shut; its
dark hair parted on its white forehead;
there was a pleasant expression about
its sweet little mouth, although its little
plump cheeks were very pale.
Lucy earnestly gazed on the object.
At first she thought it was fast asleep,
just washed and dressed, and laid on a
fresh, clean bed. One little hand lay by
its side, the other on its bosom. It
seemed as if it must very moon open its
eyes and rai its hands to be taken up,
as Lucy so much wished. But she sooa
learned that its. deep was the still, calm
deep of death; and at this thought, the
uew trickled down her cheek, and she
sold only stand silently by the arib,
a8 r se10a 1UN.AT4onLAeAS.
gaming on the beautiful little object be
ore her. At length she said:
Oh, mother, what a pity that och a
dear little baby should die!"
Her mother replied, "I do not think
so, my dear. God's ways are better than
I know it, mother; but it is such a
sweet little creature; such a beautiful
It is indeed a beautiful child; but I
am far from feeling sorrow that it will
wake no more on earth."
"Why, mother t" asked Lucy, in sonm
surprise; while the two little brother of
the departed child stood near, and ala
looked up inquiringly.
"I will tell you, Lucy, and you too,
little boys," said Lucy's mother. This
der baby, who, in its last short a-ca,
looked up with so pitiful a momn fr th
WE 3UAUYM WRYE.
relief which could not be granted, will
never be sick any moae. It will never
be cold; it will never be hungry and
cry for food, as you, little boys were
doing on that cold morning when I first
saw you. It has gone to a beautiful and
happy home. God has shown his great
goodness in removing it so early to a
world of perfect holiness and happiness."
Mother, would it not be better for its
little brothers to be taken to heaven,
too ?" asked Lucy, as she looked around
the, poor apartment, with an expression
of pity in her countenance.
"No, my dear; for if it were so, God
would have taken them. He doeth all
things well. They are old enough to
learn the way to heaven; to learn to
shun the evil that is in the world; to
remember God, and endeavour to please
*hizn by being obedient to their parents
60 GrUT oa B~n UxAY-Ur OLAs.
and teachers, kind to each other, and
diligent at their tasks."
"I hope you, Lucy," continued her
mother, "as well as they, will not forget
to ask God to grant you his Holy Spirit,
to enable you to repent of your sins and
forsake them, to renew your hearts, and
fill them with love to him and with trust
in your Saviour, that you may be prepared
to follow this child into the world of
spirits. He has shown you by its death
that you are not too young to die, and
also that you are not too small to be be-
neath his notice, since he has sent a mes
senger from heaven to take so young a
child out of this world to a blissful home
prepared for it above."
Lucy dwelt much on these words of
her mother when she returned home, and
many days after. She frequently asked
herself If God were to send amesenger
TBR BIA UIIUL BI0GT.
to take me out of the wozld, to what
world should I be taken T to heaven or
to hell ? She had done and said many
wrong things; but probably not more
than most children, and she thought and
prayed much and asked God's forgive-
ness, and, finally, he led her by his Spirit
to true repentance. She gave her affec-
tions to him, remembered him daily, and
became a mild, dutiful and happy child.
Dear children, think of Lucy's ques-
tion: 1 CGd were o send a maagw to
akse me out of the world, to what world
.drsou& Ig o o hawm or to adl
TH CHILD WHO LOVED JESUS.
You have sometimes, my dear chil-
dren, heard me speak of a little girl,
who was once under my instruction, and
who died a happy death, at the age of
twelve year. I have thought that some
more extended notice of her might be of
use to you, to show that the duties of
religion may be practised by the young,
that they may find great delight therein.
md make great progress in a short life.
Moreover, I trust it will aid you to dis-
cern the difference between a renewed
and an unrenewed nature.
133 lUa ma IU uW
SHBer oee afbrd one f the most
pleasing instaes, of early piety which
has ever fallen under my obseration, and
I trut that thi brief relation may prove
p)oftable as well as interesting to you.
Martha had often been seriously im-
presed with the important of religion;
but these impression frequently paused
away, like "the early dew," producing
no permanent efeot on her conduct. But
from the age of ten years, a marked
change was obeervable in her conduct.
The fruits of the Spirit became manifet
in her daily life, aad thera was iequently
rean an evkient utrggleo between the
principles of grace and the original evil
of the heart, or the natural mlinatior-
and propensities of our fallen nature.
SIn nothing was this more pereptible
MCaninher qor*d toieau a a stapwr n
S eol a sn UoAT-vMeOLAs.
Often when, on a slight provocation,
the flush of anger would redden her face,
has she been known to check the hasty
exclamation about to escape from her
lips. Sometimes, when less watchful
over herself an angry exclamation has
subsequently caused her bitter sorrow,
and she would say, "Therel I have
sinned against God. Oh I when shall I
become meek and lowly?" But the
greater the efforts she made to subdue
this infirmity, and (as she herself ob-
served) the more earnestly she prayed
for divine help, the more suocesful did
she become, and at length she was ena-
bled, in return for a provoking word or
act, to give the soft answer that turneth
The change in her character was also
observable in her cornidaerion qf dt
feeWiAg ofter--her willingness to have
sas AMa we Ias m.
her sister or sohool.feHwsllw pfer be-
fa ha-her redines to yield her idato
nations. to her pareOtd wieM -her TO-
luntary relinquishmet of some little
gratification in order to do something
for their comfort or for the happiness of
her brothers and mister-auh as giving
up a ride or promised visit to some young
friend, in order to sit by them when
sick, to amuse or read to them, or to
help them if very busy. Thee disposi-
tions, usually so at variance with the
principles of our prond and selfish nasue,
%e must amribe to the agency of God's
grace, though the eperatieM of his
blhred Spiit. In oonvering with het
mother on thee topice she woel ofte
exclaim with heartfrt owearneato l
mother, how I long we mowne;f the
qirit of Christ"
OW PMa UDAT-MONUALu
An esMential alteration was also mni.
het in her dregawd qffine deothA or as.
ldw onswwwat, of which she was once
considered particularly fond, and her
mother used to fear that vanity, in these
respects, would prove a snare to her.
Whereas, once she used to take great
pleasure in showing any thing new or
particularly beautiful that she had re-
ceived in the way of dress, she now viewed
with comparative indifference even orna
mental or costly articles which had been
presented to her, as Christmas, New
Yar's, or birth-day gifts. A sweet sim-
plicity and humility characterized her
whole deportment; and she seemed
henceforth to take no thought for ex-
ternal appearance, except so far as neat-
nes and propriety were concerned. One
day, Martha and her little mister being
invited to a small party, they wee
7r=n ma we IArn wut
dressed very simply, amoowding to their
mothers usual practice. Being nearly
ready, Martha went to her mother with
a necklace in her hand, (the gift of a
friend,) saying, "Mother, do let sister
wear my necklace; she will look so
pretty. You know I do not are to
wear it now, and I think she is too little
to be vain."
The principle of love to God and her
fellow-creatures induced her to make a-
rses for the sake of others. To possess
a muff and tippet was once the object of
her highest ambition. One day, am de
accompanied her mother on a shopping
tour, they pased a fur tore, in the win-
dow of which many beautiful articles in
that line were displayed. There wa,
moreover, a small muff and tippet of
iust the kind of fur which Martha most
admired. Her mother mid to her, a
$0 iA 0 W0-ANnr-w-40UMi
hey looked in, "Oh, Martha the isa
beautiful muff and tippet just larp
peough for yo6. You ae now of an
age to take proper are of them. I will
go n and purchase them, or aome other
which may please you as well."
"Oh, no, mother," replied Martha, "I
do not want a muff now."
.Her mother was somewhat surprised,
though not so much as she would once
have been with, such an answer, and she
said, "Are you in earnest, Martha?
You know it has been my intention to
gst you one this falL"
Yee, mother," replied Martha as they
walked on; bt with my mittene and
warm cloak, I soM# ely need a mug and
my woollen tippet is very good; but,-"
and she heitated
"But what, dar "asked her mother.
"If you please, I would like to tah
ME MIL vMs UMiENB
that money which you would have spent
for muff and tippet, to bay a cloak fr
poor Mrs. Jones. When de ame to
bring the work home, that bitter add
day, she had only a thin, old shawl, and
as she sat by the fire looking so sick and
cold, Sally gave her some warm drink,
and little Helen asked her why she did
not wear a cloak this cold day. A tear
came into her eye; but she quickly
brushed it away, and said, 'I have no
cloak, my little lady.'"
"Well, Martha suppose I get a cloak
for Mrs. Jones, and still buy your muff
"Oh, no, mother," quickly replied
"Why, my dear r
"Oh, mother, I do not know,-yes, I
do know; butIcmanot tell exatly,-then
lahould not be ding any thing or her."
48 .3age meewanar-omenas.A
SnThey had saechedIhome, and Martha's
other, wishing to tqot bhr earnestes,
.had not told her deciiou,. but began to
scend the stire.tober own room, when
the little girl detained her, saying,
S"Oh, mother, do not disappoint me.
I have thought so much about it, that
even if you get poor Mrs. Jones a cloak,
she needs so many things, I cannot feel
happy not to do something for her.
Do let me do it# mother. Do not get a
muff for me; but let me get some other
aofort for her. It. i all I an do,
"But why are you so eanq*t, dear
JMartha" askd her mother, deiring to
know more fully the motive which
BeeaMseuamW? amsered th little
g4 aind ate Iaito in her eyse "Jhsvsr
Iays, f Iahmuach as yehae dne it towoe
ftthe heeuof'theee,'y kme4o- it tba
T happy mothw emna heuk b],t
bved daughtw, anad pmmis s o ab she
Thus we ee that it wn not mem
sympatbetio feeing, but theh bigh aMd
holy principle of love to Jesu, which
influenced thi dear oaild and which
became moae md more manff u she
drew near the elae of her thort li
T)hefrtWb qf th 4"'it aW bVwJ jop
/M4 esirubm." The drAn thiB lid is
los,md &rom this (the nat atmnotiv
of the Chrimtiasi gram) all he other
proeed. Love to Goad -esrmailly pM
dues a joy and peos of which ebh
eanot concemiv; ad whm thi holy
afsiion is eoe deeply ote in th
huBrtpit iadoe tng doioe to ple
*~ U -- R 111~I
mod t. 4ihmwo utIm bu h*,: H
i9m who, when on eath, ws meek m
Iwrkby, u*~r~~ie .m fr giIuig.
kItbhepresent simms the, Imod "d
is hed aoad in the heat of a child
Uatumrlly imtiem ad iMAhnyiA, ad
obebooomm pa4 lam& aid mok
This champ in Ha*h wa particularly
mmrfid in 9icknme Previous to this
the musme ow saidof hsedring oni-
now of several weeks, whoh had readmed
r More thd" usually petdft, "You
ana, pm and pmis ebila. I had
nibr take eas of aD the obtur cikrhm
@I a -0, &M yoau k. fsquired
may a obuggle Ie~ p11 d wom cabled
I* this Ve vIL tmC rlmter As hed
.umuhemsad a voligses m*bd wae com.
910d by&a p.1mMM tu*n& m0 daug..uu
comp aisk-d mawAzylha Us heMS
O- -lr & some- WmW'* ,wa
TH CHLD WHO AOVlt JWS.
detained longer than usual. As moo a
she returned to the room, Martha said,
in a very impatient tone, "What made
you stay so long You know Iwasalmost
choked." The next morning, the nurse
was awakened by her sobe, and on in-
quiring the cause, Martha replied, "Oh,
nurse, I have been awake almost all
night, thinking how impatient I have
been-I have grieved my Saviour-I
longed to have you wake up, that I
might tell you how sorry I am."
Here we see another evidence of a
renewed heart-Deep arow and omnrision
on acont of *in, and a ready ooqfesion
qf the & me.
During her last sickness, her sweet
patient spirit was remarked by all Yet
she, more than once, aid to her mother,
Oh, mother, what shall I do I have
so many impatient feelings, it is much
74 eIT wo m sUN -aouo.BOLA
a I can do to keep from speaking
Her mother replied, I am very thank-
ful, my dear, that you have been kept
from uttering them."
But is it not just as bad to have the
fedings in my heart?" asked Martha.
Her mother told her, that if when she
would have spoken impatiently, she was
conscious of checking the words about to
be uttered, and of an effort to subdue the
feeling, having first asked divine aid,
this would be pleasing in the sight of
She answered, "That is just what I try
As I have already filled my paper, I
will defer the continuation of Martha's
history te another time.
Yous ArtnwmNATB TrACoBm.
THE most prominent tra't in Martha's
Christian character was-low to God ahd
her &viour. This was the ruling motive
which governed her whole conduct. She
began to love him when in health and
surrounded by every earthly happinesa
She did not wait to come to him ustbe
last resort of her soul-in the houri t
sickness or sorrow or pain; but she chose
him, in the happy, sunny mson of child.
hood, and gave her heart to him in its
fresh, unblighted aeotics.
The lower im oEria Lhs b t
Was nso Vma ls;
for he permitted it to bloom while
T' em 1o SnDATs.eoWLAur .
on earth, and transplanted it early
and unfaded into Paradise, to flourish
beneath the smile of God and the nur
ture of ministering angels.
A friend, who saw her at home amid
her innocent enjoyments, once said to
her, "You have every thing to make
you happy, Martha. I suppose you would
not be very unhappy without religion."
Martha immediately and earnestly ex-
claimed, "Oh, do not-do not say so-
What should I do without my dear Sa
viourt" and she could scarcely repress
Among her books was found, after her
deceae, a copy of the beautiful hymn,
"Thon lorely Somes of p degk*,
Whm I, uMoen, at%,
UnveD thy -ti to my dsgh
"1 I may lov tOhe mae."
3 3amB WIm sOTD AJ W.
Under thi hymn she had writer these
woeds, "I camiot help saying' over ad
over in my heart) 'Dear Saviour -anly
Saviour -precious Saviour 1' But l an
not talk about him as I would like."
She loved te worAhip 4 o/(d-whether
public, social, or private Many time,
when the weather waeeuck as wa. judged
unsuitable for her to go out, she would
appear so grieved at the thought of being
kept from church and Sundaydhool,
that her mother would conae t, *erm
going, when otherwise he wamld hav
required her to stay at home. Thk me
soas a f family worship ae enjoyed much,
alhrway litenamg attenively to the word
of God, a adi Ja g in the hymn with
her sweet voie it 'isrr able she aso
joined in the payer with all he heart;
for he nes~veoitd the duty in private.
When, in her last sicknem, he foial
TF 6e" o UNImATY-eoLAM.
herself too weak to walk down to family.
prayer she requested to be carried down
and laid on the sofa, sometimes saying,
"You do not know, dear mother, how
much I have enjoyed the seasons;
because I could not tell you." During
this sickness, she requested to be left
alone a certain time each day, for medi-
tation and prayer; and once, after such
a silent season, she said to her mother,
"What a precious Saviour we have! I
think I understand the meaning of that
expresion,' The one altogether lovely.'"
Se loved Ae word qf God. Not merely
was it her comfort in sickness; but the
reading and study of it was her delight
in health. She once aid, in reference
to her former thoughtless state, "It does
not seem like the same book to me.
Once I reed it, became it was my duty;
but new I le it." At another time sha
MTI mir wO LOTvM Jasm' n
aid, "Mother, I feel the words of Chrit
in my hiAr, just as I do your when you
arecomforting me." Thu, without know-
ing it, she bore witness to the truth of
that passage, "As one whom his mother
comforteth, so will I comfort you."
She loved #W ia*y of Chrisias, and
often longed for a companion of her own
age, to whom she could speak of the
things dearest to her heart. It seemed
to grieve and surprise her, that other
children did not enter into her fseeli
when she spoke of Christ's love, and of
the happiness of religion. "Oh, mother,
they do not undnernd me," she noe
said,-"they surely do not understand
me, or they would love him too." She
would sit and listen i lently to the co-
versation of older Christians, and her re-
marks, made subequently to her mother
showed not only that she umlsertoo their
9S eo m Ia rwmnATY-cSBOLA.
conversation, but that she reected upon
aSA lod w om mu qf awri Her
thoughts and sympathies were early en.
gaged in endeavouring to do something
for the heathen. Before her conversion,
she loved to save her little earnings for
this purpose; but during the last two
years of her life, the great principle of
love to God, as her ruling motive, became
manifet in this aa in other duties. For-
juliy, she never denied herself for this
emau; now, she asked to go without
butter or other luxuries, that she might
thereby save something, which could be
put into her msionary box. She dii
gently improved her time, in making
little mats of wrsted work and other
mll articles, which she sold among
i.Ids, telliu them her objeec-whisk
was, to give the money to the heather.
TM 01L WRe Vio lamSM
Her earnest and ufectionat yet rasqpa.
fu manner, attrated the interest of those
addressed, and she was usually unooeshl
in her efforts. The following words med
to affect her much:
"Shall we who* sou we lighted
By wisdom fro on high,
Shell we to mn benighted
The lamp of life deny r
This precious lamp of life-the word
of God-which she was so desirous to
extend to others, wasa means of great
consolation to her in her last icknme.
So long an she had strength, he read it
daily and always wished it to be within
reach, so a to be able to take a look into
it occasionally. Once, when she was so
low as to be unable even to hear it red,
having lain nearly all day without speak-
ing, her mother, who mt by her. Aide
heard a faint murmur, and listnng
It es mr W Athe-SoIrmas.
atuatirely, distinguished the wordb-
"What is sweet, my dear" asked
Angels-whispers"-was the tfter-
ing reply. Then perceiving, from a re-
mart of her mother, that she understood
her to signify a consciousness of the
presence of heavenly visitants, she im-
mediately said, "No-no"---and with a
great effort added-" Hymns-eriptureu
Thus the dear child, with the imperfect
aents of failing nature, wa able to de.
eohb what was so "sweet" to her mind
in that long silence, when unable to con
were or to reply to oonvefation. When
she could no longer read, the hymns and
soriptune which she had committed to
memory became a source of sich great
deight as to cause her to exclaim, though
=E 051W 150 LOT=3 JMug.
hardly able to articulate,-" Sweet-
sweet-4weet,"-and to compare their
soothing, comforting influence to the
whispers of angels. Whether she had
ever heard or read of this comparison, or
whether it was her own idea, is not
Dear children, asore your nds wt
heavenly tlozua, and d1ey wei bmeome a
wmArt to you ia th awan qf dioas
Mr DEAR CmaLDWa,-I am happy to
learn that you are all in the habit of
daily, secret prayer. I would delight to
aid you in this important duty, and, per-
haps, I may be enabled, by the help of
God's Spirit, to my a few words, which
shall be the means of encouraging and
helping you. I will endeavour to give
you ome simple direotioa, and that they
may be more eeaily remembered, they
shall be few and short
Adlwys enad a pamsag of Go' word
bforw prayer; for it is through this that
we gain a knowledge of God and of ou
duty, and as we are minded of our
duty, we can pray tr grace to perfnm
it. Also, much of the laguage of Serip
ture is in the form of prayer, and by
using it we learn to pray.
Always kaste aid of aoir Siit; for
no prayer is acceptable without his aid.
" We know not what we should pray for
as we ought; but the Spirit itself maketh
intercession for us."
Be particular in prayer; whether in
thanksgiving, confession of sin, or re-
quests for favour. Do not think any
thing which interests you too small
for the notice of God. Renmmber the
words-" The hais of your head are all
numbered." Your heavenly Pather ex-
pects you to go to him as children, with
your peculiar wasts, trials and tempt
tiOm-not as grown persons. He known
the mind of a child; for he has fumed
8 6 m Or a "Z uxA-MOLARU
that mind, and takes an interest in yom
duties, your wants, your enjoyments, and
even in your sports.
That you may understand me better,
I will suppose the case of a little girl,
piously educated, who has begun to feel
an interest in religious duties. She goes
to her room, at some convenient hour in
the evening or near the close of the day,
to reflect on the mercies she has received
and on her own conduct. She says to
herself, "I have had a pleasant day. It
is God who has given it. I should thank
him, not only for food and clothes and
friends, but for all my, innocent re
relations. How delightful to think God
watches over us while at our play, and
that we may please him then, as well
as at other times, by being kind and
obliging to each other. I am sorry now
that I did not give up to LiU e Gray
when she wanted to swing: rr though
it wa my tn, she had just come in,
while I had swung a gest many time.
Here was a good opportunity to conquer
self. I am very apt to be disobliging.
I must ask God to help me to be more
kind and considerate of others. I spoke
impatiently to Anna, too, when she asked
me to fix her work. I said, 'Do go
away.. You always come when I am
busy.' I might have told her gently, to
wait a moment; for, although I was
busy, I could have helped her without
much hindrance. She is a good-tem-
pered little girl, and this makes it much
wor in me to speak ro. I am sue I
never hall become mild and gentle un-
less I am more watchful."
I will suppose now that she kneels
down, and after thanking God for his
kind care ad many meries she cona
8 enr! O rfUwT-J4KOLAu.
Aoms minutely her sins in her own
words, and without endeavouring to um
the language of mature years.
It i not my design to give you a pee.
fect example of .elfearching previous to
prayer, but such as a child ten or twelve
years old maybe capableof. Myobject i
to show you that, in order to be interested
in prayer, you must feel that you hae
wmeaiog to my to God. You must not
be content with mere general expres-
mons, sueh a that "you are a great sin-
ner," &c.; but must tell him of your per
tioular tranagremions. Or if you wish to
thank him for his goodness and love, a
you always should do, you must endes
vour to think o the various blesings
you have received during the day or
night. Therefore, it i necesary for you
to gnd a ihmt iew in rodioos &tbow
The question has often beon uask a
by children, IWh doe not a d aoWm
an-er u wan aw piy, whom he A aepu
mined to give u wetaawer awe In
reply to thi I answer-
God does not gmait equess made i a
improper manner. To make this better
understood, I will suppose a cae. A
little girl has a wise and kind father,
who has promised to grant any reason
ble request. She goes to him one day
and says: Father, I want that writing-
case. 1 am old enough to use it now.
You see how I have improved in writing.
Besides, you promised to give it to me
some time. I have asked a great many
times before, and this time you must not
It can hardly be supposed that a father
would grant a request made in such a
ma r; yet it is to be fered that rom
W0 Ozr ON mN"AIaaontOAN.
grow peurm well a children, go to
God in this way. They sk fmor a good
thing, vi.: religion, or the gift o his
Holy Spirit. Perhaps they have aked
a great many times before, and though
their words may be enpectful, the meoret
feeling o their heart is, though they
would not dare to speak it-"I should
think God would hea me now. How
hrd I have tried to become a Christian I
How many times I have asked God for
hi Holy Spiritl" They fel as if God
wem under ome obligation to Iear them,
and, as they are uhmbkald and unsub.
mrmive, their prayers unar m n d.
I bd dai tmwt rm e eguBieu an hesM
a t6e dbainrd obed M iv js wv A
father, though kind and indulgent, would
mnt give his chid pe fruit, or posta
am berries, however much the ehild
igt dsie them. If the ohildj.m
young us O to kL they wmiBi
hi, it is not wna bfr hiu to ank; be
i after being d enid,he fret or is mMn
or paaionate, th he couamit ia. .In
like manner, if you aik a four of God
and do not receive it, and you fee inpe
tient or di~s~ntentd, yIo munrur giat
God. You are unxubmisive.
Remember, God has a right to delay.
your requests, and hence you dhemld
whoap ask wUk aunision. HBe sj-
knows what i best. He often hau ap.
cai reason for denying the petiNel
even of his chidoMn, which it is mpos
ble for us to kaw, or even to mawd
stand if we did know. ,.A child, pap
for the lie of a ick mother, day after
dy, with ged m earnestsne and inma,
and, we will Mppoma, with mnirimi.
but God does not Mse it to grant the
petite. The mother dies. If te child
o oarm ron UATY -OLAIL
ha experienced the renewing grace of
God she will feel, not only that it is
right, but a sweet peace will fill her
mind, at the thought that God Jha done
i, and that he does aU Cting we. It is
a relief to go to Him who "doth not
afflict willingly," and tell him all our
wants and all our trials. It is a relief
to go to him in time of danger or trou-
ble; for although we may not be certain
that he will see fit to deliver us from the
sMme, or to grant the favour we ask, the
feeling that this wise and good Being
will do just wat it ight, has power to
give great peace of mind, and to save
from undue anxiety or apprehension.
That you may understand more and
more of this flial confidence in God, as
you increase in years, is the prayer of
Youx ArmonoxNA Tzawm
Cbt 'qig t ,t' .Wommmuniq.
THE day was drawing to a lose. A
few of the last rays of the getting man
found their way through the partidy
closed window-shutters of a sik rnom
where a little child lay, waiting to be
taken to a better world. ;'
It was a still and peaceful hmr, an
brought with it relief to the wyn nd
weary little riffeer, who had pasms a
day of restleamneM and pain.
Me now lies quietly upon her lite
cot. Her sweet face is pale; but usre
andaalm, and expensive of inwd peace.
94 em oa suANDar-Yo.OZAz
Her thin hands lie meekly folded on her
bosom. Her eyes are shut; but she is
Her mother has just entered, unknown
to her, and without being observed, stands
gazing for a few moments on her beloved
daughter, so beautiful in her patient suf-
fering. Soon a feeble voice breaks the
sacred stillness of the darkened apart-
ment. The mother listens. The child
speaks. Her words are these-repeated
slowly and solemnly, and addressed to
*Mary W-, Mary W--, lovest
then me f
A deep silence ensues. Again the
child's voie is heard with additional
pathoe-applying to herself the question
once addressed by our Lord to his disci-
Mary W- lovest thou me r
m Uvine Gna's COywine. *
Again all is quiet, still and solemn,
while the infant disciple communes i
secret with her own soul; and then, once
more, the little speaker inquires with
greater energy than before-
"Mary W- lovest thou me more
A long pause ensues, and presently
the voice again is heard, in tremulous,
Lord, thou knowest all things. 1.
oous Redeemer -Preciouw RBedw l-
thou krwwss that I love thee."
A peculiarly touching emphasis mb d
the word "kaowt s" and bepoke at oam
the sincerity and the depth of that love,
thus solemnly professed by the dea,
SYes," she continued, "even more
than ahew, though so dear."
In this she alluded to her widowed
if Gm i9 a nNUMV40OLAML
mother and little sister, whom she ten-
The mother had sated herself behind
a screen; fr she would not interrupt
the sacred communion of a soul with
God; yet she could not refrain from cast-
ing an earnest,anxious gaze occasionally
at that dear face-.o soon to be borne
from her eight and hidden in the grave.
She now looks once more. The eyes
of the child are turned upward. Her
s&oe glows with an almost heavenly love.
Her hands are clasped and slightly raised.
iM is at prayer. No sound is heard;
for it is an unuttered petition which
the young ehild of heaven is now breath-
i ng into 4* listening ear of everlasting
It is an interesting sight. A youthful
spirit communing with the Creator of the
univere-n heir of glory close to the
m anmm asmbaI~s. *
gate o heaven, sad eoaehing me otf
bright visim of pease, and lov and joy
-- child of sin, and oarrew ad msaed
ing, on the threshold of that blest abode,
where no si, nor nor rro nor death, can
ever enter. Jesus is waiting to oreeive
this lamb to his beaom. Minitering
angels are conveying her over the dark
In a few moments the mother took he
station beside her child, who gazed ear
neatly and fondly at her, and raised her
fail s-m to embnace her, but seemed
unable or uniclined to speak, anat
mother tenderly asked,
"Can you not speak to me, my dear
Oh, ye, dear mother; but I want
be with JAeum-and the tear glistened in
"Dear child I" thought the latter, "thbo
a OW MOM BURMT49001
ha a nearer and a deer frend, sd
arthly ties are fat dissolving "
Heaven is so peaceful, so holy," eaC-
tinued the child, emphatically, "I lo g
to be there-I am so sinful-,o unholy-
I long to be with Jesus, that he may
clothe me with his righteousness.
Her manner was so subdued, yet so
earnest, and there was such an intensity
of desire expressed in her heavenward
look--o lial; so coniding; yet so un-
atterably longing-that it seemed, for a
while, as if the gentle qrit must break
th ail tie which still confined it t a
world of sense.
The yearning mother stood silently
by, beholding, with inward anguish, the
leu approach of death. At length she
SMy dear little girl, you have but s
While to stay here."
"I 0 kawitw eaus mimes. I wi
quietly wait fi hi i. -I 'have beea
h",Pg it might pieam God to take me
to'himself before another day;. blt 1 do
no aa it."
Then paunsing a few moments through
wearinuMs, she afterwards added,
My only sorrow is to leave you or-
rowing. But I have told God of it. A
will be your comforter, my der, der
The mothers Ieooghts were too deep
for utmterance; M th drew her preeiomu
child Wtll eloaer to her boom: fsddr
had partially raised her from the oot Oa
which she reclined and supported her in
The ehild spoke with difsalty; yet
she eaerted herself to may,
Oh, mathr, it will be so sweet to
a A child; think of tS in you M
100 em Ipa amA53
row. But can you give me up so moon,
if that be his holy will and he fixed
on her a look full of tender love and
Yes, my beloved child," returned Mr.
W--- with calm submision, "I cannot
Swish to detain you from your heavenly
home, and from your best beloved friend;
fr I perceive that it is indeed his will
*- grant your last submisive wish."
It was even so. The wih so meekly
expressed, was grantll for ere the
morning sun rose on "E1wy earth, the
i rit of the dear child waa with her re
dm Ging God.
Dear children, I have told you an in-
cident of actual occurrence. Permit me
p ask you, could you be thus happy
were yon called to die?
T I mU amms s ei.mem N1
What answer could yous nba the
blamd Jesum, wer he to inquire of eah
ne of you, "Z losdi u mer
Suppose you were sick ad asqrian
would it be your greatest anity to be
relieved from bodily distress or to be
made pure and holy?
The little girl here spoken c had eve
been an unoommonly kind, *ota
and obedient child; yet she was
led to feel that she was a inner,
serving of rmr fom God; and
her mart6 'R was-aot to ae
cape pOent .mini -al to da oicid
w itAe o Ai O'i .in- whom.
alone she d t ,ppear bbre him.
She did aot di4 af eme. tf a dying
hour, and m.. ui S s s-may with
confidence, thoi no pb-rumption,
"Lord, thou knowWst all things, thuo
knowest that I love thee."