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And many a chance and change I've seen,

And many a sorrow known, Yet trusting to a guiding hand

And strength, but not my own.

That hand and strength have safe kept me

In sprrow's darksome night, And they will be around me still

Till I behold the light.

The light that beameth from my home;

Where many mansions bę, Which shines in its full radiance

Beyond life's troubled sea.

I thus have told the story, writ

Upon life's youthful page,
And what in after days was my

Experience in age :

Not for the story, nor to boast

Of any deed of mine,
But that you also may be led

To seek a faith divine.

O trust in Jesus ! seek His grace,

He never will deny
A suppliant sinner's prayer, but hear

You from His throne on high.

In answer to your cry for help

His Spirit will be given
To lead you to the Saviour's fold,
And guide you safe to heaven.

Author of' Little Will,' &C.

Too Late; or, a more Convenient Season.

OH, saddest memory of life,

Felt at the last most keen!
For sinners that were almost saved,

To think what might have been :
To think of prayers they might have prayed

When life was offered them;
To think of hands that might have touched

The Master's garment hem :

To think of glowings of the heart,

While still the lips were dumb ;
To think of feet that never moved,

Though Jesus bade them come :

Of blessed hours of power divine,

When Christ was very nigh,
And yet the heart refused to yield,

The lips refused to cry,
Because the soul with fond desire

Still clung to self and sin,
And gave the conscience promise vain,

Some day to enter in.
Some day in earnest, unto God,

For heavenly grace to pray ;
To seek the gate of life divine,

And tread the narrow way.
But that day never, never came,

They waited till too late ;
Their lips refused to move in death,

The King had shut the gate.
Be wise, the gate is open now,

The Lord of life is near ;
His spirit waits to bless your soul,

He waits your cry to hear.

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The forest was a sea of flame

Whose tide was rolling nigher, While nearer still upon the right

The prairie was on fire. Across the level wild we sped,

And bridle never drew,
Until afar above the waste

The rocks appeared in view.
But who is this amid the grass

So helplessly that lies,
The flush of fever on his brow,

Its madness in his eyes?
He lies disabled on the ground,

Too weak to speak or stir.
“I know him," said the trapper old,

“ An Indian missioner. “He preaches to the redskin tribes.

But what are we to do?
For not your horse, my friend, nor mine

Can ever carry two.
And yet 'twill never do to go

And leave him to expire
Amid the lurid smoke and flames,

A victim of the fire.
“Off saddles ! let the horses go!"

The horses sprang away. “ As for ourselves,” the trapper said,

We'll run the risk and stay. “We'll burn the grass." He lighted it ;

The flames rose high and higher,
And soon in front of us there raged

Another prairie fire.
We waited till it swept away,

And left the place all bare,
Then cleared a spot from ashes hot,

And laid the sick man there.
We saw the fire approaching still,

We heard its rush and roar; 'Twas like the sound of breakers wild

Upon a rocky shore.

Near and more near the firetide swept,

It reached the burnt-up grass,
But came no nearer ; right and left

We saw it swiftly pass.
And we were safe, the storm of fire

Beside us was assuaged,
While still afar adown the wind

The fiery tempest raged.
I pointed to the sick man then :

“ What think you, will he die?”
“Not yet, I trust, if we can help,"

The trapper made reply. I carry here a potent drug,

I'll give it to the man ;
Full many a life I've known it save;

We'll save his if we can."
We bore the sick man to a stream ;

By turns we nursed him there;
It was a sad and dreary time

Upon that desert bare.
But at the last he safely came

Out of the fever's strife :
“ Tell me," he asked, in whispered tones,

“How you did save my life ; “For I remember nothing more,

But only that I fell. What happened then?” The trapper looked

At me, and said, “You tell." I told the story from the first,

Just how it came to pass, — About the prairie fire that raged,

And how we burnt the grass.
And of the billowy sea of flame,

On either side that swept;
And how beside him night and day

We constant watch had kept.
And how, when he lay there, and life

Was hanging on a breath,
The trapper's potent medicine
Had saved his life from death.

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