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precious one was about falling, while she stood helpless by. Oh, what would she not then have given for light upon the future! for an unsealed vision. Willingly would she have died, that she might go with her child along the unknown way, and shield him from its terrors. Over him she bent, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, caring for nothing, but her boy; while darker and closer the shadows gathered around her. It was nightdark, cold, moonless night, with the grieving mother.
For more than an hour the child had lain in a deep stupor; but it was evident that life was ebbing away, and that the last agony would soon be over. For herself, the mother had almost ceased to grieve; every thought and every feeling were centered in her child, about passing alone through the gate of death-alone to meet the realities of the unseen world.
Suddenly a light fell upon the wan, suffering face-a smile played around the white lips-the eyes, long closed, and heavy with pain and fever, flew open, and, glancing upwards with a glad expression, the child said"Good morning, mamma!"
"Good morning, love!" answered the startled mother, scarcely thinking of the words she uttered.
"Good morning!" repeated the child, still gazing upwards, with a new and heavenly beauty in its countenance. "Oh, it is morning now!"
Fixed was the glad look for several moments; then the fringing lids drooped slowly, until they lay softly upon the pure white cheeks. The closed lips parted; but the smiled remained. The hands, lifted for a moment in glad surprise, fell over the placid breast, and all was still, and holy, and beautiful.
"Yes, it is morning now," whispered the friend in the mother's ear, as she sat like one entranced, gazing upon the pulseless form before her, which, as if touched by an enchanter's wand, had suddenly changed from an image of suffering into one of tranquil beauty.
And it was morning with the child-a heavenly morning-and also with the mother; for a new light had dawned upon her, and a new faith in the hereafter. The dark valley was suddenly bridged with light, and she saw her precious one by angel guides led safely over.
"God careth for these jewels," said the friend, a few hours afterwards. "They are precious in His sight: not one of them is lost. His love is tenderer even than a mother's love. We may trust them in His hands with unfaltering confidence. Yes, yes, grieving mother! it is indeed morning with your babe!"-Steps towards Heaven.
HOW DO WE SPEAK TO OUR CHILDREN?
Is it in a cold, formal, listless, manner? Or do they see at once, by the kindling of the eye, the earnestness of the tone, and the overflowing of the heart, that we mean all we say, and much more? Before another Sabbath some of them may have gone beyond our reach for ever: what memory of us will they take with them? Should they perish, will any of their blood be found on the skirts of our garments? If unfaithful, how shall we face each
other in that solemn day? The followers of Jesus should be like their Lord! How did He warn, instruct, invite! How reluctant He was that the muchloved city should hasten to its awful doom, his bitter tears and touching lament will for ever tell! How desirous He was for the salvation of one soul, let the earnest and repeated proffer of the water of life to the Samaritan woman at Jacob's well bear witness. How lovingly he invited even little ones to come to Him, we none of us can forget, as he said, "Suffer little children, and forbid them not to come unto me, for of such is the kingdom of Heaven." How solemnly earnest He was in conflict, suffering, and death, no human tongue can tell! Such as He was, would He have us to be, in purpose, spirit, and act. True, it is a lofty standard; but not impossible to faith, and prayer, and love. He knows our weakness, but we are strong in Him; our darkness, but He is the light of the world; our deadness, but He is our life. Leal-heartedness to Him will be our true preparation for all Christian labor. "Lovest thou me?'' He asks, and then gives us the blessed commission to "feed His lambs."—And 'tis an honor an Angel might covet, to break the bread of life to the little ones in Christ's flock!
GROWING IMPORTANCE OF THE SUNDAY SCHOOL.
THE Sunday school is a rising sun. Every successive year witnesses its ascent to a loftier altitude, the diffusion of its influence through a wider sphere, and the increase of its power as an evangelical agency. Every new year added to its history gives it a stronger hold on the affections of the Church, and intrenches it more securely in her confidence. Every year spent in observing its workings and results, strengthens a conviction in the breasts of thoughtful men that the Church must hereafter look more and more to the Sunday school as the arena in which the battle for this nation's complete evangelization is to be chiefly fought. With her aggressive forces obviously declining in their power to save the adult population, the Church must make the religious education she is imparting to her Sunday school children the instrument of their spiritual regeneration, or she will, sooner or later, find her numbers diminishing, and her power to grapple with the stupendous wickedness of the times seriously waning. We hail this general movement with pleasure. It augurs well for the future of our cause. It shows that the heart, the intellect, and the hopes of Christ's church are being attracted towards the Sunday school. It is an omen that the latter-day glory of the Sunday school will be greater than its glory in the past. In view of it, we thank God and take courage. The march of our cause is onward. The children of the church and of the nation will, ere long, be," taught of the Lord." The day hastens in which a whole generation of children, being saved by faith, will grow up into 'a community of converted men and women, and our country present, what the world has never yet witnessed, the glorious spectacle of a thoroughly evangelical nation.
Thomas Fuller, so celebrated for his great memory, had once occasion to attend on a committee of sequestration, sitting at Waltham, in Essex. He got into a conversation with them, and was much commended for his powers of memory. "Tis true, gentlemen," observed Mr. Fuller, "that fame has given me the report of being a memorist; and, if you please, I will give you a specimen of it." The gentlemen gladly acceded to the proposal; and, laying aside their business, requested Mr. F. to begin. "You want a specimen of my memory, and you shall have a good one. Your worships have thought fit to sequestrate a poor but honest person, who is my near neighbour, and to commit him to prison. As he has a large family, and his circumstances very indifferent, if you will have the goodness to release him from prison, I pledge myself never to forget the kindness while I live." It is said that this witty appeal obtained that for which it pleaded.
affairs multiply and crowd upon each other, till at last they prove so intricate and perplexed, that nothing is left but to sink under the burthen.
It ought always to be steadily inculcated, that virtue is the highest proof of understanding, and the only solid basis of greatness; and that vice is the natural consequence of narrow thoughts; that it begins in mistake, and ends in ignominy.
An epitaph must be made fit for the person for whom it is made; for a man to say all the excellent things that can be said upon one, and call that his epitaph, is as if a painter should make the handsomest piece he can possibly make, and say 'twas my picture. It holds in a funeral sermon. Selden.
When the pious and eloquent Le Tourneux was preaching the Lent sermons at St. Benoit, in Paris, Louis Procrastination has in every age XIV. inquired of Boileau how it was been the ruin of mankind. Dwelling that everybody was running after amid endless projects of what they him. "Sire," replied the poet, "your are to do hereafter, they cannot so majesty knows that people will always properly be said to live, as to be al-run after novelties. This man preaches ways about to live, and the future has the Gospel." ever been the gulf in which the present has been swallowed up and lost; hence, arise many of those misfortunes which befall men in their worldly concerns. What might now tions of seventy years, than of yesterbe arranged with advantage, by being day: pour liquor into a full vessel, delayed cannot be arranged at all. and the top will run off first.They are clogged and embarrassed; Hutton.
I can better remember the transac
PROFESSION AND CONFESSION.
Profession is swimming down the stream, confession is swimming against it. How many may swim with the stream, like the dead fish, that cannot swim against the stream with the ing fish; many may profess Christ that cannot confess Christ.
HAPPINESS OF MAN.
The felicity of man, in a state of society, really depends upon a great variety of causes which are connected together by the closest ties, and which liv-assist or impede the operations of each other by a force which often is least perceived where it is most exerted.Dr. Parr.
What unthankfulness is it to forget
To set the mind above the appetites is the end of abstinence; which one of the fathers observes to be, not a virtue, but the ground-work of a virtue. By forbearing to do what may inno- our consolations, and to look upon cently be done, we may add hourly matters of grievance; to think so new vigour to resolution, and secure much upon two or three crosses, as the power of resistance when pleasure to forget an hundred blessings.or interest shall lend their charm to Sibbs. guilt. The temperate man's pleasures are durable, because they are regular ; and all his life is calm and serene, because it is innocent.
Nothing is more opposite to the spirit of Christianity than bigotry. "This," as one observes, "arraigns, and condemns, and executes all that Christians mistake in supposing do not bow down and worship the that, when God afflicts, he ceases to image of its idolatary. Possessing love;-affliction is his pruning-knife: exclusive prerogative, it rejects every he would rather have the branches of other claim. How many of the dead his vine bleed than be unfruitful. He has it sentenced to eternal misery! prunes us, that we may bring forth How many living characters does it "the peaceable fruits of righteous-reprobate as enemies.
WORLDLY FRIENDSHIP. When I see leaves drop from the trees, in the beginning of autumn, just such, think I, is the friendship of the world. Whilst the sap of maintenance lasts, my friends swarm in abundance; but in the winter of my need, they leave me naked. He is a happy man that hath a true friend at his need; but he is more truly happy that hath no need of his friend. Arthur Warwick.
Mr. Dod, an eminent minister, being solicited to play at cards, arose from his seat, and uncovered his head. The company asked him what he was going to do. He replied, "To crave God's blessing." They immediately exclaimed, "We never ask a blessing on such an occasion." "Then," said he, "I never engage in any thing but on what I can beg of God to give his blessing."
It was a saying of Aristotle's, that
When a gentleman who had been accustomed to give away some thou-virtue is necessary to the young, to the
sands, was supposed to be at the point of death, his presumptive heir inquired where his fortune was to be found? To whom he answered, that it was in the pockets of the indigent.
aged comfortable, to the poor service-
To suppliant virtue nothing is deny'd,
KING OF PRUSSIA TO HIS
Of all the diversions of life, there is none so proper to fill up its empty SINGULAR APOLOGY OF THE spaces, as the reading of useful and entertaining authors; and, with that, the conversation of a well-chosen friend. A man of letters never knows the plague of idleness: when the company of his friends fails him, he finds a remedy in reading, or in composition.
REPAIRING FRIENDSHIP. There is a very original expression of Doctor Johnson's to this effect. Towards the close of his life, death having robbed him of many friends, he was solicitous to form new acquaintances, to keep, he said, friendship in repair.
LIBERTY OF JUDGMENT. Every man has a right to judge for himself, particularly in matters of religion; because every man must give an account of himself to God.John Wesley.
What influence has custom over dress, furniture, the arts, and even over moral sentiments? It requires, however, to be watched. It should never pervert our sentiments with regard to humanity and religion. To make custom an apology for what is unreasonable and irreligious, is making a bad use of it indeed.
While Frederic the Great, King of Prussia, was dying with the dropsy, as the disorder continued for a long time, he one day said to his successor, "I beg your pardon, nephew, for making you wait so long."
THE SCRIPTURES PERVERTED.
It is a fact which every candid Christian deplores, that every sect imposes a meaning on many texts, the very opposite of truth. The Shakers of America quote almost all the passages where the word "shake" occurs, to justify the practice which distinguishes them: for example, Hagai, ii, 7, "I will shake all nations," is a prediction which, in their opinion, is fulfilled by them.
When the renowned Admiral Haddock was dying, he begged to see his son, to whom he thus delivered himself." Notwithstanding my rank in life, and public services for so many years, I shall leave you only a small fortune; but, my dear boy, it is honestly got, and will wear well: there are no seamen's wages or provisions in it; nor is there one single penny of dirty money."