346 gmullg Cult CHRIST KNOCKING AT THE POOR MAN'S DOOR. tJean Ingelow's volume of exquisite poems contain a sermon on knocking at the door, from which we make one brief extract, and only wish we could find room to ,print the whole.] There was a poor old man Who. sat and listened to the raging sea, And heard it thunder, lunging at the cliffs As like to tear them down. fie lay at night, And, "Lord have mercy on the lads!" said he, " That sailed at noon, tho' they be none of mine; For when the-gale gets up, and when the wind Flings at the window, when it beats the roof, And lulls and stops and rouses up again, And cuts the crest clean off the plunging wave, And scatters it like feathers up the fields, Why then I think of my two lads : my lads That would have worked and never let me want, And never let me take the parish pay. No, none of mine ; my lads were drowzied at sea, My two—before the most of these were born. I know how sharp that cuts, since my poor wife Walked up and down, and still walked up and down; And I walked after, and one could not hear A word the other said, for wind and sea That rftged and beat, and thundered in ihe night— The awfulest, the longest, lightest night. That ever parents had to spend. A moon That shone like daylight on the breaking wave. Ah, me ! and other men have lost their lads, And other women wiped their poor dead mouths. • " Ay,l was strong And able-bodiedi—loved my work; but now I am , a useless hulk ; time I sunk ; am in all men's way ; I trouble them ; I am a trouble to myself: but yet I feel for mariners of stormy nights, And feel for wives that watch ashore. Ay, ay, If I had learning I would pray the Lord To bring them in ; but I'm no scholar, no; Book•learning is a world too hard for me ; But I make bold to say, 0 Lord, good Lord, ram a broken-down poor man, a fool To speak to Thee;but in the book 'tis writ, As I hear say from others that can read, ifew,:when Thou earnest, Thou didst love the - Sea, And live with, fisher folk, whereby 'tis said, Thou knowest all the peril they go through, And all their trouble. As for me, good,Lord,. I have no boat; I am too old, too old— My lads are drowned ; I buried my poor wife ; My little lasses flied so long-ago „,,' _ That mostly I for_get what they were like. Thou knowest, Lord, they were such little I know they went to Thee, but I forget Their faces, thouoh I missed them sore. « 0 Lord', I was a strong man—l hav,e drawn good food And madd good money out of Thy great sea— But yet I cried for them at night; and now, Although I be so old,. I. miss.my And-there be many folk this stormy night r lleavy with fear for theird.` Comfort them l f3ave their honest boys, their pride, , And let thetohear, 'next ebb, 'the blessedest Best soundthe boat-keels grating on the sand. But Lord, I arn,a. trouble ! and I sit And I am lcmos'Ome, and the nights are few That any think to come and draw a chair, And sit in my poon,place and talk awhile. Why should - they come, forsooth 2 Only the wind SnoOks at my door, 0 long and loud it knocks, The enly thing God makes that has a Mind To enter in. • . Yea, thus the old man spake, These were thelast words of his aged mouth,— Bin ONE. DID KNOCK. One came to sup with hire, • -That humble, weak old man ! knocked at his door . In the rough pauses of, the laboring wind. What he said , • In that'Poor place where he did talk awhile, I:cannot ten '; but this I am assured, That 'When the neighbors came the morrow morn, . What time• the -wind had bated, and the sun Shone on the old man's door they saw the smile Be passed away. in, and they said; 4 ‘ He looks As-he had'wohe and seen the face of Christ, And with that rapturous smile held out his arms To comm to Him.i l Can such an one be here ? So old; so weak, so ignorant, so frail, The 'Lord be good to thee, thou poor old man ; It would be hard with thee if heavenwere shut -To such.as haver:Lot learning, Nay, nay, nay, Ile condescends to thew. of low estate : To such , as are despised tle Cometh down, Stanili at the' door and knocks. SITTING ON THE SHORE The tide has ebbed sway : No more wild, dashings 'gains* the adamant rocks, • I+l - Or swayings amidst sea-weed false that mocks, • ." .The hues. of garden gay • No laugh•of little wavelets at their, play;. No lucid pools reflecting heaven's, clear brow ; Both storm and calm:alike are ended now. 'a. The rocks sit gray and lone ; The Shifting sand is spread so smooth and dry, That,not a tide might ever have swept by, Stirring it with rude moan: , , Only`eOme weerly.fragraentsidly thrown To fa'benetith 'the sky, tell whittles been Alit' Desolation's self has grown serene: •After, the mountains rise r ;And the broad estuary widens ,out, ' "All sunshine; wheeling round and round about 'Sdawird, a white bird flies;. .• - 4 0, , birdt , I.Tay, seems it , rather to these A spirit, o'er. Eternity's Aim sea Calling—" Come thou where all, we glad souls be." o:life ! 0 silent shore ! - Vi r Per,e we sit.patient: gieat;sea : beyond, , Wo,which we turn , with solemn hope and fond, But sorrowful no' more ! Bat little while und then we too shall soar Like white-winged sea-birds in , the Infinite eep ; Till the D n, flou, Father, wilt our spirits keep. —Miss Muloch. ,• DON'T WRITE THERE "Don't write there," said one to a lad who was writing with a diamond pin on a pane of glass in the - window of a hotel. Why ?" said he. "Because you can't rub it out." There are other things which men should not do, because they cannot rub them out. A heart is aching for sym `,pithy, and a cold, perhaps heartless Word is spoken. The impression may l-be r more'durable than that of the diamond upon the glass. The inscription on the - i t4ss.may be destroyed by the fracture of ,theglass, but,thu impression on the heart, may last forever. On many a,mind and many a heart there are sad , inscriptions, deeply en dgraved, which 'not effort can erase: •:We' should be careful what we Write on the minds of others.—Merry's Museum. MATCHES. By the Misses " Warner, Authors of the "Wide, Wide World," Old , ;e. [WRITTEN FOR OUR COLUMNS Chapter IV Look at any little match boy, as he stands in the street, and it will never come into your mind that he is going to be anything great. How can he ? No friends; no money, no education: not even a jacket that is not patched, and often no shoes to his feet,. Many people think he is not fit even to sell matches, they do not like to buy of such a looking boy —hardly to speak to him: they never think of giving him a helping hand. Something great? •certainly he does not look as if that were possible for him. But remember, the things that are im possible with men, the Lord is accom plishing every day, and promotion cometh neither from the North, nor from the East, nor from the West, nor from the South, but God is the. Judge. If .I should say it came into Johnny's head that he would be_.something great, 1 should say wrong. ,It came into his heart; andle resolved.ta be a preacher. I suppose he' never even diealned that "he could be a preacher in One of the great city churches, from which came such crowds of gay ladies and gentlemen every Sunday ; but into his' heart, where the love of Christ had taken sweet pos ' session, came the thonght that he might go and preach to those wretched and forlorn people among whom he had once lived. Who needed tolnow the love of Jesus if they did not ? Who could speak of its power so well as; le ? Yes, he would be a missisnary to these poor defiled ones. He would be an ambassa der from the King of, kings to the;poor outcasts of New York. He would be a light bearer in that thick darkness. Those sweet Bible words which he had learned to love so well, with them he would go, " holding forth the word of life." But in the mean time, he was -only a little boy; and. until he was old enough to be a real minister, he must read and study and learn a great deal,' and, prepare himself for .the work; and he'must earn money too, and, pay his way in the, world. In what'used to be the' upper part of the city; though streets andlouses.have run far beyond it now,'there is a, large building called the Union Theolegipal Seminary. Here go•many young 'men, :who, intend to; be ministers ; here they live and study for several years, till they can go, out into the world and preach: At the.time of which `l : write, the super intendent of Johnny's. Sunday-school was one of these students ;''preparing himself to go as a missionary •to some far-distant heathen country. And when he found out what desire was inJohnliy's heart, instead of laughing at poor little "Matches" for wanting to be:a minister, he, did everything he could, to help him on. There was another student already in his room at the Seininary, but the two found a place in one corner for e little bed that' was just large ertougla_for Joluct; ny; and there the little boy came to hie, that he might have more ,time for. his. studies, s e nd better help in them than-he could at the Lodging Hpuse. You.may guesi how glad lie was. They were hut, poor' theinselves, these students ; they had to work hard, many of them, to pay their own way,;',_but what they liad to give Johnny, they, gave ,freely: room, and counsel, and kindness. And John ny on"hispart greW very _fond of them . '" all, they' were d 6 sOlKind and unselfish," he said,—" and seemed to understand one soivell:" But they could notsup port'him ; that he must do for himself • so'the little match basket. was almost as i bus yt as Aver. • , And this was the fashion of nliriny i s q new way of life. From nine in the' I naoriiing till three in the afternoon' he - :went to school. From three to 'four he-went :thelounds with his basket Sell , . ing matches and bboks,and Steel; 'pens and other trifles • from: four .unqhalf past six he studied his lessons, then, had 'his 'supper, wont round- once More • • With his basket, took one more time of read ing, and'went to bed, •'The two grown up students in that roOrn. Were very`' h4a to their:littlocoiarade, and helped him in every way they, eould;,and when he went, about among the ;r44st. with his, ,basket,': he met a „ready .welcome from all; ,for he had;a,diappy little face .thA l everybody liked to See.' -:The students .bought his wares; helped him in", his studies, and when they had,tinae debtited. ,with him all sorts of knotty for. thialast was johnny's delight. -You, can lritagine boy, going.up the long stairaand throUgh .the gas-lit halls;:just at the end of:some winter's day, With his basket. here is a customer's door, and Johnny knocks, " °erne in !" • Smith, I've got some . better pens to-day, warranted not to sputter." Mr. Smith looks at the pens. • „" I wouldn't warrant them, Johnny, if I were you." " But won't you try 'em, sir ? . Then if you say they're,good I can warrant 'em afterwards." , , ~; "And if they're ,not good, nuppose you refund the cents, eli Johnny ?' " Couldn't afford that,, sir. " Well how can Tafford to throw away sixpence on steel pens ihat may sputter?" says Mr. Smith. " However, here goes. That's a good sixpence,. Jobnny. I wish your pens looked half as proMising."-; n "Thank you, sir. Maybe they'll, be, hetter than their words." 4 "Whatareyou so happy about to-day?" says .the itudent, glancing at the . •facie thatshone so pleasantly: • • '- , :"o:l 4 nilappy every day,' answers the' little boy. PHILADELPHIA, THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 3, 1864. " I know you are. But what is it to day ?" "Odo-day, sir, it's just those words, ' I will never leave thee nor forsake thee.' " And Johnny makes his bow and shuts the door softly, and goes limping along the hall, humming to himself-- The soul that to Jesus bath fled for repose I will not, I will not, desert to his foe." Another door and another knock. "Come in, Johnny, I know that is you. And so you've no fear of being deserted?" "No sir, not a bit." "Why not ?" says the student, lean ing back in his chair and looking at Johnny. " I couldn't be, sir. God has promis ed." "Does the devil never tempt you to doubt his word?" " 0 yes, sir, very often. He did to day. And then I justgave him a;knock with Heb. 13, 5. Tellsyou what, sir, it was too much for him ; he ran right off. and I haven't seen him since:':',;. " Well, Johnny, hold fast that, which thou hast received.' The devil will not' be able to try' us long; we shall not long have to strive with sin. A little while, and then the Lord will say 'Town crosses, and, down sin, and down sorrow; and up glory, up joy, for evermore."' Johnny folded his - hands with a quiet sigh of satisfaction.- " Mr. Fearing, 'I don't think anybody but me - knows how good - the tordis." "A good many people have, felt enough of his loving kindness to know .somethigg ; ,about it, Johnny," - - hut they &Orel knew what it is to be a, street boy and have Jesus pick you n - p!" ~,, When you and I get to be ministers, Johnny; we'll try and have street boy' church." " Yes indeed ;" answers Johnny, seizing his basket, " and I must hurry and learn, and get money just as fast as I can. Maybe I'll have enough, to build the church myself. What'll you buy to day, Mr. Fearing ?" Only some shoe-strings, Johnny, if yOu have them good." ",First rate sir."- And Johnny:limps along to the , next door,_singing softly and Joyfully.: Oh bow 'merciful! Oh how pitiful I - ,‘ • Oh how merciful ' ' , The Lora-has been to me I" • He does not knock here, but opens the door very gently and looks in. Mr. Elton, aint your matches gone ?" "Comein, my boy-why no, how could they be ? .1 bought a box only three days ago." " Sometimes you - use ,them up very . tadt, ; "Yes, when I drop the whole box in the fire. But, that is too expensive carelessness to be, repeated. Johnny, don't, you want some dinner ?" guess it is near dinner time," says Johnny; hesitating a little. "ut it's 'not'far to my room, 'sir ; and "I've most, gone the-rounds:" "_Have you? then you must he gry. :Put your basket down, 'and year self in that chair, and I'll see what I've got." Nothing in the room promised much and even. 'the dress of the young student Was very thin and threadbare,—a rich man- might'have given hith untold com forts by"the ,gift , of, ten dollars Yet 'Johnny liked Mr.' Elton i the' best of all his onstomers, and now watched him with loving eyes as he went to the closet and.brought out a plate of crackers and asmail: jar..: ." Some kind lady set me a. jar, of marmalade yesterday, Johnny," he said, "so We Can-have a royal dinner." And the tha'nks giien first over the slender, Meal; were full and deep' and true. " Well, lir. Elton," said Johnny, "if yowgive the dinner I guess I'll stand: .the desert:!';And .with that Johnny Ilivedllown into the:corner of his baske,t, : Etna, brought out two. red-oheeked 'apples, the last there,, which laid 'on the', " Apples seem to -have found a good market to day," Said Mr:Elton, looking at the basket. - " "Yes-sir, pretty good ; I hadn't' So many to begin with, though. But there's days when everybody wants apples." ,",Even, you,' said hisfriend: ,!. "Yes ; sir," said Johnny., "Sometimes I do, but not the same days other folks Aces., 'I don't eat 'em very often. I. et - nigh so many 'apples as I did' once. But' it's a wonderful deal' bettdr' to :sell "bin than to steal ' Mr: ton,l which is the biggest 'sin--lying `or -stealing,?" • , , " I think it would do you and me little, good to find out, Johnny ; _we have set our faces against all sin, you know." "It Worries Me though, once in a while," said Johnny, " that question I mean. Because I used to hate to steal, dreadfully; and babe when my father told ,me to go and fetch home some po-r tatoes, I said I was so lame I couldn't I. did use to have.real lame spells once in a while, but that, day I was:well enough. , And maybe the lie I told to keep me from stealing 'was a greater sin against God than to get the potatoes. But' the grocer'd given me a crac - ker one day, and I couldn't bear 'to take'anything that belonged to him. AnOther one gave me: an orange, too." ,A'.Never mind which was. the greatest ] ,Johnpy,; bring all ,your Sins to Jecao,-11 and let, him. *ash theta away. The Bible does ,not tell US of 'any little sins-7 There ain't any lit tl9 ones about me,' 'said Johnny,' shakinglis head.; '‘ They 11 . 0d'Io look so 'big"'Sormitinies,' that had to remember just as hard as I could that Jesus has all power in heaven and earth."' How do the. look now ?" said his friend. " I don't seem . to see 'em so much now, Mr. Elton, it made me so miserable to look at 'em—and then I took to looking at Jesus,-and :when. -you. - -see him, you know sir, you can't see much else." " No indeed;" - ktid-Mil'Eltori, a happy._ thing_ to lose...sight of ourselves in that way." "Yes sir, I used to go round the streets thinking, 0 who's like Johnny More ? so wicked and - so ignorant.' But now as I go along I'm all the time thinking, 0 who's like Jesus ?' " And beating his hands softly together, Johnny sung: 0 who's like Jesus ? He died on the tree 0 he died for you, And he died for me, He died to set poor sinners free, 0 who's like Jesus ?" SELECTIONS,. FAMILY WORSHIP. Not a few Christians who desire, above all things, that their children sheuld serve the Lord, neglect the besVmearis to secure that result. They pray for theni, are carefgl to have them -attend; Sunday-school 'and public worship,. and occasionally exhort them to seek the Lord. - What more can they do ? They can maintain a Christian atmowhere at home. The experience of' the' ChUrCh proves that go'intlweitite equals hoikereL ligion in converting children to Christ. And the most fit and potent expressiOn of family religion is in . .family worship every day. The reading of 'the Bible and prayer daily,when children:are grow ing up, is like the perpetual sunlight, changing and renewing the hearts by gradual, silent, progress. Let parents read andkneelbefore the' Lord, have all the children kneel, froM smallest to and' they aequire reverence and; love for the NaviOur, that will make them _feel that a household_ without. prayer, is heathen, ,vnlgar,,,,in-, tolerable. They love their parents, and. revere their superior wisdom;, and when, , from early childhood, theysee,theM bow and pray, they come to read t prayer as-air essential part of daily life: But in order to de this,the worShip' must be regular and -devont,, , , and: the whole fatally engage in it. , Some fami lies are not careful to have-'the children present when they Wership." This is, very wrong. ,The above aly others, are benefitted,sandthould'always. be present. Some do not'. teach the children to kneel: -during -prayer; and hence they-,awkwardly sit in their seats while the parents - kneel. This iS , a sad mistake. If they do not, kneel; they naturally suppose that they have, no part nor' lot in the' devotions, and'soon feel - that it is wrong for them . , to bow before Lord.' We 'have seen Many cases where grown-up sons and daughters had never bent the knee before 14ord, and thought- it wrong to kneel until .they were Christians. In thisway they were Made more shy and, stubborn, and felt 'that' ,there was an impassable 'barrier between them and Christ. This feeling is wrong and unnecessary. If family worship had been rightly observed they would, have felt.that they were very near the. Saviour, and. would easily be , inclined to give ; .: their hearts, to hiin. Indeed children thus ,trained seldom grow to•maturity without becoming practically Chriitians.—kornin,g Star. THE BO.Y WHO. CONQUERED:. few ears ago, a lad who , was. left 'Without' father or inother; of good natural abilities,' went to New York, alone and friendless ; to get a situation' in a-store as' , -errand" boy; or `'otherwise, until he could`dOmMand a higher 'posi tion; but this `boy` had` been in tacit cow pany,'and had'ict,'into the habit of call:, ing for 'his ?,bit:ters occasionally ; be cause lie thought' it= looked-manly.-Y_He smoked cheap cigars, alsO. He had a pretty good' t edUcatioir, and on looking over the 'papers, he. '.noticed .that a merchant in Pearl 'street wanted' a ofleie , age, and be called-there and made his•business known. E " Walk into the,. office, my lad,".,said: tie, merph,ant. "I'll attend to .. ; you soon?' - • When he had 'Waited on his.cu.stom fr er he took a seat near the lad, and espied cigar in his hat. 'This was enough. " - my bny,".saidlie, "1. want a '';sinart, - . honest, faithful lad ; but I see that you :smoke cigars - and in my experience -=of many years, have ever found cigar-, smoking in lads to be connected with various other evil habits; and, if I am not mistaken, yonr breath is an evidence that you are, not an exception. 'Yon. * leave; yen will not suit me." John' (this •was his name) , held down this head and left the store ; and ad. he walked along the street, a, stranger and , friendless, the counsel of his, poor mother. Came, forcibly to his mind,. who,. upon her death-bed, called hiin to her side, and. Placing her emaciated hand on his hsad, said; "Johnny, my dear boy, I'm „going to'leaVe . you. You well know What dis grace and misery your father brought on us before his death, and =I want you' to promise me before :I die that Yourwill never taste one slrop of the , accursed poison that killed your father. Promise me this, and a good boy, Johnny, and I Shall die The scalding tears trickled doWn Johnny's ahead; and he 'promised ever to remember the dying words of his mother, and never to drink - any spiritu ous liquors;•_.but he soon -forgot his promise, and When he received the re buke from the merchant he remembered What hie.. mother said, and what he had promised her, and he cried aloud, and people gazed at him as he passed along and =boys railed at-him. =He went to his lodgings, and throwing,himself upon his bed:a - hit& V&A finite feelings in sobs that were heard all over the house. But John had moral courage. He _had -energy and determination, 'and ere an hour had passed he had made up his mind: never- to taste another drop of liquor, nor smoke another cigar as long as he lived.- He went straight, back to the merchant. Said he, " Sir, you very properly sent me away this morning for habits that I have been guilty of ; but, sir,, I have neither father nor mother, aid though I have occasionally done what I 6 ught hot to do, and have not followed the good advice ,of my poor, moiher 'Ort her death-bed, nor done as I promised her l'would do, yet' I have now made a solenin vow neverto drink another drop , of = liquor; nor