famitg
POEM RECITED BY MR. LINCOLN.
To the Editors of the N. y. Evening Post:7—
I have been urged by several friends to send
you the enclosed poem, written down by myself
from Mr. Lincoln!s lips, and although it, may
:not be new to all your readers, the - events of
the last week give it now a peculiar interest.
The circumstances under which this copy
was written are these:—l was with the Presi
dent alone one evening in hi ro
s om during the
time I was painting my large pic ' ture at the
White House last year. He presently threw
aside his pen and papers, and. began to talk to
me of Shakespeare. He sent little "Tad,"
his son, to the library to bring a copy of the
plaYsTancYthenlettri tede'several'of fivo
rite passages, showing genuine appreciation , of
the-great-poet: " Relapsiniiiitb"a sadder strain,
he laid thp.book aside, and leaning back in his
chair, said •
"There is'a poem which has been a great
favorite with me for years, which was first
shown to me when a young
,man by, a friend,
-and Which I afterwards •saw'.and 'at from a
. newspaper and learned by heart. I woild,"
lie continued, "'give a great deal to knbly who
* 'wrote it, biat I have never been able to-ascer
tain.'3 ;
Then half closing his eyes, he repeated to me
the lines which I enclohe to you. Gretitly
pleased and interested, I:told him I would like,
if ever an opportunity occurred, to -write them
down from his' lips. He said he would some
time try to give them to me.
A few days, afterwards he asked me to ac
company
him to the temporary studio of Mr.
Swayne, the sculptor, who was making a bust
of him at the Treasury Department._ While he
was sitting for the bust I was suddenly reminded
of the poem, and said to him that then would
- be a good time to dictate it to me. He com
plied, and sitting upon some books at his feet,
as nearly 'as I can remember, I wrote the lines
;down, one by one, from his lips.
With great regard, very truly yours,
B. F. CARPENTER.
OH WHY SHOULD THE SPIRIT OF MORTAL BE
PROUD?
Oh, why should the spirit of-mortal be proud?
Like a swift, fleeting meteor, a fast-flying cloud,
A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave,
lie passeth from life to his'rest in the grave.
The leaves of the oak andthe'willow shall fade;
Be scattered around 'and together be laid;
And the young and the old, and the low and
" the high,
Shall moulder,to dust and together shall lie.
The infant a mother attended and loved
The ; mother that infant's affection who proved;
The hniband that mother audinfantwho,blessed,
Each, all, are away to their dwellings - of Rest.
The' hand - of the king that the sceptre hath
The' brow the prieet. th:
worn •
Are hidden an. oat in rt
The peasant,,ivhose lot sow and to reap ;
The herdsman, who climbed with his goats up
the steep ;
The beggar who wandered lu search of his
bread, . , •
Have faded away like the grass that we tread.
So.the multitude goes, like the flower or the
weed
That withers away to let others succeed ;
So the multitude comes, even those we behold,
To.repeat every tale that has often been told.
For we are the same that our fathers have been;
We see'the same sights that our. fathers have
seen—
We drink the same stream and view the same
And run the same course our fathers have run.
The thoughts Ite are thinking our fathers would
think ;
From the death we .are shrinking our fathers
would shrink ;
To the life we are clingint they also would cling;
But it speeds for us all, like a bird on the wing•
•
They loved, but the-story we cannot unfold ;
They scorned, but the heart of the haughty is
cold;
They grieved, but no. wail from their slumber
will come ;
They joyed, butthe tongue of their gladness is
dumb.
They died, ay 1- they died ; we things that are
now,
That walk on the turf that lies over their brow,
And make in their dwellings transient abode,
Meet the things that they met on their, pilgrim
age road.
Yea! hope, and despondency, pleasure and
pain,
We mingle together in sunshine and rain
And the smile and. the, tear, the . song and the
Still follow each other, like surge upon surge
'Tis the wink of an eye, 'tis the draft of a
breath ;
From the blossom of health to the paleness of
death, •
From the gilded saloon to the bier and the
shroud—
Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud?
THE COVENANTER'S MARRIAGE DAX.
(CONCLUDED.)
Mark, with great difficulty, rose up
and knelt down as'he was ordered. He
had no words 'to say to his bride; nor
almost did he look at her, so full was
his soul of her image, and of holy grief
for the desolation in which she wo ald
be left by his death. The dewy
breath of her gentle and pure kisses
was yet in his heart, and the happy
sighs of maidenly tenderness were now
to be changed into groans of incurable
despair. Therefore it, was that he said
nothing"as he knelt down ; but his
pallid lips moved in prayer, and she
heard her name indistinctly uttered
between those of God and Christ.
Christian Lindsay had been betroth
ed. to him for several- years, and no
thing but the fear of some terrible evil
like this had kept them so long sepa
rate.. Dreadful, therefore, as this hour
was, their souls were not wholly un
prepared for it, although there is al
ways a miserable difference between
reality and mere imagination. She
now recalled to her mind, in one com
prehensive thought, their years of in
nocent and youthful affection ; and
then the holy words so lately uttered
by the old man,in that retired .place,
alas I called by too vain .a name, " The
Queen Fairy's Parlor." The tears
began now to flow—they both wept ;
for this night was Mark Kerr's head
to lie, not on her bosom, but in the
grave, or unburied on the ground. In
that agony, what signified to her all
the insulting, hideous, and inhuman
language of - the
,licentious murderer?
They fell off her' Soul without a stain ) ,
like polluted water off the phiriaa-cre'of
some fair sea-bird. And as she looked
on her husband 'upon his knees
awaiting his doom—him, the temper
ate, the merciful, thegentle, and the;
just—and then upon those wrathful,
raging, fiery-eYed, and bloody-minded
Mien, are they,r. thought her fainting
heart, of the same kind? are they
framed by one God? and has Christ
-alike died for-them all?
She lifted up her, eyes, full of
prayers, for ° one moment, -to heaven,
and then, with a cold shudder of de
sertion, turned upon her husband
kneeling, with a white-fixed counten-
Aimee, and half dead already with the
loss of blood. A dreadful silence had
succeeded to that' tumult; and she
difrily saw a niunber Of men'drawn: up
-together. without moving, and• their
determined eyes held -fast upon their
victim. " Think, my lady; that it is
Hugh Gemmel's ghost that cominands
you now," said a deep hoarse voice,,
"-no mercy cl;id the holypen of the
mountains Show to . him When they
smashed 'his. skull with large stones
from the channel of the Yarrow. Now
for revenge?
The soldiers presented their mus
kets, the word was given, and they
,fired. At that momentl Christian
Lindsay had ru,slied forward ' and flung
herselfedown ou her knees beside• her
husband, -and they both, fell,, and
stretched themselves out =Rally
wounded upon the grass.
During all this scene, 'Marion Scott,
'the bridesmaid, a girl of fifteen, had
been. lying affrighted among the
brackens within' a handfed yards of
the murder. The agony of grief now
got the better of the .agony of fear,
and, leaping up from her concealment,
she rushed into the midst of the•sol
diers, and kneeling, down beside her
dear Christian Lindsay, lifted up her
head, and shaded the hair from her
forehead. " Oh, Christian ! your eyes
are opening.--do you hear
me—do you
hear me speaking?" "Yes, I hear a
ivoice—iS it:- yours, , Mark ?—sspnak
again ?" Oh, Christian! it is only my
voice—poor ,Marion's." " Is- Mark
• 2—l 91 , And t:hprp tra%
lieaid the deep gasping sohi.that were
rending the child's heari.. Her, eyed,
too, opened more widely, 'andStily as
they were, they 'saw, indeed, close - 1:y
her the huddled-up, mangled, and
blocidy body of her husband.
The soldiers stood like so . many
beasts of prey, who had gorged their
fill of blood; their rage was abated,
and they - offered no violence to the
affectionate child„as ste continued to
sit before them, with the head of Chris
tian Lindsay in. her lap, watering it
with tears, and moaning so as to touch,
at least, some even of their hardened
hearts: When blood is shed it soons
begins to appear a fearful .sight to the
shedders, and the hand soon begins to
tremble that has let out human - life.
1 Cruelty cannot sustain itself in. the
presence of that rueful color, and re
morse sees -it reddening into a more
ghastly hue. Some, of the soldiers
turned away in silence, or with a half
suppressed oath ; others strayed off
among the trees, and sat down too-e
-ther, and none would now have touch
ed the head of pretty little Marion.
The man whom they had shot de
served death—so they. said .to one
another--and` he had OA it ; but the
woman's death was accidental, and
1 they were not to blame because she
had run upon their fire.
So, before the smell and. smoke of
the gun-powder had been carried away
by the passing breeze from that place
of murder, all were silent, and could
hardly bear to look one another in the,
face. Their work had been lamenta
ble indeed. For now they began to
I see that these murdered people were
truly bridegroom and bride. She was
lying there dressed with her modest
white bridal garments and white rib
bons now streaked . with many streams
of blood from mortal wounds. So,
too, was she who was supporting her
head. It plain that a bridal party
had been this very day,' and that their
hands had prepared for a - happy and
affectionate newly-wedded pair that
bloody bed, and asleep from which
there was to be no awaking at the
voice of morn. They stood looking
appalled on the' bodies, while, on the
wild flowers around them, which the
stain of blood had not reached, loudly
and. cheefully were murmuring the
mountain bees. .
Christian Lindsay was not quite
dead, and she at last lifted herself up
.a little way out of Marion's lap,, and
then falling down with her arms over
her husband's neck, uttered a few in
distinct words of prayer, and expired.
Marion Scott had never seen death
before, and it was' now presented to
her in its most ghastly and fearful
shape. Every horror she had ever
heard talked of in the hiding-places of
her father and .relations was now re
alized before her eyes, and, for any
thing she knew, it was now her turn
to die. Had she dreamed in her sleep
of such a trial, her soul would have
died within her, and she would have
convulsively shrieked aloud on her
bed. But the pale, placid, happy
looking face of dead Christian Lindsay,
whom she had loved as an elder sister,
and who had always been so good to
her from the time she was a little child,
inspired her now with utter fearless
ness, and she could have knelt down
to be shot by the soldiers without one
quiekened pulsation at her heart,. But
now 'the soldiers were -willing to leave
epth of.the grave.
THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN , THURSDAY, MAY 4, 1865.
the bloody green, and their leader told
Marion she might go her ways' , and
bring her friends to take care of the
dead bodies. No re,-he , 'Sgid, Iwould
hurt her. And soOn4ft,, ,er -the party
disappeared.
.
Marion reit:tamed for a while beside
the dead. Their wounds bled not
now. But she brought water from the'
-little -spring-2and--washed-Lthera Altile•--
cently, and left not a single stain upon
- ftl --1
eithero err faces. She disturbed as
little as possible the position in winch
they lay, nor removed Christiatis arm
from her husband's neck. She' lifted
one o'f 'the ''arlith - 'ilp lot 67-18.61aent- to
L . Wipe away_a spot, of blk
down again itself, and nit
Dining all this'time IX
light 'was giving ,a ; deep
purple • heather, andd — as
up her eyes'td heaven
golden West the last - re]
.All..the`wild. was silent
was; there but that of, the
And the darkening sti'
Marion's young, soul wi
superstition, as she oo]
bodies, then UP to - the
and . over the' glimmei
th‘ solitary glen.
The poor girl was hal,
deepening hush, and' the g.a
darkness. Yet theaspirits of til
had so tenderly loved would zg
i
her; they had gone tO heavei.
she find heart to leave them /
together ? Yes; there - wis
she thought, to molest the'
raven inhabited this gil
.but; the dews would tow
she
she went to the- nearest ;
and told her father
i t
-friends of the murder.,
Before the moon ha4isen,
party that on. the inirning
present at the mairrage, hay
bled 'on the hillside before
ing whe - re Mark rr and
'Lindsay were now lifted
e vr lifted up
on a heather-couch, and lying
still as , in the/ grave. , The
and matrons who had bee]
happy scene in the Queen T
blots, or hride's favors, we;
iheit-bieasts. The old m,
come fioni.his cave, and not
years had he wept till now ;
was a'case even for the tears
'religious man of fourscore.
To watch by the dead all
to wait for some days till i
be coffined for burial, was
thought of in such times
That would have been to s;
living foolishly for the
soldiers had gone. 'But
no doubt would, return,
the funeral. Therefore it wa;
proposed than agreed to in
souls of them all, that the
and his bride should be
that very night in the clot
they had that morning 1
A bier was soon formed
tree boughs; and their I
looking up to heaven, no
moonlight, they were bol
sobbing silence, up the hi
along the glens, till the
together in the low buri.
the head of St. Mary's L(
was dug for them there,
not their own burial place.
Kerr's father and moth(
.church -yard of Melrose,
rents of Christian Lim
that of Bothwell, near
beautiful Clyde.
The grave was half
heather, and. gently w€
down together, even a:
found lying on the gret.
shealing, into that mournf ,
old man afterwards said
over them, but with the li
sitting down on the grav(
grave-stones, they spoke
of the dead. They had,
cut off in their youthfh
many happy days and
,‘
theirs; their affection fi
had been a solace to
poverty, and persecution.
have been a perplexing
who had not faith in
holiness s and mercy.
mourned now together
resigned to His dispe'
soon all eyes were drif
silence they all quitted t
and then the funeral
few hours ago had bei
one, dissolved among
alens l and rocks, and lel
b
and Christian Lindsay
rest.
A NATURAL Co_
Archbishop Whately
ing to elicit a candidat(
market. value of labor,
to .demand and supp.
baffled, the prelate put
this simple form : '
your village two shoes:
sufficient employment
to live tolerably, and
would follow if a third
up in the same yin;
would follow, sir ?" sai
"why, a fight, to be s.
GOD'S PROMIOS
the Lord hath
things ; only, l
them be in his ol%v
for us to set au
Creator of time, s:
only in the term
Rutherford.
WE TWO.
We own no houses, no lots; no lands
No dainty viands for us are sPread,
By sweat of our brows and toWof our hands
We earn the pittancp that buys our bread
And yet we , live in a grander state,naires
•
Sunbeam and I—than he
190 dine off silver and golden Plate,
With liveried lacqueys behind the chairs.
. - t e h a ve no riches in houses or stocks
~Nolaank=books show our-balance-to , drawl
'Yet we carry a safe-ITey that unloclis
More treasure than Crmsus E ver saw._
:
We wear no velvet nor satin fine,
-We dress-in-a very homely Ivah
But ah what luminousjustres shine
AbOut Sanbeam'a, g lycols and my hodden
gray
en
fa 4 , 0 , 0 0r), it is verr
M y ji r ' ~1;,;,-,atoi-d*Irt,iier (We do not ride,
-We are. ik-'r re from the other side
We are bolten
- 0f: the to 'h
We arer t ut for this we do not'Cire'3
i tio ae y,, we
,pass along,
4 and I and you cannot see,
Sin so ' • . = , •
w ..#._, what tall and beautiful throngs
-; 1 ,-elgi we have for company.. -
-.-- .
• 6 parpi no dulcimer, no guitar,.
.srealis into music at Sunbeam's touch,
,iit'do not think that our evenings are
,tor
Without, their music; there is no such
In-the concerthalls, where-the,palpitiint air
In musical hillOws floats and swims,
Our lives are as psalms and'ourforeheads wear
A calm, lithe peal of beautiful hymns.
1 lie
the
cloud weather obscures our skies,
And some days darken with drops of rain,
We have but to look in each other's eyes,
And all is balmy and bright again.
Ah, ours is the alchemy that transmutes
' The drugs to elixir—tlie dross to gold,
And-so we live on Hesperian. fruits,
Sunbeam and I, and never grow old.
Never grow- old, but we live in peace,
And love our fellows and envy none,
And our hearts are glad at the large increase
Of plentiful virtues under the sun. .
And the days pass on with their thoughtful
tread, • .
And:the Shadows lengthen toward the west,
But the,,wiane of our, young
_years brings no
dread
Tnbr i e r r their hariest of quiet rest.
Suribea ' s hair will be streaked with gray,
And thine will furrow my darling's brow,
But 'Levier can Time's hand steal away,
Th'e ender halo that clasps it now.
So w' dwell in wonderful opulence,
W' h
it
nothing-to hurt us.or.upbraid,
Andjmy life trembles with reverence,
Mid Sunbeam's•spirit is-not rifitaid.
_ 1 . -- , = Clarence Butler. -
'
a ti
.... A lab
. so
"I'd give a hundred dollars to fee
..t.dislip-tailci4ll-.LI-.6- m an of thirt •
years • • „, . .
revive Scenes occurring in his native
village] five years after. 'I; was near
the kingdom then; if, seemed as ;if
only a small matter kept me from be
coming a Christian."
" *hat stood in your way?" in
quid his sister, who, on a visit to
her ' brother's city honae, was telling
him of the changes taking place among
his former friends.
"Well, it was a small matter, as I
said. I was just starting in business
with Ralph Turner, you know. We
had engaged our store here; and were
to come down on such a day to. open
business.' When the day , came I
didn't feel like .going to the City. Re
ligion seemed very important; I wished
to possess it. But Ralph couldn't go
without me. I finally thought. I
would attend to business then, and
take a more favorable time to secure
religion. But I have neve,r, seen the
day since when I was so near being a
Christian, and I'm afraid I never
shall."
What hinders you now?" said the
relative, kindly. "Your business is
tablished and prosperous; you ac
knowledge the. importance of attend
ing to the salvation of your soul;
rely you can never expect a better
time than this."
I know it—l know it; but the
trouble is now that I don't . feel like it.
give a hundred dollars if I did."
" Seek for the feeling you Want; give
yourself no rest until you are once
more convinced of sin and anxious
to be reconciled to God. Take time for
thought, for the Bible, for prayer."
Time! that is just what . I haien.'t
command," interrupted the brother.
Business is very hurrying just now;
'ye stayed from the office too long
tready. Good morning."
Twenty years passed rapidly away.
le pious sister had just gone to her
,ng home, and the man of fifty, still
venitent, stood tearfully beside her
ew-made grave. - A neighbor was
;fling him of her happy death, of the
weet peace, and holy joy which..made
er last' earthly hours radiant with
‘e glories of heaven. _ -
I would give a thousand dollars
,r such a hope -as-she 41-ad," -was - tire
arnest-letitted answer.
If you die the death of a Christian,
ou must live a Christian life," re
;died the friend. "You haive surely
'orved the world long enough. Begin
oow to serve the Lord. You are rich,
know ; you can count your income
>y thousands; now just stop your
ager chase after wealth, and 'strive to
nter in at the straight gate.' When will_
ou ever have a better time?"
" I don't know, I don't know," re
lioined the rich worldling. "I never
;(,as so busy in my life. You say
culy, I am laying up money by thou
&rids ; but since my partner died I
i t in hurried almost to death. I seem
have no time for any thing."
"And yet, my friend, your time, all
:f it has been gilen you for this chief
id—to glorify God. What right
ye you to appropriate it as you are
-4 How will you account to the
of this, and 'every perfect gift?'
excuse your neglect and inclif
;e? These are serious questions;
you consider them."
'hey are serious indeed, and will
but_ one answer, I know. But
.to have- tied my own hands,
m powerless to help myself. Thii
"BUYING RELIGION."
business tract is a deep groove, ,and 'These girls lived hundreds ,of milPt
straight ahead; there is no such thing irOm 'eadh other, and yet yolf will see
as getting out of it. I could - not stop they were somewhat alike.
the engine now Without losing all I've When she heard hundreds ,of little
, .
gqt. But I am "l reallynot so , indifferent as Children„, weeping for their sins, she
You think. wish I was a sags,' "I WAS DETERMINED I WOULD
Christian ; and, as , I said at the begin- NOT CRY. WHAT A PROUD, PROUD'
fling of our. talk, I'd give a thousand HEM I HAD." What a picture she
dollars this minute to be one. But itgives ! Ivour yeart, my dear young
is time' for the ears; mustl see; and r friend, like hers?
hasten tack to the city. Come-t and But you see she gives us another
see Me,_ will ion, ?" picture, before she gets through. She
Thirty years more, and an old . man says,
of fourscore lay upon his death-bed.
Many a revivtlpfTeligion had waked A...,, : ro `I I LOVE TO WORK: FOR JESUS NOW,
A T,,1. Q.ll;Etl2STiO.S'icoii.t „
in his breast - a passing inerest, but _ _ _
When I first attended Tour meetings I
left-him:stip-I/Ablest. Seasons of pro- went mit of *brie' q"u'ii4ty. : - . L4eii ci i tri Ati - y'o u.
vjdential discipline had visited him. Made a. great many 'cry for their sins, but I
Wife ,and- children, had, preceded him was determined- that.l-would -not cry. O.
to the- grave. - Each of these success what a proud, mud heart „I had. -1 , have
• - .- • . attended all the meetings very 'r tar. 1.
sive warmngs had been more or less u m ' ' hymns. Whenever
. . co not sing the sweet
recognized" - ss:the call of aeave,n to I would commence to sing, my. voice would
prepare to meet his God. He had often falter and tears would come into my eyes, and
-" wished" 'he - was' Chrigtiart ' had felt I always stopped when - 1. came .to the chorus
'
that he would willingly' - g.i.ii- a ha th
.nd- I love Jes . us, y'es - I do"-:-. liecau.- I felt .
at I was telling an untruth._ I went.tothe
some sum from his rapidly increasing meetings regular for two weeks, and there
wealth to buy the "Pearl of great was no change. I kept wondering what kept
price ;" but to give up his heart-, which
;no e un fr : ji gie b n ei d u s g 'cL C i hgristtoi
le. s ali Pa an W d V:: tgi
was set on riches, to -sacrifice a por- me it was so easy. n ßut one of
the ministers
tion of the time which the pursuit . of came to me and asked me if there was not
`that object demanded, to plee God first something that I did not want . to 'give up,
and the world last in his estimation and I found out that I wanted to love 'my
mother better than Jesus and I told'-him - so.
and - endeavors, this he had never done But he told me that I would love her all the
—never tried to do. more if I found Jesus. And so one morning,
' And now le must give up the world, you came and spoke'to me so kindly, an
though that was his all. Eighty years prayed with me ; and while you werepraying
I resolved that I wouldffive u everything to
everythin to
had made him rich in heaps of shining become the follower of Him I love. And it
ore; half a million stood at his credit seemedas if I could hear Him saying,. `:`_Come
in, the bank; his blooded horses and unto me,,all ye that labor and-are heavy
shining carriage 'were the envy of laden 2 and I will give you rest." And I be
.= Have It was then and there that I found. Jesus.
many a gazer; his house and conser- When I went home from the meeting, some
vatories were models of taste and thing occurred that had always beftre throWn
luxury • but he was a poor old man, me into a great passion, and then. I prayed
without hope and without God. that Jesus would help me ; and he did help
- - • - and'l felt so ”--- h happier than when I
Now that he was on the brink of the
grave, how clearly he saw what he had
done. 0 that he could be set back
fifty or sixty years and again be free
to choose the wa y of life. Especially
how did, he long for that golden mo
ment,when truth seemed so, clear and
vital, duty so easy, heaven so near •
and how "bitter his regrets that he had
.
pushed them all aside with
-' _the wain.
delusion of that "more cc--31--"-uort-Terd;
And now
it was -too late. T rE73iig — t" -- riEa,son 'WAS
still on its throne, and conscience and
memory faithful, his heart was ha
dened. He must reap what he had sown.
But, 0, the terror and anguish which
overwhelmed his departing spirit. How
could he go into eternity without sal
vation ? The faithful minister of the
gospel, whom his nurse had sent for,
tried even then to lead his despairing
soul to Him who did not reject the
dying thief. But no emotion of love
and trust arose in his dark heart ; his
only and last expression being, "0, if
I could., I'd give a hundred thousand
dollars to die -a aristian."--American
Maim-ger.
tly Pitt &Ito.
F AMILIAR TALKS WITH THE CHIL
DREN, IV,
BY REV. EDWARD PAYSON ILUAMOND
THE THREE THOUGHTLESS GIRLS.
They went to church andSa,.bbath
school, but after all they never thought
much about, what they heard. It all
seemed just to go in one ear and out
the other. They read the Bible a little
an a l Went to 'meetings because others
did, but if they -had lived in' India,
they .would have likely been among
the children who bowed before the
ugly-looking idols.
Each - of-these girls has painted two
pictures of herself. The three first,
pictbres shoW you what they were
when they carelesSly rejected Jesus,
and the last three show you what they
are, now that' they hope they have
come to Jesus, and been made what
the Bible calls "new creatures."
You will see what I mean when you
read these interesting letters.
- Children's hearts are painted with
pen and ink sometimes, on a sheet of
paper. That's the way these pictures
were sent to me.
I wonder if your heart was all paint :
ed on paper l , how it' would look.
Would you like to have all your'
friends see it ? If it is not a "new
heart," the Bible says it "is deceitful
above all things and desperately
wicked:" .Perhaps you don't believe
it, but it is none the less true. When
these three girls were careless, they no
doubt thought they were .pretty good.
This girl, whose letter you will read
first, says " I LAUGHED AT THEM, AND
TOLD THEM I HAD ALL THE RELIGION
I WANTED." But after she became a
Christian she gives a different picture
of herself, when she says
"THEY LAUGITF.D AT ME, BUT I DID
NOT CARE, FOR I HAD MADE 11/1" Mir
MIND TO WORK FOR JESUS."
When you first came here some of my
friends asked me to Sttend the meetings, and
I laughed at them and told them that 'I had
all the religion that I wanted. After you had
been here two or three, weeks, I thought I
would go for the fun of it. It was the after
noon that Mr. Rains -started for home. I
liked the meeting pretty well, so I thou ht I
would stay to inquiry -meeting. Mr. trains
came and asked me if I loved Jesus, and I
told him I did not know. Pretty soon a little
girl, smaller than myself, came and talked
with me and prayed for ; and when I saw
all of. my little friends cuming to Jesus, I
thought it time for me.to think about it my
self. But the worst came after I went home.
Some there laughed at me, and asked me if
I had got religion, and said they knew that
it would not last, long, But I did not care
what they said. I had made up my mind to
work for4eius, andl Was going to do it. I
have k.ept on„doing and _Lam going to_
keep on doing it. • •
me ; - felt so much
bad given away to my foolish temper. Some
times I commence to look at myself, and I
get discouraged ; but 1 know it is Satan
tempting me. And then I look td Jeans and
all doubts go away, and it seems as if '-I can
hear Jesus cheering me on. I love , to work
for Jesits noio, and I Zote all Christians now;
and-I love poor sinners, too. - '
• Oh, what a sad picture is this last
letter! In a city where many chit
then__ ayta--snung -- wirire were 'seeking
e dear Saviour and _hundreds find-
mg him very precious, at that solemn
time;this girl says . :
"I CAME TO irkIFT.GS AT FIRST
FOR FIIN."
What a thoughtless, careless 'girl
she Must have been !
But when she gave herself up to
Him, who died on the cruel tree for
her, she found a great change come
over her sometimes, perhaps she hardly
knew herself. How different her heart
looks when, she says,
"I HAVE NOW MADE UP MY MIND
THAT I WILL NOT SERyE SATAN, BUT
CHRIST."
I wish you could say the same. Can
you?
came--to—suar- t i fun
and to see my friends, but one dayl feltirvery
badly in the z meeting, and thought that I
would stay to the.inquiry-meeting, and see if
dui - Mould make me feel anybetter. I staid,
'and a very dear friend of mine came and
'asked, me if I was a;Christian. I told her
no, and then she talked, to me very kindly,
but still 'I "did' not feel any better. I had
done something versiwrong, and could not
stop committing that...sin until I told my
parents, and then I felt better. That morn
ing I gave my heart to Christ and made up
my, mind, that I would serve him.. I believe
he has forgiven my sins, but then I have so
many doubts, and at one time I was' empted
to believe there was no God, hell, or heaven
ancl prayer was_ at , that time -a treasure. I
have said several times that I would give up,
`but have now made - up my mind that I will
not serve Satan but Christ.
I hope, nay dear young friends, you
not .day. down this paper, till you
resolve, with, God's help, to " serve
Christ."
Think of all he has done for you t
Do you wonder, that :these three girls
love Him, and are willing to be
laughed at, if need' be, rather than
deny Him ? Just such a change will
come over you if you will come to.
Jesns in the same way, as I hope,
these girls did.
Read the 19tIr chapter of John, and
I think the tears will run down your
cheeks, as you think of Christ's suffer
ings for you, and therr with all yoar
heart say, •
"But drops of grief can ne'er repay,
The debt of love I owe;
Here Lord, I give myself away,
'Tis all that I can do."
RAILROAD PIETY.
While riding, a few days since, on
a railroad, a serious accident happened
to the engine, which might easily have
resulted! in great injury to the whale
train = and • loss of life to the passen
gers. As the crowd gathered around
.to look at the wreck, one, of thew
exclaimed, " That's just the ! ,luck of
this road. On any other that. acci
dent would have cost two or three
cars, and ten or a dozen -passen
gers' liVes. , Just the luck of this
road ; 'never hurts' its passengers."'
The next day, mentioning the accident:
to a friend, and r,ppeating the - remark,
he told us that he could say something
better about it than that. -" That
train," said he, " has a consistent and
praying christian engineer, fireman,
and conductor. I have had, some
happy evenings with them myself_
They used to meet, and perhaps may
yet, every morning in the upper room
of the repair shop for prayer.'
A railroad train,- with its three chief
operators -daily in prayer for God's
care and his blessing on their work
"The Lord shall preserve thy going
out and thy coming in." Be Aim of
that.care, and they may trust fuck that -
,
please.--Sower. • -