bk ft mi ill Circle.
OUR miHARP.
ItV LYIIIA M. KF.XO
We place our harp—our TEolian harp
In our chamber window at night,
And dreamily over its wind-swept chords
Steals a cadence low and light.
And our ears are closed to the outward world,
And our eyes have the spirits sight.
Mournful, yet sweetly, a chastened spell,
O’er our quiet hearts are thrown, —
We see the smiles of the vanished years,
That we used to call oflr own,
Before they were swept by the waves away,
And hushed in the river’s moan.
The dead are with us —the blessed dead —
In their garments pure and white ;
Gently they walk with their spirit tread,
Before our wandering sight,
And we feel the touch of their cool, soft hands
On our warm, flushed brows at night.
Murmur away, dear wind-swept harp,
Thou tell’st of a far, bright strand,
And a loyal spirit that resteth now
On the hills of the Better Laud :
Oh, his brow shall never a shadow wear,
By the airs of heaven'fanned
A CHILD'S HYMN.
Through the pleasures of the day,
When I read and when I pray,
Let me ever keep in view
God is seeing all I do.
When the sun withdraws his light,
And I go to rest at night;
Let me never lay my head
On my soft and easy bed,
Till I lift my heart in prayer
'For my heavenly Father's care j
Thanking him for all his love
Sent me from his home above;
Praying him to kindly’ make
Me his child, for Jesus’ sake.
- gray
THE GVRDEHER’S SERVANTS. “Fudge!” cried the man in tbe
On a cold autumn night, old Ulric, black mantle, turning upon him so
the gardener, sat in an oak chair be- quickly that he blew the drops from
fore a little, round table, on which lay his garment with a flirt against the
a canvass bag, from whose open mouth walls. " Pretty work you two fellows
rolled some silver coins, with here and would make of Master Lines garden
there a cold piece. His old wife sat without me; .between you--both it
bv the blazing fire, knitting and nod- would have been nothing but a rank,
ding while a great black cat at her steaming jungle, if I had not been
feet washed her face and ominously there to blow away the noxious va
passed her paw three times over her pors and make the air fit for trees and
left ear A stout serving man and shrubs to breathe. Pay me, Master
woman stood by the table before Ulric, Ulric, or Pll make such a breeze as
while he with much deliberation pick- will lift the roof oft the house 1
ed up the scattered coins, and counted XJlric turned bewildered from one
them slowly into their outstreched to the other, while the wind flapped
hands, saying, “So many day’s work, his mantle first in the,face of the sun,
so many day's wages,” as if he would and then of the rain, and seemed me
impress upon their stolid minds that ditating some mischief to both of
they were receiving their just dues; them. He stood a moment by the
but he need not have concerned him- rain, and suddenly from between the
self about this, for Hans and Grettel two stepped out the daintiest and
had some strange arithmetic of their most fantastic imp, dressed in silver
own, by which they would infallibly sheen, who began talking to Master
have known if their old master had Ulric with his back towards him,
cheated them even to the amount of a while with his little fingers he kept
single sixpence. When he had finish- drawing most wonderful things upon
ed counting, the broad hands closed the window-panes, first little stars and
over the corns, the man made a clumsy leaves, then great bridges, houses, and
bow, and the woman an awkward mountains.
courtesy, and with a “thank’ee mas- “It is not tbe great people, Master
ter,” left the room. Ulric, that do all the work in your
Ulric gathered up the remainder of garden. I work all winter while the
his money, and placing it in the bag, rain and sun run away to warmer cli
tied the string securely around it, and mates, and am of more real use than
dropping it again on the table, turned that great, blustering fellow there,”
to his wife and said, “We have paid and he shook his finger threateningly
all now, Lesbeth —the harvest is gath- at the wind, and the floor was covered
ered in, and the storm may come now with a hoarfrost like the fields on an
as soon as the black cat says. I owe October night.
no servant anything, and no one that “I make the ground mellow for your
has worked for me can complain that seeds, Master Ulric, and if Ido pinch
I have.eaten and drank and not paid your nose sometimes, I can’t help it; I
him.” am the Frost.’-’
“No, Ulric, you are too just a man Ulric fumbled at the strings of his
for that, and we can make ourselves canvass bag.
glad with the work of our hands,” and “I did not engage you as servants,” .
the old woman smiled cheerily at her said he,. “ but I see well how I could
husband, who took* his pipe from the have done nothing without you. Here
chimney shelf, and sat opposite his is all I possess,” and he was about to
wife, watching her clicking needles pour the money out upon the table,
through the blue smoke wreathes, till and bid them settle their claims
his head dropped on his bosom, tbe amongst themselves, when there came
pipe fell from his mouth, and he pass- such a noise, such a flapping of wings
ed out of his common life into the land against the windows, such a crawling,
of dreams. and a swarming, that he paused in the
The clink of the needles grew faint- middle of his sentence, still holding
er and slower, the old woman’s hands his bag by the -String, and the sun,
fell on her lap, her head nodded wind, rain and frost ceased their con
towards her husband, and the great tention and turned towards the door
yellow eyes of the cat were the only to see the occasion of the disturbance,
open ones in the room. She sat, still Into the room, creeping, crawling,
cleaning her face, and occasionally and jumping over the floor, came
moving her tail with a wide slow toads, frogs, and worms. A hedgehog
sweep,°as if in contented enjoyment of rolled in, a bat followed, but seeing
li<>ht and warmth. the sun, flew up the chimney, and
°But even in sleep Ulric seldom went clung by his claws to She sooty bricks;
beyond his daily life—in dreams his spiders swang in on long webs, or run
day’s work or his to-morrow’s plan about with their eggs hugged close to
followed him without hardly a touch them; lady-bugs with spotted backs
of Cyncy to make them different from followed, and a whole army of birds
reality, and now he thought he still after them, headed by the owl, who,
sat in the same room, his autumn's blinded by the sun, flew straight
work all finished', with his servants all against the old clock, and finally turn
paid, and his canvass bag securely bled down behind it, and stayed there
tied. He had said almost exactly the as the most comfortable pla.ee he could
same words to his wife asleep as when find. They all began talking at once,
awake, and was about to put his bag some creeping close up to Ulric, crawl
into his strong box when a loud knock | ing up on him, or perching upon his
came at the door. ; shoulders, till the whole room became
“ Come in,” said Ulric, boldly, for a perfect Babel, and the old man sank
he was an honest man and true, and down upon his seat and stopped his
feared no one, and the door opened, ears with a despairing look. Little
and a stranger presented himself. Jack Frost was so enraged at all the
He certainly must have come from noises, that he stamped his foot and
a foreign land and been a great noble- shook a shower of sparkles over them,
man in his own country, for his “ Hold your tongues, some of you,
clothes were of a strange fashion, and and don’t all talk at once, or i wi
of such costly and dazzling material, freeze you to death.” -
that they made Ulric’s eyes water as At the very sound of his voice,
he looked at him, and rays seemed to hedgehog rolled himself into a ba ,
stream out from the cap that he wore, the frogs and toads stopped jumpi g,
SSng and golden like sv.nbe.ma, and' looked as though they wished
8 The air of the room grew warm as a they were anywhere but there.
Tune dav when the strange!, taking “Yes,’’-cried the wind puffing out
off his OW .nd letting » shtwer o°f;his cheeks like a ohernb on a tomb
golden hair roll down upon his shoul-; stone, “.stop, or 111 blow you
folded »P ft*
ter ? k to 'J e ht I hope you have not and perched on every available roosi
vants to-night, i .nope yo , ing-place, and the spiders stopped
forgotten me.” , , . ’
Ulric stared wonderingly at him. spinning.
“ I never employed a servant like
yon —you must be jesting with me.”
The stranger seemed to grow flush
ed and angry, and the gold tints
about him changed to a fiery red.
“Whether you remember me or
not, you have seen my face almost
every day this summer, and your gar
den would have been nothing but
a mouldy swamp without me I am
the Sun!”
Ulric’s jaw fell. All the money m
the world would not pay for the work
which the sun had done unasked for
him, and he was just about to ac
knowledge this, when through the
open door he saw two others pressing
in j one cried in a loud, boisterous
tone, “Here are two more servants,
Master Ulric, do not pay all your
money to him.”
He was a ragged, wild looking
man, wrapped in a dark mantle, his
hair streaming straight out behind him,
and all his garments seemed as if they
had been blown away by a # gale. Be
hind him was a shadowy form, which
appeared first like a thick mist, but
it gradually became firmer in outline,
and when it entered was soberly clad
in black garments, from which drops
of water slowly fell upon the floor.
“Do not pay them first, Master
Ulric,” said he, in a melancholy voice.
“ I am the Eain, and without me that
fellow there,”, pointing to the sun,
“ would have baked your ground into
an ash-heap,” and he looked so gloom
ily and threateningly at the sun, that
he obscured all its brightness, and
turned his golden garments into a dull
— Lutheran.
THE AMERICAS PRESBYTERIAN. THURSDAY, JANUARY 4, 1886
"Here,” said he, pushing with his
foot a great, red earthworm, who
seemed wiggling about as if anxious
to say something; "do you
first, and be quick about it.”
The earthworm raised itself on one
end a’nd turned towards Ulric, just as
if it had eyes and could see him, and
began modestly, “I have only come to
say that I hope you would not forget
us, master, who work ever to keep
your soil loose and fine, and there is
not a mouthful of ground in your
garden but what we have eaten and
returned to you in far better state than
we found it.”
Ulric looked at the worm in arnazS
ment.
“ I never supposed you did any
good,” said he; “ X only thought you
dragged down my little plants', and
whenever I caught you I killed you.”
Don’t do so any more,” cried the
worm, still squirming. “We do some
times carry the little plants under
ground ; we eat some, and some we
take to stop the great cock-tailed beetle
from our burrows; but if it were not
for our work, yours wpuld not pros
per.”
“I know how much good she does/’
said the Frost. “I have seen her at
work often enough. Master Ulric, you
will have to pay her next.”
More than fifty spiders began-, to
talk at once. “Stop,” shouted the
Wind, “ one is as good as a thousand;
let one spider speak for the rest.”
A great, fat garden-spider, black,
with bright golden spots upon her
back, and who could, if she chose,
spin a web as large as a cartwheel,
claimed for herself and kindred that
they had destroyed thousands of flies
and other insects in Ulric’s garden,
and saved him from being overrun by
them. “Besides,” she said, "if he had
only consulted her, she would have
tjold him every day what the weather
was going to be, and he would never
have lost his fine flowers or fruit by
; leaving them out in the rain.”
“ Tut!” cried the rain, with an an
gry splash, “ I never hurt flowers or
frujjj!”
"B.ut I beg your pardon," said the
sun, “ everybody knows that you do/’
“ Let the spider speak, and stop your
wrangling,” cried the Frost. “How
could old Ulric tell the weather ?' By
the spots on your bunchy back ?” ,
“No, by my work. I never spin or
mend my web, unless it is going to be
a fine day.”
■' “ Hear the spider boast of the in
sects she has destroyed!” cried a lady
bug. “If it had not been for me, TJI
- garden would have been nothing
but lice. He would have had no beans,
no cabbages, no roses. I ate them
night and day when I was a worm, and
I still eat them now that I am a pretty
bug, and if it had not been forme, and
my relations, he would havehadtwenty
thousand billions more of them in his
garden.”
TJlric held up his hands in amaze
ment to think how many more plant
lice he would have had, if it had not
been for this tiny creature. He well
knew what she said was true, for the
; cabbages in a neighboring field had
| been covered with these little pests,
| and decaying in the hot sun and heavy
1 dews of autumn, had been a nuisance
to the whole neighborhood.
“ I shall never have money enough
to pay you for all your good work,”
said he.
“I don’t want money,” cried the
lady-bug, spreading her coffee-colored
wings, and settling on Ulric’s hand.
“ I only want you to know how use
ful I am—l’ll take my pay in lice, and
please myself and you at the same
time.”
“•Remember me too, Uncle Ulric,”
cried a great bunchy toad, who in com
pany with the frog, had been warming
his speckled back and white belly at
the fire, and winking as if the light was
too much for him. “ I always sat in
your garden walks at twilight, and
darted out my red tongue and swept
in all sorts of insects, spiders, flies,
roaches, and other vermin, j ust like
this,” —and he flapped his tongu e under
his belly and caught a black beetle
who was trying to run away.
“You take your pay as you go,”
cried the wind, who hated toads and
always blew hard in their faces when
ever he saw them, “ and you need not
| ask anything more.”
A smothered voice came from the
chimney, accompanied by a slight fall
of soot.
" Speak louder or come down,” call
ed out the sun with a laugh; “we can’t
hear what'you are saying.”
"You know very well that I can’t
stay where you are,” cried the bat, in
a snarling voice ; “ but if Master Ulric
wants anybody to catch insects in the
early dawn or twilight, I am just the
one for him, and can snap up anything
that comes across my path.”
"Don’tforget me,” cried a doleful
voice behind the clock; “ I have eaten
an hundred mice in the barn this sum
)) *
mer. I£ ,
"Comeout and show yourselt, ota
fuss and feathers,” cried the wind, “and
then we will believe you.”
<• I can’t do that; unless you send
the sun away, I should tumble down
as soon- as I saw him.”
" Don’t cry about it,” said the frost,
and with a melancholy hoot, the owl
ended.
As soon as the owl was silent,
other birds set forth their services.
The swallow had killed so many hies
and packed them under his chm tha
when he opened his mouth, they rolled
out like dried lurrants from a barrel;
martens, robins, wrens, had no other
occupation, if one could believe them,
but to kill insects for Master Ulric.
The thrush had devoured the snails
that made such slimy tracks across his
fruit and flowers, the wood-pecker had
pulled the insects from under the bark
where they had hidden themselves for
the winter; the gold-finch and the
pigeon had eaten the seeds of many
noxious weeds, wild mustard, rag
weed, ground-thistle, which, if they had
been suffered to grow, would have
choked every fruitful herb, and the
crow that he had only pulled up the
blade of corn to get at the insect at the
■ “My friends,” said Ulric, when he
could make himself heard above all
the commotion, “My friends, for you
are my friends, though you call your
selves my servants, I can never repay
you, but here are all my earnings,”
and he opened his bag 'and spread his
money out before them.
“ We don’t want your money,” cried
voices in all sorts of jargons, “we only
want the lice, bugs, seeds, and mice.
We want you to remember us when
you give thanks for your harvest, and
not grumble at the Lord for suffering
us to live.”
Ulric leaned his head upon his hand
find did not answer, for he remembered
how often he had scolded about these
creatures, and wondered why they
were made; but he saw now how they
all had served him, and made the
world fairer and better for him to live,
and helped the works of his hands to
prosper.
A few low notes came from the
thrush as she sat on the back of Ulric’s
chair, which formed themselves into the
Words, “ The Lord made us, and we
are all good ihhis sight.” As theithrush
sang, the birds spread their wings and
flew softly away, the insects, frogs,
toads, and worms vanished, the hedge
hog, who had not made up his mind to
open his mouth, though he had eaten
as many mice as the owl, rolled out of
his corner with them. The thrush
floated after them, singing as she went,
and\Ulric was left with the smr, wind,
rain, and frost.
•• I must be going myself,” said the |
I wind, with a flap of his ragged mantle.
I “I must go to the North pole to night
just to freshen myself a little.”
“ I shall follow after you are gone,”,
said the frost; “ the sun and fire are
too much for me.”
“ I shall run down to the tropics,”
I cried the rain ; “ but I will come back
1 in season for your garden next spring,
Master Ulric.”
“ I must turn a cold shoulder to you
for the present,” said the sun, covering
up his golden hair with his radiant
cap; “ hut I shall come back.”
Uiric pushed the money towards
them. . '
'‘Not so,” said the wind, with a
lordly wave of his hand. "We are
the free gifts of the Lord, and only ask
your grateful remembrance. Never |
think again, when you have paid man
servant and maid servant, that you
owe nothing more!”
And seizing the rain by the hand,
he dashed out of the house with such
violence, that all the doors banged
after him. In another moment the
frost disappeared as silently as he
came, and the glow of the red fire
light upon the ceiling showed that the
sun had gone also.
Ulric’s hand fell upon his breast, and
afar off voice seemed to say, "Sing
praises upon the harp to our God, who
covereth the heavens with, clouds, who
prepareth rain for the earth, and who
maketh grass grow upon the moun
tain.” *
He woke with a start, and saw his
old wife, who wakened sooner than
himself,.reading from her old German
Bible, and repeating the words aloud,
while the wind, shaking the great
trees in front of the house, and the
rain dashing against the windows, told
that the storm which the cat had pro
. phesied had come in all its fury. Stu
. dent and Schoolmate.
TtlE CONNING PET.
A gentleman livirfg in the country
had an invalid child of two years of
age. The family physician prescribed
for it q cold bath, to.be taken every
morning. Now, this gentleman had
not in his house, as many have at the
present time, a bathing room; but
there was a beautiful stream of pure
water running through Fis grounds,
and near ! at hand. Consequently the
father took the little invalid tenderly
in his arms, and repairing to the
water’s side, immersed her gently in
the stream—and then wrapping her
carefully qn blankets, returned to his
house.
This gentleman had a pet dog,
named Pinky, who being an early
riser, dccompanied his master on his
first morning’s walk with little Nellie,
and -watched very attentively all that
transpired. The second morning,
Pinky, having his brain probably full
of the* preceding morning’s observa
tions, awoke very early and repaired
to Miss Pussy’s apartment, where he
found her napping; and thinking, per
haps, that if cold bathing was good
for little Nellie, it must be for Pussy,
took her with a sure grip ky the nape
of the neck, and bore her away, mid
scenes of resistance, scratching and
mewing, in time to reach his master
at the water’s edge; and as one plung-
ed little Nellie into the stream, the
other plunged Pussy, thoroughly, and
greatly to the amusement of the gen
tleman. Pussy, of course, beat a re
treat as soon as possible, much cha
grined.
The third morning the same scenes
were enacted over; but the following
one, Pussy was not found napping—
she was on the alert, and Pinky was
unable to secure his patient. Perhaps
her health had been so much improved
by an early bath, that she was better
able to rise betimes. At all events,
she was
‘ ¥p-in the morning early,
Just at the break of day.”
Now, my little readers will say,
“Pinky w(K a cunning little imita
tor.” He was; and you, dear chil
dren, are all imitators of somebody’s
doings. You imitate , your parents —
your teachers —your companions—in
something. But; unlike Pinky, you
know how to distinguish between the
good and the bad which you see. It
is so easy to learn bad habits and bad
ways! Be careful how and what you
imitate in others. Let it be something
good and pure. —Examiner and Chron
icle. '
YOUR EVENINGS, BOYS.
Joseph . Clark was a fine-looking
and healthy a lad as ever left the
country to go into a city store. His
cheek was red with health, his arm’
strong, and his step quick. His mas
ter liked his looks, and said, “That
boy will make something.” He had
been a clerk about sis months when
Mr. Abbott observed a change in Jo
seph. His cheek grew pale, his eyes
hollow, and he always seemed sleepy.
Mr Abbott said nothing for a while.
At length, finding Joseph alone in the
counting-room, one day, he asked him
if he was well. -
“ Pretty well, sir,” answered Joseph,
“You look sick of late,” said Mr.
Abbott.
“ I have the headache sometimes,”
the young man said.
“ What gives you the headache ?"
asked the merchant.
“I do not know as I know, sir.”
“Do you go to bed in good season?”
Joseph blushed.
“ As early as most of the boarders,”
he said.
“ And how do you spend your eve
nings, Joseph?
“0, sir, not as pious as my mother
would approve;” answered the young
man, tears standing in his eyes.
“Joseph,” said the old merchant,
“your character and all your future
usefulness and prosperity depend upon
the way -you pass your evenings,
j Take my word for it, it is a young
man’s evenings that make or break
him.”
A FRANK AND NOBLE BOY.
As I was taking a lide in our plea
sant village, in which we have a few
plague spots left, I took in a lad of
some seven years. As I had occasion
to stop close to a rum-shop, I noticed
the boy looked surprised, and I said,
“Shall we go in and take a little
whisky, as we may be cold before we
get back?” I shall not soon forget
the frankness with which he looked
me in the face, and said, “My mother
don’t allow me to drink rum.” Then
I said, “Wont you go in there, and
warm yourself ?” And he as honestly
said, "I don’t think my mother would
allow me to go into such a place.”
Now I want to say to all the boys,
Never.be ashamed to follow the coun
sel and good advice of a pious mother,
for it will be a shield and a safeguard
to you through life.
And to mothers I would say, Be
evermore vigilant to cast a godly in
fluence around the young, for it will
keep them in" fierce temptation’s 1 dark
est hours, and save our country and
the world much sorrow. — Zion's Her
ald.
THE SURGEON AND HIS PATIENT.
Mr. Meikle, a gentleman of eminent
piety, was a surgeon at Carnwath, in
Scotland. He was once called to at
tend a gentleman who had been stung
in the face by a wasp or bee, and
found him very impatient, and swear
ing, on account of his pain. “0, doc
tor,” said he, “ I am in great torment;
can you in any way help me ?” “Do
not fear,” replied Mr. Meikle, “all will
be over'in a little while.” Still, how
ever, the gentleman continued to swear
and at length his attendant determined.
to reprove him. “I see nothing the
matter,” said he, “ only it might have
been in a better place.” “Where
might it have been ?”- asked the suffer
er. “Why, on the tip of your tongue."
A YEAR’S TROUBLES.
' Sometimes I‘compare the troubles
we have to undergo in the course of a
year to a great bundle of fagots, far
too large for us to lift. But God does
not require us to carry the whole at
once. He mercifully unties the bun
dles, _ and gives us first one stick,
which we are able to carry to-day, anc
then another, which we are able to
carry to-morrow, and so on. This we
might easily manage, if we woulc.
only take the burden appointed for us
each day; but we choose to increase
our troubles by carrying yesterday’s
stick over again to-day, and adding
to-morrow’s burden to our load before
we are required to bear it . John
Newton.
fur tlje JJittle Jfcifei *
FAMILIAR TALKS WITH THE CHIL-
MEN. k
SKCONI) SERI.
BY REV. EDWARD PAYSOY
i rovE ’fo pklt.”
Thus writes little Ada, a Canadian
girl of only eleven summers. Why do
you think Ada loves to pray now
more than she used to? I will tell
you what I think the reason is. It is
because she has a new heart. At any
rate, I know that if she has a new
heart, she will find it a “praying
heart.” Those who have not given
themselves to Jesus never love to
pray. Perhaps they love their mo
thers, and so pray just because their
mothers taught them to pray, and
asked them never to forget it. But
children never really love to go and
talk with Jesus, and ask Him for
things they need, till they get ac
quainted with Him. And they never
get acquainted with Him till they
come and ask Him to open their blind
eyes, and show them 1 how He has
loved them and died on the cross to
save them from sin and death. Have
you done that ? Are you acquainted
with Jesus? Do you love to pray?'
You will see, my dear young friend,
that little Ada had “ said" her prayers,
but it was not until she was eleven
years old that she really prayed, for
you will see she says: “ That morm-
ISfG I PRAYED FROM THE HEART FOR
THE FIRST TIME IK MY LIFE.”
Have you' ever really prayed ? If
you have not, then you are not a
Christian. Oh! what would become
of you if you should die to-day ?
Never have knelt down and really
thanked Jesus for dying on the cross
for you, and never asked Him to for
give you all your wicked sins and
bless you! What a sinner you must
be! Oh! I hope you too will pray as 1
you never did before.
I hope I have found Jesus. I like to go to
the meetings. The first one I went to, I
looked all around the room to see how many
there was that I knew. I felt sorry when
you spoke to me about my soul. When I
got out I went home laughing. The next
one I went to, I thought I was a great sinner.
I love Jesus now. I feel that my stony
heart is taken away. At morning prayers I
did not think what mamma was saying in
prayer. I found Jesus on Saturday evening.
It was that evening that I prayed from the
heart for the first time in my life. I used to
say my prayers in a hurried way; but I love
to pray to Jesus now, and to hear of Him.
I find Him precious to my soul. I hope you
will pray for me.
From your little friend, Ada,
Eleven years old.
THAT WIGHT I PRAYED AS I NEVER
DID BEFORE.”
Here is another letter from a Sab
bath-school scholar, a little older than
Ada, but I think she never once
prayed with the heart till “ that night.”
It is' a great thing really to pray.
You see that after she prayed she
says, “ I FELT AS I NEVER FELT
before.” I will tell you, too, some
thing of how she feels if she is a
Christian. First of aU, if she has
asked God to help her, by his Holy
Spirit, to believe in Jesus, and if she
has really given herself up to the dear
Saviour, who died for her, then she
loves that precious Saviour more than
any friend on earth; and she will now
really love to go away alone every
day and pray to Him, and she will
love to do all she can to please Him.
Then, too, she will love all those who
are like Jesus. She will know the
meaning of those words in 1 John iii.
14: “We know that we have passed
from death urdo life because we love the
brethren .” ®
Another thing: she will, if she has
given herself up to the dear Saviour,
be anxious to have all her friends be
come Christians. She will pray for
them, and sometimes quietly speak to
them and urge them to come to the
dear Saviour.
The Bible also will be a new book
to her. She will love to read it every
day. It will be her “ daily food."
Yes, I think she means, when she
says, “ I have felt as I never felt
before,” that she feels a love in her
heart—
1. For Jesus ;
2. For PRAYER;
3. For Christians;
4. For the conversion of sinners;
5. For the Bible.
I went to the first one of your meetings;
I did not like it. I was glad to get away, it
made a deep impression on me ; but 1 tried
to shake its feeling off. That week I was
taken sick. I wanted to go again ; I could
not help the feeling, in spite of all I could do.
As soon as I was able I went again, and after
meeting was out I stayed. I cannot describe
how I felt. A lady who was sitting behind
me spoke 'to me, and asked me if I had found
Jesus. I could not answer, but shook my
head. She asked me if I would come and
sit with her. I did so, and then she told me
all about that precious Saviour. I had heard
those same words often before, but they
never affected me so deeply. After a short
time, she prayed for me. I felt so wicked, I
told her I did not think Jesus could love me.
When I went homeT felt better, there was
such a calm, happy feeling in my heart; and
that night 1 prayed as I never prayed before ,
and ever since 1 have felt as Ineverfelt before.
Pray for me', that I may always “ walk in the
light.”
Tour happy young friend.
Little Christians often will find
much, to discourage them; but if they
have truly given themselves up to the
Saviour, they will hear Him saying to
them, My “grace is sufficient for thee.”
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IMMOND.*