fazitg
THE SONG OF LIGHT.
D PITT PALMER
From the quickened womb of the primal gloom .
The sun rolled black and bare, •
Till I wove him a vest for , his Ethiop breast,
Of the threads of my , golden hair; '
And when the broad tent of the firmament
Arose on its airy spars, '
lienciled the heavenisinatchless blue,
And spangled it round
t with stars.
I
painted the flowers of the Eden bowers,
And their leaves! of Giving green,
And mine were the dyes in the sinless eyes
Of Eden's virgin queen ;
But when the fiend's art in the trustful heart
Had fastened his moral spell.
In the silvery sphere of the first-born year,
To the trembling earth I fell.
Whenfthe waves that burst o'er a world accurst
Their work of wrath had sped,
ilfe ark's long few—tried and true
Come forth among the dead ; • '
With the wondrous gleams of my bridal dreams,
I bade their terror cease;
And I wrote on the roll of the storm's dark
scroll,
sod's covenant of Peace.
Like a pall at rest on . a senseless breast,
Night's funeral shadow slept—
Where shepherd swains on Bethlehem plains,
Their lonely vigils kept;
When I flashed on their sight the herald brigh
Of Heatert's redeeming plan,
As they chanted the morn of• a Saviour born
" Joy! joy!, to the outcast—man!"
Equal favor I show to the lofty and low,
On the just and unjust descend;
E'en the blind, whose vain spheres roll in dark
ness and tears,
Feel my smile the best smile of a friend;
Nay, the flower of the wake by my smile ism
braced oil 7 • ,
As the rose in, the, garden ; of kings i ;
At the ehrilittlis bier of the' worm 1-appear-=
And lo l lthe butterfly' sltvings.
From my sentinel steep by the night blinded
d
I gaze,witheep ,
unilumbering eye,
While the cynosure star of the'mariner
Is blotted, out from the sky ;
And guided by me through the merciless sea,
Though' aped by the hurricane's wing,
Ris,compasslee.s, lone; dark, .weltering bark
To the haven home safely I bring.
I awaken the 'flowers in their star-spangled
bowers,
The birds i their 'chamber of green,
And the apd'plain, glow with beauty
Ad they bpi in theVx: nittldiifesileen,`
Oh t if gttehibe the Vcirtit a of 4ritcpiesenee ,on,
• earth., • 1 • 114.
theugh fitful and fleeting the,yrhile—
WhtiVeories must " rest kth a c e hohie of the blest,
Ever bright in the Deity'stathile t• '
• • ; •• - t- • I 'A..
2=lffi MEI
CHE SNOW-STORM.
"'JVll'ifitithe snow Caine' &WTI, all day
As iVtever mune down beftira
And over the.earth at night there lay
some two, or three feet, or more ;".`--
- 2 Easiinan's " Snowdrift."
kla d a dark Decemb e r . 9ig lat,' w ild
04, stormy ; . ver, since np.d-day the i
Op* had fallen; Per
'
severance, and now' 1 deep on the,
ground. I had, been. de tained at my
office in town Tater than usuil, and ha#
to-cross a dreary) moor for some two
miles 'to reach my hOmeY I confess I
felt dialed* the fil.,',c,l!spe j c;t of such a
walk, in such a storm ; but wrapping
my plaid around me; ands staff in hand,
I set forward, thinking of the bright
little ',home I shoul4, soon reach, and,
the dea;r ones who, were. waiting my,
return with a loving welcome. Soon
I left the 'busy town 'with its many
lights behind me, snd Stepped out into
the dismal .moor. i , The snow lay much
deeper here on the untrodden footpath,
and seemed to fall even More heavily
than before—so thick and blinding,
that .I .found myself. perpetually stray
ing from the proper roadway, and with
difficulty retraced my 'steps ; the cold
felt:kienei and'A sharp east wind
had risen. At times I, grew also
breathless with the-struggle, and had
to pause for gathering strength ere I
faced the storm M once' more. At length
I rejoiced to see the guiding-post,
which was placed Where three roads
met, and against which I was thankful
to leain for a few seconds, until I had
recovered.. breath. I was just on the
point of starting aff , afresh, when a
faint sound of a human voice caught
my ear. ' Startled, f, listened, but all
was, still. I shaded my eye with my
_
hand, and .stared, anxiously into the
surrounding 'darkness ; but nought
could discern beyond a wilderness of
snow, and I was just concluding my
imagination had deceived me, when
again the same murmur came floating
through the air.
Feeling that, with the guide-post so
near, I could scarce lose my way, I
hastened `forward. in the direction of
the Bound,' .a r nd soon distinctly heard a
child's voice repeating the Lord's
Prayer. It h a d a strange effect in such
a storm such a
,place, and my heart
beat high when the gentle " Amen
was said,.
I called out, i4hose voice is,that ?"
bit there was no reit ; .I calledagain
more toil.* than "be (ire and . then the
timid, answer came, " Johnnie's," and
ifeiiteps brought me,to boy, some
eight yews old, standing shivering in
the snow.
"My poor, little man," I said, " are
you all alone */
"No," he replied, " Nelly is here,
but she grew so cold and tired I could
not . get her on, and now she is fast
asleep. I felt sleepy, too, but thought
I would say my prayers first;" and
then as I stooped down to the bundle
of snow he had indicated as being
Nelly," he whispered softly, " Has
Jemis Bent yoU
"Surely he has," I answered; "had
you not said, your prayers, Johnnie, you
might bOth have perished. But how
came you here, my boy ?" •
" We went into town this morning
to ace grandma—it was not snowing
then," liftaiid innocently, if' , when we
left :11 01 417
Anti' where is your „-home ?" I
asked ; "and who is your father ?"
"Farmer Rutland,' he replied / "we
live at the High Farm."__
" High Farm" happened to lie on
the road to my own house, so I told
Johnnie we would all go home together.
He rejoiced when he heard my name,
and remarked to himself, " How ;well
it was I_sid mSpra
I found"NellY indeed''faSe l asleep,
wrapped in. a heavy cape, which the
devoted little fellow had divested
himself of in his endeavor to keep her,
warm. Nor could I ihduee
put it on until—he. saw me raise Nally
tenderly in my !arms; and wrapping
her in my ,great plaid, gathered her
closely to my bosom, prepared to carry
her.
"Now, Johnnie," I said, "you keep
hold of the skirt of my, coat, and we
shall soon be at High Farm."
The cold seemed to have become
more intense, the falling snow more
dense than ever. Manfully the little
fellow kept up by my side, though
the snow by this time reached above
his knees. I tried to cheer. him as we
trudged along, but I telt the drag
upon my coat becoming greater, and
it was evident his strength and heart
were failing him—then a suppressed
sob broke from him, and he clung
more closely to me as I bent down
tryi_ng,to soothe and comfort him.
"qlrou. are a brave little man," I
said ; "we will soon reach the frm
now;;think of the bright, firp there,
the mice warm milk and bread, and
mother's' loving kiss i all waiting for
you." , •
" I cannot walk further," he sobbed.
"0, take Nelly home, but let 'me lie,
down here. I will gay' my prayers,
again, and ,Perhaps Jesus will send
some one else to help Me."
"'No, no," I answered cheerily t,"
cannot leave you behindr - Johnnie
,
you must just ,rnake a horse of Me,'
and mount my back. There;You are
now, hold me fast roundthe •neck, and
whip--hard—to make me go better."
And Again:lT - started' > forward, endeav
pring,to keep him awake with ques
tions and little sallies • but I felt the
additional burden in such a storm was
becoming beyond my already
,chaus
tell strength, when 'suddenly awaVer
ing speck oflight shot' out Of the` dark2'
nese, then vanished,' then appeared once
more, 'beaming .'nearer • and •brighter.
Iballoed loudly, and my. shout was
answered,, and. Johnny called . out in a
faint, and glad yoke, "0, that's
father!" And happily, so it was ; '
the
pOot farmer, becoming alarmed at the
lengthened absence of hiachildren, had
started witlibis two men and a lantern
iti search of theni, andlhe great tears'
'of thankfulness tell from his eyes, when
he beheld bis loved ones. Johnnie'
was at once taken into hialoving arms,
and a quarter .of an hour's walk
brought us to the farm, where the'
anxious mother received us. Nelly
was soon roused "loy, the warmth and
light of the great fire, little or none
the worse for the night's adventure,
bUt poor Johnnie was sadly'frOt-bitien,
'and it was'long before he recovered:'
Deep was' he gratitude of the holiest
couple for the aid I had afforded their
beloved children, who doubtless, over
powered with sleep, would have been
hidden in the snow ere their father
had reached them, and must inevitably
have perished, but for the prayer
which Johnnie's trusting, simple heart
had prompted, and which - had been
the means, with God's blessing, Of my
saving thein.
THREE BLASTS OF THE HORN.
Betty Fletcher lived on a farm in
Vermont. It was before the land was
much cleared. Farmer Flete,b.er's farm
was on the edge of the woods, and there
was a little path through the forest to
grandma Fletcher's. Instead of going
a long way round the road, the family
often went and came by this path in
the woods. There was not much dan
ger of bears and catamounts, for the
hunters had killed or driven them
away. It was cool and shady in
summer, arid the squirrels and birds
made it lively and pleasant.
One miromer's morning, little Betty
Fletcher was sent to carry some skeins
of yarn to her grandmother. She was
to spend the day there, and see the new
chickens. At night, father was to go
and, fetch her home on horseback.
She put on her cape-bonnet, kiised
mother and baby brother in the cradle
and set off. Mother was making butter,
and watched, her 'darling Betty out of
the dairY window until:the little form
was lost sight of in the 'woods.
" Father, ' said 'mother, after milk
ing,'" now gofor Betty." The after
noon sun was making long shadows
on the road when Mr. Fletcher jumped
upon Whiteface, and rode away.
Mother strained her milk, put the pans
on the shelf, and sat down in the door,
to catch the first sound of Whiteface's
hoofs bringing home her little daughter.
After a while, she heard the old
horse coming on the gallop. Looking
up, she saw her husband, but no Betty.
Before she had time to ask,—" Betty is
not there," said the farmer, riding up,
and looking very 'pale; "nor has
grandmother seen her all day."
" Betty is lost," cried her mother;
my child, is lost !" They ran to the,
%roods and called. Nothing but echo
answered. Father hurried over the
path, shouting, " Betty, Betty 1" but'
THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY, MAY 17, 1866.
no Betty answered. It was not quite
dark.
Mr. Fletcher went to the neighbors.
" My Betty is lost in the woods," he
cried ; " come help me find her." Men,
women, children, and dogs all turned
Out The women went to comfort the
poor mother, who was in great distress.
"My child is torn to pieces by wolves,'!
she cried ; "something, dre4yclful has
happened to her. My: Betty is lost,
my,, Betty is load" It was little the,
neighbors could do but weep with
her.
The men with torches and horses
scoured the, woods. One and another
came back with no tidings of, the lost
child, then started back on a fresh
scout. It was a long and gloomy;night
to the poor Fletchers and their kind
neighbors. The sun streaked the
eastern sky with morning light, and
still no news 'of the lost little one.
The sun arose.
It was just at sunrise that three short,
quick blasts of a distant horn were
heard. " Hark," cried the mother,
listening, "hark !"
"Found, foun.d. !""cried a neighbor,
clasping her hands.. " That's the
signal for finding her which the men
agreed on." " Found, found I" " } cried
a man at the well. Can it be ?
Yes, the lost one is found. A man
on the search spied little footprints on
some wet moss ; following on, he, found
a skein of yarn. Here is a clue to her,
he thought, carefully and eagerly look
ing round; and a little further on he
caught sight of 'Betty, fast asleep on
the soft, brown leaves, beside an old
tree which fell. long ago. Her cheeks
were wet with tears.
" Betty, Bettye Fletcher," cried the,
man catching, her up in his strong
arms. The poor child opened her eyes
with a frightened and bewildered look.
Did God tell you?" asked Betty, in
a 'little weak voice, as soon as she
coUld 'srieak:
"Tell me what, Betty, 'dear?" said
the man, almost chocked with joy.
"You are all in a tremble." "I pray
ed God to take care of me, and tell
my father where I was; I did not
know., couldn't find my grandma's."
, Then,
,the
,man blew his horn three
short, loud, glad blasts, which, told the
good news far and near. Tongue can
not tell'What'gratitud.e'filled the hearts
of•thoie Who heard it. The women
cried for 'joy Men who were Still in
thelsearch,left oft, and quickly'turned
their steps toward the Fletcher cot
tage. • , '
Mrs,,Fl4cher, at the• .first blasts of
the hum, ran, in the direction whence
it came: And who can describe the
mother's feelings when she ciaap,ed , her
darling child once More to her bosoM ?
She'could only sob and say, " Thank
God, thank God 1" ' • L
How'came Betty =toy lose her way ?
'the' children will want to know. She
ran into the woods after a squirrel, and
could not find the path,again. Were
they not a happy family that morning
- 7 -father, mother, and, all the., neigh.
bora ? Never was there such rejoic
ing; never did they forget to praise
God.
This will help us understand low
happy our heavenly Father is when
we are found. Found ? Are we lost ?
The Bible says so. .When we stray
away from the right way, we are lost.
Jesus searches for us. He came on
purpose to seek and, to save the lost.
He came to find us, and to bring us
back to our dear heavenly Father ; and
he cries, " Come, come unto me."
With sorry and penitent hearts let us
turn from our sins, and run into the
arms of our . Saviour. That makes
joy in heaven. Yes, "there is joy in
the presence of the angels of God over
one sinner that repenteth." You see,
then, what makes the angels. glad.—
Child's Paper.
" Who lives in that small house
under the hill," said one who came
from the city to purchase a place for
his family to occupy during the sum
mer months.
"It is occupied by a man whose
name is Giles," was the reply.
"He don't seem to be as well off as
the rest of the people here. Does he
own any land?"
"Yes; he owns about fifteen acres."
"His house is not much of an
affair."
"It is small, but comfortable. He
is out of debt, and his farm, small as
it is, supports him; and a little more.
He is very well off."
They went on their way, thinking
no more of the occupant of that small
house under the hill.
Mr. Giles was indeed very well off;
much better off than the speaker
above mentioned supposed.
' In the :first place, he had feared the
Lord from his youth. His conversion
took place when he was a child. His
parents used to recount the singular
mental exercises which he then expe
rienced, though they had all passed
trom his recollections. He did not
rest his hope of heaven upon those
exercises. He regarded himself as a
follower of Christ, not because it was
supposed he was converted years ago,
but because he felt daily conscious of
love to Christ and of efforts to do his
will. His title to his fifteen acres was
good, and so was his title to a future
inheritance, incorruptible, undefiled,
and that fadeth not away. He was a
joint heir with Christ to all the wealth
of God.
In the second place, he had a son,
"VERY WELL OFF."
who was a Foreign Mali — ionary- When
the son was born, the father's heart
rejoiced, and - especially in the hope
that he could give him back to the
Lord in the ministry of reconciliation.
He was from that hour more abundant
in labors on his little farm, that he
might secure the means of educating
his son. The son grew up a goodly
1.10, fond of study,, and teachable in
all things. The advantages of a good
vr,erP.,,iKniehn.4.,,., him , .-bY
means of the frugal savings of his
father. During the first year of his
collegiate , course, he was hopefully
converted,, and ere his course bad
closed, he had devoted his life to the
service of God as a foreign mission
ary. This filled the measure of his
father's joy. His son was not only a
minister, but a missionary. He count
ed it a higher honor than if his son
had been made Chief Justice of the
United States.
Furthermore, he had daily oppor
tunities of doing good himself. There
was a weekly prayer-meeting which it
was his privilege to assist in sustaining.
He was never willingly absent from it.
It was a great comfort and source of
strength to the paslor. The first indi
cations of increasing spiritual life were
always seen in connection with that
prayer-meeting.
Men came to him for counsel, when
anxious for salvation. They came to
him on account of their confidence in
his goodness, not on account of any
peculiar power to impart instruction.
" What he said to me," said one who
had recently been converted, " when. I
was seeking the Lord, didn't do much
for me, but his prayers always helped
me-onwards." When sinners found
fault with religion, Mr. Giles' example
was pointed out ...to them, and they
could say nothing against religion as
illustrated in his life.'
A good many other things might be
said about Mr. Giles, but enough has
been told to proved that he was " very
well off." Is the reader as well of?
= . -Pres. Banner.
THE SKELETON,
Biscay fifty years ago the London Morning
Chronicle published a poem, entitled " Lines
on a Skeleton," which excited much attention.
Every effort, even to the 'offering a reward of
fifty guineas, was vainly made to discover the
author. till that ever transpired was, that the
poem, in a fair, clarklytandi was found near a
skeleton of remarkable beauiy. of forth, and
color, in the Museum of the Aug College . 131
Surgeons, Lincoln's Inn, London, and that the
Curator of the Museum , had sent them to Mr.
Perry, editor and proprieior of the Morning
Chronicle.
WENT° A SKELETON.
Behold this ruinl "Nes a skull,
Once of ethereal, spirit full;
This narrow cell was life's retreat,
This space was thought's mysterious seat.
What beauteous vision.fille,d this spot I
What dreams of pleasure long forgot I
Nor hope, nor love, nor joy, net. fear,.
Have left one trace or record here.
Beneath this mouldering.canopy
Once shone the bright and busy eye ;
But start not at the dismal void ;
If social love that eye employed
If, with no lawless fire itgleamed,
Ibit through the' dew of kindness beamed,
That eye shall be forever• bright
When stars and suns are sunk in night.
•
Within this hollow, cavern hung
The ready, swift and tuneful tongue.
If falsehood's honey it disdained,
And where it could not praise was chained
If bold in virtue's cause it spoke,
Yet gentle concord never broke,
This silent tongue shall plead for thee
When time unveils eternity.
Say, did these fingers delve the mine?
Or with its envied rubies shine?
To hew the rock, or wear the gem,
Can little now avail to them.
But if the page of truth they sought,
Or comfort to the mourner brought,
The hands a richer taped shall claim
Than all that wait on wealth or fame.
Avails it whether bare or shod
These feet the paths of duty trod?
If from the halls of ease they fled,
To seek affliction's humble shed,
If grandeur's guilty bribe they spurned,
And home to virtue's cot returned,
These feet with angel's wings shall vie,
And tread. the palace of the sky.
THE ONLY PRESCRIPTION.
Gen. Howard, Superintendent of the
Freedmen's Bureau, writes to the Rev.
Dr. Bellows, in reply to a request that
he compete for the prize of left-hand
writing :
"I was invited to write for the prize,
but fur two reasons I abstained. First,
I was too deeply engrossed in my pres
ent peculiar work ; and secondly, I was
conscious of an inability to write a fair
hand. However, my penmanship is
quite as good as that formerly with the
right hand.
" I heard a lady in the cars lately
detailing the sufferings, mortifications,
and repinings of a young man who had
lost his right arm in the service. He said
at first everybody received him kindly,
showed him sympathy, and gave him.
aid ; but now it had come to be an old
story, and he received no special atten
tion, and found it difficult to find a
position where he could gain a liveli
hood.
" I will say to you, my dear sir, that
there are times when the deformity and
inconvenience come across the mind,
and disturb the equanimity of those
who are full of ambition to make the
best of whatever befalls. I do not.
believe that even the plaudits of a
grateful people, or the conscious pride
arising from the glorious rewards be
stowed upon patriotic efforts, will be
enough to sustain the one-armed man
so as to make him cheerful, hopeful,
and happy at all times, so as to enable
him to forget all the nervous pains and
sensitive feelings that constantly a ssa il
him.
" My only prescription is a compl ete
surrender of the heart to Chriat.,,
THE DONKEY AND THE HOHSE
." Turn the pack-horseinto the field,"
said the farmer, " and open the hay
fence for him, I shall have stiff work
for him to-morrow." So he was turn
ed-out, and tethered to the hay fence,
which was left open that he might go
in and out and eat his-fill.
A donkey that was in-the same-field
came up to him, and said humbly, " Is
the hay nice friend ?"
"Friend!" said-theTack , horse,
ing up his heels, "what do you mean ?
know your place !"
"I ask pardon," said the donkey,
" but, as the field is bare, I thought
you'd a mouthful of hay to spare—a
rough bit that wasn't so pleasant, you
might favor me with it."
" Keep your distance I" said the
pack-horse, again throwing up hit
heels. "Do you take me for a donkey
like yourself, that you think we are to
eat together ?"
Next day the pack-horse was taken
from the field, and laden with sacks of
wool till his back was ready to break.
"Friend," he groaned out to the
donkey, who had the curiosity to look
through the gate at him as he went
down the walk, " couldn't you—should
you mind carrying one of the sacks
for me?"
Dear sir," replied the donkey, " I
hope I know my place better. After
the lecture you gave me yesterday,
when I wanted a little of your hay, I
wouldn't take the liberty of attempt
ing to share your. work ; and I can
assure you I've no greater wish to be a
pack-horse to-day than you had yester
day to, be a donkey."
fnitt tijt gittit Pito,
; FAMILIAR TALKa-3D SERIES.
BY REV. EDWARD PAYSON HAMMOND.* @
THE PERSECIITIftriVANDERERS FRONK
If you, my little friends, could rook
in upon these meetings in, the Hall of
Representatives ; in this ,beautiful city,
where President Lincoln once lived,
you would soon find who the Portu
guese children were. They all have
black eyes and hair, and a dark com
plexion, and they all sit very still and
listen to all thatis said to them. Their
fathers and mothers Were .often With
4tero,, and. , all of ,them seemed to love
the precious Savionr, and many of the
children learned to love film.
But I told you, in the last number,
that I would tell you how these con
verted Portuguese came , to be driven
from the bearttifcil island. I have told
you how hundreds and thousands of
these people used to listen in , the open ,
air to the words of life from the Bible.
The Catholic priests soon saw all,
this, and they found out that those
who read the Bible did not come to
them and confess their sins, but went
at once to God in Jesus' name, and
asked Him, for Jesus' sake, to for
give them. And then they were no
longer Catholic, but joined the con
'
verted people, who flocked around
Dr. Salley.
This made the priests angry, and
so, in the year 1843, they resolved to
stop all this Bible reading. They
called it " a book' from hell ;' but the
Christians knew it was a book from
heaven. They forbade the Catholics
to have anything to do with those who
read the Bible and loved Jesus. These
were the very words that they used :
"Let none give them fire, water, bread,
or anything that, may be necessary for
their support: Let none pay them
their debts."
Officers came and took away all the
Bibles they could find, and wicked
judges cast them into prison, and for
bade their singing any hymns.
One of the prisons where they were
shut up was near a Catholic cathedral;
and as the Romanists passed by, they
used to spit in the faces of those who
had given themselves up to Jesus.
The schools, where so many hun
dreds were learning to read, were all
closed; for the priests knew, if they
were taught to read, that they would
soon be reading the Bible, and then
they would not get any more of their
money.
The wicked Government at one time
thought of contriving a way to kill
all the Bible readers on the island.
And when the good people heard of
it, they said : " We, are willing to be
shut up in prison;, we are willing to be
burned; but we are not willing to give
up the Bible." They feared to disobey rather than God, who say. -
"Search the Scriptures."
At last Dr. Kalley himself was shut
up in prison. For five months he lay
in a dark, cell, all because he had- been
trying to do those poor people good,
by teaching them the way to be saved.
He was not allowed to sing of Jesus,
but wicked men could sing their vile
songs, and no one disturbed them.
He was finally let out, and after a
while a very good man, Rev. Mr.
Hamilton, from Scotland, came to help
him. And they formed a little church,
but most of their meetings they had
to hold in secret, to prevent being
killed.
After leading a great many souls to
Jesus, he had to flee away to Scotland,
to save his life. If he had been a
wicked man, he might have lived on
the island all his life; but just beaanse
he was like Jesus, and went about
* Copyright secured.
doing good, they sought to kill him.
His holy life was a rebuke to their
wickedness.
When Mr. Hamilton got back to
Scotland, he still thought a great deal
of the little flock he had left away in
the Island of Madeira, .and he wrote
them a beautiful letter. Though it
was not • written for children, I think
you can understand it, for he wrote
to them much as if they were children.
Iw'll, let you. read a ; copy
of this nice letter, which has so much
ri iti about the dear,, loving Jesus.
`How glad this.sock' without a shep
herd must have been to get such a
comforting letter from their dear friend.
I hope it will do you good, too. I have
enjoyed reading it very much.
"I rememberyou every day in my prayers
before`Godi giving .thanks toliim who called
you out of darkness into his marvellous light.
"Life, light, salvation,the hope of glory,
all spiritual and eternal blessings, are found
in Christ Jesus our -Lord ; neither can they
be found anywhere else. Christ is the store
house of all the heavenly goods; Christ is
the treasurer of all the riches of Divine good
ness ; Christ is the fountain from which
rivers of waters are always flowing; Christ is
the sue of the highest heavens, which scat
ters and throws all the rays of Divine wisdom
and knowledge, both among the angels above
and the believers below. Whatever blessing
you need, seek from Christ Jesus.
"If ye depart from- Jesus, ye are, poor,
miserable, blind,, and naked; ye have nothing.
Comine to Jesus, ye become partakers of his
riches, his white robes, his light, his wisdom.
happiness, joy, grace, and love; his kingdom
and glory. Come, therefore, nearer to Jesus,
and never leave bfr living and walking with
him. Be very close to his pierced side., Hide
yourselves within his heart... Bathe your
selves in the waves of his eternal love.
"If you do not trust in Christ only, you
cannot be saved. If you trust in your tears.
prayers, works, persecutions or tribulations.
you are certainly wrong, and walk fir from
the way of salvation. Such things are not
Christ—suchi things are not your Saviour.
Do not trust thein, but only in Christ.'
"It is good to shed tears of sadness,
thinking on your sins; :but. shed them look
ing to Christ crucified. It is good -to pray,
and to pray more and more "earnestly ; but
you ought to pray 'trusting only in the
merits of Christ. It is, good, to do the good
Works of faith and love.; it is good to increase
more and mine in fortitude; charity, purity,
and meekness; but see , that you don't put
any confidence in your own workg.. It is
good, if necessary, to suffer persibution,
shameiand death itself for the Saketof the
name,og Jesus. But we ought alwayp to re
member that it is not for the sake of bur per
sonal Sorrow and iiiiffering, but only for the
sake of the sufferings whichphrist endured,
that we are saved. .
"If we have Ciiiiit, we have all ; without
Christ we hive nothing. You can belhappy
without money, without liberty, without pa
.rents,, and i withont friends, if Christ it 4 yours.
If you have ncit Christ, neither money, nor
liberty nor parents, 110 t friends can make
you appy. Christ with a chain is liberty;
liberty without Christ is a chain. Christ
without anything is riches ; all things without
Christ are' poverty indeed."
Next week I will tell you some
thing more about these persecuted
Portuguese, and also, perhaps, about
how some of their . little children in
Springfield, .111., seemed to love Jesus.
SPRINGFIRID, 21 - pril, 1866.
A 'FACT-A WARNING.
I had a widow's son committed to
my care. He was heir to a, great
estate. He went through the different
stages, and finally left with a good
moral character and bright prospects.
But during the course of his education
he had heard the sentiment advanced
—which I then supposed correct—that
the = use of wines was not only admis
sible, but a real auxiliary to the tem
perance cause.
After he had left college, fora few
years he continued to be respectful to
me. At length he became reserved;
one night he rushed unceremoniously
into my room, and his appearance
told the dreadful secret. He said he
came to talk with me. He had been
told, daring his senior year, that it
was safe to drink wine, and by that
idea he had been ruined. I asked him
if his mother knew this. He said no;
he had carefully concealed it from her.
I asked him if he was such a slave
that he could not abandon the habit.
"Talk not to roe of slavery," said he;
"I am ruined, and before I go to bed
I shall quarrel with the barkeeper of
the Tontine for brandy or gin to sate
my burning thirst."
In one month this young man was
in his grave. It went to my heart.
Wine is the cause of ruin to a great
proportion of the young men of our
country. Another consideration is,
that the habit of conviviality and hos
pitality is now . directed to the use of
wine.
"You give up your wine and I will
give up my- rum," says the dram
drinker. Once I would not yield to
this. Now I think I ought, for the
purpose of checking intemperance. I
will not speak for others but for me
to do otherwise would be sin.—Prqf
Goodrich.
RANK NO OBSTACLE.
A good story of President Lin
coln comes to-us from Germany. A
lieutenant in one of the German ar
mies, whom debts compelled to leave
to leave his fatherland and service,
succeeded in being admitted to the late
President; and, by reason of his com
mendable and winning deportment and
intelligent appearance, was promised a
lieutenant's commission in one of our
cavalry regiments. He 'was so enrap
tured with his success, that he deemed
it a duty to inform the President that
he belonged to one of the oldest-noble
houses in Germany. "0, neverrmind
that," said Mr. Lincoln ; "you will
not find that to be an obstacle to your
advancement."—lndepenclent.