Qs gat* eittrii,
ITEM SANOTE SPIRITUS.
[TRANSLATION.]
HOLY SPIRIT from above,
Shine upon us in Thy love
With Thy heavenly radiance.
Father of the poor below,
'Who dost erery gift bestow,
Light our hearts to gladden us
Of the soul the dearest guest,
Of the heart the sweetest rest,
Sent of God to, comfort us.
Freshness for the summer's heat,
In our tears a solace sweet,
Sweet repose ipweariness.
Let Thy faithful in Thy sight
Feel Thy cheering, heavenly light,
Warning'and enlightening us.
Oh! without Thy quickening power,
We must perish in an hour,
Everything condemning us.
Wash the guilty conscience pure,
Be of sin the final cure,
With Thy dews refreshing us.
Warm our coldness with Thy rays,
Move our stubborn lips to praise,
Call us from our wanderings.•
For Thy faithful, oh! provide
While they in Thy grace collide,
Sacred sevenfold peace with Thee
Give them virtue's best reward,
Give salvation with the Lord;
Give them joy unceasingly.
—Christian Intellignecer.
COALS OF FIRE.
Joe Delmer was a country boy. His next
neighbor, Mr. Armitage, was a very wealthy
farmer, but very, very. mean. " Take care
of Number One!" was his motto and faithfully
did he carry it out. No poor - widow' would
have dared to gather the smallest bundle of
fagots on his grounds. No belated traveller
might . expect a nights lodging within his
walls. If any 'venturesome sportsman should
happen to shoot a rabbit within his fine
woods, he stood a fair chance of being treat
ed like his game. Once, indeed, while the
selfish man was shaving, he had seen from
his window, some one crossing a distant
corner of his field, and had rushed out bran
dishing his razor, his face half-covered with
lather, and his red mouth opening and shut
ting with rage, to drive the intruder off.
Between this ogre's domains, and the land
of a Mr. Crawford, ran alittl'Qstream,which,
when frozen over, made a fine skating-place.
Thither the boys of the vicinity hadrepaired;
not without he,sitation, it is' true, for there
was some doubt on their minds to which of
the neighbors the water belonged to ; if it
was Mr. Crawford's they knew that they
were quite welcome to skate there. The
surest way to settle'the question would have
been to ask ; they seem not to have thought
of that, however•, but took ; the benefit of the
doubt.
Well the first . afternoon, hi the midst of
the earliest excitement of the sport, down
came Mr. Armitage; swearing at them,
as
far off as they could hear him; with him
was his big growling dog,
Tartar, apparently
as.,angry as himself; and the famous gun,
which was his especial pride and pleasure.
With a kick to one boy and a cuff to another,
he accused them of " ruining his ice," and
threatened them' with all the terrors of both
dog and gun, if they ever "set foot on his
premises again." Tartar, too, snapped at
Joe Deamer's leg, fortunately not hurting
him seriously , ; and the boys with swelling
hearts and angry looks, quickly unbuck
led their skates and left the spot.
Another skating place was soon found at
some distance, but you may be sure Mr. Ar
mitage's conduct was not easily forgotten.
The moon was now increasing and the boys
took especial delight in skating by its light.
One night Joe Deamer was returning home
after the sport, whistling cheerily to him
self, when he suddenly saw a light, which
seemed rapidly increasing.
"Mr. Armitage's barn !" be exclaime
stopping to look,—and then in boy phrase,
"Pshaw, let it burn for the stingy old.rip!
—Serves him right!" and Joe turned to
walk on.
But suddenly the fire, by association' re
called some words of a verse which his father
had taught him the day before,—they were
these—" by so doing, thou shalt heap coals
of fire upon his head ?" Joe well knew to
what duty those words pointed. He stopped
short,—the -rush of many thoughts and feel
ings caused such a hot flush to mount to the
boys .brow, that he took off his cap, and
stood one instant with bared head under the
cold solemn moonlight.
Only one month before, Joe had taken
upon himself, in the. Church of God, the sol
emn vow of consecration to Christ's service.
He truly loved his Saviour and daily tried
to honor him ;—and now what a fall ! He
knew, not what hand had kindled that fire,—
perhaps it was an act of revenge for some of
Mr. Armitage's meanness ;—but whatever
the motive, it was a wicked deed, and one
whose wickedness, Joe felt that in his thought,
he had shared. Bitter shame for the mo
mentary baseness"was the first cm - iotion;,then
an upward glance, a thought of prayer, and
Joe seen - icid 'lifted up, as to the clear`' starry
sky above him, above all earthly hatefulness
and sin—as though in his soul he heard the
voice of Him who is invisible.
This resolution of purpose was the work
of an instant ; in the next, Joe had leaped
over the fence, taken the shortest cut to the
farm-house, and was rapping on Mr. Armi
ta,ge's - Closely-barred doors and windoirs,
shouting "Fire! fire !"
TUE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN; THURSDAY, APRIL '11;. 1867.
The farmer and his hired men, and even
his wife and children rushed out in alarm;
and Joe directly found himself filling buckets
with water, at the very spot from which he
had been driven a few days before. Not an
instant did he stop to think of that, however,
but worked with hearty good will. The barn
was not saved, but much loss was prevented
by their exertions. _
I do, not' know iihether Armitage
ever felt, or expressed any gratitude to Joe
for his disinterested ;kindness; I do_not know
shame whether any thought' of se ever touched
his hard heart when he,remembered it,;,but
this I. know, that .
_the boy's heart was
light and happy ;when" he lay down to sleep
that night, and it was not the ftin Of skating
that made it so. And-, this, toe; know ;
that the step taken in that one moment, was
a long stride in Joe's upward path,—a leap,
by the aid of Christ's ever present grace,
which rendered after steps easier ;:it' was the'
first of a series. of conquests over sinful self,
which proved the simple eountry lad a true
hero of tho cross.--,Ger. Ref. Messenger.
THE OUT ITHGER.
Harry was an orphan boy. His father
was a fisherman who- was lost one stormy
night at sea. He then went to live with his
grandmother in her old-fashioned cottage.
As the son of a fisherman, he always took a
delight in real boats, but there were none to
be seen in any direction in the village where
he had come to live, so he resolved to make
some. With a bit of wood and a knife he
sat down on an old-fashioned three-legged
stool, and soon had carved and .rigged an
entire fleet, one of which was duly launched
on a bowl Of water. But alas! before the
ship-building operations were complete, the
knife slipped, and Harry's finger was severe
ly cut. Like other little boys in trouble he
ran to his mother with cheeks pale from
fright, though making very manly struggles
to keep in the tears. A few kisses and a lit
tle soothing sympathy were very useful and
then the cut finger was shown to the house
surgeon, who was no other than grandmother
herself. She pronounced it very bad indeed,
and prescribed the dockyards should be closed
for the present, and boat-Building suspended,
in order that the wounded hand might get
rest, and its owner a sleep, if possible, in her
lap. Now grandmother's lap .was, just the
place to tempt one into a doze. For she
was a kind, loving old woman, who could
sing a sweet lullaby as she rocked gently
backwards and forwards, and threw her
apron, like a curtain, over the little sleeper's
face. But Harry did not want to go to sleep,
a great'comfort to hini. 'So when the cut finger
he wanted a story, which he declared, would be
was properly closed and bound up, the little
boy lay quietly in grandmother's
arms; tell
ing his mother that he was a sick sailor
ff in
hospital, going to listen to a long story. By
this gentle hint grandmother was reminded
of his wishes, and after a lengthened pause
she began. • .
"Harry, I cannot tell you a story about
boats, but I can tell you a little one about
sheep and lambs. There was once a very
good man who , had a great many sheep and
lambs ; he was very fond of them, and
showed by his kindness how much he loved
them. Every morning this shepherd led his
flock into a beautiful green field, where the
grass was very soft and pleasant. On three
sides of this field there was a thick hedge,
and on the fourth a lovely clear stream ran.
The only entrance was a very little gate, in
one side of the hedge. The shepherd did not
wish any of his flock to go through the thorny
hedge, knowing that the lambs especially
were delicate, and that their soft wool would
be torn by the briers. One day, however,
when the sun was shining very brightly, a
little motherlesS lamb began to complain in
a most discontented manner, saying that he
was much too warm, and that he would try
if there was any nice cool spot where he might
rest at the other side of the hedge. So, pre
ferring his own way, the foolish little lamb
pushed through the bushes, the sharp thorns
of which tore his white wool and hurt him
greatly. He wandered on, still expecting to
find the shade he had wished for, until he
was suddenly stopped by his lea b
being caught
in a snare set by some cruel boy to catch
weasels.
. "Now he began to be very sorry that he
had disobeyed his kind shepherd—he cried
and moaned, and every moment he was be
coming weaker and weaker from pain. The
good sheperd heard the cries, and pitied his
poor little wanderina lamb. He said, I
love that lamb still, I will go and bring him
home again.' This kind, forgiving shepherd
went to the same spot in the hedge through
which the little lamb had passed, and 'pushed
his way through the thorns. The thorns tore
his hands and - feet, and some even pierced
his forehead and the blood streamed down his
face. However, he went on because he
wanted to save' his little lamb.' When he
came to the place where'the lamb` was, he
saw it could not stand for its leg was broken.
He therefore took it up in his arms and
pressing it to his heart, seemed to say, for
give you all.' Then the gentle shepherd set
the broken leg, and put a soft ointment on
the wounds of the lamb, and said, 'You will
soon 'be well again.' The little lamb .now
loved his shepherd even more than before he
had left the green field, and it gave him
deeper grief to. see the blood streaming down
the shepherd's face than to bear the pain of
his own wounds. The shepherd had quite
forgiven him, and what was better than all,
he told 'him he would never' allow. him to
wander away again and be lost. Then 'he
placed the happy lamb on his- shoulder, and
took him into the green field again. Not
through the thorny hedge, but through.the
beautiful little gate, and then the gate was
closed that they might go mit no more."
"Harry, do you know who I mean by the
good shepherd?"
" The Lord Jesus Christ, I am sure, grand
mothef." '
"And can you tell me any, more about
this good shepheid, Harry?" '
"Father ust d to talk to me a great deal
about him, and how He once walked on the
water by night and stilled a storm. "Oh °! if
He had only come again that night to dear,
dear father, but perhaps: e did. . . And
father told me about the fishes that were
caught, ever so many, without breaking the
net, and another time about the wandering
sheep. I used .to say a long hymn; may I
repeat a little bit for you; granny?"
"I will be very glad to hear it, Harry.",
So, sitting up in her lap, 'hee - began in a
low, steady voice—
"Jesus my Shepherd is,
'Twas he that loved my soul, •
'Twaig he that'washed me in his blood
'Twasle that made me whole,
'Twas be, that sought the lost,
That found the wandering sheep,
'Twas he that brought me to the fold,
'Tis he that still doth keep."
"I was a wandering sheep,
I would not be' controlled;
But now I love my Shepherd's voice,
I love, I love the fold!
I was a wayward child,
I once preferred to roam,
But now I love my Father's voice—
I love, I love 'his home!" i
"And hoW may we. show we love the
Saviour, Harry ?"
"Father used to say, by trying to obey
what he tells us in the Bible.'?
"Just so, Harry, and if we love and obey
the good Shepherd, He will guide us while
we are on earth, and when we die He will
take us to be with Him for ever in heaven,
where all is lovely, and glorious, and bright;
and we shall be perfectly haPpy there, for
God will wipe away all tears from our eyes."
Little Harry now got a good-night kiss,
and carriea off 'by his mother to' the
white-curtained cot in the next, room, where
he was soon dreaMing giandmother's story
over again with numerous variations, and
quite forgetting the cut finger.—Child's
Companion.
CURIOUS CLOCK.
Many years ago there was a clock made
by one Droz, a mechanic of Geneva, which
was renowned for its ingenious construction.
This clock was so Tatid'e as to be capable of
performinkthelollowing movements. There
was exhibited on it a negro, a shepherd, and
a dog. -When the clock struck, the shepherd
played six tunes on his flute, and the dog
approached and fawned upon him. The
clock was exhibited to the king of Spain,
who was greatly delighted with it- --
" The gentleness of my dog," said Droz,
"is his least merit. If your majesty touch
one of the apples which you see in the shep
herd's basket, you will admire the fidelity
of this animal-
The king took an apple; and the dog flew
at his hand, and barked so loud that the
king's dog, which was in the same room dur
ing the exhibition, began to bark alsO; at
which the superstitious courtiers, not doubt
ing that it was an affair of witchcraft, has
tily left the room; crossing themselves as
they went out. ]laving "desired the minis
ter of marine, who was the only one who
dared to stay behind, to ask the negro what
o'clock it was, the minister asked, but re
ceived no reply. Droz then observed that
the negro had not yet learned Spanish; upon
which the minister repeated the question
in French, and the black, immediately an
swered him.
At this new .prodigy the firmness of the
minister immediatelyforsook him, and he re
treated precipitately, declaring that it must
be the work of a superhuman being. It is
probable that in the performance of these
tricks, Droz touched certain'springs in the
mechanism, although that is not mentioned
in any of the accounts' of his clock.
THE CONVERTED GEOLOGIST.
A skeptical geologist was once travelling
in company with an exploring expedition,
more than a thousand .miles from -his home.
One day, he was seized with an unaccounta
ble anxiety about his friends , at home. He
appeared so depressed and troubled, that it
excited the observation of his companions.
He feared that his wife was ill or dying;
tho Ugh, at the last news from home, she was
in usual health: . His associates strove to
laugh away his fears. One suggested that
he was turning spiritualist. But their efforts
were all useless. His anxiety increased to
such a degree, that he took a Bibleand went
alone by himself; and read and prayed by
turns with an earnestness he had never felt
before in any pursuit. Though he had tried
to disbelieve in God and the Bible, he well
knew that there was help for him nowhere
but inita`teachini. The Lerd met With his
soul in those lonely wilds, and spoke sweet
Words of peace. He went once more to his
duties with a heart light and glad. The
next' letter home was one -that filled the
heart of:his pious wife with greater joy than
she would have felt had he announced the
discovery of a- gold mine. Her whole soul
was filled with wonder and admiration at
the marvellous way God works to accom
plish his deSigns of gdod. But a short time
before, she had been led-lo establish a female
prayer-meeting with eight other friends, in
which the wanderer had been especially
prayed for: His conversion to God was the
blessing most earnestly` asked: It was just
about
alidut . this tiinethat'hiS anxiety commenced,
without any visible cause. When he reached
his home in Boston, he united at once with
the church, and husband and wife sat down
together at the table of the Lord.
What blessings have followed the female
prayer-meeting, wherever it has been con
ducted with humility and faith! Rave you
one in 'your church? If not, can you b not
form one without delay? ' There is a won
de.rful power in united prayer. Oh ! let us
do what in us lies to make this winter
marked 'for its revivals. Let us besiege the
throne of grace for our dear impenitent chil
dren,. husbands, brother and sisters God
will grant us his blessing if we only ask in
faith.
HOW TO Oit.TOH MONKEYS?
I have heard of a company of hunters who
caught a number of monkeys in the forests
in Brazil in the following amusing way:
They had a lot of little boots made just large
enough to be drawn easily over a monkey's
foOt, and filled the bottoms with pitch. With
these they set out for the woods, and found
themselves under the trees, where the mon
keys went rattling on over their heads, but
never for a moment removing their eyes
from them. Then they placed the little boots
where they could be seen, and commenced
taking off their own boots. Having done
this they let them stand awhile near the
little hoots. All this the monkeys very
carefully noticed. The hunters were too
wise to attempt to catch them by climbing
the trees; they might as well have expect
ed to snatch' the moon as to lay hands upon
one of these little fellows. They had an
easier way than this, and one much more
effectual ; they simply sat down under the
trees . while the little chatterboxes were rat
tling on over their heads, but never for a
moment removing their eyes from them.
The hunters now taking up their own boots,
having carefully looked over them, drew thud
slowly one after the other upon their feet.
Not a motion escaped the observation of the
monkeys. Having replaced their boots they
hurried away into thicket of undergrowth
not far off, where they were hidden from
the sight of the monkeys, but where they
could
,see every thing that happened under
the trees. "They left, the sioall boots all'
standing in a row.
The monkeys soon descended from the
trees, and imitating the motions of the hun
ters, thrust their feet into the boots set as a
trap for them, chattering and gesticulating
all the time, in great glee. As soon as' they,
were fairly in the boots, out sprang the hun
ters' from their hiding places and rushed
among them. The monkey's, affrighted at
once started for the trees, but only to find,
that they had destroyed their power of
climbing by putting on the boots. So they
fell an easy prey to their cunning enemies,
This is the way the monkeys were caught,
and how many young persons are caught
in the same way.. In their desire tckdo what
they see other persons doing; they' fall into
serious trouble,,and often bring upon them
selves ruinous habits that follow them to the
grave.—Boston Courier.
THE "COOL OF THE EVENING."
Sydney Smith was complaining of a 44entle
man, who, although many years his junior,
was in the habit of addressing him by his
Christian name, a privilege which, as Sydney
Smith remarked, he only allowed his most
intimate friends.
Shortly after, the gentleman in question
entered the room, and familiarly addressed
Smith as "Sydney," inquired how he thought
of passing the day. "For my part," he
added, "Archbishop of Canterbury (the then
Dr. Howley) has often invited me to s pay
him a visit at Addington`Park, and I think
I shall drive down and return in the cool of
the evening."
"Ah," returned Smith, "then let me give
you a piece of advice, I know something of
the Archbishop; he is a very excellent man,
but rather proud; so don't call him ' Wil
liam;' he might not like it."
A roar of laughter followed' this signifi
cant speech, and, as the .diScomfited youth
left the room. Smith turned and quietly re
marked :
"I think I have settled the ' cool of the
evening,' at last."
THE FLIGHT OP TIME.
There are many things of which we have
a much more vivid perception at some times
than at others. The thing is . before you;
but sometimes . you can grasp it firmly—
sometimes it eludes you miStily. You are
walking along a country path, just within
hearing of distant bells. You hear them
faintly; but, all of a sudden, by some caprice
of the wind, the sound is borne to you with
startling clearness. There is something
analogous to that in our perceptions and
feelings of many great facts and truths.
Commonly we perceive them and feel them
faintly; but sometimes they are borne in
upon us, we can not say how. Sometimes
we get vivid glimpses of things which we
have often talked of, but which we hail
never discerned and realized before, And
for many days it has been so with me. I
have seemed to feel the lapse of time with
startling clearness
I have no doubt, my reader, that you have
sometimes done the like. You have seemed
to actually perceive the great current with
which we are gliding steadily. away. and
away.—Fraser's Magazine.
SILENT PRAYER.
There is often an effectual fervor in the
united silence of supplication beyond all the
earnestness of uttered prayer:
The devoted missionary, William Cary,
rejoiced in seeing two of his sous take, part
in the bleSsed ministry of 'Jesus: But a
third son was still far from God. At a meet
of the Baptist Missionary Society in Londou,
Andrew Fuller; 'his 'seri:non, allUded to
this fact, and after a moment's pause said.
with intense feeling,—
"Brethren, let us send up a united and
fervent prayer to God, in solemn silence, for
the conversion of Jabez Cary."
The appeal, followed by the solemn pause,
produced a deep impression on the congre
gation of some two thousand, and from hun
dreds of hearts ascended earnest petitions
for the conversion of this young man, "and
the Lord hearlrened and heard it." The
next letters borne to them over the seas an
nounced the conversion of this child of
many prayers, searly at the time when this
meeting was held.
ADviace Haig OF THE DEVONPORT
SISTERHOOD.
0. ' Testy ,our Tedemption
Loved and desired with tears,
God of all worlds creator,
Martin the*cotirse of years,
What wondroakpity moved Thee
To make - our cause Thy own,
And suffer death and torments
For sinners to atone!
,0 Thou, who piercing Hades
Didst hreak'the captives' chain,
Who glorioualy ascend!st°
Thy Father's throne to gain.;
SUbdue• our many evils '
By' mercy all divine,
And comfort: with Thy presence
The hearts that for Thee pine
THE CUSTOM.
During a severe storm a raft of choice
lumber was broken Tip by winds at sea, and
driven up a harbor, where a portion was
stranded on the shores belonging to a citizen
who was new to the location, and perhaps
unacquaintedi with the laws and customs re
lating to estrays of the kind. Straightway
he applied his beasts of burden to the prize,
and 'having hauled= it into his field betook
himself to his noonday refreshment. Mean
time-the proprietor of the lumber appeared
with his men, and in a short time had the
material in- the form: of a raft, which they
were propelling through the water when the
owner of the land appeared:upon the bank.
surprised at the turn affairs had taken, he
paced the strand for a while, and then raised
his voice.
"Mr. P—," said he, "what is the custom
here regarding lumber that .comes to a man's
shore ? "
" Well," said P applYing himself vi
gorously to .his setting pole, "the custom
appears to be to steal it:
ALWAYS BEHIND.
When Farmer Hilton's boy went after
the cows ,
there was one who was called
"Old White Face," that tilWays stayed be
hind. No - sooner were the bars let down,
and the call made Co! Co! Co I than "Brin
dle" and "Bright-eyes" and "Broken Horn"
would stir their stumps at once, and make
their way to the road home. But " Old
White Face" would keep cropping and
cropping a bit more as if nobody had called for
her, And nobody wanted her milk.
Sometimes it was needful to go to the
very further part of the pasture and crack
the whip pretty smartly, before ghe would
stir a peg. "Ltizy old brute!" muttered
the farmer's boy, "why can't you come
when you're called, - as other cows do? I
have .to go after, you almost every day. Why
can't you wine:when-you're called ?'
"So I say, Tom," said Fariner Milton,
who was just on tie other side of the fence,
and heard what he said.' "I often call you
in the morning, and you snooze' till I conic
up close to your bed and bawl out as loud
as I can. You use to hear at first, and start
at the first call, but you thought, you would
lie still a minute longer one day, and two min
utes the next, and now the habit is very hard
to break. .
"And there's another call, Tom, that you
have heard many a time. It is- a more-im
portant call than mine. It is God's call!
Have you not heard it from your Sunday
school teacher, and from the minister, and
from the good books you got from the libra
ry. Oh, my boy, -if the poor dumb beast
could speak as the- ass in the Bible story,
she might say,—Obey your Master's call,
my lad, before you beat a poor old cow for
not obeying yours."
Tom drove the cows home without saying
another word, and I hope lie reinembero4
what Farmer Milton said to him.
NO SILENT PARTNERS.
The congregationolist has - some pertinent
words for those undecided ones who wish to
enjoy the hopes of a Christian life without
having a share in-its toils.and. sacrifices:
A minister in Brooklyn was recently called
upon by a business man, who said,-
- " I come, sir, to inquire if, Jesus Christ
will - take'me as' a silent partner?"
"Why do you ask?" said the minister.
" Because I wish to be a follower of 'Him
and do not,wish anybody to know it," said
the man.
The reply was, "Christ takes no silent
partners! The firm must be 'Jesus Christ &
Co,'. and the names of the ' Co.,' though
they may occupy a subordinate place, mast
all be written out on the sign-board."
Reader are you trying to re a secret
Christian? Jesus Christ takes no silent part
ners!
A NEW TITLE.
This story, which is rather good, comes to
us from England. A sub-dean was talking
to a dean about the titles accorded to church
dignitaries, in the tone of a man who feels
himself aggrieved. "An archbishop," said,
he "is a - most reverend, a bishop is a re
verend, and a dean is a , very reverend.
Don't you think a sub-dean should have
some prefix of the kind..? "—" Well, yes,"
answered his superior, "I certainly agree
with you. How would rather reverend
do?" . -