'Os gantag
(COMMUNICATED.]
WE SHALL- BE LIKE HIM.
BY M. E. M.
We shall be like Him! Oh! beautiful thought,
Well may our souls, unto rapture be wrought,
After the sorrow, the woe, and the tears,
We shall be like Him, when Jesus apppears.
After the conflict, in peace to sit down,
After the cross, to be wreathed with the crown,
After the dust, and the soil of the way,
With Him, and like Him, forever to stay. •
Never again shall the throbbing head ache, t
Never-again shall the beating heart break,
Never the task drop from wearying hands,
Nor the feet ever fail, in the brightest of lands
Never shall sin with the trail of its shame,
Shadow love's sunlight, or chill its clear flame,
Saviour, oft grieved in the house of Thy friends ;
We will not wound Thee, when earth's frail life ends,
Petah! 'tis this thought does away with thy , sting,
Makes us triumphant, to meet thee and sing,
"Glory to God!" when the Jordan is past,
We shall go home, and be like Him at last.
Master ! 'alai! Thee we've aften_denied, .
- When the world scorned, we have shrunk from Thy side,
Yet blessed Jesus, Thou knowest our love,
Pardon, and help us; with grace from above,
When Thou appeareit Oh! raßturous thought,
Well may our souls, unto transport be wrought,
We shall
,be like Thee! When this life% o'er,
Wound Thee, deny Thee, offend Thee no more.
LITTLE MAY'S LEGACY.
CHAP. 11-MAY-BIRD'S WISH.
That evening, as little May sat on her
father's knee, on the bench in the porch,
over• which honey-suckles and China roses
were clustering, Farmer Somers said, "Well,
what crumbs 111* Robin Redbreast and
you been picking up today at school? Eb,
little one ? Let me hear."
May was all readiness to tell her :father
about the little dark-eyed boy.
Her father laughed, andsaid, "Why, that
is the crumbi you have strewed about, May=
bird ; not what „you have picked up—eh ?
But it is a kind little heart; only those
gipsies are sad rogues—sad rogues—and
thieves, as I am afraid. But never mind
for once, May-bird. The child no doubt was
hungry; and I am not the one to grudge
him a morsel. if we all had just what we
deserve, it would be little enough."
There was silence fora few minutes; and
then May said, 1' Father, if I get the book,
will you read me over the hymn I am to
learn for next Monday ?"
"Yes, to be sure I will, child."
Then May brought a little book called
"Daily. Thoughts for a Child," which the
clergyman's wife at Ashcot had given her
the week before.
Farmer Somers took it in his great brown
hand, and read slowly the verses for his
child, which I will write down for you, for
I am sure yon will like them.
" Day is over; darkness spreading
Over hill, and field, and wood,
Tired feet are homeward treading,
Night is welcome—rest is.good.
" Day is over ; babes are sleeping,
In their cradle-beds ere now;
Loving eyes their watch are keeping,
O'er the little sleeper's brow.
"Day is over; many a blessing
God has sent. His little child,
Life, and health, and food possessing,
Frjends so dear, so good and mild.
"Day is over; each hour wasted,
Naughty act, and sinful word,
All forbidden pleasures'tasted,
Have been noted by the Lord.
" Day is over r and•Pm nearer
To the hoir when life shall end ;
Blessed Saviour, be Thou dearer,
Day by day my constant Friend.
"Jesus, be Tbou ever by me,
All night long watch by my bed,
Let my sleeping thoughts be of Thee,
Who Thy blood for sinners shed."
"Ah 1' said Mr. Somers as he ended, " that
reminds me of my mother ;" and he sighed.
" She was a good woman, ay, your grand.-
mother ; she died when I was but a little boy,
but I can remember her teaching me the
words, The blood of Jesus Christ His Son
cleanseth us from all sin.' It is a pretty
hymn, May-bird. Miss Smith will be pleas
ed if you learn it well, and mind, you try
to be a good child, and have Jesus for your
friend."
May hg,d scarcely ever heard her father
speak so before, but the simple, childish
hymn had recalled days that were past; and
long after his. i little daughter . had run off to
bcd,—long after his wife and the baby, and
merry laughing Robin, had sought their
pilloW, Farmer Somers sat thinking over
times which now seemed like a dream,
though, with a reality he could not explain,
the words be had just repeated to his
child seemed to 'echo in his soul, " the
blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us
from all sin."
May - lay awake thinking for some time
in her little white bed ; she wondered where
poor faff b ged dirty Jim was; she wondered
if he bud a mother; she wondered if any
one had taught him about Jesus, and the
Holy Spirit, and a heavenly Father's care.
That Morning May had tripped to school
by Robin's side, thinking little, as I- told
you, of her mercies—of her happy lot as
contratit6d, with that of any.. But a con
sciodenkts of blessings undeserved, and a
deep; tender pity for those who had them
not, had now risen in May's young heart.
"I wish I could do something for Jim.
I wish I could tell him . how to be good
and happy," were the last waking thoughts
of May-bird as she fell asleep, to dream of
the little dark face which bad peered at
I;ter and Robin through the burs of the iron
gate that morning..'
She Was up with the lark the next day,
eager to assure herself it was -" quite fine ;"
THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 6, 1868.
for when it rained heavily her mother did
not let her takp the long walk to school
though Robin went in all kinds of weather.
But she need not have feared, the day
was bright, and golden beams were stream
ing from the east, the sun arose to bless
the glad earth with warmth and light once
more.
" Would-Jim be at the gate ?" such was
May's anxious question a hundred times
repeated to herself, and once or twice to
Robin, vho merely answered "Who cares?
dirty little imp But May cared, and
had hard work to keep
. her thoughts on
the:lessons all that morning, so impatient
she, felt to get to the little iron gate.
M last the time for dinner came. Robin
=and May, went to the moss-covered stone,
and the little provisions were spread out;
while all this time May was casting fur
tive glances to the gate. But the din
ner was finished. Robin had gone :off to
play, May was left alone disappointed; eat
ing the bit of seed-cake very slowly, and
wishing Jim would wine. But, presently,
she heard a shuffling in the lane, and went
close to the gate and peeped. Yes, .here
was Jim, on his hands and knees, creeping
to the step. He loolideworsti And more
ragged than the day before; but - seeing
the seed-cake, crarted up, evidently epect
ing it. May did not disappoint him, and
remembering what other questions she had
thought to ask 'Jim, she 'said, -
" Take it, but atop a minute," for he
seemed to be about to shuffle off, as he had
come. " Little boy, would you like to learn
to read ?"
Jim only grunted.]
"Have you a- mother ?"
"No, she's dead," said Jim shortly.
May sighed and thought, ".I will bring
h'in a picture to morrow, one of my cards,"
then added aloud in a hushed, reverent
voice, "Do you know`:aliOut God,?
Again only a grin.
" Well," said May, ":1. will bring you
such a pretty picture to-morrow, and, tell
you all about it -;" and-then, as if anxious
to clear up the mystery that gipsies were
thieves; she added, " Jim you never take
what is not yourk? I,mean . you don't—
yon don't steal, because God says, ' Thou
shalt not steal.' "
":Pees, I do—happles, heggs, -a chicken
if I can. I go, with Sal and Bob ; but don't
you tell, mind! There's no harm." Another
grin, which showed all the white teeth he
had, and Jim prepared to go. He came
back once to 'shake his fist threateningly
again, with the words, " Don't you, tell,
mind, or "
Poor little May was ready to cry - , her lit
tle heart felt the.pangs of disappointed hope
—the hope of doing good. We must all
feel it sometimes, every one, of us; ,but a
child can scatter .a.cramb r -Alychild. can sow
a living seed in life's pathway. It may
not spring up for many, many days, xe may
never see it spring.up at all, but God's word
is true : " Be not weary in . well doing, for
in due season ye shall reap if ye faint not."
After this unsatisfactory meeting, for two
days there was no little dark face peeping
inrat the iron gate,, although some dinner
was saved from the basket, and the little
picture reward-carctfaithfally broughk. On
the third, May was sitting patiently on the
moss-covered stone, when the curious shuf
fling noise' was heard, and there was Jim.
The slice of bread and batter seemed a
secondary consideration this time. Jim took
it through the bars, as usual, as the kind
little hand offered it, but paused to whisper,
"If you tell on me, and Bob'hears, he'll
break every bone in My skin, he will !"
" I won't,—l won't; but please, Jim, be
good and don't steal ! look, here's a picture."
May held up the card, and JIM, while snap
ping up his bread and butterysurveyed it
with a curious, puzzled air.
‘i Who be they ?"
-Then May told, in her childish way, the
story of Adam and Eve,, their disobedience,
their 'Sin and sorrow. The picture sticiNVCd
them leaving Eden--that happy garden
home, With v ikowed heads and shame-struck
faces. Thircard had a wreath of apples and
leaves around it l zhich seemed,to catch the
boy's eye. 10 pufte.bAs dirty fingers through
the bars and said, a ATplekl"
" Yes, they were not' hat.py after eating
them," said May.
Jim's grin was more snbduedrtehen he
said, " Row did God know they'd' gtPern ?"
" Why, He saw Eve take it : God-res
every one every minute. He does, indeetl.'
don't you know ?"
Poor Jim ! he only had heard God's holy
name taken in vain by the evil companions
amongst whom his lot was cast. He shook
his bead with a touching hopeless confession
of ignorance.
MTay paused a minute, then added brightly,
cg I will bring another picture on Monday—
we have no school on Saturdays. I must
go now. Good-bye."
But a voice was now heard calling May—
it was. Miss Smith
.
•
" May," .- she said, cc t whom were you
talking ?"
" A little, ragged, very hungry boy,
ma'am;' and May, blushing, seemed much
confused.
"What were you saying to him? You
must not go to the gate to talk to idle chil
dren."
" Oh I please, ma'am, he is so hungry and
poor; and—" added .14y, in a tone of deep
pity, "he never - heard of
" What were you doihg with that picture
ca - rd ?"
" Showinz it to him. I want to show.him
another on Monday; please, ma'am, let me."
_ Miss Smith was struck with :MaY's, ear
nestness; she was somewhat of a favorite
with her governess,—a gentle, quiet child,
obedient and pains-taking, though not very
smart. But the - bell rang to summon the
pupils to school for the.afteinoon, and MiSs
Smith only bad time to say, "You,must not
talk to the child again :without. my leave,
May r and then went to Ther desk.
(To BE CONTINUED.)
',.THE MODERN CHRISTIAN HOME.
BY REV. WILLIAM ADAMS ; D. D.
A house is not a home, but a home im
plies that there is a house. The style of
human dwellings is an index of the varied
stages of civilization. Nomadic tribes make
use of movable tents; savages have holes or
huts execrable with filth. The "House of
Diomede," as it is called, at Pompeii, by its
very structure, with so much of court and
corridor, and so little room within, reveals
the idea of Roman life—out of doors and
public, with small domestic conveniences.
Erasmus accounts for the prevalence of the
plague in England, in his day, by the con
dition of the houses. Very few in all the
kingdom had chimneys for the passage of
the smoke. , Rushes and straw covered the
floors, accumulating discomfort, day and
night. It ii not strange that in . such cir
cumstancesl.,Lord Bacon brought his im
perial imagiaation to contrive whatever was
desirable in domestic architecture. In the
remarkable description from his pen =of the
" House of Solonion," - in the new Atlantis,
which was Ace.ived by his cotemporaries as
a mere rhoilomoutade, we have what hae
since been proved to be the far-reaching
vision of iircence, 'for, there is scarcely u
contrivance kthere iritagined for Warming,
lighting, ven 'lHating., and furnishing a huinan
1,
habitation,
high is not in ,common
_use in
our own d ,ellings. Observe the house
where youlive, arranged for convenience,
divided off into separate compartments; it
is, not .a hs'rmit's Cell, nor yet a tavern;
privacy without solitude, society without
turnpike. pulilicity: By a beautiful combi
nation of sand and alkali, your windows are
fUrnished with that transparent material
through whiitli the light passes but not the
cold. The world is seen but not admitted.
Philosophy and art, no longer divorced, find
their true dignity in discovering, inventing,
and arranging those many conveniences
which contribute to the warmth, economy,
anclhealthiness of human habitations. When
the ancients lost their fire from their hearths
and altars, they lighted it again by means
of lenses, from the sun. Some may remem
ber that when the same calamity befell a
family in olden times, resort was, had to-that
householdone of the who had acquired the
knack of etching, and catching the 'wel
come spark from flint and steel: As to that
great convenience which modern chemistry
has given us, 'so economical of time and
patience, by which light and fire are afforded
us in a second, there is but one _drawback to
gratitude. In, ancient times the smoking
of a pipe by an ...old man, in the chimney
corner, was the very image of cosy comfort,
but the convenience of portable fire, carried
in the pocket, in` all` places, Seems to have
suggested certain habits, even to the child
ren, suddenly converting a whole generation
into peripatetic chimneys.
Two things in the domestic arrangements
of our metropolitan life, 'are greatly to be
missed and regretted—afirep/ace and a barn.
A city stable is an adjunct of wealth ; an
appendage-6f Itex.--(EHA. apart—for horses,
and grooms and - footmen. That is not the
idea at all. The place we speak of was a
part of home. There was it that we grew
familiar with the "honest faces of animals;"
there the meadow-sweet scent of the hay;
there was the bright golden corn stripped
from its overcoat of felt, and its underdress
of silk; there was the thud of the thrasher's
flail ; there rung the merry laugh of boy
hood and girlhood in their holiday freedom
—alas! how _many of those clear, sweet voices
were silent years ago in their small graves,
while we are now men and women. - There,
on the South side of - Mat eld,"weather-beaten,
unpainted barn, the sun *ould shine bright
er and warmer than any where else, and
we and the' cattle chewed together the cud
of contentment.
To many of the children of our day the
fireside, is rather an allegorical
. expression.
To others, it is an actual history. A hole
in the wall; through. Which the „heat passes,
attaches to itself no ideas of sociability.
The old fireplace, with its generous supply
of clean, honest wood, - and crackling blaze,
its ample room, symboliied the dwelling
place of cheerfulness, the home of love, and
the altar of..religion. There was it, when
the twilight , shadows had come, and the
candle and lamp were as yet unlighted, and
the reflection of the flame was dancing on
the wall, that you sat and mused—and if,
perchance, as the wood sizzled on the hearth,
pour mind fell upon , some sad and pensive
tray ome gleam of the mystery of life,
youltuilyour head upon your mother's lap,
and werand when theovenincr had
gone, the. large ruddy coals of th; log,
brighter than.thasa„ol England's Christmas
Yule, were laid in their bed of ashes, and
the gray-haired sire cartfs_ended the group
to heaven for, protection,-LIN, peace, com
fort, joy, and prayer, all beside that old fire
place, where the gray-haired lovNiud pray
DO more.
WHAT BREAKS DOWN YOUNG MEN. 4
From tables of the mortality of Harvard
University, collected by Prof. Pierce from
the last triennial catalogue, it is clearly de
monstrated that the excess of deaths for the
first ten years after graduation is found in
that portion of each class inferior in scholar
ship. Every one who has been through the
curriculum, knows that where 2Eschylus and
political economy injure one, late hours and
rum punches use up a dozen, and that the
two little fingers of Morpheus are heavier
than the loins of Euclid. Dissipation is a
sure and swift destroyer, and every young
man who follows it is the. early flower ex
posed to untimely frost. Those who have
been inveigled' into the path .of vice Fare
named legion, for they are--many—enough
to convince every novitiatwthat he has-no
security that he shall escape a similar fate.
A. few hours of sleep each night, high living
and plenty of 'smashes' make war upon
every function of the huinan body. The
brains, the 'heart, the Imago, the 'liver, the
spine, the limbs, the bone, the flesh—every
part and faculty—are overtasked, worn, and
weakened by the terrific energy of passion
and appetite loosened from restraint, until,
like a dilapidated mansion, the earthly house
of this tabernacle' rolls into decay.
MR. BEECHER AND THE DRAMA.
During the past few weeks a curious con
trast has appeared in -the advertising col
umns of the New York City and Brooklyn
dailies; so very curious, indeed, that it 'is
not at all surprising to learn that a great
many good , people are still perplexed to
know whether they ought rather to laugh
or my at it.
In one of the columns, the reader's- eye
would easily fall on this pleasant advertise
ment: "Just issued, Prayers from the Ply
mouth Pulpit, By Rev.lienry Ward Beecher
Phonographically-reported. Published by
Scribner & Co." Then down a little lower
-
in the same column, or in one adjoining, so
as to brihg the two advertisementp 'side by
side, as if they had been so arranged., by
some practiCal jester, would be found, the
following in flashing characters,: "New
York Theatre. f--Norwood.' Dramatized by
the special permission of Rev. Henry Ward
Beecher. The - Worrell Sisters, Rose and
Alice. Seati'maybe secul•eda week in advance"."
- A Act, Which *gives special emphasis to
this contrast ; is,
_perhaps, not generally
known' outside the city., .This "New York
Theatre" is a church building of a most
churehly aspect, in 'which, until lately, di
vine services were regularly held. It, was
built and consecrated for church purposes,
and was so used until_ this theatre company
came in possession of it. Across the tower,
in, which the old bell probably still hangs,
is stretched the narde,in great letters, "New
York Theatre!! ,Over , the. main entrance,
through which for years multitudes have
crowded to worship God, in still larger char
acters, is the same name. The vestibule is
used for the ticket office. The stage is built
where the ph - IpH used to stand, and is about
the same height. So that in this theatre,
in another way-• than the
. intrlduction of
Norwood has made manifest, are the pulpit
and stage brought to the same level.
No doubt, strong-minded and well-ex
perienced men, are able to look upon this I
church building, with its flaming theatrical
inscriptions, the stage occupying the;place
of the pulpit, a - ndnur greatest preacher fur
nishing the - play there acted, without. feel
ing that the stage and' pulpit are not 'near
so far - , apart „ as they , were educated...to..he
lieve. It would be cause for no little-grati
tude were this:the only building where this
class could see it.
We would not question Mr. Beeeher's lib
erty to employ, as seems , to him best, the
wondrous talents with which God has so
royally endowed him: Yet the Mightier
the influence a man wields the closer his ac
tions `and words should be scrutinized. The
feeble locomotive which can draw but a few
half empty cars, at no faster rate than five
miles an hour, would need to belittle feared
-whether—on --Lhe: track or .off; No - "Lake
Shore Disaster"'would await its passers.
It isthe powerful engine that renders neces
sary the sounding of wheels, the testing of
axles, mid , the getting of switcheswith Care.
We do not think for a moment that Mr.
Beecher, when ,he gave his consent (Mr.
Bonner insists he would never 'have per
mitted this use of "Norwood," without the
positive consent of the author, and that he
holds a lettergranting this• consent in 'ate
most -unequivocal terms,) to the dramatiza
tion of his story, anticipated Ally its re
sults. Yet has he designed much by this
step. In" our hearing, as Well as in the
hearing of many others, has he often, with
in the past few months, declared that the
whole subject nf ainiseinents has to be redis
tussed. '"iVett).• arperiments 'Must be' made,"
says he; , "the amusements Must be probed' io
their bottom" This 'play, lslorwood, is the
first fruit of this determination. Mr.
Beecher is :not the man to lay his hand to
the plow and look back. Many more steps
in various directions will follow this one.
The Church should study - carefully the 're
sults- of these bold and hazardous experi.
ments.•
This first step is, we fear,
_a very sad mis
take., 'By it theatre-going has received an
impetus no dozen other men in New York
City or Brooklyn Could' possibly havegiven
it. - No ;man is more-devotedly followed' by
young men than is the idolized pastor of
Plythonth Church. Besides,
,niany' thou
sands who, never fhllowed him before are
now silencing their consciences by.deductions
drawn from his example, and are greedilyimi
tating that " foolishest of , birds," - withilrhich
he used to quaintly compare the theatre
goer. ',Taw these Men :will stop with
baying heard the badly-played Norwood.
The head of the camel is admitted, and
,now f we cannot, see -how. Mr. Beecter can
- kelp tift itriake - iboni'for the body and legs
at Once.
The shrewd theatrical managers are
making the "moat -of--- thisjaffair. We are
lold that never before Were-the theatres,
f4om. the filthiest-of the filthy ones in the
1 BAKery to thefilthier Black Week estab
.
1 lishment on Broadway, so 'overwhelmed
with c - rdds. The' managers are ineestaeies.
i L
Shrewd fews ! They refused to advertise
in the`" Hera ;," be - anise it was " too wicked
w id
a 'paper,' and • ow write their advertise
ments on the Irld4driowned Plyinonth
pulpit with the m • . t gratifying result ! As
an illiistrationciit • :- ihr•Twilnebs or these
+ .
fellows inftiriming ' th 4.tperitwent -ef Mr.
Beecher's into gold the fi4lo3ving will aerie:
A;' fe* :Sabbath eyeningt--ff*, fie was Jul
,,viti.ed,opieach'in the BrdolittN.4eactenLy
, df'Mtteid - , -- *hich he did `to ntik ;fetal-48*ml
dieuce. The, theatrical tuAnA : -.Arranged
it so that in the same place on th following
evening the play, Nofvfobd; #i•`. : • ed. The
papers in the - same issue adver -- :d both
the< preaching and the play. On. NI undAy
evening. the - pretieher,- 'tin -316114y* 4Rning,
the, dramatist, Henry Ward Beecher •ad
dressed from the- same- platform Brobklyn
audiendes. The' reater'pertion of the-ooh-
gregation were present on Sunday ere ,
how many were able to resist the
tation of attending the Monday
ing's performance is hard to say.
who did have strong reasons for deeln,n„
themselves theatre proof. For it is not IA ;
sible a stronger temptation to enter a th, a .
tre will ever beset a member of Plymontt
Church, save his pastor writes a better
play, which we trust a kind providene a
keep him from doing.
Judged, by the results so far as manifest(.,
this experiment cannot be deemed Wce
than a very grave mistake. Future dev
opmente may change thik judgment. w
trust they may.
This, and the other. "mistakes" of k•
Beecher have not lessened the crowds win
flock to his church, as is reported, but hay,.
rather increased them. It is, indeed, mar.
vellons to, see under what fearful burder•
this wonderful man can stand erect. L a ,,
fall carried, Johnson and tottered I,
very slightly. And now he bears aloof 4:
Bgnner, with his racers, the " Lecl g , T ,
Silvanus,CoblhFanny Fern, and how man v
more time wonld fail us to mention—a
far more stupendous than pressed the should.
ens of the mighty , Atlas; and yet, 1 , 1 .
when we expect to see his joints fail Li;; __
hestraightens himself and grasps the meta
politan ..t,hf:satrea,againat which the el er_:,
hes been warring for so many years, at ' ;
without stopping to run some Alphett.
Penens river through these Augean stabh
like Hannah More, Mr. Bellows, and mtmy
morer have desired, hurls them on top th
pile; and yet, we notice no other physita
effect than that he bends slightly, and roil;
less - in hie walk, and is growing gray faster,
Yet' with 'all his faults a nobler, grand,
soul does not tabernacle in: the
theran Observer. i
A - ritaritti- _WORD.
BY. BEY. NEWMAN HALL
Now! A short word; a shorter thing
Soon tittered; Slimier gone.
Row A grain of - sand on a boundle , .
plain. A tiny ripple on a measureless ocean
Over that ooean, we axe sailing, but the only
part of it we possess is that on which our
vessel at this moment floats. From the
stern we look backwards and watch tha
ship's-wake in the waters; but how short, a
distance , -it reaches, and how soon every
trace disappears! We see also seine land
marks farther off, and then the horizon
closes the view; btitiiey,On.d that ocean still
rolls far, far away . Vemary contemplates
the few years of our;individual life; history
shOws UlS'a dim outline of mountains ; sci
ence tette. us, that still farther back, out of
. _
sight, stretches that vast sea; reason as
sures us Ahat,liko l space, it -bath no bounda
ry; bit all ;that we poasess of ip is represen
ted by this small word--;N:Cw I.- The past,
for action, Akira -.no;lOnger.,,, The future
may never becoine present, and, is not ours
until it does. The only part of time we can
use is this very moment-46w!
But multitudes waste what they actually
possess in vainregzeta for What they once
had, or vain intentions respeeting what is
not yet theirs. "Alai!" saysone, "I have
thrown away the choicest opportunities, and
the best part of my life is lost 4 0, if those
years might, return, how- differently would
I now aet!" "Those years cannot return.
But pin have the
,preaent - moment! Why
add what, yqu.can improve to the heap of
lost opportunities which are now far beyond
you reach ? ' ,
A passenger comes bustling into the rail
way depot. He-is. just toe' late, for the en
gine has sounded n its whistle, and the cars
are gliding, raiiiidlY mit of sight. He looks
after them in despair. He had important
business to - transact. Pillions may be the
consequences of delay. 'He sits down on his
trunk, leaning his head upork his hand, and,
absorbed in vain regrets, gazes vacantly for
ward. But see another train is at the
platform, just about to start for the same
destination. Other passengers have arrived.
and are' eagerly :crowding in. The bell
rings. Again the whistle.sounds • again the
engine bears awl its living freight; and
starting np, our TrienTagaiii bewails an op
portinity lost! O, sit not down again despond
ingly 1 Theiens yet _another chance. Throw
not this away, too, but at once take your
seat-in the ; third: train which now is prepar
ing to fo'Bow,thesothor two.
But should 3ve miverlook : regretfully after
theh past : ? Certainly ; for this purpose,
that we ,ma he stirred/ r
, re up to improve the
prosent. us think pf. past sins that we
may repent.now. .10et us meditate on form
er failurelkithat We may watch and pray
against: ainglar dangers But let us not
be Pg... lo 9linikas to, logo k What yet remains,
whila,poriqg
,over what is gone forever.
Rouse thee, self-reproaching,
.desponding
sinner,! Thyculitihak baem yg r ea t, but thou
cant not leeeen .-byneral regretting it. Bringit_tpto to Chr st,Oat h may pardon You cannot atone'_for
the but you
past,
may ; 'improve :the present.,
,Often in by
gone years you might have' sought God in
an "accepted awl have rejoiced in a
",day of Pfilvatign." great is Your guilt and
gTPat Y our,f olly - inUyipg.tost such oppor
tunitieg" ' Yes, 1411.441 / -o f= *in, and be asham
ed,. Think of thisard mourn But so think
of it ae.e9t, 'LP add to'- that guilt- and folly.
8 ° t l iii ;k 9 f it AS on c e on the _Di
vine _word, " Bobo* /fo is the accepted
tune_ ; . behold, Now tke:day.a salvation."
FEMALE` TlLutvatui.lt customary in
some parish churches for - Menlo be placed
on one side, and the, women on the other.
A clergyman, in tie mist" his sermon.
fo,tqld hime,cit 4 1 44 71 . 1 PtecL i by the talking of
Of the dongtiOtion--of ivickich he wa'
obliged to take' a otioei' - j4V-4 , itoman imme
diately rose,t_nsly , Lu":ulear her own
seX;4:9l9,thil. *aPetrisionytitidt • •”Dbserve, at
igao ) , Y (Pu i r, r e WeriP,Ekt 4,1.1 mgt on our side."
"80 tuuelkhe bettpr,xoomcoman so much
the better, "
, apeivered Alte clergy m an; " 4
will be the sooner iiiti."=rhe Jest Book.