Slit familtf fetle.
'TO-DAY I MUST ABIDE AT THY HOUSE.”
Yen, enter in, tliou gracious Guest,
Lowly ami poor my home ;
Yet where Thy welcome footsteps rest,
Biehes and beauty come.
Fairer than sheen of palace walls,
The radiance of Thy presence falls.
For Thee my humble board I spread;
Scanty and mean my fare;
But where Thy smiled of love are shed,
Are viands rich and rare.
My bread becomes as manna fine,
And water turns to choicest wine.
No treasure rare and strange have I,
My peerless Guest to show ;
Yet purest pearls around me lie,
And priceless jewels glow:
Entranced, I view the wondrous store
That entered with Thee at my door.
I scarce may dare, with speech of mine
Thy answering words to win,
But when my glance is raised to Thine,
Thou readest all within ;
And strains flow forth so pure and sweet,
I sit in rapture at Thy feet.
How can I hope to please my Guest?
To serve is all I try ;
Yet when, to do some mild behest,
On eager wing I fly,
And haste again to meet Thy smile,
How radiant has it grown the while!
Happy, indeed, the roof wherein
My Lord this day doth rest,
More happy, if it might but win
Him for a constant guest.
Lord, in the heart I open wide,
Enter, and evermore abide.
WHAT A LITTLE BOY CAN DO.
“ I wish, I wish, I wish,” said a little boy,
who awoke early one morning, and lay in
bed thinking. “I wish I was grown up, so
as to do some good. If I was governor, I
would make some good laws; or I would be
a Missionary; or I would get rich, and give
away so much to poor people; but I am
only a little boy, and it will take me plenty
of years to grow up.” And so, was he go
ing to put off doing good till then ? “ Well,”
he said to himself while he was dressing, “ I
know what I can do. I can be good ; that
is left to little boys.” Therefore, when he
was dressed, he knelt and asked (rod to help
him to be good, and try to serve Him all day
with all his heart, and not forget. Then
he went down stairs to finish his sums.
No sooner was he seated with his clean
slate before him, than his mother called him
to run into the wood-house and find his lit
tle brother. He did not want to leave his
lesson, yet he cheerfully said, “ I’ll go,
mother and away he ran. And how do
you think he found his brother. With a
sharp axe in his hand. “ I chop, ’he said ;
and quite likely the next, moment he would
have chopped off his little toes. The little
boy only thought of minding his mother;
but who can tell if his ready obedience did
not save his baby brother from being a crip
ple for life?:
As he was going on an errand for his
mother, he saw a poor woman, whose foot
had slipped on the newly-made ice, and she
fell; and in falling she had spilled her bag
of beans, and basket of apples, and some
little boys were snatching up her apples and
running off with them. The little boy stop
ped and said, “Let me help you pick up
your beans and apples; and his nimble
fingers quickly helped her out of her mishap.
HiTonly thought of being kind; he did not
know how his kind act comforted the poor
woman long after she got home, and how
she prayed to God to bless him.
At dinner, as his father and mother were
talking, his father said roughly, “I shall
not do°anything for that man’s sonthe old
man always did his best to injure me.” “But 1 ,
father,” said the boy, looking into his father’s
face, “ does not the Bible say we must re
turn good for evil ?” The little boy did not
know that his father thought of what his son
had said all the afternoon, and said within
himself, “My boy is more of a Christian
than I am: I must be a better man.”
When he came home from school at night,
lie went to the cage and found his dear
canary-bird dead. “Oh, mother! and I
tended birdie so, and I loved him so, and he
sang so sweetly;” and the little boy burst
into tears over his poor favorite. “Who
gave birdie’s life, and who took it again
asked his mother, stroking his head. “ God,”
he answered through his tears, “ and He
knows best;” and he tried to hush himself.
A lady satin a dark corner in the room.
She had lost her two children ; and though
she hoped they had gone to the heavenly
land, she would rather have had her little
sons back again. But when she beheld the
little boy’s patience and submission to his
Father in heaven, she said, “ I too will trust
Him, like this little child.” Her heart was
touched, and she went home with a little
spring of healing gushing up there, and
she became henceforth a better mother to
the children yet left to her.
. f When the little boy laid his head on his
pillow, that night, he thought, “ I am too
small.’ to do. any gqod ; but oh, I do want to
be gvod, and to love the. Saviour, Who ’ came
down from heaven to die.for .me. Ido
waut to become one of 'the heavenly Father’s
dear children.” ... : ... ; ;-•
The heavenly Father s children:are.some
times called children , oft .light;
not seem as jf beards of light-shone'-from
this little child, warning, blessing /every
body that came in his way? Who will say
he did not do good.
— Zion's l Herald.
THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN THURSDAY, APRIL 16, 1868.
" YOU CANNOT STRAIGHTEN IT, SIR !”
liowis Brown had very kind parents, who
desired to set him a good example. They
endeavored to instruct their little son ac
cording to God’s word. Instead, however,
ot' profiting by the lessons he received, he
frequently caused his parents much unhap
piness by his naughty conduct. He was I
idle and disobedient, did not always speak
the truth, and on several occasions took
what was not his own. ...
One day Mrs. Brown made a cake, which
she put away in the cupboard, the key of
which she kept in her work-basket. Lewis
saw the cake, and it looked very tempting
to him. In his heart be coveted it.
Mrs. Brown shortly afterwards went out
to see a neighbor, and Lewis thought he
would try to open the cupboard, so he slyly
took the key from his mother’s basket, and
crept softly into the dining-room, opened
the door of the cupboard, and there found
the plate of cake. He took two pieces; one
of which he ate, and the other he put in his
pocket.
He then placed the pieces so as to make
the plate look as though it had not been dis
turbed, very carefully locked the door again,
brushed up the crumbs, and then put the
key where he found it.
Ah, naughty and foolish lad 1 He thought,
“ It will never be found out;” but he was
sadly mistaken. Sooner or later such
wicked children aye found out. But even
if their earthly parents should never dis
cover the thefts, God knows all about them,
and he has said, “ Be sure your sin will find
you out.” *
After dinner Lewis was taking a drink
at the table, when some of the water fell
upon his clothes. He. suddenly pulled out
his pocket-handkerchief to wipe it off, when
some large crumbs of cake fell upon the
carpet. His little sister, about a. year and
a half old, picked Up one of them, and called
out, “ tate! tate!” for she could not speak
plain enough to say cake. This led Mrs.
Brown to examine into the matter, and in
stantly Lewis was found out. His father
and mother, were much shocked and grieved.
They saw that Lewis was forming very wick
ed habits, and they prayed that God would
teach them what was best to he done with
their naughty Child. He was, of course,
severely punished for taking the cake ; but
his father was very anxious to impress oh
his mind the danger of forming sinful habits,
which would grow with his growth, and
strengthen with his strength, until they
would bind him, as with iron chains. At
last he thought of a plan by which he
hoped, under the Divine blessing, to teach
his son this important lesson. .
In the orchard, not far from Mr. Brown’s
house, there was a young tree, so very
crooked, that he had .determined more than
once to cut it down. Close by were some
young trees, which were remarkable for
their straight and beautitul appearance.
Mr. Brown directed bis men to take an axe,
with some stakes and ropes, and go down
into - the orchard, to see if they could hot
straighten the crooked tree. He told Peter,
the gardener, to ,go down at the same time,
and put some more fastenings upon the
pear-trees. His object in all this was to
teach Lewis a lesson.
After they had been gone a short time,
Mr. Brown saw Lewis running from the
barn to the house, and he called to him—
“ Come Lewis, my boy, lot us -go down to
the orchard, and see how Peter and the
men get on'with their work ; we shall have
time enough before school begins.”
When they arrived at the orchard, they
first saw Peter tying cords around the
pear-trees; and fastening them to the
stakes, which were driven into the ground
by the side of the trees. It seems that
when they were little trees, they were
fastened in this way near the ground, to I
keep them straight. As the trees grew I
up they were fastened in the same way,
higher and higher, till, by-and-by, they were
strong and firm enough to need no such se
curity. Some of them were so much inclined
to grow crooked, that they had to put three
stakes down, and fasten them on all sides,
beginning early, and keeping a con
stant watch, even these were kept straight.
“These’p.ear-trees seem to be doing well,
sir,” said Peter: “we have to train them up
pretty close to the stakes; butit is the only
way, sir. They .Must be taken near the
ground, when a. bit will hold them,
and be followed up when- they get out of
reach. It is the only way, siri”
They went on a little further, there
were the men at work on the
They had a long stake on this side, and a.
short one on that: here a rope, and there
another; but all to no purpese. Indeed, they
were surprised to think that Mr. Brown
should send them to do such a piece of
work.
When Lewis and his father came to the
crooked tree, one of the men was just say
ing to the other, “ It will never do; you can’t
straighten it, and so you may as well let it
alone.”
“ Ah!” said Mr. Brown, “do you give it
up? Can’t you brace it up on one side, and
then on the other?”
“Oh no, sir,” said one of the men, “it’s
too late to make anything of it. All the
rigging of the navy could not make that
tree straight.”
“I see it,” said Mr. Brown, and yet a
bit of twine applied in season, would have
made it as straight as those pear-trees,
yonder. Well, men, you can go to your
mowing.”
“I did not expect them to do any thing
with that .tree, my son,” said Mr. Brown,
turning to his little boy, ; “ but I wanted to
teach you a lesson. You aro now a little'
twig. Your mother and I want you to be-:
■Come a straight, tall; and-useful,-tree...: t ;Qur
commands, and. prohibitions are the. little
cords of twine, that we tie around you to
gird you up. I Prisons, and Penitentiaries
are’the ropes and chains upon crooked-trees,
which were not guided wisely when'they 1
Were twigs. We see that you are disposed
to grow crooked. If you arenotkept straight
now, you certainly will not be likely to grow
straight by-and-by. If you form evil habits
now, they will become stronger and stronger,
till nothing can break them. If, while you
are a green and tender sprout, we cannot
guide you, we surely cannot expect to do
it when you become a strong and stubby tree.
But if we do all we can to guide you in the
right way now, we may hope for God’s
blessing upon our labors, and that He will,
for Christ’s sake, keep you from the evil
that is in the world, and make you a wise,
useful, and happy man.”
THE DYING- HOURS OF BUNSEN.
One of the most learned men of modern
times was Bunsen, a great author and Prus
sian Ambassador to England. In the Chris
tian Register we find this interesting sketch:
His sufferings were severe, but his faith
and courage were not shaken. He wished to
live longer, with the view of’completing his
literary ; works. When his physician told
him definitely, that his life was so near to
a close, and that all his plans and arrange
ments and hopes in this world must be
abandoned- he arose from his seat, and ut
tered the following words :—“ O. God, into
thy hand I commend my spirit.” He called
his dear ones and revealed to them his feel
ings. He spoke of his wife in the most en
dearing terms, a'nd gave to his Children, one
after the other, his parting blessing. He
prayed with a solemn voice, “ O God, bless
my friends and my dear native land.” With
thankful recognition he mentioned, his dear
and faithful friend Niebuhr, who first intro
duced him into public life, and remained
true to him to the end. He addressed his
faithful servant, who nursed him with self
denial and tender attachment, and thanked
him heartily. Then he spoke of his past
public Career; how frequently he-manifested
his infirmities; but he indicated his future
hopes also.
“The richest experience of. my life has
been the knowledge of Christ. What love
and benevolence towards humanity I leave
this world; I bear no malice in my heart
towards any one.”'
“0, what bliss it is to look down from
that eminence on our past life. Here on
earth our path is frequently obscure; but
upward it grows brighter, continually
brighter. I am already in thy kingdom,
Lord, of which, previously, I have had a
mere foretaste only.” .
„ “ How beautiful are thy mansions, O my
God When be spoke these wprds his
face was radiant with heavenly glory.
The uncommon lustre of the setting sun
drew his attention. Taking a glimpse
through the window, he said, “O, how
beautiful! The love,of God shines through
all things.” . Then he turned to those pres
ent, and said, “ God bless you forever ! my
end is nigh, and I have an ardent longing to
'depart'; let us depart in Christ. God is
love and desiring to give love. Christus
\ recognoscitur; Christus est; est Christus
\ victor. To live for Him, is. to conquer.
There is no death in God; I see Christ, and
through Him I see God. Christ sees us, and
He must become all in all. I die in peace
with all humanity.”
These words he uttered alternately in
English, French, Latin and German. “Those
who live in Christ, in the love of Christ are
His, but those who live not in the love of
Christ are none of His.”
“ Clearly do I see that we are all sinners,
we have nothing if we have not Christ in
God. We have life only so far as we live
in God. Sinners as we are, in God we have
eternal life. Christ is the Son of God, and
we are only so far the children of God,
as the spirit of the love of Christ dwells
within us.” These were the last words of
Bunsen. He died on the 28th day of No
vember, 1860. ■ >. ’
FLYING FROM THE DRAGOONS.
Few of the stories of the persecutions in
Scotland are told with the picturesque sim
plicity which characterizes the following
from the “Memoirs of Bev. John Black
ader.” Mr. Blackader a minister of God’s
word in the kirk of Scotland, had been ob
liged to fly from his home for the offence of
preaching the Gospel to those, who could
not conscientiously attend the services of
the Episcopalian and “ Indulged” ministers.,
Edinburgh seemed to offer the likeliest
opportunity for privacy arid concealment,
although it was forbidden to reside in that
,or any other town in the kingdom. Having
secured his books and papers, he set out
with his wife, leaving, the children, three
:sons. daughter, under the care of a
nurse and a servant.
The very day of his departure Turner
had orders from ithe'Bishop of-Galloway to
apprehend him. His second son, then,a boy
of ten years old, gives the'follo wing minute
but artless narrative ibf what passed:
“ About this time (the end of winter 1666),
Turner and a party of soldiers from Gallo
way, came to search for my father, who
had gone tb Edinburgh, to seek about, where
he might live in safety. These rascally
ruffians beset our house around, about two
o’clock in the morning; then gave the cry,
1 1) d Whigs, open the door.’ Upon
which we all got up, young and old, except
ing my sister, with the nurse and the child
at her breast (now Colonel Blackader, de
puty-governor of Stirling Castle). When
they came in, the fire was gone out: they
roared out again, ‘Light a candle imme
diately, and, on with a fire quickly, or else
we’ll roast nurse and bairn and all in the
Lfii;e, and, ,make a braw bleezp.’ When the
candle was i lighted, they drew out their
swords, .and ,;went tq fhe. spools and chairs,
■arid r clove :them: down,' >to make; the jfire
witlialq:an' , d%'fi§^-Bf^Se‘ : caddie,.
and fearing
every momeht''to -be--thrown quick into the,
rfi're. - Th'ehTbey vieni td iedrch- the' House
for my father, running their swords down
thiongh the beds and bed-clothes; and
amoii" the rest they came where my Bister
was, then a child, and as yet last asleep,
and with their swords stabbed down through
the bed where she was lying, crying, ‘ Come
out, rebel dog !’ They made narrow search
for him in all corners of the house, ransack
ing presses, chests, and flesh-stands. Then
they went and threw down all his books
from the press upon the floor, and caused
poor me to hold the candle all this while,
till he had examined his books; and all they
thought Whiggiah, as they termed it (and
brave judges they were !) they put into a
great horse-creel, and took away (among
which were a numher of written sermons,
and some printed pamphlets). Then they
ordered one of their fellow-ruffians to climb
up to the hen balks, where the cocks and
hens were; and as they came toione; threw
about its neck, and then .down to the floor
wi’t; and so on till they bad destroyed
them all Then they went to the meat
ambry, and took out what' was there ; then
to the meal and beef barrels, and left little
or nothing there. All this I was an eye
witness to, trembling and shivering' all the
while, having nothing blit my short shirt
upon me. So soon as I was relieved of my
office, I began to think, if possible, of mak
ing my escape, rather than ,to be, burned
quick, as I thought, and they threatened.
I goes to the door, where there was a sentry
on every side, standing with their swords
drawn; for watches were set round to pre
vent escape. I approached hearer and
nearer, by small degrees, making 1 as if I
were playing myself. At last, ! get out
there, making still as if I were playing, till
I came to tke gate of the house; then, with
all the little speed I had (looking behind
me now and then, to see if they were pur
suing after me), I ran the length'of half a
mile in the dark-night, naked to-.the shirt.
I got to a neighboring town, called Brigend
of Mennihyvie; where, thinking to creep
into some house to save my life, I found
all the doors shut, and the people sleeping.
Upon which I went to the cross of the
town, and got up to'the uppermost step of
it ; and there I sat me down, and fell fast
asleep till the morning. Between five and
six a door opens, and an old woman comes
out; and seeing a white thing upon the
cross comes near it; and when she found it
was a boy, cries out, ‘ Save us! —what
art thou?” With that I awaked, and an
swered her, ‘I am Mr. Blackader’s son.’ 1 O
my puir bairn! what brought thee here?’ I
answers, ‘ There’s a hanile of fearful men,
with red coats, have, burnt all our house,
my brother, and sister, and all the family.’
‘ O puir thing,’ says she, ‘ come in and lie
down in my warm bed:’ which I did; and
it was the sweetest bed that I ever met
with.” '! r.
After this his whole family was dispersed
over the country and forced to lead a wan
dering homeless life, imploring shelter
wherever charity was brave enough to offer
them protection. From the, severe, act
against 1 ' 1 Contributions,’’it was hazardous
and illegal to give them relief; and many
who had the inclination, wanted the courage
to do it* as they were thereby exposing
themselves to ruinous fines, or corporal
punishment. ' j : ■ 1
;j : THE MOTHEE’S ERAYEE.
With eager arms a mother pressed
A laughing babe against her breast.
Then thus to heaven she cried in prayer
“ Now even as his face is fair,
“OLordl. keep thou iiissoul within
As free from any spot of sin.”
From heaven the Lord ah' answer made—
“ Behold ! I grant as thou hast prayed.”
Within her door the darkness crept,
And babe and mother sweetly slept.
From belfry rang the midnight bell;
The watchman answered, “AH is well !”
*
The mother, by the cradle side, '
Awoke to find the child had died.
With grief to set a woman wild,
She caught and clasped the marble child, —
Until her heart against his own
Was broken, beating on a stone!
“0 God!” she cried in her despair,
“ Why hast Th ou mocked a mother's prayer ?”
Then answered He. “ As I have willed,
Thy prayer, 0 woman, is fulfilled 1
“If on the earth thy child remain,
. His soul shall gather many a stain 5
“ At thy behest, I stretch My hand
And take him to the heavenly land!”
The mother heard and bowed her head;
And laid her cheek against the dead,
And cried, “ Q God 1 I dare not pray—
Thou answerest in so strange a way.”
In shadow of a taper’s light,
She moaned through all the livelong night;
But when the morning brought the sun,
She prayed, “Thy will, 0 God, be done!”
—Theodore Tilim.
RIOHARD WEAVER'S STYLE.
The following is given as. a specimen of
the style of preaching of Richard .Reaver,
the popular lay preacher of Great Britain :
Now, this woman that lost her piece of
silver, wasn’t it just najtural that she should
think., more of that one than of the other
nine she had got safe in her purse? And
wasn’t it just natural that the man .should
care more about his lost sheep than about
the ninety-nine that hadn’t strayed away ?
Here’s, a farmer, owns , a hundred sheep.
Well, at night he county ’em and he makes
one short. He goes over them again ; per
haps hg;g. s wrong.. No, it’s only
agWb ; .,He gpea r > i^ ? to his wife,
Js,fijt,tipg. ,by th p ikitQpjßp * waiting,
biU to ’ thebe/s-one-gone.
one-gone. Poor thing, Re' musi.iTTava got
over the wall. (Ah! the devil’s always
ready to help a poor sheep of Christ over
the wall.) He starts in search of him. By
and-by he sees the foot-marks,—ah, yonder
he is I But now be has to mind where he
treads; he has to make a spring now and
then over some boggy place, and the land is
all sopping wet. But he sees the track of
the wanderer, and now he hears “ Ba-a, ’ and
the great, soft eyes of the creature stare up
at him from a quagmire, as if to say, “ O,
master, help me out.” He takes him and
puts him over his shoulder, and the black
mud drips down his jacket; but he doesn’t
mind that. At last he comes to the brook
that shirts his orchard, and then be washes
all the filth away; and the poor thing trots
into the fold with such a happy bleat, as if
to say, “ Thank you, sir.” How, that’s how
Jesus fetches back His wanderer. Only he
doesn’t put him across His shoulders; He
puts him into His bosom, and then He takes
and washes him in the fountain filled with
His own precious blood. That’s what He
did for me eight years ago.
“Oh! happy day,
When Jesus washed my sins away.”
And that’s what He is ready to do for you
Hallelujah T ■ He lean save to-night.
LIBKS m tee chain.
The blast, that storm clouds
across the heaveDS shookithe oak, and the
aeorn-cup, ; ' loosened from its fruit, fell on
the pathway.
The cloud burst; and a rain-drop filled
the acorn-cup.
A. robin, wearied by the sultry heat of an
autumn day, and troubled by the fury of
the storm, hopped on the path, where all
was calm, and drank of the rain-drop. Re
freshed and gladdened; he flew to bis accus
tomed plaCh in the nvy that overhung the
poet’s window,..and there he trilled his
sweetest, happiest song.
The poet.heard, and raised from his rev
erie, wrote a chant of grateful rejoicing.
The chant went forth into the world, and
entered the house of sorrow and uttered its
heart stirring accents by the couch of sick
ness. The sorrowful were comforted, the
sick were cheered.
Many .voices praised the poet. He said :
“The chant was inspired by the robin’s
song.”
The robin said: “My song would have
stuck fast in my dry throat, but for the
rain-drop.”
“ I should have sunk into the earth had
not the acorn-cup received me,” said the
rain-drop.”
“ I had not been there to receive you, hut
for the angry blast,” said the acorn-cup.
And so they that were comforted praised
the blast; but the blast replied : “ Praise
Him at whose word the storm ariseth, and
who from darkness can bring light, making
his mercies oftentimes to pass through un
seen, and unsuspected channels, and bring
ing in due time, by His own way, thegrate
ful chant from the angry BtOrm-cloud.”
OBIGIN OF DOUBT.
A great part of the doubt in the world
comes from the fact that there are in it so
many more of the impressible as compared
with the originating minds. Where the
openness to impression is balanced by the
power of production, the painful questions
of the world are speedily met by their an
swers ; where such is hot the case, there are
often long periods of suffering till the child
answers of truth is brought tb the ; birth.
Hence the need for every impressible mind
to be, by reading or speech, held in living
association with an original mind able to
combat those suggestions of doubt and even
unbelief, which the look of things must
often occasion—a. look which comes from
our inability to gain but fragmentary vis
ions of the work that the Father, worketh
hitherto. When the kingdom of heaven is
at hand, one sign thereof will be that all
clergymen will be more or less of the latter
sort, and mere receptive goodness, no more
than education and moral character, will be
considered sufficient reason for a. man’s oc
cupying the high position of an instructor
of his fellows. But even now this posses
sion of original power is not by any means
to be limited to those who make public
show of the same. In many a humble
parish priest, it shows itself at the bedside
of the suffering, or in the admonition of .the
closet, although as yet there are many of
the clergy who, so far from being able to
console wisely, are incapable of under
standing the condition of those that need
consolation. — Geo. MacDonald.
A TEW WORDS TO A PATHEE.
Take your son for a companion whenever
you conveniently can; it will relieve the
already over-burdened anxious mother of
so much care. It will gratify the boy; it
will please the mother; it certainly ought
to be a pleasure (to you. What mother’s
eye would not brighten, when her child is
fondly cared for? And when his eye
kindles, his heart beats, and his tongue
prattles faster and faster with the idea “of
going; with father',” does she not share her
little boy’s happiness, and is not her love
deepened by her husband’s consideration,
so just, and yet too often so extraordinary ?
It will keep him and you out of places,
society, and temptation into which separ
ately you might enter. It will establish
confidence, sympathy, esteem, and love be
tween you. It will give you abundant and
very favorable opportunities to impart in
struction, to infuse and cultivate noble prin
ciples, and to developand strengthen a true
manhood. It will enable him to “ see the
world,” and to enjoy a Certain liberty which
may prevent that future -licentiousness
.which so often results’from a sudden free
dom from long retraiht.
Let God steer for you jin.fa. storm- He
loves to be trusted.