{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_60138/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_60138","id":"gutenberg_60138","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/60138","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Category: Short Stories","Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction","Children's stories","Christian life -- Juvenile fiction","Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction","Sunday school literature"],"text":"Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this\n      file which includes the original illustrations.\n      See 60138-h.htm or 60138-h.zip:\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/60138/pg60138-images.html)\n      or\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/files/60138/60138-h.zip)\n\n\n      Images of the original pages are available through\n      Internet Archive. See\n      https://archive.org/details/edithherayahothe00aloe\n\n\n\n\n\nEDITH AND HER AYAH,\n\nAnd Other Stories.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n[Illustration: A \u00b7 L \u00b7 O \u00b7 E\n\nEDITH and her AYAH\n\nAND OTHER STORIES\n\nT. NELSON AND SONS. LONDON, EDINBURGH AND NEW YORK.]\n\n\n[Illustration: WHATSOEVER A MAN SOWETH THAT SHALL HE ALSO REAP]\n\n\nEDITH AND HER AYAH,\nAND OTHER STORIES.\n\nby\n\nA. L. O. E.\n\nAuthor of \u201cExiles in Babylon,\u201d \u201cTriumph over Midian,\u201d\n\u201cThe Young Pilgrim,\u201d etc.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLondon:\nT. Nelson and Sons, Paternoster Row;\nEdinburgh; and New York.\n1872.\n\n\n\n\nContents.\n\n\n       I. EDITH AND HER AYAH,                    7\n\n      II. THE BUTTERFLY,                        20\n\n     III. THE PENITENT,                         29\n\n      IV. THE REPROOF,                          37\n\n       V. THE VASE AND THE DART,                40\n\n      VI. THE JEWEL,                            49\n\n     VII. THE STORM,                            57\n\n    VIII. THE SABBATH-TREE,                     65\n\n      IX. THE WHITE ROBE,                       76\n\n       X. CROSSES,                              84\n\n      XI. THE TWO COUNTRIES,                    93\n\n     XII. DO YOU LOVE GOD?                     102\n\n    XIII. THE IMPERFECT COPY,                  106\n\n     XIV. A STORY OF THE CRIMEA,               112\n\n      XV. \u201cI HAVE A HOME, A HAPPY HOME,\u201d       119\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: BLESSINGS ARE UPON THE HEAD OF THE JUST. PROV. 10:6]\n\n\n\n\nI.\n\nEDITH AND HER AYAH.\n\n\n\u201cMamma,\u201d said little Edith, looking up from the toys with which she was\nplaying at the feet of her mother\u2014\u201cmamma, why does Motee Ayah never come\nin to prayers?\u201d\n\nMrs. Tuller was seated at her desk in the large room of her bungalow\n(house) in India. The day was hot; the blazing sun shone with fiery\nglare; but the light came into the room so much softened by green blinds\nand half-closed shutters, that the place was so dark that the lady could\nscarcely see to write. The punkah, a kind of huge fan, moving gently\nto and fro above her, made a refreshing air which would have sent her\npapers fluttering in every direction had not weights been placed to keep\nthem down.\n\nMrs. Tuller paused in her writing, but did not reply to the question\nasked by her child regarding her ayah, or native nurse.\n\n\u201cMamma,\u201d said little Edith again, \u201cdoes not Motee Ayah love the Lord\nJesus?\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas, my child, she does not know him!\u201d\n\n\u201cBut will you not teach her, mamma?\u201d and the fair-haired girl looked up\nin her mother\u2019s face with such a pleading look in her soft gray eyes,\nthat, touched by her interest in the poor heathen, Mrs. Tuller bent down,\nkissed fondly the brow of her child, and whispered, \u201cMy love, I will try.\u201d\n\nNor did Mrs. Tuller forget her promise. Again and again she spoke to\nMotee of the Christian\u2019s faith and the Christian\u2019s God. It saddened\nthe heart of the lady to feel that to seek to teach Motee religion\nwas like trying to write upon water. The ayah joined her dark hands\ntogether, listened, or seemed to listen, said, \u201cVery good, very good,\u201d to\neverything that the beebee (lady) told her, but always returned to her\nidol, a hideous little wooden image, and performed her poojah (worship)\nto Vishnu, as if she had never heard of a purer religion. Mrs. Tuller\ngrew quite disheartened about her. Sometimes the lady blamed her own\nimperfect knowledge of the language, and sometimes she felt almost angry\nwith the ayah for her blindness and hardness of heart.\n\n[Illustration: TEACHING THE AYAH.]\n\nPoor Motee had been brought up from infancy amongst idolaters; she had\nnever been taught truth when a child, and now error bound her like a\nchain. Motee had actually been led to think it honourable to her family\nthat, many years before, there had been a suttee in it; that is to say,\na poor young widow had burnt herself with the dead body of her husband.\nHappily, our Government has forbidden suttees\u2014no widow can thus be burnt\nnow; but still the cruel heathen religion hurts the bodies as well as\nthe souls of the Queen\u2019s dark subjects in India. Motee\u2019s own father had\ndied on a pilgrimage to what he believed to be a holy shrine. Travelling\non foot for hundreds of miles under a burning sun, the poor idolater\u2019s\nstrength had given way, and he had laid himself down by the roadside,\nsick, faint, and alone, to die far away from his home. Poor Motee had\nnever reflected that the religion which had thus cost the lives of two\nof her family could not be a religion of heavenly love. She worshipped\nVishnu, for she knew no better; and when her lady spoke to her of the\nLord, the ayah only said to herself, that the God of the English was not\nthe God of the Hindu, and that she herself must do what all her fathers\nhad done.\n\nMrs. Tuller\u2019s _words_ had little power, but her _example_ and that of her\nhusband were not without some effect upon the ignorant ayah. Motee knew\nthat the sahib (master) who prayed with his family, never used bad words,\nnor was unkind to his wife, nor beat his servants, nor took bribes. Motee\nknew that the beebee who read her Bible was gentle, generous, and kind.\nThe ayah could not but respect the religion whose fruits she saw in the\nlives of her master and mistress.\n\nBut it was not only the lady\u2019s words and the lady\u2019s example that were\nused as means to draw the poor Hindu to God. Little Edith had never heard\nthe beautiful saying, that \u201cthe nearest road to any heart is through\nheaven,\u201d and she would not have known its meaning if she had heard it,\nbut the English child had been taught that the Saviour listens to prayer.\nEvery night and morning Edith, at her mother\u2019s knee, repeated the few\nsimple words, \u201cLord Jesus, teach me to love thee!\u201d and now, of her own\naccord, she added another short prayer. Mrs. Tuller caught the soft\nwhispered words from the lips of her darling, \u201cLord Jesus, teach poor\nMotee Ayah to love thee!\u201d The mother took no outward notice, but from her\nheart she added \u201cAmen\u201d to the prayer of her child.\n\nThe hot season passed away; the time had come when Mr. Tuller and his\nfamily could enjoy what is called \u201ccamp life,\u201d and move from place to\nplace, living not in a house but a tent. The change was pleasant to the\nparty, most of all to little Edith. She delighted in running about and\nplaying with the goats, pulling the ropes, watching the black servants\ntaking down the tents, or in riding on her little white pony. Edith\u2019s\ncheeks, which during the hot weather had grown quite thin and pale,\nbecame plump and rosy once more; and merry was the sound of her childish\nvoice as she gambolled in and out of the tent.\n\nOne day, as Edith was playing outside, near the edge of a jungle or\nthicket, her attention was attracted by a beautiful little fawn, that\nseemed almost too young to run about, and which stood timidly gazing at\nthe child with its soft dark eyes.\n\n\u201cPretty creature, come here,\u201d cried Edith, beckoning with her small white\nhand; \u201chave you lost your mother, little fawn? Come and share my milk and\nbread,\u2014come, and I will make you my pet, and love you so much, pretty\nfawn!\u201d\n\nAs all her coaxing could not lure the timid creature to her side, Edith\nadvanced towards it. The fawn started back with a frightened look, and\nfled into the jungle as fast as its weak, slender limbs could bear it.\n\nThe merry child gave chase, following the fawn, and calling to it as she\nran, pushing her way as well as she could between the tall reeds and\ngrass, which were higher than her own curly head.\n\nMotee soon missed her charge, and quickly hurried after Edith. So eager,\nhowever, was the child in pursuit of the fawn, that she was some distance\nfrom the tents before the ayah overtook her.\n\n\u201cO Missee Baba,\u201d cried the panting nurse, \u201cwhy you run away from your\nMotee?\u201d\n\n\u201cI want to catch the pretty fawn; I want to take it to mamma; it is too\nlittle to be by itself,\u2014I\u2019m afraid the jackals will get it!\u201d\n\n\u201cI am afraid that the jackals will get Missee Baba,\u201d cried the ayah,\ncatching the little girl up in her arms. \u201cMissee must come back to the\nbeebee directly.\u201d\n\nEdith was a good little child, and made no resistance, though she looked\nwistfully into the bushes after the fawn, and called out to it again and\nagain in hopes of luring it back. Motee attempted to return to the tents,\nbut did not feel sure of the way,\u2014the vegetation around grew so high that\nshe could scarcely see two yards before her. She walked some steps with\nEdith in her arms, then stopped and looked round with a frightened air.\n\n\u201cMotee, why don\u2019t you go on?\u201d asked Edith.\n\n\u201cO Missee Baba, we\u2019re lost!\u201d cried the poor Hindu; \u201clost here in the\ndreadful jungle, full of wild beasts and snakes!\u201d\n\nEdith stared at her ayah in alarm, yet at that moment the little child\nremembered her mother\u2019s lessons. \u201cDon\u2019t be so frightened, Motee,\u201d said\nthe fair-haired English girl; \u201cthe Lord Jesus can save us, and show us\nthe way to mamma.\u201d\n\nThere was comfort in that thought, which the poor heathen could not\nhave drawn from calling on Vishnu and the thousand false gods which the\nignorant Hindus adore. The little child could feel, as the woman could\nnot, that even in that lonely jungle a great and a loving Friend was\nbeside her!\n\nAgain Motee tried to find her way, again she paused in alarm. What was\nthat dreadful sound, like a growl, that startled the ayah, and made her\nsink on her knees in terror, clasping all the closer the little girl in\nher arms! Motee and Edith both turned to gaze in the direction from which\nthat dreadful sound had proceeded. What was their horror on beholding the\nstriped head of a Bengal tiger above the waving grass! Motee uttered a\nterrified scream,\u2014Edith a cry to the Lord to save her. It seemed like the\ninstant answer to that cry when the sharp report of a rifle rang through\nthe thicket, quickly succeeded by a second; and the wild beast, mortally\nwounded, lay rolling and struggling on the earth! Edith saw nothing of\nwhat followed; the shock had been too great for the child; senseless with\nterror she lay in the arms of her trembling ayah!\n\nEdith\u2019s father, for it was he whom Providence had sent to the rescue,\nbore his little darling back to the tent, leaving his servants, who had\nfollowed his steps, to bring in the spoils of the tiger. It was some time\nbefore Edith recovered her senses, and then an attack of fever ensued.\nMrs. Tuller nursed her daughter with fondest care, and with scarcely less\ntenderness and love the faithful Motee tended the child. The poor ayah\nwould have given her life to save that of her little charge.\n\nOn the third night after that terrible adventure in the woods came the\ncrisis of the fever. Mrs. Tuller, worn out by two sleepless nights, had\nbeen persuaded to go to rest, and let Motee take her turn of watching\nbeside the child. The tent was nearly dark,\u2014but one light burned\nwithin it,\u2014Edith lay in shadow,\u2014the ayah could not see her face,\u2014a\nterror came over the Hindu,\u2014all was so still, she could not hear any\nbreathing,\u2014could Missee Baba be dead! Motee during two anxious days had\nprayed to all the false gods that she could think of to make Missee Edith\nwell; but the fever had not decreased. Now, in the silence of the night,\npoor Motee Ayah bethought her of the English girl\u2019s words in the jungle.\nLittle Edith had said that the Lord could save them,\u2014and had he not saved\nfrom the jaws of the savage tiger? Could he not help them now? The Hindu\nknelt beside the charpoy (pallet) on which lay the fair-haired child,\nput her brown palms together, bowed her head, and for the first time in\nher life breathed a prayer to the Christian\u2019s God: \u201cLord Jesus, save\nMissee Baba!\u201d\n\n[Illustration: THE AYAH PRAYING.]\n\n\u201cO Motee! Motee!\u201d cried little Edith, starting up from the pillow with\na cry of delight, and flinging her white arms round the neck of the\nastonished Hindu, \u201cthe Lord has made you love him,\u2014I knew he would,\u2014for\nI prayed so hard. And oh, how I love you, Motee\u2014more than ever I did\nbefore!\u201d The curly head nestled on the bosom of the ayah, and her dark\nskin was wet with the little child\u2019s tears of joy.\n\nEdith, a few minutes before, had awoke refreshed from a long sleep,\nduring which her fever had passed away. And from that hour her recovery\nwas speedy; before many days were over the child was again sporting about\nin innocent glee. And from that night the ayah never prayed to an idol\nagain. Willing she now was to listen to all that the beebee could tell\nof a great and merciful Lord. Of the skin of the tiger that the sahib\nhad slain a rug was made, which Edith called her praying-carpet. Upon\nthis, morning and night, the white English girl and her ayah knelt side\nby side, and offered up simple prayers to Him who had saved them from\ndeath. Mrs. Tuller\u2019s words had done less than her example in drawing a\npoor wandering soul to God; but the prayer lisped by her little lamb had\nhad greater effect than either.\n\nOh, if, in our dear land, all the little ones who have no money to give\nto the missionary cause, who have never even seen an idolater, would lift\nup their hands and hearts to the Lord, saying, \u201cTeach the poor heathen to\nlove thee!\u201d how rich a harvest of blessings would be drawn down by such a\nprayer on those who know not the truth, and still sit in darkness and the\nshadow of death!\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: BUY THE TRUTH AND SELL IT NOT. Prov. 23:23.]\n\n\n\n\nII.\n\nTHE BUTTERFLY.\n\n\nA party of boys had been playing in the fields on a sunny afternoon in\nthe bright month of June. They had been chasing a gay butterfly, which,\nin its uncertain flight, had led them over hedge and ditch, till at\nlast the beautiful prize was won, and the brilliant insect remained a\nhelpless prisoner in the hands of its pursuers. Alas, for the butterfly!\nA few moments before so gay and so free, sometimes resting on a blossom,\nthen fluttering up towards the sky, its lovely wings were rudely torn\naway, and it lay quivering in the agonies of death. At this moment Ella\nClaremont, a young lady of the village, approached the party; she had\nseen the chase and its close, and looked with regret on the poor mangled\nbutterfly. \u201cWhy did you not let it live?\u201d said she; \u201cit had never harmed\nyou, and it was so happy. You easily took away its little life,\u201d she\nadded; \u201cbut could any of you, could any power on earth, give that life\nback again?\u201d\n\n[Illustration: A HELPLESS PRISONER.]\n\nThe boys looked one upon another, and were silent, till the eldest of\nthem, Giles, replied, \u201cI am sorry that I killed it, but I did not know\nthat there was any harm.\u201d\n\n\u201cSurely,\u201d said Ella, in a very gentle voice, \u201cin a world where there is\nso much pain, one would be sorry to add, even in the least degree, to\nthe amount of it. There is another feeling,\u201d continued she, \u201cthat should\nmake us merciful to every creature; we should look upon it as one of the\nwonderful works of God.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy,\u201d said Anthony, \u201ca butterfly is only a caterpillar after it has\nwings.\u201d\n\n\u201cTrue; but what human skill could form a caterpillar! It has been\ncalculated that in a single caterpillar there are _sixty thousand\nmuscles_!\u201d\n\nAn exclamation of astonishment burst from the boys.\n\n\u201cThey must be finer than spiders\u2019 threads,\u201d cried Giles.\n\n\u201cI daresay,\u201d replied the lady, \u201cthat you are not aware that each separate\nspider\u2019s thread is said to be formed of about _three thousand_ joined\ntogether.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe world seems full of wonders,\u201d exclaimed little Robert.\n\n\u201cIt is indeed; the more we search into God\u2019s works, the more wisdom and\nskill do we behold.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll not kill a butterfly again,\u201d said Giles.\n\n\u201cI never see one fluttering in the sun,\u201d continued Ella, \u201cwithout\nthinking of those lines:\u2014\n\n    \u2018Thou hast burst from thy prison,\n      Bright child of the air!\n    Like a spirit just risen\n      From its mansion of care!\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cThat sounds very pretty,\u201d said Giles; \u201cbut I don\u2019t understand it.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is not very difficult to explain,\u201d replied Ella. \u201cThe butterfly\nteaches us a joyful lesson; it is what is called a _type_ of immortality!\nYou see the lowly caterpillar crawling over a leaf,\u2014it cannot raise\nitself towards the sky,\u2014it cannot leave the earth; in this it is like\nwhat _we are now_. Then, as you know, it seems to die; it is wrapped up\nin its little covering, and there it lies without motion or feeling\u2014that\nis like what _we must be_.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! I see; when we are in our coffins, dead and buried,\u201d cried Robert.\n\u201cBut the bright butterfly soon bursts from the dark case, and we do not\nrise from our graves.\u201d\n\n\u201c_We shall_,\u201d replied Ella earnestly; \u201c_we all shall rise again_. No\nlonger prisoners bound to earth, no longer creeping on amidst trials\nand sorrows, but free, happy, glorious, shining in the beams of the Sun\nof Righteousness. \u2018For the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be\nraised\u2019 (1 Cor. xv. 52). Why should we fear death\u2014why should we dread\nbeing laid in the cold tomb? When we think of the hope set before us,\nwell may we cry, \u2018O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy\nvictory?\u2019\u201d (1 Cor. xv. 55).\n\nThere was a deep silence for a few moments; nothing was heard but the\nsong of a lark high overhead, as it soared towards the sky.\n\nThen Giles spoke in a tone of awe, \u201cWill _all_ rise again?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, all.\u201d\n\n\u201cWill all rise to be free, and happy, and glorious?\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas, no!\u201d replied Ella.\n\n\u201cHow can we tell,\u201d continued the boy, after a little hesitation,\n\u201cwhether _we_ shall be among the happy ones?\u201d\n\n\u201cThere will be but two classes then,\u201d said Ella, \u201cas there are but two\nclasses amongst those called Christians now. We may divide all who have\nheard of a Saviour into _those who love God, and those who love sin_.\nThose who love sin will awake to misery; those who love God will awake to\nglory.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut,\u201d said the boy anxiously, \u201cthere may be some who love God and really\ntry to obey him, and yet sin sometimes.\u201d\n\n\u201c_All_ sin sometimes,\u201d replied Ella. \u201cThere is not one human being free\nfrom sin.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen,\u201d said Giles, \u201cI should be afraid that, when the trumpet sounded,\nmy sins would be like chains, and keep me down, so that I could not rise.\u201d\n\nEvery eye was turned towards Ella; every ear anxiously listened for her\nreply; for every young heart was conscious of some sin, and felt the\ndifficulty which Giles had started.\n\n\u201cIt would have been so,\u201d replied Ella, \u201chad not the Saviour died for\nsinners like us. His blood washes us _quite clean_ from all guilt\u2014that\nis, if we really believe on him and love him. Let us look upon our sins\nas chains _now_, and struggle hard to burst them, and pray for grace to\nhelp us: then, if we are Christ\u2019s people, we shall rise joyfully in that\ngreat day when \u2018the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout,\nwith the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God\u2019\u201d (1 Thess.\niv. 16).\n\n\u201cI think,\u201d said Giles, after a pause, \u201cthat sins are like chains, and\nvery hard to break too. There is temper, now! I know that I\u2019ve a bad\ntemper; I determine over and over again that I will get rid of it; but\nthe harder I struggle, the tighter the chain seems to grow.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd mother is trying to cure me of saying bad words,\u201d cried little\nRobert; \u201cbut it\u2019s no use\u2014they will come; I say them when I\u2019m not thinking\nabout it.\u201d\n\n\u201cHave you tried prayer?\u201d inquired Ella. \u201cDo you not know the precious\npromises, \u2018If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to\nall men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him\u2019 (James\ni. 5). \u2018Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock,\nand it shall be opened unto you\u2019 (Luke xi. 9). These words have often\nbeen such a comfort to me, when I felt how heavy my chain was, and how\nweak my efforts to get rid of it. And now, my young friends, I must leave\nyou; will you think over what I have said?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, miss, and thank you for it,\u201d said Giles, touching his cap.\n\nElla paused as she was turning to depart, and gazed upon the sky, all\nbright with the evening sun, setting amidst clouds of crimson and gold.\n\n\u201cHow glorious!\u201d she cried, \u201chow beautiful that work of God! He, too,\nspeaks of the resurrection; he sinks to rise again!\n\n    \u2018Just so is the Christian; his course he begins,\n    Like the sun in a mist, when he mourns for his sins,\n    Then all in a moment he breaks out and shines,\n        And travels his heavenly way.\n\n    \u2018And when he comes nearer to finish his race,\n    Like a fine setting sun, he grows richer in grace,\n    And gives a sure hope, at the end of his days,\n        Of rising in brighter array!\u2019\n\n\u201cFarewell, my children. Whether we shall see each other again on this\nearth, who shall dare to say? But we shall meet again when the last\ntrumpet sounds, and the dead hear the Saviour\u2019s voice, and the saints\nawake in his likeness. Let us live now as those who are waiting for the\nLord, and who long for the hour of his appearing.\u201d\n\n    \u201cOh! when through earth, and sea, and skies,\n    Th\u2019 archangel\u2019s final summons flies,\n    May we, through Christ, immortal rise\n      Towards a heavenly home!\n\n    \u201cThey who together life have trod,\n    May they together burst the sod,\n    And glorious rise to meet their God!\n      Come, Jesus, Saviour, come!\u201d\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: THE HAND OF THE DILIGENT MAKETH RICH]\n\n\n\n\nIII.\n\nTHE PENITENT.\n\n\n\u201cWhat is the matter with you, Charley?\u201d said George Mayne, as he returned\nhome from the factory, and found his little brother crying violently on\nthe door-step. \u201cWhat has vexed you, Charley, my boy?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, my father will never forgive me,\u201d sobbed the child.\n\n\u201cI cannot think that, he is so good and so kind. Come, dry up your tears,\nand tell me what has happened; perhaps I may be able to help you out of\nyour trouble.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: CHARLEY\u2019S GRIEF.]\n\nIt was some time before, soothed by the kindness of his brother, the\nboy became calm enough to explain the cause of his grief. With a voice\nhalf choked with tears he began: \u201cFather had sent me to pay the baker\u2014he\nhad given me a half-crown to do it\u2014he had _trusted me_; and now it is\nall\u2014all gone! Oh, father will never forgive me!\u201d and he burst into a\nfresh agony of sorrow.\n\n\u201cYou lost the money, did you? Well, father can ill afford it, but he will\nforgive you for an accident, I am sure.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut it was _not_ an accident, that is the worst of it! You see, I met\nJack and Ben; they were playing at pitch-farthing, and they called to me\nto join them.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut father has forbidden us to keep company with those idle boys.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know it\u2014but I disobeyed him\u2014I was very wrong\u2014and I am very miserable.\u201d\n\n\u201cI hope that you did not join the game?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot at first\u2014I told them that I had given father my solemn promise\nnever to gamble; but they jeered me, and laughed at me\u2014and I played with\nthem\u2014and they got all my money from me\u2014the half-crown that was not mine,\nwith which I had been _trusted_. Oh, father will never forgive me!\u201d\n\n\u201cNow, Charley, do you know what I advise you to do?\u201d said George. \u201cGo to\nfather at once, confess your fault to him, let not one sin lead you to\nanother.\u201d\n\n\u201cConfess to him!\u2014I dare not.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will go with you, Charley; I will plead for you.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut father is so poor; he will be in debt, and he cannot bear that! He\nwill be so angry. Oh, cannot I say that some one snatched the half-crown\nout of my hand?\u201d\n\n\u201cCharley, Charley!\u201d cried his brother, almost sternly, \u201cthe Evil One is\ntempting you. He has gained one victory over you; would you be his slave\nentirely? Pray to God for strength to struggle against this temptation:\nremember that liars have no place in heaven. I will plead for you, I say;\nand as for the money, I have been saving up pence for the last six months\nto buy a particular book which I have much wished to have\u2014I have just\nenough of money, and I will pay the debt.\u201d\n\n\u201cO George, how good you are! But if the debt is paid, need I confess?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes; you have not only lost the money, but broken father\u2019s command, and\nbroken your own promise. Hide nothing. Take my hand, Charley, and come\nwith me at once; every moment that we delay doing what is right, we add\nto the difficulty of doing it.\u201d\n\nSo hand in hand the two brothers appeared before their father, who was\nresting himself after a hard day\u2019s work. George encouraged poor Charley\nto confess his fault; he entreated forgiveness for the offender; he\nplaced in the hand of his father his own hard-earned savings. The parent\nopened his arms, and pressed both his sons to his heart! Then making\nCharley sit down beside him, the good man thus addressed his repentant\nchild:\u2014\n\n\u201cI forgive you, my boy, for the sake of your brother; but there is\nanother Friend whom you have offended, whose commandment you have broken,\nwhose forgiveness you must seek.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know that I have sinned against God,\u201d said Charley sadly.\n\n\u201cAnd for whose sake do you hope to be forgiven?\u201d\n\nCharley looked up in the face of his father, and replied, \u201cI hope for\nforgiveness for the sake of the Lord Jesus Christ.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd if you are grateful to an earthly brother for pitying you, and\npleading for you, and paying your debt, how can you be thankful enough\nto that heavenly Saviour who shed his own _blood_ to win for you a free\npardon, and who now is pleading for you at the right hand of God?\u201d\n\nCharley was silent, but his eyes filled with tears.\n\n\u201cAnd now, George, my boy, bring me the Bible,\u201d said his father; \u201cit is\ntime for our evening reading.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat part shall I read?\u201d inquired George, reverently opening the sacred\nbook.\n\n\u201cOh, let him read of some one who had sinned and was forgiven!\u201d said poor\nCharley.\n\nAt his father\u2019s look of assent, George turned to the touching story of\nthe woman who, weeping and penitent, sought for mercy from the Saviour,\nand found it.\n\n\u201cBehold, a woman in the city, which was a sinner, when she knew that\nJesus sat at meat in the Pharisee\u2019s house, brought an alabaster-box of\nointment, and stood at his feet behind him weeping, and began to wash his\nfeet with tears, and did wipe them with the hairs of her head, and kissed\nhis feet, and anointed them with the ointment. Now when the Pharisee\nwhich had bidden him saw it, he spake within himself, saying, This man,\nif he were a prophet, would have known who and what manner of woman this\nis that toucheth him: for she is a sinner. And Jesus answering, said unto\nhim, Simon, I have somewhat to say unto thee. And he saith, Master, say\non. There was a certain creditor which had two debtors; the one owed five\nhundred pence, and the other fifty. And when they had nothing to pay, he\nfrankly forgave them both. Tell me, therefore, which of them will love\nhim most? Simon answered and said, I suppose that he to whom he forgave\nmost. And he said unto him, Thou hast rightly judged. And he turned to\nthe woman, and said unto Simon, Seest thou this woman? I entered into\nthine house, thou gavest me no water for my feet: but she hath washed my\nfeet with tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head. Thou gavest\nme no kiss: but this woman, since the time I came in, hath not ceased to\nkiss my feet. My head with oil thou didst not anoint: but this woman\nhath anointed my feet with ointment. Wherefore I say unto thee, Her sins,\nwhich are many, are forgiven; for she loved much: but to whom little is\nforgiven, the same loveth little. And he said unto her, Thy sins are\nforgiven\u201d (Luke vii. 37-48).\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: ENTER NOT INTO THE PATH OF THE WICKED. Prov.]\n\n\n\n\nIV.\n\nTHE REPROOF.\n\n\nA lady and her young daughter were travelling by train. Two gentlemen\noccupied seats in the same carriage, and presently entered into\nconversation with each other. Their language was such as pained their\nfellow-traveller to hear. The sacred name of the Deity lightly uttered,\nthe profane oath on their lips, showed how little they regarded that\nsolemn warning, \u201c_For every idle word men shall speak, they shall give an\naccount the day of judgment._\u201d Fearful of uttering her thoughts to the\nstrangers, the lady turned to her daughter, who, after having shown the\nfidgety restlessness common to children upon a journey, now sat still\nwith open eyes and ears, a wondering listener to the conversation.\n\n[Illustration: IN THE TRAIN.]\n\nAnxious to divert the attention of Adine, the lady pointed out to her\nvarious objects on the road, and then proceeded to repeat anecdote after\nanecdote from the funds of a well-stocked memory. Adine was soon all\nattention; and at last even the gentlemen, having worn out their own\nsubject of conversation, paused to listen to the mother entertaining her\nchild.\n\n\u201cDid I ever tell you the story of a great king,\u201d said the lady, \u201cwho once\noverheard two of his courtiers speaking in a way greatly to displease\nhim? He gently drew back the curtains of his tent, and uttered this quiet\nreproof: \u2018_Remove a little further, gentlemen, for your king hears you!_\u2019\n\n\u201cAdine,\u201d continued the mother, with a flushed cheek and beating heart,\nfor she wished, yet feared, to make her lesson plain to the older\nlisteners, \u201cmay not some people yet need such a reproof?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt would be of no use, mamma,\u201d replied the child simply; \u201cfor, let us\nremove as far as we can, _our heavenly King always hears us_!\u201d\n\nThere was not another oath uttered during the remainder of that journey;\nthe lesson had not been given in vain.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nV.\n\nTHE VASE AND THE DART.\n\n\n\u201cNot at school again, Harry?\u201d said the teacher, Willy Thorn, as he seated\nhimself in the little parlour of Widow Brown, and regarded with a kind\nbut almost sad countenance the flushed face of her grandson. \u201cYou have\nnot been with us for a month, Harry, and I fear that you never go to\nchurch. I had hoped better things of you, my boy.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s all from the bad company that he gets into,\u201d said the widow, taking\noff her spectacles and wiping the glasses. \u201cHe is a good lad at heart,\nsir; but you see as how he has no firmness\u2014he can\u2019t say _No_. Harry\nintends to do well one hour, and forgets all about it the next; but I\u2019ll\nbe bound you\u2019ll see him at school and at church too, some day or other.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe knows not how long he may have the _opportunity_ of doing either.\nRemember, Harry, the fate of your young companion, Sam Porter, hurried in\none instant into eternity\u2014not one moment given him to repent, to call on\nhis Saviour!\u2014all his _opportunities_ past for ever!\u201d\n\nHarry sighed and looked down.\n\n\u201cWell, my boy,\u201d said Thorn, more cheerfully, \u201cif you have made good\nresolutions and broken them a hundred times, _try again_; try with\n_faith_ and _prayer_, and God may give you the victory yet! I heard a\nlittle allegory to-day. I thought that it might interest, and perhaps\nbenefit you; so, as it is too dark at present for reading, I will repeat\nit to you, if Mrs. Brown would like to hear it.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am quite agreeable,\u201d said the old woman, leaning back in her arm-chair.\n\n\u201cWhat is an allegory?\u201d inquired Harry.\n\n\u201cReal truths shown in fiction. You will understand better what an\nallegory is when you have listened to this. It is called the story of\n\n                         \u201cTHE VASE AND THE DART.\n\n\u201cA young boy entered a beautiful garden, which extended as far as the eye\ncould reach. Through the whole length of it stretched a narrow avenue,\nbordered with overhanging trees. Slowly the boy pursued his way along it,\nlistening to the songs of the birds, and admiring the green foliage above\nhim, through which, here and there, streamed the rays of the glorious\nsun. He quickly perceived that he was not alone; on either side, all down\nthe long avenue, stood a line of maidens, beautiful to behold. They were\nall robed in white, with wreaths of fresh flowers on their heads, and\ngreeted the boy with a bright smile of welcome. Each held in her right\nhand a vase of gold, in her left a sharp iron dart.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not understand this allegory at all,\u201d said Harry. \u201cDid any one ever\nsee such maidens as these?\u201d\n\n\u201cThese maidens,\u201d replied Thorn, \u201care well known to _all_\u2014they are called\n_Opportunities_. Who has not met with opportunities of doing good,\nopportunities of receiving good?\u201d\n\n[Illustration: THE ROWS OF MAIDENS.]\n\n\u201cI see, sir. Pray go on.\u201d\n\n\u201cAs the boy approached the first maiden, she held out her vase to him,\nand invited him to take the contents. On the golden vase appeared the\nword PRAYER, and the sweetest, fairest fruits were heaped up within it;\nbut the boy scarcely glanced at the proffered gift. \u2018It is wearisome!\u2019 he\ncried; so pushed it aside and passed on.\u201d\n\n\u201cOpportunity for prayer!\u201d cried old Mrs. Brown. \u201cAh, sir, who can count\nhow many times we have pushed that away from us! God forgive us!\u201d\n\n\u201cThe boy sauntered on,\u201d resumed Willy Thorn, \u201cand soon another fair\nmaiden stood before him: she also held forth a vase of bright gold, full\nof pieces of glittering silver. On it was inscribed the word KNOWLEDGE.\u201d\n\n\u201cHere is the opportunity of gaining learning at school,\u201d said Mrs. Brown,\nwho was an intelligent old woman, and had read a good deal in her youth.\n\n\u201cBut the boy scarcely glanced at the proffered gift. \u2018It is troublesome!\u2019\nhe cried; so pushed it aside and passed on.\n\n\u201cA short space further on another maiden stopped him, with a bright and\njoyous countenance. Her gold vase contained the loveliest flowers, and\non it appeared written, ACTS OF KINDNESS TO OTHERS. The boy looked at it\nwistfully for a moment, tempted by the sweet perfume of the beautiful\nblossoms. Opportunity smiled, but _selfishness_ stayed the hand of the\nboy, half stretched out to empty the vase: he pushed it aside and passed\non.\n\n\u201cThe next maiden who greeted him was calm and fair, with a grave and\nearnest look. Her vase was full of refined gold, and this was the motto\nwhich it bore: ATTENDANCE AT THE HOUSE OF GOD. A sound of church-bells\ncame on the breeze, and the sweet music of a distant hymn; but in vain\nthey fell on the boy\u2019s listening ear. \u2018It is dull!\u2019 he cried; pushed the\nrich vase aside, and passed on.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut you said, sir,\u201d observed Harry, \u201cthat the maidens held darts in\ntheir left hands, as well as vases in their right. What do you mean by\nthem?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou shall hear before I end my story. So the boy reached another maiden,\nwho looked like an angel from heaven. Her eyes shone like stars in the\ncalm blue sky, and the tones of her voice thrilled deep into the heart.\nHer vase was overflowing with sparkling jewels, brighter than those which\nmonarchs wear. On it shone in glittering letters, THE WORD OF GOD.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, I hope that he put out his hand and took _that_!\u201d cried the aged\nwoman, resting hers on her Bible.\n\n\u201cOpportunity cried, \u2018Oh, pass me not by! _Search the Scriptures_, that\ncan make you _wise unto salvation_.\u2019 She held forth her vase with\nimploring look, but the boy was intent on pursuing his way. \u2018I care not\nfor it!\u2019 he cried; so pushed it aside and passed on.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, he might have the same opportunity of reading the Bible again and\nagain,\u201d said Harry.\n\n\u201cNot the _same_,\u201d replied Willy Thorn; \u201cthe boy could not retrace\none step of his way. No moment of time can ever be recalled. Every\nopportunity of doing good once past, whatever others may arise, _that_\nopportunity is past for ever!\n\n\u201c\u2018I shall meet with more maidens,\u2019 said the boy. \u2018I see an endless number\nbefore me; doubtless they carry vases as precious as those which I have\nrejected.\u2019 But even as he spoke the words, he came suddenly on a black\niron gate, and he could pass on no further. Shuddering, he read on the\ngate the solemn word, DEATH!\n\n\u201cThen would he gladly have turned round: then would he have earnestly\nasked for one more _opportunity_ for prayer\u2014one more _opportunity_ of\ndoing what is right; but _the last had been passed_\u2014he had slighted the\ntreasure of the _last_! Nor can we despise opportunities, and not suffer\nfor doing so; if they offer the vase, they also carry the punishment\nmeet for those who neglect its contents. As the boy stood trembling at\nthe gate of Death, a dart came hissing through the air, and inflicted on\nhim a burning wound: then came another and another; every opportunity\ndespised sent its messenger of vengeance, and the wretched boy, writhing\nwith the arrows of conscience in his soul, sank down at the gate, _and\nperished_!\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas!\u201d cried Harry, \u201cwhere can I then find safety, for _I_ have\nneglected more opportunities than I can number of _doing good_ and\n_receiving good_?\u201d\n\n\u201cAsk the Lord for pardon through the blood of the Saviour!\u201d exclaimed\nThorn. \u201c\u2018_Now is the accepted time, now is the day of salvation_;\u2019\nneglect not _this_ opportunity\u2014_it may be your last_! O my young friend!\nno day leaves you as it found you; every day brings its _opportunities_\nof _prayer_, _praise_, _reading the Bible_, and _obeying God\u2019s laws_;\nevery day you have chosen either the vase or the dart.\u201d\n\nDear reader, to you would I address a few words. If this little story\nhas raised the thought in your heart, \u201cHow have _I_ improved my\nopportunities?\u201d oh, push it not aside and pass on! Let not the day close\nwithout prayer; seize the golden prize while yet it is offered to you, or\nhope not to escape the dart!\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nVI.\n\nTHE JEWEL.\n\n\nAs a lady was walking across Hyde Park, rather early in the day, she\nhappened to take her handkerchief out of her pocket, and drew out with\nit, by accident, a little red case. It fell on the path, and rolled\nalmost to the feet of a poor girl who was standing near. The child was\nclad in rags, her hair was rough, her face and hands dirty; she was one\nwho had no one to care for her, no one to teach her what was right. Half\neager, half afraid, she stretched out her hand to seize the prize, but\nfirst turned round to see that she was not observed, and met the eye of\nthe lady.\n\n\u201cStop!\u201d said Mrs. Claremont, who had heard the case drop on the ground;\n\u201cstop, little girl, _you are in danger of losing something_!\u201d and while\nthe astonished Ann knew not what could possibly be meant by such strange\nwords, the lady quietly stooped down and picked up the case herself.\n\nShe then again addressed the child; her manner was not angry, but calm\nand kind, and Ann, notwithstanding her fear and shame, felt a pleasure in\nlistening to so gentle a voice.\n\n\u201cCome beside me while I rest on this bench,\u201d said Mrs. Claremont, \u201cand\ntell me what I meant, when I said that you were in danger of losing\nsomething.\u201d\n\nAnn only stared at her, and made no answer.\n\n\u201cDo you know that you have a soul?\u201d\n\n\u201cI know nothing about it,\u201d muttered the girl.\n\n\u201cThen,\u201d said Mrs. Claremont, \u201cI will show you what you were going to\ntake, and explain to you what you were in danger of losing.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ve got nothing to lose,\u201d thought Ann, but she watched the lady with\nsome curiosity.\n\n[Illustration: THE LADY AND THE LITTLE GIRL.]\n\n\u201cYou see,\u201d continued Mrs. Claremont, \u201cthis little red case. It has\nnothing fine about it,\u2014it looks old and worn. Did you think it worth\nstealing?\u201d\n\n\u201cI thought there was something in it.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou thought right; the most precious part is _within_. So it is with\nyou, and all people, my child. Your body, which can be seen and felt, is\nlike the _case_ of the jewel; your soul is the jewel itself.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is a soul?\u201d said Ann.\n\n\u201cWhen I speak to you, you _think_ of what I say\u2014the part of you that\n_thinks_ is the soul; if any were kind to you, you would _love_ them\u2014the\npart that _loves_ is the soul. You can see that tree; it lives, but it\nhas no soul in it, it cannot _love_ or _think_. Do you understand me now?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d answered the girl.\n\n\u201cYou cannot see this jewel, because the case is shut; I am going to open\nthe case, and show it to you.\u201d\n\nMrs. Claremont unclosed the little case, and Ann beheld a very beautiful\njewel, which sparkled like a star in the rays of the sun.\n\n\u201cThis jewel was given to my great-grandmother on her marriage,\u201d said Mrs.\nClaremont.\n\n\u201cOh, how bright and fine it is!\u201d cried Ann; \u201cit does not look at all old!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt will never look old. When I and my children\u2019s children are in their\ngraves, it will look beautiful and fresh as ever! And so it is with the\nsoul. Our bodies must be laid in the tomb, but our souls\u2014those jewels\nwithin\u2014will never, never die!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere will they be when our bodies are dead?\u201d asked Ann.\n\n\u201cEither in happiness or in misery, according as we have been God\u2019s\nfaithful people here or not,\u201d replied Mrs. Claremont. \u201cNow tell me, my\npoor child, for which should we care most,\u2014the _case_ or the _jewel_, the\n_body_ or the _soul_?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe soul,\u201d answered Ann.\n\n\u201cAnd it was your soul which you were putting in danger even now; for\n_sin_ is the ruin of the soul. It is written in God\u2019s Word, \u2018What shall\nit profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul, or\nwhat shall a man give in exchange for his soul?\u2019 To procure a few more\ncomforts for your weak perishing body, would you throw away the precious\njewel within?\u201d\n\nAnn looked at the lady very sadly, and then replied, \u201cNo one ever spoke\nto me in this way before; no one cares for _my_ soul!\u201d\n\n\u201cO my child, there is One who cares for it, One to whom it is very\nprecious! The Lord Jesus Christ left the glory of heaven to come and\nsave poor souls. He bought yours with his life\u2019s blood. He died on the\ncross, that it might shine for ever in glory!\u201d\n\n\u201cDoes the Lord really care for me?\u201d inquired Ann anxiously. \u201cWhy, then,\nam I so wretched and so poor?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe does care for you; he does love you; you are precious to him. And as\nfor being poor and wretched\u2014look again at this beautiful jewel, and tell\nme where you think that it came from first.\u201d\n\n\u201cI cannot tell.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt came from the dust,\u2014it was dug from the dark earth. It had no great\nbeauty then; those who did not know its real value would have despised\nand thrown it away; but there were those who knew that it was precious.\nSo we too belong to the dust, fallen sinful creatures; and we would have\nlain there for ever, had not the Lord had pity upon us and raised us, and\nbrought us into the sunlight of his gospel.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf the jewel was not bright at first, what makes it so bright now?\u201d\ninquired Ann.\n\n\u201cIt has been _cut_ and _polished_, and so it is with our souls. God\nsends them poverty or trials here, to prepare them to shine in his palace\nabove! If the jewel had been a living thing it would not have liked to\nhave been cut, but it would never have been bright without it.\u201d\n\n\u201cI should like to know more about the Lord who cares for my soul, and\nbought it with his blood,\u201d sighed Ann.\n\n\u201cHave you a Bible or Testament, my child?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, ma\u2019am.\u201d\n\n\u201cCan you read?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said Ann sadly.\n\n\u201cThere is a Ragged School near, to which you might go and be taught, and\nhear about the Lord Jesus, and what he has done for your soul.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know where the school is,\u201d said Ann.\n\n\u201cGo, then, and you will be made welcome, my poor little friend. I do not\nremain in London myself, but I will leave with the teacher some clothes,\nand a beautiful Bible, which shall be yours as soon as you can read it.\u201d\n\n\u201cThank you, ma\u2019am,\u201d said the girl.\n\n\u201cAnd one little word before we part, perhaps never to meet again in this\nworld,\u201d continued Mrs. Claremont. \u201cIf you cannot read you can _pray_\u2014have\nyou ever prayed to God?\u201d\n\n\u201cNever,\u201d replied Ann.\n\n\u201cYour soul can never be safe until you do. Kneel down, morning and\nevening, and at least repeat these few words: \u2018_O Lord, forgive my sins,\nand make my heart clean by thy Spirit, for Jesus Christ\u2019s sake._\u2019 So\nshort a prayer you can remember, can you not, if I repeat it over to you\ntwo or three times?\u201d\n\n\u201cI think so,\u201d said Ann.\n\n\u201cPray with your whole heart, my child, and God, for the sake of the\nSaviour, will hear and bless you. Love him who first loved you, believe\nin his mercy, and obey his holy commandments. Then what matter if for a\nfew years, or months, or days, you be called upon to wait or suffer here?\nDeath will soon unclose the worn-out case, and remove the precious jewel\nto that glorious place where tears shall be wiped from every eye, and\nsorrow and sighing shall flee for ever away!\u201d\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: THE FEAR OF THE LORD IS THE BEGINNING OF WISDOM. Prov.\nix. 10]\n\n\n\n\nVII.\n\nTHE STORM.\n\n\nA little vessel was floating over the Sea of Tiberias; the Lord Jesus and\nhis disciples were within it. \u201cAnd there arose a great storm of wind,\nand the waves beat into the ship, so that it was now full. And Jesus was\nin the hinder part of the ship, asleep on a pillow; and they awake him,\nand say unto him, Master, carest thou not that we perish? And he arose,\nand rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, Peace, be still! And the\nwind ceased, and there was a great calm\u201d (Mark iv. 37-39). The tossing\nwaves sank down at his word, and the obedient waters lay like a sheet of\nglass, reflecting the blue sky above! \u201cAnd he said unto his disciples,\nWhy are ye so fearful? how is it that ye have no faith? And they feared\nexceedingly, and said one to another, What manner of Man is this, that\neven the wind and the sea obey him?\u201d (Mark iv.)\n\nDear little reader, are _you_ in trouble or temptation? Then are you like\nthe disciples on the stormy Sea of Tiberias. Perhaps your relations are\nharsh and unkind, or perhaps you are a poor orphan without a friend in\nthe world, and are ready to say, \u201cNo man careth for my soul!\u201d But you\nhave one Friend, a powerful Friend, a loving Friend, who has led you on\nyour voyage through life until now, and will lead you to the end! The\nLord Jesus is beside you, though you see him not. Hear what he says to\nthose who love him: _Can a woman forget her sucking child! yea, they may\nforget, yet will I not forget thee_ (Isa. xlix. 15).\n\nOr are you in great poverty, hungry and weary? You can scarcely earn your\ndaily bread, you have no comfort, no rest, no home! In the bitterness\nof your heart, you cry, \u201cLord, carest thou not that we perish?\u201d O my\nchild, the Saviour is _not_ asleep! He knows your trials, he has felt\nthem all\u2014the Lord of heaven and earth once \u201c_had not where to lay his\nhead!\u201d Behold, the eye of the Lord is upon them that fear him, upon them\nthat hope in his mercy; to deliver their soul from death, and to keep\nthem alive in famine_ (Ps. xxxiii. 18, 19). _Many are the afflictions of\nthe righteous; but the Lord delivereth him out of them all_ (Ps. xxxiv.\n19). Ask the Lord to help you, to feed you, to comfort you, above all,\nto give you his Holy Spirit; for if we love and trust in him, then _our\nlight affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more\nexceeding and eternal weight of glory_. Then the rough wind of trouble\nwill but bring you on more quickly towards heaven, and even here below\nJesus may bid the waves of affliction _be still_, and there shall be a\n_great calm_!\n\nOr are you in the storm of temptation? You wish to please God, you wish\nto go to heaven, but you feel as though the way were too hard for you.\nYou think, \u201cI cannot resist that temptation; I can give up all but that\none sin. If I do not join my companions in what is wrong, I shall be\ndespised; if I do not tell such a falsehood, I shall be beaten; if I\ndo not work or sell on Sundays, I shall be starved!\u201d In such a storm\nof temptation turn to the Saviour still; _for in that he himself hath\nsuffered being tempted, he is able to succour them that are tempted_\n(Heb. ii. 18). Cry, \u201cLord, save me or I perish! Give me thy Holy Spirit,\nthat I may be ready to follow thee through trouble and temptation.\nWhatever I may suffer here, oh, keep me faithful to thee!\u201d\n\nThink on this one great truth, dear reader. The _comfort of the voyage_\nmatters _little_ in comparison to the _place_ where we are going. The\nvoyage of life cannot last very long; the fiercest storm must soon pass\naway! Look at these two different passengers, and think which of them you\nwould pity.\n\nSee one vessel bounding gaily over the bright water, the wind in her\nfavour, the sun shining upon her; and look at that man on her deck! He is\na _slave_; he is going to suffering and misery, he dreads to arrive at\nthe port. _Do you not pity him?_ Yet his case is happy compared with that\nof those who forget God\u2014who, caring but for pleasure, living only for\nthis world, are yet hurrying on to death\u2014_and after death the judgment_!\nPoor slaves of sin! do they not know that\u2014\n\n    \u201cThe greatest evil we can fear,\n      Is to possess our portion here!\u201d\n\n[Illustration: THE MAN AT THE WHEEL.]\n\nNow look at this other man in a storm-tossed vessel! He is going _home_.\nHe is going to riches, and honour, and happiness, and _home_! Though the\nwaves rise high, they will not overwhelm him; though the clouds are so\ndark, there is a sunshine in his _heart_! On the shore he knows that all\nwill be peace, and he can smile in the midst of the storm! _Do you pity\nhim?_ But far happier is the Christian, however afflicted here; for his\nheart, and his hopes, and his home, are in heaven, and he is on his way\nto God! His sins forgiven through the blood of his Saviour, his courage\nsupported by the power of God\u2019s grace! _Blessed is the man that endureth\ntemptation: for when he is tried, he shall receive the crown of life,\nwhich the Lord hath promised to them that love him!_ (James i. 12).\n\nThink of those who have already landed on the happy shore, but not till\nthey had passed through the storm. There are saints who have suffered,\nand martyrs who have died for the Lord! They do not wish _now_ that their\ntrials had been less;\u2014sweet is to them the remembrance of the storm! When\nholy St. John, banished to Patmos for the sake of the gospel, saw heaven\nopened, and its glory appearing, what did he behold there? These are his\nwords:\u2014\n\n\u201cAfter this I beheld, and, lo, a great multitude, which no man could\nnumber, of all nations, and kindreds, and people, and tongues, stood\nbefore the throne, and before the Lamb, clothed with white robes, and\npalms in their hands. And one of the elders answered, saying unto me,\nWhat are these which are arrayed in white robes? and whence came they?\nAnd I said unto him, Sir, thou knowest. And he said to me, These are they\nwhich came out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes, and\nmade them white in the blood of the Lamb. Therefore are they before the\nthrone of God, and serve him day and night in his temple: and he that\nsitteth on the throne shall dwell among them. They shall hunger no more,\nneither thirst any more; neither shall the sun light on them, nor any\nheat. For the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them,\nand shall lead them unto living fountains of waters: and God shall wipe\naway all tears from their eyes\u201d (Rev. vii. 9, 13-17).\n\n    \u201c_Lord, carest thou not that we perish!_\u201d\n      How oft is the cry of despair,\n    When affliction\u2019s waves roll,\n    And the agonized soul\n      Scarce can utter its anguish in prayer!\n\n    Yet the Saviour is watching beside us,\n      His eye cannot slumber nor sleep;\n    The bark which he guides,\n    Where his presence abides,\n      Can never be wrecked on the deep!\n\n    Oh! how soon would our inward fears vanish,\n      Our souls smile at perils without,\n    Could we hear his mild love\n    Thus our terrors reprove,\u2014\n      \u201c_Ye of little faith, why did you doubt!_\u201d\n\n    Lord, make us trust ever in thee,\n      Though our frail bark by tempests be driven;\n    Till thy sovereign will\n    Bid the rude waves \u201c_be still!_\u201d\n      And we rest in the haven of heaven!\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: HE THAT LOVETH PLEASURE SHALL BE A POOR MAN. Prov. 21]\n\n\n\n\nVIII.\n\nTHE SABBATH-TREE.\n\n\nIt was on a bright Sunday afternoon that the teacher, Willy Thorn, on\nreturning from church, met three of his scholars sauntering towards one\nof the London parks. They perceived his approach at some little distance,\nand instantly began to conceal in their pockets something that they had\nbeen carrying in their hands. Their nearness to a very tempting stall,\nupon which fruit and sweetmeats were sold, made Willy guess too truly the\ncause of the hasty movement. He thought it better, however, at first to\ntake no apparent notice of the fact that the boys had been breaking the\nFourth Commandment by buying upon God\u2019s holy day.\n\n\u201cWell, my lads,\u201d said Thorn, when he came up to them, \u201cyou are going, I\nsee towards the park. I will go with you; we will enjoy the fresh air and\nbright sunshine together, and perhaps have a little discourse, which may\nbe profitable as well as pleasant.\u201d\n\nThe boys were usually very fond of the society of Willy Thorn; but just\nnow, with their pockets full of cakes and nuts, they would have preferred\nbeing without it. However, no objection was made; they reached the park,\nand seated themselves under the shade of a large tree, for the sun was\nhot, and the shelter of the foliage was pleasant on that sultry afternoon.\n\nWilly Thorn looked upwards at the leafy boughs which hung above him,\nthrough whose screen a long bright ray, here and there, pierced like a\ndiamond lance. \u201cThis tree has put an allegory into my mind,\u201d said he.\n\u201cBoys, are you in the mood for a story?\u201d\n\nA story was always welcome, and in the expectation of being amused, the\nscholars half forgot that their teacher\u2019s presence was delaying their\nintended feast.\n\n\u201cMethought,\u201d began Thorn, \u201cthat I had a dream; and in my dream I beheld\na large and venerable tree. It was several thousand years old\u2014so you\nmay imagine its size; but it showed no signs of age; its leaves were as\nfresh, its fruit as abundant, as when the Israelites of old encamped\nunder its refreshing shade. This tree was called the SABBATH-TREE. It was\ngiven by its Lord as one of the richest blessings which was ever bestowed\nupon man. Freely might all partake of its fruit; but all were forbidden\nby a voice Divine to break even the smallest bough from the sacred tree.\n\n\u201cI saw in my dream that many thronged to the spot where the Sabbath-tree\nrose, like a beautiful green temple, in the midst of the plain; and I\nstood aside to mark the effect of its fruit on those who came to gather\nit. It strewed the ground in some places so thickly, that it shone like a\ncarpet of gold.\u201d\n\n\u201cI suppose,\u201d said Bat Nayland, one of the boys, \u201cthat the fruits of the\nSabbath-tree are,\u2014going to church, praying, praising, and reading the\nBible?\u201d\n\nThorn smiled in assent, and continued: \u201cI saw one haggard man come, faint\nwith hunger, to the spot. He threw himself down on the soft grass, and\nfed eagerly on the nourishment freely provided. And I marked joy on his\npale face as he ate of the fruit of the Sabbath-tree, and I remembered\nthe holy words, _Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after\nrighteousness, for they shall be filled_.\n\n\u201cI saw an aged woman reach the tree. She was so feeble that she had\nhardly power to stoop to gather the fruit; but as she tasted it, her\nstrength returned, her bent form became more erect, she walked with a\nfirmer step, and I remembered that it is written, _They that wait upon\nthe Lord shall renew their strength_.\n\n\u201cNext, a miserable sufferer approached; on his countenance was an\nexpression of pain. He was sick\u2014grievously sick of the malady of sin,\nfatal to all who cannot find a cure. But he knew the healing powers of\nthe tree. He fed, and even as he fed health returned to his faded cheek,\nthe anguish of his soul passed away, and the sufferer found himself\nwhole.\u201d\n\n\u201cI thought,\u201d said the eldest of the boys, \u201cthat there was but _one cure_\nfor sin!\u201d\n\n\u201cTrue, most true,\u201d replied Thorn, with an approving look; \u201cbut in due\nobservance of Sabbath duties, we learn how to seek and where to find that\ncure.\n\n\u201cI had watched in my dream, with a rejoicing heart, thousands gathering\nthe precious fruit, and receiving nourishment, strength, and healing;\nbut now, alas! my attention was attracted by yet greater multitudes, who\nthronged to the spot only, as I became painfully aware, to break and\ninjure the beautiful tree. Some enemy had hung up a hatchet on its trunk,\nwith _Disobedience_ marked on the handle, and of this numbers made very\nfree use to cut down large boughs from the tree.\n\n\u201c\u2018I am going on a jovial merry-making in the country,\u2019 cried one; \u2018I and\nmy family shall have a treat. I want some wood to mend up my broken car.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Hold!\u2019 exclaimed the youth who had been healed, attempting to stay\nthe hand of the Sabbath-breaker; \u2018are there not _six_ groves nigh at\nhand?\u2014had you not better cut what you want from them?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018No!\u2019 cried the man impatiently, swinging the hatchet aloft; \u2018there is\nno tree so convenient as this!\u2019 and for the sake of a little pleasure in\nthe country with merry companions, he cut a branch from the Sabbath-tree!\n\n\u201cThen came a woman with a face full of care. She had not faith to trust\nin him who clotheth the lilies, and provideth for the ravens. \u2018I want\nwood for a stall,\u2019 said she, \u2018whereon to sell my sweetmeats. I must earn\nsome more pence for my living; necessity owns no law;\u2019 and taking the\nhatchet of Disobedience, she also brought down a leafy bough, treading\nunder foot as she did so a quantity of the ripe, precious fruit. Not\ncontent with thus breaking the Sabbath herself, she demanded that those\nwho bought at her stall should each bring, in addition to their money, a\nfagot stolen from the holy tree!\u201d\n\nWhen Thorn came to this part of his story, his scholars glanced\nconsciously at each other. They all now felt convinced that their teacher\nwas aware that they had been buying from a stall on Sunday.\n\n\u201cIt was grievous,\u201d continued Thorn, \u201cto see what multitudes trampled on\nthe Sabbath fruit, broke away twigs, snapped branches, to help on their\nbusiness or aid their amusements. Some wanted wickets for cricket, one\nman required a handle for his spade; and though a very little delay would\nhave enabled them to procure wood from a lawful quarter, they were too\nthoughtless, too covetous, or too impatient to reverence the Sabbath-tree.\n\n\u201cBut soon I beheld in my dream, that while none could faithfully\npartake of the fruit without benefit, none without injury could break\noff a single branch. As I watched, much did I marvel to see how\ndisobedience brought down punishment! The man who had repaired his car by\nSabbath-breaking, had little pleasure from his intended treat. As he was\ndriving from a public-house, suddenly a wheel of the vehicle came off,\nhe and his party were flung out on the road, and sorely bruised by the\nfall. In some cases, the wood so unlawfully taken appeared to turn at\nonce into dust! The man digging with his Sabbath spade, found it suddenly\nsnap asunder, and the splinter ran into his hand, inflicting a terrible\nwound.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, but how could that be?\u201d exclaimed one of the boys. \u201cMany a fellow\ngoes larking on Sunday, and the wheel of his car never comes off! I don\u2019t\nknow what this part of your story can mean.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt means,\u201d replied Willy gravely, \u201cthat disobedience to God, the\nwilful breaking of his holy commandment, unless the sin be repented of\nand _renounced_, is certain to bring punishment in another world, and\n_very frequently also in this_. There are multitudes of lost, miserable\nsinners, who may trace their first steps on the path of ruin to _breaking\nthe Sabbath of God_. No one ever yet, on his death-bed, could say that he\n_really profited_ by money so gained, or that he had no reason to regret\na pleasure gained by disobeying his Maker\u2019s command.\n\n\u201cThe poor woman who sold sweetmeats, I found in my dream, was not long in\nsuffering the penalty of disobedience. In one of the fagots so sinfully\nlaid upon her stall, the serpent Remorse had lain coiled, unnoticed,\nunseen! As she was counting her unholy gains, made by not only sinning\nherself, but causing others to sin, the fierce reptile darted at her\nbreast!\u2014with difficulty was the serpent torn from its hold, and the poor\nsufferer sank on the ground, bleeding, fainting, trembling at her danger,\nand weeping for her sin! It was some time before she was able feebly to\ncreep to the spot where comfort and healing might yet be procured by a\nproper use of the fruits of the Sabbath-tree.\n\n\u201cWhile the poor woman was in sorrowful penitence, doing all that lay in\nher power to show her regret for the past, the boys who had purchased at\nher stall\u2014who had wilfully broken the Sabbath, not to supply real wants,\nbut to indulge their own greedy inclinations\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll tell you what _one_ of them did, sir!\u201d exclaimed Bat Nayland,\nspringing up from the ground: \u201che just emptied his pockets of what he had\nbought, said that he was heartily ashamed, and seeing an old lame beggar\nnear, he gave every crumb of his purchases to him!\u201d\n\n[Illustration: THE LAME BEGGAR.]\n\nAnd suiting his action to his words, off darted the boy, and astonished\na ragged old man on crutches, by bestowing upon him at once all his cakes\nand his nuts!\n\nDear young readers! if any of you have been tempted to disobey your\nMaster\u2019s commandment, by buying on the day which the Lord hath set apart\nfor himself, oh, consider it not as a trifling transgression.\n\nResolve with prayer henceforth never to break the smallest twig from the\nSabbath-tree, but to feed on its sacred fruits with faith, and hope, and\nlove. Be assured, then, dear children, that they will become sweeter and\nsweeter to your taste, and prepare you for the enjoyment of that _Tree of\nLife which is in the midst of the paradise of God_.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: HE THAT WALKETH UPRIGHTLY WALKETH SURELY. Prov. 10:9]\n\n\n\n\nIX.\n\nTHE WHITE ROBE.\n\n\n\u201cWhat was that noise in the street?\u201d exclaimed Mrs. Claremont, laying\ndown the pen suddenly. Ella sprang to the window.\n\n\u201cO mother, something must have happened! some accident! there is a crowd\ncollecting round a poor little girl!\u201d\n\n\u201cWe may be of some use!\u201d cried Mrs. Claremont, and she and her daughter\nwere at the street door in a few seconds.\n\n\u201cWhat is the matter? is any one hurt?\u201d inquired the lady of a milk-woman\nwho was standing looking on.\n\n\u201cA child knocked down by a horse, I believe, ma\u2019am. They should take the\npoor thing to the hospital.\u201d\n\nMrs. Claremont waited to hear no more; the crowd made way for her, and\nshe was soon at the side of a young girl who was crying violently, and\nthe state of whose crushed bonnet and soiled dress showed that she had\nbeen down on the road.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t think there\u2019s any bones broken, only she\u2019s frightened,\u201d observed\na baker among the spectators; \u201cI saw the horse knock her down as she was\ncrossing the road.\u201d\n\n\u201cCome this way, my poor child, out of the crowd,\u201d said Mrs. Claremont,\nleading the little girl towards the house; \u201cwe will soon see if the\ninjury is severe.\u201d\n\nThe weeping child soon stood in the hall; hartshorn and water was brought\nto her by Ella, but on tasting it, the girl pushed it away in disgust,\nin a peevish and irritable manner. In vain Mrs. Claremont sought for\nany trace of injury; the road had been soft after much rain, and not a\nscratch nor a bruise appeared; yet still the girl cried as if in agony of\npain or of passion.\n\n\u201cWhere are you hurt?\u201d inquired Ella soothingly; the child only answered\nby a fresh burst of tears.\n\n\u201cI am thankful that no harm seems done,\u201d said Mrs. Claremont.\n\n\u201cThere is harm!\u201d sobbed the girl; \u201call spoiled, quite, quite spoiled!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is spoiled?\u201d\n\n[Illustration: THE SPOILED DRESS.]\n\n\u201cMy dress, my beautiful new dress!\u201d and the ladies now observed, for the\nfirst time, the absurd and unsuitable manner in which the child had been\nclothed. Now, indeed, her finery was half covered with mud; but the pink\nbonnet, though crushed, the white dress, though stained and torn, the gay\nblue necklace, and hair in curl-papers, showed too plainly the folly of\nthe wearer.\n\n\u201cWhat is your name?\u201d inquired Ella.\n\n\u201cSophy Trimmer.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere does your father live?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe lives just round the corner.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou should be very thankful that your life has been spared,\u201d said Mrs.\nClaremont.\n\nSophy did not look at all thankful, she only glanced sadly down on her\ntorn dress, and whimpered, \u201cJust new on to-day.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou remind me,\u201d said the lady, \u201cof a story which I read in the papers\nsome years ago. A lady was going in a vessel to Scotland, and carried\nwith her a quantity of jewels to the value of a thousand pounds. She\nthought so much of these jewels, that she was heard to say, that she\nwould almost as soon part with life itself as lose them. An accident\nhappened to the vessel on the way to Scotland; the water rushed into the\ncabins, and the poor lady was taken out drowned.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is a shocking story,\u201d said Sophy.\n\n\u201cShe could not carry her jewels with her to another world. But there is\none ornament which even death itself has no power to take away.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat can that ornament be?\u201d\n\n\u201cAn ornament more precious than the crown of the Queen, \u2018the ornament of\na meek and quiet spirit, which is, in the sight of God, of great price\u2019\n(1 Pet. iii. 4). The poorest may wear this\u2014the rich are poor without it.\nO my child, care not to appear fair in the eyes of your fellow-mortals,\nbut in the sight of God; your \u2018adorning, let it not be that outward\nadorning of plaiting the hair, and of wearing of gold, or of putting on\nof apparel; but let it be the hidden man of the heart, in that which is\nnot corruptible\u2019\u201d (1 Pet. iii. 3, 4).\n\n\u201cWhat do you mean by \u2018corruptible?\u2019\u201d said Sophy.\n\n\u201cThat which time can destroy. Nothing in this world lasts for ever:\nflowers bloom and decay; the fruit which was delicious one week, the\nnext is only fit to be thrown away; the loveliest face grows wrinkled;\nthe finest form must soon turn to dust in the tomb.\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t like to think of such things,\u201d said Sophy; \u201cthey make me sad.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey would make us sad, indeed, were this world _our all_. But we look\nforward, in faith, to a place where there is no corruption, no change, no\ndeath, because _no sin_; we hope to wear white robes in heaven which will\nnever be defiled with a stain. Do you know, Sophy, what makes them so\nwhite?\u201d\n\nSophy shook her head.\n\n\u201cWe are all weak and sinful, less fit to appear before a holy God in our\nown righteousness, than you are to enter the Queen\u2019s palace in those\nsoiled garments. It is \u2018_the blood of Jesus Christ which cleanseth from\nall sin_;\u2019 through his merits, and his mercy, you may appear spotless\nbefore the judgment-seat of God, if you believe in him now, and \u2018_keep\nyourself from idols_.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cI have nothing to do with idols,\u201d said the girl peevishly.\n\n\u201cMore perhaps than you think. _Anything that you love better than the\nLord_ is an idol. The miser loves money best; that is his idol.\u201d\n\n\u201cLike old Levi, who half starves himself to scrape up pence,\u201d interrupted\nSophy.\n\n\u201cThe ambitious man makes power his idol\u2014some make their children their\nidols.\u201d\n\n\u201cLike Mrs. Porter, who\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cHush,\u201d said Mrs. Claremont, \u201cyou have nothing to do with the idols of\nyour neighbours; try and find out what is your own.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not think that I have any.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you then love God with all your heart? Is it your chief business to\nserve him; your greatest delight to do his will?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo; of course, I like to amuse myself like other people.\u201d\n\n\u201cHave you ever given up _any one_ thing to show your love to him who made\nyou?\u201d\n\nSophy looked vexed, but made no reply.\n\n\u201cWhom do you like best to please? Whom do you like best to serve? Have\nyou no idol which you decked out this very morning in all the finery\nwhich you could collect?\u201d\n\n\u201cI suppose that you mean _myself_.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes; _self_ is the idol of the vain, their hopes and joys are bound\nup in self, therefore their hopes and joys are amongst the corruptible\nthings which must pass away. O my young friend, the foolish pleasures\nwhich you felt this morning in these fanciful clothes, in one moment was\nchanged to pain; and but for the mercy of God, your own poor body might\nnow have been lying crushed and lifeless. Why rest your happiness upon\nthat _which cannot last_, and which may, any hour, be taken away from you\nfor ever?\u201d\n\n\u201cGay, gaudy clothing always gives me a feeling of pain when I look upon\nit,\u201d observed Ella; \u201cI believe that with so many it has been the first\nstep to misery here and hereafter.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is like the gay bait on the hook,\u201d said her mother, \u201cnot in itself\ndeadly, but covering a fatal snare. Oh, \u2018love not the world, neither the\nthings that are in the world. If any man love the world, the love of the\nFather is not in him. And the world passeth away, and the lust thereof:\nbut he that doeth the will of God abideth for ever\u2019\u201d (1 John ii. 15, 17).\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: WHATSOEVER A MAN SOWETH THAT SHALL HE ALSO REAP]\n\n\n\n\nX.\n\nCROSSES.\n\n\nThere was unusual silence in the little Sunday school when Ella\nClaremont, its gentle teacher, entered it for the first time in deep\nmourning. All had known of her sorrow; all had heard that her brave young\nbrother had died of wounds received in battle in a far distant land. They\nthought of him whom they had seen some few months before so bright and\nhappy, with a smile and a kind word for all, now lying cold in his bloody\ngrave; and there was not a heart in the school-room which did not feel\nsorrow and sympathy.\n\nElla could not at first address her school; her words seemed choked;\nthe tears gathered slowly in her eyes; but she found strength in silent\nprayer, and spoke at length to her pupils, but in a trembling voice.\n\n\u201cDear children, I have had much sorrow since we last met and talked of\nthe joys of heaven\u2014a beloved brother has, I trust, through Christ\u2019s\nmerits, joined the bright hosts rejoicing there. But should not I meekly\nbear the cross which my heavenly Father sees good to send me? To every\none passing through this life is given a cross\u2014a trial to bear. To some\nit is so light that they scarcely feel it; with others so heavy that it\nbows them to the dust. Each of you knows, or will know, its weight. But\nlet none be afraid nor cast down. The cross prepares for the crown. There\nis something from God\u2019s Word inscribed on every cross; and if we have\nbut faith to read it, it makes the heavy, light; and the bitter, sweet!\n\u2018Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord\u2019 (Rev. xiv. 13), is the\ninscription on mine.\u201d\n\nEvery one passing through life has some cross to bear! Yes; amongst those\nyoung girls assembled in the school-room there were some whose trials\nwere deep, who had much need to read the inscription to make them endure\nthe burden.\n\nDear reader, are you in trial? Have you known what it was to weep when\nyou had none to comfort you\u2014to wish that the weary day were over, or the\nmore weary night at an end\u2014to wonder why God sent you such sorrows? For\nyou I now write down what were the crosses of some of the children in\nElla\u2019s school; for you I write down what were the inscriptions upon them.\nPerhaps you may find amongst them the same trial as your own, and feel\nstrengthened to bear your cross.\n\nMary Edwards was very poor\u2014hers was a heavy cross. One of seven children,\nand her father blind; often and often had she come to school faint with\nhunger and sick at heart. But for the kindness of friends, the family\nwould have been half-starved. Mary had never known what it was to have\na blanket to cover her; very seldom had she been able to eat till she\nwas satisfied; her clothes had been mended over and over again, to keep\nthem from falling to pieces; ill did they protect her when the cold wind\nblew through the broken pane, or found its way through the crevices in\nher miserable hut. Yet Mary had comfort in the midst of her poverty; she\nremembered him \u201cwho, though he was rich, yet for our sakes he became\npoor.\u201d She had read the inscription on her cross: \u201cHath not God chosen\nthe poor of this world rich in faith, and heirs of the kingdom which\nhe hath promised to them that love him?\u201d (James ii. 5). And Mary would\nmeekly repeat the hymn of good Bishop Heber:\u2014\n\n    \u201cThe cross our Master bore for us,\n      For him we fain would bear;\n    But mortal strength to weakness turns,\n      And courage to despair.\n    Then pity all our frailty, Lord,\n      Our failing strength renew;\n    And when thy sorrows visit us,\n      Oh, send thy patience too!\u201d\n\nAmy Blackstone never spoke of her cross; she bore it in silence without\ncomplaining. Her father was a drunkard\u2014her mother never entered the house\nof God. If she heard the name of the Holy One uttered in her home, it was\nbut in an oath or a profane jest. She never complained, as I have said;\nfor, while others would have been complaining, she was praying. Fervently\ndid she pray for her unhappy parents\u2014fervently for herself, that evil\nexample might not draw her from God. Many a silent tear she shed over\nher cross; and this was the inscription upon it: \u201cI reckon that the\nsufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the\nglory which shall be revealed in us\u201d (Rom. viii. 18).\n\nAll pitied Ellen Payne, for her cross was sharp. A lingering, painful\ndisease had taken the strength from her limbs, the colour from her cheek.\nShe never rejoiced in one waking hour free from pain, and often the night\npassed without sleep. The doctors gave no hope, medicine no relief.\nShe had nothing to look forward to but pain, increasing pain, till she\nshould sink into an early grave. This was her cross; and this was the\ninscription upon it: \u201cBe thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a\ncrown of life\u201d (Rev. ii. 10).\n\nJane White had been a deserted child; she had never known a parent\u2019s\ncare. She seemed one of the neglected, despised ones of earth, with none\nto love her, and none to love. She felt lonely and desolate. This was\nher cross; and this was the inscription upon it: \u201cWhen my father and my\nmother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up\u201d (Ps. xxvii. 10).\n\n[Illustration: ANN BROWN.]\n\nAnn Brown lived with her aunt. Few of the girls were better dressed, or\nseemed more comfortably provided for, than she. Had she, then, no cross\nto bear? Yes; for she dwelt with a worldly family, who laughed at her\nfor being \u201crighteous overmuch.\u201d When she would not join in profaning\nthe Sabbath\u2014when she showed that she cared not for gay dressing or\nill-natured gossip\u2014she became the object of ridicule and scoffs, more\npainful to bear than blows. This was her cross; but sweet was the\ninscription upon it: \u201cIf ye suffer for righteousness\u2019 sake, happy are ye:\nand be not afraid of their terror, neither be troubled\u201d (1 Pet. iii. 14).\n\nMary Wade\u2019s cross was in the depth of her own heart\u2014the struggle to\nconquer a passionate, violent temper. She desired to obey God, she wished\nto live to his glory; but sin seemed too strong for her; she yielded\nto temptation again and again, until she was almost in despair. Her\nhealth had been bad when she was an infant; much of her peevishness and\nimpatience were owing to the effects of this. But no one seemed to make\nallowance for natural infirmity; her companions did not like her; and,\nworst of all, she felt that she was sinning, and bringing discredit on\nthe Christian name. Poor child! hers was an unpitied cross; but there\nwas hope in the inscription upon it: \u201cThere hath no temptation taken you\nbut such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer\nyou to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation\nalso make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it\u201d (1 Cor. x. 13).\n\nElizabeth Brown was a sad little girl, but none knew the cause of her\nsadness. She had once been the most thoughtless child in the school, full\nof mischief, full of gaiety, never thinking of God. Her heart had been on\nearth\u2014her only wish had been to enjoy herself. Much trouble and sorrow\nhad she given to her gentle teacher, much grief to her pious parents; for\nshe had laughed at good advice, and cared little for punishment. But now\nthe gay child had grown thoughtful: a text heard at church had struck\nher, and sunk deep into her heart: \u201cBe not deceived; God is not mocked:\nfor whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap. For he that soweth\nto his flesh, shall of the flesh reap corruption; but he that soweth\nto the Spirit, shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting\u201d (Gal. vi. 7,\n8). What had she been sowing for eternity? She thought of her neglected\nBible, her broken Sabbaths, words of untruth and of unkindness, her\nmother disobeyed, her teacher disregarded! Could God forgive her after\nall that she had done? Would he ever admit her to heaven? She feared\nthat her sins were too many to be pardoned. This fear was her cross. Oh!\npraised be God for the precious inscription upon it: \u201cThe blood of Jesus\nChrist his Son cleanseth us from all sin\u201d (1 John i. 7). Jesus said, \u201cHim\nthat cometh to me I will in no wise cast out\u201d (John vi. 37).\n\nBlessed are they who thus mourn for sin, _for they shall be comforted_.\nBlessed is the sorrow that worketh repentance! Blessed are they who so\nbear the cross that they shall inherit the crown!\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: BUY THE TRUTH AND SELL IT NOT. Prov. 23:23.]\n\n\n\n\nXI.\n\nTHE TWO COUNTRIES.\n\n\nWhen walking through the streets of London, have you not sometimes met\na party of strangers, and felt sure that they belonged to another land,\nbecause they spoke not the English tongue? Had you listened to them, you\nwould not have understood them; they conversed in the language of their\nown country.\n\nMy young friend, _what language do you speak_? If I knew but that, I\nshould soon guess to what country you belong.\n\nPerhaps you answer, \u201cI am English. I know no language but my own.\u201d True,\nin one sense you are English, and you may thank God for it! You were\nborn in England, and here may spend all the years or days of your mortal\nlife. But your real country is in another world, where you will _live for\never_! Thousands and millions of years may pass, but you will be still\nremaining in the country which you have chosen. So, again I ask, What\nlanguage do you speak? To what country do you belong?\n\n[Illustration: FOREIGNERS.]\n\nThe one is a bright and glorious place, where sorrow and pain are\nunknown. Its citizens are angels and redeemed saints, who, with shining\ncrowns and harps of gold, rejoice before the throne of God. The language\nwhich they speak is TRUTH.\n\nThe other country is too terrible to describe. Happiness never enters\nthere, but pain, grief, and remorse abide for ever! Its inhabitants are\nthe tempter and his evil ones\u2014hardened sinners who would not repent, who\nchose the broad way that leadeth to destruction. And what is the language\nwhich its citizens have learned? The language of Satan is FALSEHOOD.\n\nO my dear young reader, with anxious love would I once more repeat my\nquestion\u2014let your heart answer it\u2014_What language do you speak\u2014to what\ncountry do you belong?_\n\nYet, mistake me not. There are some whose lips were never stained with\nfalsehood, who yet cannot be counted among the citizens of heaven. The\nproud, the self-righteous, who trust to their own merits, who love not\nthe Saviour who suffered for all,\u2014these may have learned the language\nof truth, even as foreigners may learn the tongue of our land; but they\nbelong not to the country of holiness and joy.\n\nAnd others there are who have fallen into sin, whom the \u201cfather of lies\u201d\nhas tempted and deceived; yet God\u2019s mercy may prepare a heavenly home\neven for them, if, believing and repenting, they turn to the truth. Thus,\nSt. Peter thrice uttered a terrible falsehood, but repented with bitter\ntears, and, through the atoning blood of his Lord, was received into\nheaven a glorious martyr.\n\nBut oh, dread a falsehood as you would dread a serpent; it leaves a stain\nand a sting behind. If you have ever been led into this deadly sin,\nimplore for pardon, like St. Peter. Like St. Peter, when _next_ placed in\ntemptation, speak the truth firmly, faithfully, fearlessly; for truth is\nthe language of heaven.\n\nThere are four chief causes which lead to the guilt of lying\u2014_folly_,\n_covetousness_, _malice_, and _fear_. Examine your own life, and see if\nany one of these has ever tempted you to utter a falsehood.\n\nIt was _folly_ which made Richard tell a traveller the wrong road when\nasked the way to the next village. He thought little of the _sin_ of his\nlie\u2014it seemed to him but an excellent jest; but the jest cost a neighbour\nhis life! The stranger was a doctor, travelling in haste to attend a\npatient who had been taken with a fit. Richard\u2019s falsehood made the\nmedical man lose half an hour, when every minute was precious. Oh, what\nanxious hearts awaited his arrival! But he _came too late_; he found the\nsufferer at the point of death, with his desolate family weeping around\nhim!\n\nIt was _covetousness_ which made Sally declare that her fruit had\nonly been gathered that morning, when she knew it to be the refuse of\nyesterday\u2019s market. Did she forget that God\u2019s eye was upon her\u2014that her\nwords could not pass unnoticed by him\u2014that she would have to answer for\nthem at the day of judgment?\n\nIt is _covetousness_ that makes Nelly stand begging in the streets,\ntelling to passers-by her pitiful tale of a father in hospital and\na family starving. Will the money which she gains by falsehood and\nhypocrisy bring with it a blessing or a curse? Oh, \u201cWhat is a man\nprofited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? or\nwhat shall a man give in exchange for his soul?\u201d (Matt. xvi. 26).\n\nIt is _malice_ that makes Eliza invent strange stories of her neighbours.\nShe delights to spread a slander, or to give an ill name. She mixes a\nlittle truth with a great deal of falsehood, and cares not what misery\nshe inflicts. Whom does she resemble? _Not_ the citizens of Zion. What\nlanguage does she speak? _Not_ the language of Heaven.\n\nIt was _cowardice_ which drew Peter into falsehood when asked who had\nbroken the china vase: he dreaded a blow; he _dared not_ speak the truth.\nDo you not blush for him, little reader, who feared _man_ rather than\n_God_?\n\nHow different is Margaret Lacy! Neither covetousness nor cowardice could\never make her pollute her lips with a lie. She serves a God of truth; she\nis learning on earth the language of heaven.\n\nShe was met one day returning, with a sorrowful step and tearful eye,\nfrom a house to which she had gone to try for a place. \u201cWell, Margaret,\u201d\nsaid Mrs. Porter, \u201cwhy so sad? I fear that you have not succeeded.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, indeed,\u201d sighed the poor girl.\n\n[Illustration: MARGARET AND MRS. PORTER.]\n\n\u201cAnd how was that? I thought that you were pretty sure of being settled\nthere comfortably.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy,\u201d replied Margaret, \u201cthe lady asked me why I had left my last place;\nso I told her that both I and the cook had been sent away because a\nbank-note had been lost in the house.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou were not so mad as to tell her that?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt was _the truth_,\u201d calmly answered Margaret. \u201cWhat else could I have\ntold?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said Mrs. Porter, \u201cat that rate you will never get a place.\u201d\n\n\u201cGod help me!\u201d said poor Margaret, meekly. \u201cHe will not let me starve for\nobeying his word. I never touched the bank-note.\u201d\n\n\u201cI believe you,\u201d answered her neighbour; \u201cfor I do not think that you\never spoke an untruth in your life.\u201d\n\nAnd Margaret _did_ get a place. Carter, the butcher, engaged her the next\nday. \u201cSay nothing against her to me,\u201d he cried. \u201cI know the girl; she\nwould sooner touch red-hot iron than money that was not hers. And as for\n_truth_, I\u2019d take her word against the oaths of a dozen!\u201d\n\nOnce, as Margaret was cleaning out the parlour, not perceiving her\nmaster\u2019s new watch, which lay on the table concealed by a newspaper,\nshe threw it by accident down to the ground. Startled and alarmed, she\nraised it and put it to her ear, longing to hear the regular beat, which\nmight show that it was unhurt. Alas! all was quite still\u2014what mischief\nshe had done! Margaret dreaded her master, who was a passionate man; she\ndreaded, perhaps, losing her place. She might have replaced the watch on\nthe table, and said nothing; its stopping might be thought accidental.\nBut Margaret would not stoop to _hide the truth_ any more than to tell a\nlie. With a beating heart and a trembling hand she carried the watch to\nher master, and confessed the whole truth. Was she dismissed or struck,\nas she had feared that she might be? No; Carter, vexed as he was, could\nnot but admire her honesty and candour.\n\n\u201cWell, Margaret,\u201d he cried, \u201cwere your life to depend on it, I don\u2019t\nbelieve you would buy life itself with a lie.\u201d\n\nCan this be said of you, reader? If not, oh, pray for forgiveness of your\nsin, and for grace from _this hour_ to forsake it. May God enable you to\nspeak the truth from your heart, and to learn upon earth the language of\nheaven!\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: THE HAND OF THE DILIGENT MAKETH RICH]\n\n\n\n\nXII.\n\nDO YOU LOVE GOD?\n\n\nThe following anecdote was given as _a fact_ by a clergyman at Hampstead,\nin a sermon to children:\u2014\n\nA gentleman, travelling on a railway, was much struck by the vivacity\nof a lovely little girl about five years of age, who, with her mother,\nhappened to be travelling in the same carriage, and he took a great deal\nof notice of the child. About ten minutes before the train reached the\nstation at which the lady and her daughter were to alight, the little one\nwent up to the gentleman, and putting her lips close to his ear, asked\nsoftly, \u201cDo you love God?\u201d\n\n[Illustration: THE CHILD\u2019S QUESTION.]\n\nThe traveller, who apparently was not a devout man, was so startled by\nthe unexpected question, that he coloured to the roots of his hair; and\nthe child, seeing his confusion, and probably frightened at her own\nboldness, retreated, and hid her face on her mother\u2019s bosom until the\ntrain stopped at the station.\n\nBut her solemn question had sunk deep into the mind of the traveller. \u201cDo\nyou love God?\u201d he repeated to himself again and again. For a long period\nthe words haunted him, till at length he was able to give to them the\nonly reply which a true Christian can give.\n\nAbout two years afterwards, the gentleman happened to be in the\ntown at which he had left his little fellow-traveller on that\nnever-to-be-forgotten day. While passing along it, he fancied that he\nsaw at a window the face of the mother of the child. His desire to see\nthe little one to whom he owed so much was so great, that he could not\nrefrain from knocking at the door and introducing himself to the lady.\nUpon seeing her, he inquired after her lovely child. The lady was dressed\nin mourning. God had sent her heavy affliction; her sweet girl now slept\nin the silent tomb. The mother took the stranger to a room, in which were\nlaid out various trifles which had belonged to her darling.\n\n\u201cIt may interest you to see these,\u201d she said; \u201cthese are all that remain\nof my child.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh no!\u201d exclaimed the traveller; \u201chere am I!\u201d and he related to the\nwondering parent how the word spoken in season by those infant lips had\nbeen the means of leading him to his God.\n\nEven that feeble child had done her work for her Master before he called\nher to her rest; even that feeble child had been given a soul to be her\n\u201cjoy and crown of rejoicing for ever.\u201d\n\nO dear young reader! how would you now answer that whispered question,\n\u201cDO YOU LOVE GOD?\u201d Could your heart give the reply, \u201c_I love him because\nhe first loved us_\u201d?\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: ENTER NOT INTO THE PATH OF THE WICKED. Prov.]\n\n\n\n\nXIII.\n\nTHE IMPERFECT COPY.\n\n\n\u201cAlways busy at your drawing, Edwin?\u201d said his elder brother Henry, as he\nentered the school-room one morning.\n\nEdwin looked up for a moment with a smile, and then went on tracing with\nevident pleasure the outline of a face. His brother came behind him, and\nlooked over his shoulder; Edwin listened for his remarks, though without\nceasing to draw.\n\n\u201cYou are taking pains, I see,\u201d said Henry at last in a kindly tone; \u201cbut\nI am afraid that you will have to use your india-rubber here, and here;\nthese lines, you may perceive, are not in good drawing.\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t see much wrong in them,\u201d replied Edwin, suspending his pencil,\nwith something of vexation in his tone, for he had expected nothing but\npraise.\n\n\u201cIf you compare them with your study, you will perceive that all this\noutline is incorrect. Where is the study?\u201d asked Henry, looking in vain\nfor it on the table.\n\n\u201cOh, it\u2019s somewhere up-stairs,\u201d said Edwin. \u201cI remember very well what it\nis like, and can go on without looking at it every minute.\u201d\n\n\u201cWould you oblige me by bringing it?\u201d said his brother.\n\nEdwin went up-stairs, rather unwillingly, and soon brought down a\nbeautiful study; a face most perfect in form and expression.\n\nHenry silently put the two pictures together. Edwin gazed with bitter\ndisappointment on his own copy, which but a few minutes before he had\nthought so good.\n\n\u201cI shall never get it right!\u201d Edwin exclaimed, in a burst of vexation;\nand snatching up the unfortunate drawing, he would have torn it asunder,\nhad he not been prevented by his brother.\n\n[Illustration: THE BROTHER\u2019S CRITICISM.]\n\n\u201cMy dear Edwin, you have doubly erred; first in being too easily\nsatisfied, and then in being too easily discouraged.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall never make it like that beautiful face!\u201d cried the disheartened\nboy.\n\n\u201cYou need patience, you need help, you need, above all, often to look at\nyour copy.\u201d\n\nEdwin took up the pencil which he had flung down, and carefully and\nattentively studied the picture. He found very much in his copy to alter,\nvery much to rub out; but at last he completed a very fair sketch, which\nhe presented, with a little hesitation, to his brother.\n\n\u201cI shall have this framed, and hung up in my room,\u201d said Henry.\n\n\u201cOh, it is not worth that!\u201d exclaimed Edwin, colouring with pleasure and\nsurprise.\n\n\u201cNot in itself, perhaps,\u201d replied Henry; \u201cbut it will serve often to\nremind us both of an important truth which was suggested to me when I saw\nyou labouring at your copy.\u201d\n\nEdwin looked in surprise at his brother, who thus proceeded to explain\nhis words:\u2014\n\n\u201cWe, dear Edwin, as Christians, have all one work set before us: to copy\ninto our lives the example set us by a heavenly Master. It is in the\nBible that we behold the features of a character perfect and pure. But\nhow many of us choose rather to imagine for ourselves what a Christian\nshould be like! We aim low; we are content with little progress; we\nperhaps please ourselves with the thought of our own wisdom and goodness,\nwhile every one but ourselves can see that our copy is wretched and\nworthless.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat are we to do?\u201d asked Edwin.\n\n\u201cWe must closely examine the study set us in the Bible; we must compare\nour lives with God\u2019s law; and we shall then soon find enough of weakness\nand sin to make us humble ourselves before God. When we read of the\nmeekness and gentleness of Christ, we shall be ashamed of our own passion\nand pride; when we find how holy was our great Example, we shall be\ngrieved to think how unlike to him we are.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe can never make a good copy,\u201d sighed Edwin; \u201cwe may just give up the\nattempt at once.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou judge as you did when you wished to tear up your picture in despair,\nas soon as you saw how imperfect it was. No, no, my dear boy; I say to\nyou now, as I said to you then, you need _patience_, you need _help_,\nhelp from the good Spirit of God; and, above all, you need to look often\nat your study, to keep the character and work of your Lord ever before\nyour eyes.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut if I do my best, I shall still fall so short!\u201d\n\n\u201cI know it,\u201d said Henry gravely; \u201cbut feeling that you never can reach\nperfection here, should not prevent your aiming at it. God will complete\nhis work in the hearts of his servants, not on earth, but in heaven.\nThere the copy, feebly commenced below, shall be made a likeness indeed!\nFor what says the Word of God: _We know that when he shall appear we\nshall be like him, for we shall see him as he is_!\u201d\n\n\u201cTo see the Lord, and to be made like him; it seems too much to hope\nfor!\u201d cried Edwin.\n\n\u201cIt is not more than God has promised,\u201d replied Henry, \u201cto those who come\nto the Saviour by faith. Worthless as our copy is in itself, it will be\nglorified, made beautiful, made perfect; and will be raised to a place of\nhonour in the mansions of our heavenly Father!\u201d\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nXIV.\n\nA STORY OF THE CRIMEA.\n\n\nI daresay that you have heard of the war in the Crimea. Perhaps you have\na father or a brother in the army, and have often listened to stories\nof the brave and noble conduct of our soldiers on the terrible field of\nbattle. I am going to tell you of one of the bravest and noblest actions\nthat happened during the whole course of the war, though my hero never\ndrew a sword nor fired a musket at the Russians.\n\nAfter the fearful battle of Alma, when the victory had been won by the\nEnglish and the French, after the cannon had ceased to roar or the foe\nto fight, a long painful task remained for the victors\u2014to attend to the\nwounded and to bury the dead.\n\nAt last our poor sufferers were removed to the ships, and only mounds of\nearth showed where hundreds of the killed lay in their bloody graves; and\nthe army was ready to move on to attack the enemy in another place.\n\nBut more than seven hundred poor fellows were still stretched on the\nground\u2014not, like the dead, beyond reach of earthly pain, but covered with\nwounds and gore\u2014some with their legs and arms shot away, some unable to\nmove, groaning in terrible agony, and wishing in vain for death to put an\nend to their misery.\n\nAnd who, do you think, were these wounded men? They were Russians, and\nour enemies! Their bayonets had been red with the blood of our brave\nsoldiers; they had fired the shots which made so many widows and orphans\nin England. And now, what was to be done with all these miserable\nsufferers? Our army could not carry them along with it; they must be left\nbehind. Poor helpless Russians! if none dressed their wounds, they must\nperish; if none gave them food, they must starve.\n\nThere was a British surgeon, of the name of Thomson, who resolved to\nseparate himself from all his friends, to stay behind to take care of his\nwounded enemies. We may fancy that he had a long struggle in his mind\nbefore he could decide upon this generous act. Selfishness might whisper\nto him many reasons for leaving the poor Russians to their fate.\n\n\u201cWhat!\u201d we can imagine some friend saying to the surgeon, \u201cwould you\nremain here alone in the midst of enemies, some of whom, it is said, have\neven fired at Englishmen who were bringing them relief. If the Tartars\nshould attack you, who will defend you? You cannot depend upon these\nwounded Russians. Then think of the labour which you are undertaking. No\none man can possibly dress the wounds of seven hundred; you can only help\na few, or die yourself of fatigue. No, be wise; leave these wretched men\nto the chance of some of their own people coming to assist them; you know\nthat there is not one amongst them who would not have willingly killed\nyou, had it been in his power.\u201d\n\nDr. Thomson may have heard words such as these, but they did not change\nhis generous resolution. The British army marched away; he and his\nsoldier-servant remained behind, saw their friends and comrades all\ndisappear in the distance, and then turned to their noble but sickening\nwork,\u2014binding up the ghastly wounds of their enemies.\n\n[Illustration: NOBLE WORK.]\n\nDo you not think that Dr. Thomson deserved a rich reward for all this?\nI do not doubt that he has received a reward, but not from man, for\nhis labours of love shortened his life. In a few days the generous,\nself-devoted surgeon followed to the grave the brave soldiers who died\nfighting for their Queen. And shall not his name be honoured as well as\ntheirs? We trust that he died prepared for the great change, full of\nfaith and hope as well as charity; and we may also trust that some of\nthose whose lives he had been the means of saving lived to know their\nSaviour, and to serve God upon earth, and that they will one day meet\ntheir generous friend in heaven.\n\nBut it is not of Dr. Thomson that I would speak to you now, but of One of\nwhose mercy and love all the noblest deeds of his servants are but as a\nfaint, dim shadow.\n\nAnd first let me ask you, dear child, Do you know what _sin_ is, that\nfrom which all sorrow comes? It is sin that causes cruelty and strife\nin the world. It is _sin_ that gives a worse wound than any sword or\ncannon-ball; for they may destroy the body, but _sin destroys the soul_.\n\nAnd now let me ask you another question: Do you know that we are all by\nnature wounded by sin; that we are all unable to help ourselves, even\nlike those poor Russians; that if left to ourselves we must all die\u2014I\nmean, _lose the everlasting life of heaven_?\n\nYes; this was the state of the whole world. It was all lying in\nwickedness, therefore lying in danger; and not one of us could have been\nsaved\u2014_no, not one_\u2014had not the Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God, taken\npity on our sad state, and left heaven and all its glory, its light, and\nits joy, to come and labour to help miserable sinners. Not only did he\nlabour, but he _died_ to save us; he suffered himself to be nailed to\nthe cross, that he might heal the wounds which sin had made, and give us\nhealth and life never-ending!\n\nBut perhaps you will say: \u201cI do not think that I am among the wounded. I\ndo not think that I need any one to save me.\u201d\n\nOh! my child, have you ever thought over your life, or recalled your\nactions, words, and thoughts, during _one_ day? Have you never been\ndisobedient to a parent, or unkind to a companion? Has your mouth never\nspoken words that were ill-natured or false? Have you never been proud,\ndiscontented, or selfish? Does not your conscience tell you that you have\nbeen wounded by sin? Now, let me tell you how you may find healing.\n\nAnd, first, you must _believe on the Lord Jesus Christ_; you must believe\nthat he _died for sinners_, and that he is willing to save all who ask\nhim for pardon and mercy.\n\nThen you must be sorry for and leave off your sins, praying to God to\nhelp you to amend. A child who says that he repents, and then goes and\nsins just as readily as before, is like a wounded man who, when the\nsurgeon has dressed the injured place, tears off the bandage and will not\nlet it heal.\n\nAnd oh! you must love the Saviour with your whole heart. Can you help\nloving him who has loved you so much? Think of the glory which he left;\nwas it not left for you? Think of the blood which he shed; did it not\nflow for you? Think of the death which he endured; was it not borne for\nyou?\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: THE FEAR OF THE LORD IS THE BEGINNING OF WISDOM. Prov.\nix. 10]\n\n\n\n\nXV.\n\n\u201cI HAVE A HOME, A HAPPY HOME!\u201d\n\n\n    I have a home, a happy home,\n      And friends to love me there;\n        With daily bread\n        I still am fed,\n      Have still warm clothes to wear;\n    I\u2019ve health and strength in every limb,\u2014\n      How grateful should I be!\n    How shall I show my love to Him\n      Who shows such love to me!\n\n    Many are blind, or deaf, or lame,\u2014\n      I hear the sweet birds sing,\n        Can bound along\n        With joyful song,\n      Can watch the flowers of spring.\n    No wasting pain my eye to dim,\n      From want and sickness free;\n    How shall I show my love to Him\n      Who shows such love for me!\n\n    And blessings greater still than these\n      A gracious God has given,\u2014\n        The precious word\n        Of Christ our Lord,\n      To guide my feet to heaven.\n    Among the shining cherubim\n      I trust my home shall be;\n    How shall I show my love to him\n      Who shows such love to me!\n\n    My God! I am a feeble child,\n      Oh, teach me to obey;\n        With humble fear\n        To serve thee here,\n      To watch, and praise, and pray!\n    My love is weak, my faith is dim,\n      But grace I ask from thee,\n    That I may prove my love to him\n      Who loved and died for me!\n\n[Illustration: FINIS]","title":"Edith and Her Ayah, and Other Stories","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":18006}