With short and solemn emphasis
He classifies the numerous throng;
In love, he points the way to bliss,

And helps to shun the path of wrong.

Who builds on thee, thou blessed Lord,
Builds on the sure Foundation laid:
He rests in peace upon the word,
Supported by thy promised aid.

His house is deck'd with living light,
Reflected from a finer sky;
His radiant beams ne'er set in night,
But shine to all eternity.

His character is form'd by grace,
And truth and love prevail within;
The objects of his fond embrace

Are Christ, and pardon for his sin.
He cultivates, with fervent zeal,

A lowly mind, and secret prayer;
To all around his works reveal
What treasures in religion are.
No solid splendour decorates

The house that rests upon the sand;
To pride the builder consecrates
The superstructure of his hand.
His principles are all unsound,
His thoughts and feelings downward
tend;

In him hypocrisy is found,

And truth is often made to bend.
He sheds no lustre far or nigh,

But lives as in a tainted air;
None learn from him to soar on high,
To pray for grace, or rest from care.
When mountain torrents quick descend,
And ocean billows lash the shore;
When warring elements impend,

And break around in dismal roar;
The airy fabric, built on sand,

Is struck, and totters to its fall,
While Christ, the Rock on which we
stand,

Is undisturb'd, and braves them all.
Hathaway's "Gospel Melodies."

DO THIS IN REMEMBRANCE OF

ME.

"This is my body."-MATT. xxvi. 26. OUR souls flow forth in love to-day

At such a gracious parting word; Retire, each wish and thought away That would not entertain its Lord.

The stars shall sooner cease to shine,
The ocean waves to ebb and rise,
Than we forget the feast Divine

In which his rich memorial lies.

How simple is the great design!
It is his own device and plan;
Through elements of bread and wine
To win the heart and love of man.

There, at his table, he is seen

By eyes of penitence and faith,
His bleeding wounds and lowly mien,
And all his sufferings in death.

But he is there, to shed his grace,
And elevate our powers within;
His cheering presence fills the place,
And makes the joys of heaven begin.

And oft he bids us meet him there,

For he himself delights to come;
It is his favourite ordinance, where
He stays on earth as if at home.

In broken bread and flowing wine,
Faith takes its efficacious love;
Nor this alone declares him mine,
"T is witnessed by the sacred Dove.

Without believing, we can find
No real virtue in the signs:
Our spirits then to Christ are blind,
And sense alone the soul confines.

Ibid.

The Children's Gallery.

TAKE THE OTHER HAND.

IT was one of the first days of spring, when a lady, who had been watching by the sick bed of her mother for some weeks, went out to take a little exercise, and enjoy the fresh air. She hoped that she might hear a bird sing, or see some little wild flower which would speak to her of her future hope, for her heart

was full of anxiety and sorrow. After walking some distance, she came to a rope-walk; she was familiar with the place, and entered. At one end of the building she saw a little boy turning a large wheel; she thought it too laborious for such a child, and as she came near she spoke to him.

"Who sent you to this place?" she asked.

"Nobody; I came of myself." "Does your father know you are here?"

"I have no father."

"Are you paid for your labour?" "Yes; I get ninepence a day." "What do you do with your money?"

"I give it all to my mother." "Do you like this work?" "Well enough; but if I did not, I should do it, that I might get the money for my mother."

"How long do you work in the day?"

"From nine till eleven in the morning, and from two till five in the afternoon."

"How old are you?"

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'Almost nine."

when she gave it to me, never to tell a lie, and afterwards bade me farewell, exclaiming, 'Go, my son, I consign thee to God; we shall not meet until the day of judgment.' I went on well till I came near Hamadam, when our sofillah was plundered by sixty horsemen. One fellow asked me what I had got. Forty dinars,' said I, 'are sewed under my garments.' The fellow laughed, thinking, no doubt, I was joking with him. "What have you got?' said another. I gave him the same answer. When they were dividing the spoil, I was called to an eminence where the chief stood. 'What property have you got, my little fellow?' said he. 'I have told two of your people already,' I replied; 'I have forty dinars sewed in my garments!' He ordered them to be

"Do you never get tired of turn- ripped open, and found my money.

ing this great wheel?"

"Yes, sometimes."

"And what do you do then?" "I TAKE THE OTHER HAND." The lady gave him a piece of money.

"Is this for my mother?" he asked, looking pleased.

66

'No, it is for yourself." "Thank you, ma'am," the boy said, and the lady bade him farewell.

She went home strengthened in her devotion to duty, and instructed true practical philosophy, by the words and example of a little child; and she said to herself, the next time that duty seems hard to me, I will imitate the child, and TAKE THE

OTHER HAND.

And how came you,' said he, in surprise, to declare so openly what had been so carefully concealed?' 'Because,' I replied, I will not be false to my mother, to whom I have promised I will never tell a lie!' Child,' said the robber, hast thou such a sense of duty to thy mother at thy years, and am I insensible at my age of the duty I owe to my God? Give me thy hand, innocent boy,' he continued, 'that I may swear repentance upon it.' He did so. His followers were alike struck with the scene. You have been our leader in guilt,' said they to their chief, 'be the same in the path of virtue;' and they instantly, at his order, made a restitution of their spoil, and vowed repentance on his hand.

THE POWER OF TRUTH. ABDEL KADER illustrates the love of truth in a story of his childhood. After stating the vision which made him entreat of his mother to allow him to go to Bagdad, and devote himself to God, he thus proceeds:

"I informed her of what I had seen, and she wept; then taking out eighty dinars, she told me that I had a brother, half of that was all my inheritance; she made me promise

native

THE SIN-BEARER. A few years ago there lived at the village of Sehrakoolam, in Tinnevelly, Southern India, a gentleman who had four daughters. He had, however, no son, and he was exceedingly anxious to have a little boy to inherit his name and property. That his wish might be granted, he made a vow to build and en dow an idol temple in his village

which should cost about one thousand or twelve hundred pounds. When the temple was built, and ready to be consecrated, the brahmins told him that there must be a grammasanthi, that is, some one must be found to bear away the sins of the village. He must be a brahmin, too, they said, and he must consent to have the sins laid on himself, to bear their disgrace and punishment, carry them off to the sacred city of Benares, and wash them away in the Ganges.

| heart would break. I took him on my lap, and told him to tell me why he was crying.

"Billy Johnson was just above me in the spelling class, and because I turned him down, he got angry. At noon I was flying my new kite on the plain, he came up, asking me to let him fly it. Thinking it would make us good friends, I let him; but on purpose he let it get into a tree, and tore it. I'll be revenged, yes, I'll be revenged!"

"Do good for evil," said I.

"I will try," came sweetly from Johnny's lips.

That evening, as Johnny was engaged in a famous game of ball, Billy came up, and wished to play, but could not, as he was odd.

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After a great deal of trouble, they found a very poor young brahmin, without father or mother, and they promised him a great deal of money, and a rich and beautiful wife, if he would undertake the work. He promised, and on the appointed day he Here, Billy, you can have my appeared at the temple. Two fur-place," said Johnny. rows were shaved in the hair of his head; black spots, supposed to mean sins, were painted all over his face; a garland of flowers, a sign of disgrace for prisoners, was hung round his neck; and the people brought their small besoms and slippers, which they consider most polluting, and slung them on his neck. After they had thus laden him with their sins, they beat him, and drove him out of the village.

Benares was eleven hundred miles off, and the poor boy knew nothing of the way, and had no money to take him thither. The disgrace he had already suffered was as much as he could bear, and he ran off to his own village. The people there, however, beat him off. He tried another village, but he was driven from that also. After wandering about without food or help, he stole back to his own village, shut himself up in a devil temple, tore his tongue up by the root, and was found there dead. So miserably ended the life of the poor young brahmin. Who does not see in this touching story a relic of the scapegoat?

HOW TO OVERCOME EVIL. JOHNNY WILSON sat on the stairway, crying as though his young

Billy looked at Johnny a moment in silence, and then said, "Johnny, I tore your kite; I am sorry. Mine is behind that tree; it is yours, and after this we shall be good friends."

That night, as Johnny knelt, and said, " Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those that trespass against us," he felt he had forgiven one who had trespassed against him.

MISSIONARY HYMN FOR A CHILD.

LORD! can a simple child like me
Assist to turn the world to thee?
Or send the bread of life to hands
Stretch'd out for it, in heathen lands?
Will this poor mite I call my own
Lead some lost Hindoo to the throne?
Or help to throw the idol down,
Which 'midst the groves of Java frown?
Oh, yes! although the gift be small,
Thou'lt bless it, since it is my all;
And bid it swell the glorious tide
By thousands of thy saints supplied.

Yon mighty flood which sweeps the

plain

Is fed by tiny drops of rain;
And ocean's broad unyielding strand
Consists of single grains of sand.

Thus may the offerings children bring
Make Gentiles bow to Israel's King,
If own'd by that resistless power
Which curbs the sea, and sends the

shower.

The Cabinet.

SPIRITUAL GROWTH.

"Take root downward, and bear fruit upward."—Isa. xxxvii. 31. THE Christian may aptly be likened to a plant. All souls, like seeds, are cast into the world, as into the earth. Some there remain, in and of the world, having no desire to root themselves in the everlasting Word, nor to arise above earth into an atmosphere of spiritual elevation and life. Some sprout, but are choked by the thorns of worldly care, or scorched by the heat of adversity and trial. Some for a while lie without visible germination, but at length put forth a growth, hardy or weak; and in the case of those which enduringly germinate, we notice first the sprouting of the root, even as the penitent must root himself in God before he can put forth the outward growth of holy living. Then grow the roots downward gradually, and the stalk upward gradually, "first the blade, then the ear, after that the full corn in the ear," gradually, but constantly. Wintry storms and blasts may seem to retard its progress, but it is laying up vital strength within itself, that it may soon bloom, and bring forth abundant fruit. Just so, the Christian. Gradually he progresses in the Divine life—at times rapidly, at times slowly, or even imperceptibly; and as the roots grow more firmly fixed in the Lord Christ, so do his life and work approve themselves to us, and we take knowledge of him that he has been with Jesus.

Without following out further this beautiful analogy, we may remark somewhat on spiritual progress.

With early religious feeling much of self-love is mixed up. Generally, the fear of death, of judgments present or to come, move men to reflection, conviction, wrestling with God, conversion. Christianity is often taken up at first with little spirituality; it is regarded almost as a sort of passport, an investment likely to pay. The desire of safety is the chief incentive. There is nothing really wrong in this; the Bible appeals to man's self-interest. This religionism frequently takes with it some modicum of genuine Christianity, a diluted piety. But there must be advancement; and the rule of progress is, use

VOL. XI.

K

of the grace already bestowed: "Unto him that hath shall more be given." Then, as man progresses in religion, things begin to take their right position. The love of God, the desire to do his will, become foremost motives. Yet these Christians find religion profitable, though in a subordinate degree; their self-love is gratified by their piety. They love happiness; the approval of God, good men, and their own consciences; the intense comfort faith brings; the blessings attendant on charity; the happy future depicted by hope. They live in a state of holy complacency. Their peace is stedfast; their joy constant. Not that their happiness does not increase; it is ever deepening. Sorrows come to them as to all others; but, beyond natural grief, they are comparatively undisturbed. So, calm rests on the crest of a mountain, while storms rage over the valleys beneath. They are rooted and grounded in God's love. There is a charmed circle around their presence, formed by the promises. Temptations come. Perhaps at first they vigorously resist Satan, being clothed in the whole armour of God; but as their prayer becomes more their vital breath, they rather flee into the presence of God, where Satan dares not intrude. There may be progress further yet. By an imperceptible transition, some pass into a higher state of spirituality, though many die in the state already described. Yet the Apostle John, Fletcher of Madeley, Hewitson, Fénélon, and countless multitudes, reached a still higher grade of self-renunciation and life in God. Practically, self may be almost entirely subdued. God's glory may be the almost only motive, his will the only law. The love to God, once selfish, then mixed, now becomes comparatively pure; the selfish element dies out; self-crucifixion approaches completion. This love is the fulfilling of the law. Charity, in

its widest sense, is the end of the law of both tables. Of these it may, in greatest verity, be said, that their bodies are the "temples of the Holy Ghost," become "an habitation of God through the Spirit," who doth "dwell in the heart by faith." As sons, these have given to God their hearts, and he guides them, and his saints by them. These nearly attain the "single eye." God is their centre; round him their lives revolve. As rays into one focus, all desires merge into that of his glory. They certainly love themselves, but only in and for God. So love they their neighbours likewise. They desire, certainly, their own and others' spiritual health and advancement.