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Kaiarnak and his family were baptized, the first-fruits of Greenland to Christ.

Ever since, the Moravians' mission has been continued, often amid trials, dangers, and sufferings of the most fearful kind. At their four stations there were, in 1852, nearly nine hundred who professed to be followers of Jesus by sitting down at his table to remember his dying love. Here is a picture of Lichtenfels, one of their stations, which was begun in 1758.

Young reader, see what some men have done for Christ. Are you doing what you can?

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A FEW months ago, a man who cared nothing about his soul, and who said that he did not believe the Bible, was hurrying into a railway station, at a place which had shared in the blessed work of God. A poor boy, who had been lately made happy by coming to Christ, was sitting on the door-step, singing to himself the beautiful words of the hymn,

"There'll be no more sorrow there,

There'll be no more sorrow there."

The infidel was startled. He knew of no place where there would be no sorrow, and he said to the boy, "Where? Where is it there'll be no more sorrow?" The boy answered,

"In heaven above, where all is love,

There'll be no more sorrow there."

The man passed on, and took his place in the railway carriage. But the words of the hymn rang in his ears, and would not leave him. A world where there will be no sorrow! This thought filled his mind. He pondered it over and over. It was the message by which the Holy, Spirit showed him his lost state, and led him to the Saviour, who raises poor sinners from this world of sorrow to a world where sin and sorrow are unknown.

The hymn the boy was singing is one of the very simplest, and of the very sweetest. It is the song of a believer in prospect of dying happily in the Lord. We wish it were better known, and to help to make it so, we print the tune and most of the words on the following pages. Let every Christian family learn it, and especially those in which there are young believers. The chorus, which is singularly beautiful, is sung to the same music as the verse, making the whole very easy. But the thought is the sweetest of all,

"In heaven above, where all is love,

There'll be no more sorrow there."

"NO SORROW THERE."

Come, sing to me of heav'n, When Chorus.-There'll be no more sorrow there,

There'll

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1. Come, sing to me of heaven,
When I'm about to die;

Sing songs of holy ecstasy,
To waft my soul on high.

There'll be no more sorrow there,
There'll be no more sorrow there;
In heaven above, where all is love,
There'll be no more sorrow there.

2. Then to my raptured ear

Let one sweet song be given;
Let Jesus cheer me last on earth,

And greet me first in heaven.

There'll be no more sorrow there, &c.

3. Then close my sightless eyes,
And lay me down to rest,
And clasp my cold and icy hands

Upon my lifeless breast.

There'll be no more sorrow there, &c.

4. When round my senseless clay
Assemble those I love,

Then sing of heaven, delightful heaven,
My glorious home above.

There'll be no more sorrow there, &c.

"NONE OF THEM SWEAR NOW."

THE evening before the races at —, we went to the great City Hall, which, after the nightly meeting for prayer, was dotted over with groups of men seeking Christ, or directing others how to find him.

We sat down by a large one of boys from ten to fifteen years old. They stopped their singing of hymns, in a low recitative, as a young man came up saying, “Any of you on the list for giving tracts on the course tomorrow?" "No," they said; they were below the age for the work to which somewhere about one hundred had volunteered. They handed over, with earnest politeness in their looks, a copy of the hymns, now as black as the hands that used it; for some of the boys were straight from work at the coal sloops, and neither took time for supper nor dressing before the meeting. They seemed to possess all things, by the beaming faces with which they sang,—

"Let others boast of heaps of gold,

Christ for me;

His riches never can be told,

Christ for me;

Your gold will waste and wear away,
Your honours perish in a day,

My portion never can decay,
Christ for me."

Dear boys, they looked as if far other words had been on their lips a few weeks ago, and having occasion on different evenings to pass by their corner of that happy City Hall, we could not but take the ringleader (it was still the right word for him, his power, once for vice, now to give the key-note of CHRIST FOR ME, over the others was evident) aside to warn him to keep far from evil boys and evil ways. "You will lose the sweet peace

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