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LITTLE JANE.

LITTLE JANE was a pretty little girl, who lived in a pretty little cottage, in a pretty little village which had pretty little church. The church was almost covered with ivy, where many a sparrow built its nest, and where the robin sang his evening song on the top of the ivy-clad steeple. Jane's father was only a farm-labourer; and her mother of course only a labourer's wife; but they were none the worse for that, nor the less happy. It is a great mistake to suppose that money, high station, gay clothing, and a fine house can make people happy. A healthy body, a contented mind, and a heart filled with love to Jesus Christ, are the things that make people truly happy; and John Routledge was blessed with these. He and his family all had to work, as he said, to make ends meet; but then he considered that work never hurt people if they had enough to eat and plenty of sleep, whereas idleness had been the ruin of thousands. John was head-ploughman to farmer Thompson, and little Willie drove for him, and they both felt as proud of drawing a straight furrow, as any artist in painting a great picture. Martha, the wife, went out weeding, Lizzie minded baby, Jim, Teddy, and Jane went to the national school; and so they all had something to do; and when all met in the evening they enjoyed their food and rest better than many in high stations, and were more happy too.

The vicar was a good old man, he had some rather antiquated notions, yet he meant well-for instance, when his governess hinted at teaching some of the bigger girls fancy work, he said, "No; let them learn the use of the mop, pail,

THE LOST FOUND.

broom, and scrubbing-brush." He was about right, I think; for it is a poor look out for a working man when he gets a wife who can only do fancy work, and does not know how to make a shirt, mend a stocking, or tidy up the house. Whether Jane learnt fancy work or not, I cannot tell; but she could use the scrubbing and black-lead brushes well, and put on plenty of "elbow-grease" too, for the cottage grate just did shine, and the fireirons were as bright as silver.

But time works many changes, playful kittens grow up steady old cats, and skipping lambs sheep; little girls too, soon become young women, and, if they are worth anything, will soon begin to look out for some useful employment. And little Jane could not remain little Jane, if she had wished. She grew both tall and strong, and her mother began to wish that she could get her a place in a gentleman's family. She used to say "My Jenny would make a good housemaid." She was not expecting, however, what she so much desired, and was not a little surprised when the lady from the Cedars called, and offered to take Jane as under-housemaid. The lady said, "I have been thinking you will want to get her out, and I like her looks, she is always so neat and tidy." Jenny soon found herself in the "big house,' as they used to call it, and was not a little surprised at seeing the many grand things it contained. She soon learned to do her work, and to do it well, and became a general favorite at the Cedars ; and there we must leave her for the present, and if you will wait a month, and all go well, we will tell you more about her.

Gleanings.

ONE day a Christian gentleman found a young man in a garret, who was evidently dying in consumption. At first

OLD JONATHAN.

he was somewhat sullen, and evidently would have preferred the room rather than the company of his visitor. But by repeated visits his confidence was

gained, and the Holy Ghost was pleased and argued with you against the truth of

to open his heart and cause him to receive the truth as it is in Jesus. The disease, however, made rapid progress, and his end was evidently near. In the meanwhile he had made known to his kind friend some of his antecedents; and how he had nearly broken the heart of his poor father, who was then living in one of the fashionable squares of London. The gentleman at once started to the address to inform the father of the state and where-abouts of his son. The mention of the son's name powerfully agitated the poor father's mind, who vowed that he would not hear anything about him. His visitor replied, "Sir, your son is a new man; God has convinced him of his sin, he is penitent and dying, but he wants your pardon." On this the father at once proceeded to his son's room, went to his bedside, and said, "My son." The young man threw his arms round his father's neck, and said, "My father." These were his last words, in a few moments his spirit had fled! What a meeting! How grace finds out its objects! How it conquers every passion! How gloriously it shines in cases like this here the lost was found, and the dead made alive again. Reader, art thou a partaker of divine grace?

A MINISTER of my acquaintanceindeed my pastor-visited a poor old member in one of the London workhouses. She was a great sufferer and often expressed surprise why the Lord did not take her home. A young woman lay in the next bed who denied the truth of the Bible, and often contended against it both with the suffering old saint and her minister. At length the summons came, and the aged heir of grace went up from the poor-house to the mansion prepared for her. The minister ceased his visits and amid the multitude of engagements the young infidel in the workhouse was forgotten.

One Lord's-day evening a young woman entered the vestry, after the service, and asked if she could speak to the preacher. "Do you remember me, sir ?" she said. "No," was the reply. "Do you remember visiting poor old Mrs. So and so, in the workhouse ?" "Yes," said he, “very well." The girl proceeded, "I am the person who was in the next bed,

the Bible; but God has changed my heart. I have sat under your ministry for some time, and I want to be a memof the church." This was a delightful surprise to the good man, who asked how the change had been wrought in her mind. She said, "It was not by anything you said, sir; but that dear old soul bore her sufferings with such patience, was so thankful for everything, and died so happy, that I began to see and feel that there was a reality in religion; and your preaching has led me on, and built me up in the faith."

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Oh ye suffering poor of the Lord's flock, see here what use he can make of you. It is even worth dying in a workhouse, to be the means of proving thereby to a young infidel " that there is a reality in religion." See here how the lost was found.

beach at Brighton, with her little charge
A NURSEMAID was once walking on the
of three children, when all on a sudden
the youngest, a little golden-haired boy,
said, "Oh nurse, I forgot to say my
them now?" With this he dropped upon
prayers before I came out, shall I say
his knees, clasped his hands, closed his
eyes, and solemnly repeated the prayer
he had been taught. The nurse stood
and looked, and listened in amazement,
and the thought entered her heart like
a burning arrow-"I never say my
prayers-this child shames me."
sense of guilt and danger came over her;
she began to pray, and from that time
she became 66 a new creature, old things
passed away, and behold, all things
became new," and that through the instru-
mentality of a little child.

"Wonders of grace to God belong,
Repeat his mercies in your song.'

And a

JOHN RYLAND AND THE
CLERGYMAN.

MR. JOHN RYLAND, of Northampton (father of the late Dr. Ryland, of Bristol), a man who was in advance of the age in which he lived, was accustomed to print and circulate tracts long previously to the existence of the Religious Tract Society. To help in defraying the expense of this work, he would sometimes appeal to the liberality of others. On one occasion, he called on his friend, Mr. Dupont, at the

"Castle and Falcon," London, and finding that a clergyman of respectability was there, asked to be introduced to him. "Sir," said Mr.R., "I print and distribute tracts on religious subjects, at an expense above my own means, and understanding that you are a clergyman, and of course that you take an interest in the improvement of the ignorant poor, I have waited upon you to solicit a contribution."

"I know," replied the clergyman, "nothing about tracts; I take no interest in such improvements."

66

Pray, sir, have you a parish ?" "To be sure I have. I am rector of a parish containing two thousand souls." Mr. R., with great promptness and devoutness, fell on his knees, in the presence of the clergyman, and poured forth a fervent prayer, that God would have mercy on the two thousand souls, whose shepherd declared he cared not for their improvement and salvation; and especially, that he would open the eyes of their shepherd. Rising, he left the room-the clergyman standing in utter consternation.

"Dupont," inquired the clergyman, when a little recovered, "what madman was that you sent up to my room?"

"Sir," was Mr. D.'s answer, "he is no madman; but one of the most respectable ministers of Christ in the kingdom; and if you will but go to Jewin Street Chapel this evening, and hear him preach, take my word, you will not think him insane." Well," said the clergyman, "I will go; for I never saw or heard anything like his conversation and prayer in my life; but I am sure he is mad."

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He went to the chapel, and was much struck with Mr. R.'s preaching; and on the following Sabbath heard him again at Spa Fields. God blessed the word; the clergyman wept like a child, conversed with Mr. Dupont, heard Mr. R. as often as he could, and left a sum of money for tracts; returned to his parish a different man, and became extremely useful to many of the two thousand souls for whom before he had cherished no

concern.

Loetry.

THE COMMUNINGS OF CHRIST AND | I hide in his bosom, I rest in his love,

HIS CHURCH:

A Poetic Paraphrase, and an occasional Commentary upon the Book of Canticles. No. XV.

BY J. W. COLE, Braunston.

CHAPTER II.

He guides me below, he will feed me above.*
'Mong the lilies of earth he deigns to feed,
In his garden, the church, he's happy indeed;
The love of his people delighteth his heart,
And from their communion he ne'er will depart.
Oh what a dear friend is my Saviour to me,
All conceivable charms in his person I see;

Verse 16.-" My beloved is mine, and I am his: How sweet to my soul is that doctrine divine,he feedeth among the lilies."

My Beloved is mine, I am also his,

He hath plighted his troth, and given his kiss; This sweet friendship, commenced on earth, during time,

Will always be his and will always be mine.

My Beloved is mine, in sickness or health,
In poverty's gloom, 'midst the glitter of wealth;
He's mine when my spirit is burdened with grief,
He knows how to succour, and bring me relief.
He's mine, when the tempter assails with his
guile,

He protects me from harm, he cheers with his smile;

That I always was his, and he aye will be mine.

Verse 17.-"Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, turn, my beloved, and be thou like a roe or a young hart upon the mountains of Bether."

Until the dawn of an eternal day,
Till earthly shadows fly my mortal sight,
Till my pure soul shall soar to realms above.
The regions fair where night no more is known,||
Turn, my Beloved, in kindness to me turn,
And let thy presence chase away my gloom.
Turn my beloved, be thou like the roe,
Or young hart, bounding down the mountain-
side,

To rest him in the peaceful vale below :
Come from on high, celestial being come,
Let Bethel's + mountains, be thy loved retreat:
*Psalm lxiii. 24. Rev. vii. 17. Rev. xxii. 5.

Was mine from the first, will be mine to the end,
My faithful almighty, unchangeable Friend.
Grim death's ebon arrows around me may fly,
'Till he gives permission, they cannot come nigh; † Some think Bether should be read Bethel.-GILL.

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THOUGHTS FOR THE NEW YEAR.

How fleeting are our years!
How short our life appears!-
A winter's morn
Scarce opening into day,
Ere we have passed away
As if unborn.

The year we late called "
Has faded from our view,

As shadows pass;

new

Or like the summer shower,
Or like the early flower,

Or withered grass.
Another bud appears
Upon the stalk of years,
And opens fair;
Although no human power
Can tell the kind of flower

That it will bear.

Wait till the volume sealed
Is gradually revealed

By God's own hand.
How useless is the grief
That strives to-morrow's leaf
To understand!

Though like a zig-zag road
Before thee, all untrod,

The new year seem,
Trust in thy faithful Guide,
Whatever may betide,
Confide in Him.

Our times are in His hand,
At whose supreme command
The wheels of Time
Pursue their rapid course,
With regulated force,
By skill sublime.
The great eternal King
Presides o'er everything
His power controls.
How little understood,
That all shall work for good
To gracious souls!

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Encouraged by the past,
The mercies of the last
Eventful year
Shall serve me for a plea,
My God, to trust in thee,
Nor yield to fear.

O take me by the hand,
Nor let me trembling stand,
But lead me on:
Thus, making, day by day,
Thy faithfulness my stay,
With humble faith I'll say,
"Thy will be done."

JOSIAH BRISCOE.

OUR ONE LIFE.

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'Tis full of meaning as of mystery,

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Though strange and solemn may that meaning be.

Our sorrows are no phantom of the night-
No idle tale;

No cloud that floats along a sky of light,
On summer gale.

They are the true realities of earth-
Friends and companions even from our birth.

O, life below-how brief, and poor, and sad!
One heavy sigh.

O, life above-how long, how fair, and glad!
An endless joy.

Oh, to have done for aye with dying here;
Oh, to begin the living in yon sphere!

O, day of time, how dark! O, sky and earth,
How dull your hue!

O, day of Christ, how bright! O, sky and earth
Made fair and new!

Come, better Eden, with thy fresher green;
Come, brighter Salem, gladden all the scene!

Fragments of Thought for Spare Moments.

"Gather up the fragments that remain, that nothing be lost." JOHN vi. 12.

MORAL PREACHING.

BISHOP LAVINGTON, addressing the clergy, somewhere about 1750, says: "My brethren, I beg you will rise up with me against moral preaching. We have long been attempting the reformation of the nation by discourses of this kind. With what success? None at all. On the contrary, we have dexterously preached the people into downright infidelity. We must change our voice. We must preach Christ and him crucified. Nothing but the gospel is-nothing besides will be found to be the power of God unto salvation. Let me, therefore, again and again request-may I not add, let me charge you -to preach Jesus, and salvation through

his name."

LAW AND GOSPEL.

LET there be no extremes: yet I am arrived at this conviction;-Men who lean toward the extremes of evangelical privileges in their ministry, do much more to the conversion of their hearers than they do, who lean towards the extreme of requirement. And my own experience confirms the observation. I feel myself repelled if anything chills, goads, or urges me. This is my nature, and it is the nature of other men. But let me hear the words, "Son of man, thou hast played the harlot with

many lovers; yet return unto me again, saith the Lord," and immediately I am melted

and subdued.-CECIL.

JUSTIFICATION.

WE are justified by faith alone, but not by the faith which is alone. Unless it be a heart-purifying, and a work-producing faith, it is spurious-it is not wrought in the heart by the Spirit of God.

We are justified by faith, and our faith is justified or evidenced by our works. This ancient doctrine is thus maintained by Bishop Horsley, in his first charge: "That man is justified by faith without the works of the law, was the uniform doctrine of our first Reformers. It is a far more ancient doctrine-it was the doctrine of the whole colleges of apostles: it is more ancient still -it was the doctrine of the prophets it is older than the prophets-it was the religion of the patriarchs. And no one who has the least acquaintance with the writings of the first Reformers will impute to them, more than to the patriarchs, the prophets, or apostles, the absurd opinion, that any man leading an impenitent wicked life, will finally, upon the mere pretence of faith, (and faith connected with an impenitent life, must always be a mere pretence) obtain admission into heaven!"

Reviews.

The Fundamental Principles of Phrenology are the only Principles capable of being reconciled with the Immateriality and Immortality of the Soul. By JAMES C. L. CARSON, M.D. Houlston and Wright. Price 7s. 6d.

What a pity the author of this work is not a doctor of divinity! Here is an exhaustive treatise on a subject which years ago commanded general attention and animated controversy. Besides metaphysical objections, mixed up with raillery and ridicule, there was one which had a moral phase, and a moral force, that rendered resistance extremely difficult, and put the whole scheme in jeopardy. It was stoutly affirmed, and, by many, stedfastly believed,

that the system of phrenology had its roots in materialism, rendered morality circumstantial, and induced a state of hesitancy, if nothing worse, in the inspiration of divine truth. Of this, however, we may be quite certain, that, as the Author of revelation is the Author of creation, each must be in harmony with the other, so that revelation can never be prejudiced by any discoveries in the field of nature, nor physical facts be contradicted by the statements of inspiration. If phrenology is based upon a physical necessity, springing from material organization, over which man has no control, it must subvert the moral agency of man, and tear up the ground of human responsibility. This has been a

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