dren, with even more tenderness than others, are invited to come and drink, and live for

ever.

"I am now," continued the slow sad voice of the old year, "about to leave you, I have carried you one year farther along the path of life, one year nearer the end of your great journey. I have kept a faithful record of your lives from day to day, and from hour to hour, in characters more durable than those that the steel cuts into brass or marble, and it is laid up in heaven to be produced when you stand before the judgmentseat.

"You cannot live always. The time will come when you must die. Your bodies will be laid in the grave to moulder into dust, while your spirits will be called to appear before the throne on high, where you will see the books opened, and hear your final sentence pronounced by the Son of God, the great Judge of all. Is that Judge your friend? Will he throw his everlasting arms around you as a shield in that awful moment, if you reject his grace when it is freely offered?

"See to it, then, my children, that the new year shall bear a better report to heaven, concerning you, than the past. Go and sit at the feet of Him who was meek and lowly in heart, until you imbibe the same heavenly temper. Go and hearken to the still small voice of the Holy Spirit whispering in your hearts, and bidding you

give the dew of your youth to God. Go and yield to your parents and teachers, love and honour, submission and cheerful obedience. Go and forsake sin-worship God-hallow the Sabbath-study the Scriptures-visit the poor and the sick-and with all your might labour to bring men from the broad road to ruin into the safe and narrow way of eternal life. Even a child may save a soul."

no more.

The

The voice ceased, and the old year was Like the rushing of the surge over the sands, that breaks and then dies slowly away, was the sound of his wings as he spread them for flight and then dropped into the silent bosom of the past. little ones to whom he had spoken, went on their various ways with downcast eyes and slow step, and methought I heard each one resolving in his heart-This year I will live the life of a true Christian.

ANOTHER NEW YEAR'S LETTER TO THE MARY SCHOOL GIRLS.

you one.

MY DEAR CHILDREN,-I fancy you will expect a New Year's letter from "Mary," though I believe she did not exactly promise Here she is, however, seated at her writing-table, with her pen in her hand, writing "another New Year's Letter to the Mary School girls." How swiftly the year has passed away! It seems only as yester

our

day when I was seated in this very spot, writing the same words; and now earth has once more whirled its way round the bright, glorious sun. Twelve months— fifty-two weeks-three hundred and sixtyfive days, either of which numbers make a year-have flown away, and we are brought in peace and safety to see the light of another New Year's morning.

Children, let us not be ungrateful; let us not forget the Hand which guides us, and crowns us with mercy and loving-kindness: let us remember that it is through the help of our God that we continue unto this day. And now, what shall I say to you? Once I asked a girl to write a letter to me, and she smiled, and said "I shall not know what to say, because I see you every day." Perhaps you think it will be the same with me, and that I shall not know what to say, because I see you every day. Yes; and not only do I see you every day, but, as you know, I talk to you every day. Many words have passed between us during the year which has flown away for ever. Scarcely a day has passed that I have not been among you; for my dear school is the little garden in which I love to labour; and you may be said to be my plants which I watch over and water, in the hope that pretty buds and blossoms may shoot forth, and sweet and precious fruit appear to cheer and gladden my heart as I labour on in my happy work. Have you ever been in an

orchard where fruit-trees grow? Perhaps you have seen some trees covered with bright green leaves, and the branches loaded with clusters of beautiful fruit. Those trees have rewarded the labourer's toil: they have not been watered and watched over in vain. And you have seen other trees, perhaps, growing in the same orchard' -fair, indeed, to look upon-the branches healthy and the leaves green, but no fair fruit to be found upon them. Every thing has been done to make them thrive; but in spite of all the pains that have been taken, not a single apple has ever been gathered from them.

Children, which of these trees do you resemble? God has placed you in a school where you are taught his will from his own holy word, and it may well be expected that you should bear fruit to the praise and glory of his name. Has God found any fruit within the walls of our school-room during the weeks and months which one after another. have rolled away? I do not ask have I found, but I ask has He found you obedient, diligent, and attentive? Has he always heard you speak the truth-the exact and perfect truth-the plain, simple, lovely truth, even when it was against yourselves? Has he seen you gentle, kind, and obliging to all around you, forgiving and forbearing one towards another? Have you behaved with reverence in the house of God, and tried to understand all you heard

there? Have you kept holy the Sabbath Day? and have you, night and morning, entered your closet, and shut the door, and prayed in spirit and in truth to your Father who seeth in secret? God looks into your hearts to see if fruits such as these are growing there. If you are conscious that you are indeed bearing some, or all of these sweet fruits, be thankful, but do not be proud. Be very thankful that God has enabled you to be of that happy number who will hear counsel and receive instruction, and do not think you have borne as much fruit as you might and ought to have done. Take care that you do not harbour the thought of the Pharisee: "God, I thank thee, that I am not as other men are.". Instead of thinking too much about your goodness, let me advise you to remember your sinfulness, and then I am sure that, with God's grace, you will be humble, and will be enabled to take up the words of the publican, and say, with your whole soul going along with the words " God, be merciful to me a sinner." But are there not some among you who know full well that no good fruit at all has yet been found on them? Let me say a few words to such. You know how we grieve to see you unfruitful trees in our little garden. know how anxiously we have tried to make you fruitful. Sometimes we have given you pleasure, and sometimes we have given you pain; but all has been done, I am sure

You