her in an exceedingly weak state, and suffering severely from the malady which so soon terminated her sufferings. The sight was exceedingly affecting. The little sufferer sat up in bed, supported by pillows, gasping for breath, as though each respiration was the last. The mother, on her knees by her side, supporting her, and alternately commending her child to the Lord, or whispering in her ear some consoling Christian sentiment; the father, standing at the other side of the bed, mute, and bathed in tears, occasionally giving utterance to an expression indicative of a father's love; the brothers, and a friend or two, awaiting the approaching change. The writer will not soon forget the impression produced on his mind-everything indicated solemnity, not gloom. When knelt down by the side of the sufferer, he commended her to the Saviour, who loved her, and who died for her; or, as he listened to the expressions of hope, confidence, and triumph, which escaped from her lips, he felt in a sense, but seldom realised, that death is but the summons Jesus sends to take his people home. Eliza, addressing a young friend, who was weeping at the bedside observed, Jesus drank the cup, the bitter cup, for her, and exhorted her to drink the cup of salvation. repeated, "Cup, cup-drink, drink ;" whereupon her mother said, "Yes, my dear, you shall drink it new in the Kingdom." It was evident that her mother understood her meaning. In the intervals of pain, she was heard to say, "To die is gain." "Safe into thy haven guide." "If this be death, I soon shall be from sin and sorrow free." Then, lifting up her baby hand, and pointing with her finger, she whispered, "A band." Utterance again failed her her mother again supplied the words, "A band of Angels ;" and the smile of radiant joy which lighted up her countenance, clearly indicated that her intentions had been expressed. Seeing her father deeply affected, she said, "Father, farewell, a last farewell." The last words which could be understood were, "Meet me in heaven." After suffering great pain, she sank peaceably into the arms of her Saviour on the 20th of October, 1856, in the 13th year of her age. The happy death of She this young disciple illustrates the following beautiful lines: He gazed on the flowers with tearful eyes, He kissed their drooping leaves; It was for the Lord of Paradise He bound them in his sheaves. And saints upon their garments white, And the mother gave, in tears and pain, She knew she should find them all again, O, not in cruelty, not in wrath, The reaper came that day; 'Twas an Angel visited the green earth, The substance of the above paper was read to the scholars of the Sunday-school, Helston. Some of her old schoolmates appeared to be affected. Should the reading of it in the "Juvenile Companion" be made a blessing to the children of our schools, by leading them to think of Eternity, and give themselves to Christ, the teachers in our schools will be encouraged to persevere in the good work, by being made acquainted with another instance of the usefulness! arising from Sunday-school exertions, and the design of the writer will be accomplished. Helston. CHARLES EDWARDS. THE SAMARITAN WOMAN'S QUESTION. (Continued from page 122.) Apply this question to His Miracles. On the sea of Galilee, usually so calm and placid, but now wrought into a tempest of raging and foaming fury by a terrific storm, is a vessel, over which the waves are rolling, threatening her with speedy and utter destruction. And yet, in that tempest-tossed vessel, there is one fast asleep, as though no danger were near. The mariners are aware of their perilous situation, and are concerned for their safety, but they have time to think of the sleeping one, and in their agony of distress they hasten to awake Him, saying, "Master, Master, we perish." The sleeper awakes, stands up, and looks up at the angry clouds, and down upon the dashing waves. He does not show any symptoms of fear; His looks are those of calm, conscious dignity. He speaks, and O, what power there is in His word. The wind hears, and is hushed; and the sea hears, and is instantly calmed. "Is not this the Christ." Four days ago, in the little town of Bethany, the body of a young man was laid in a cave, and a stone was placed upon the cave. And now a company have collected around the cave, and while they think and speak of the buried one, every heart is moved, and every eye weeps. Two of the females in that company, who are still young, and orphans, are the sisters of him who lies in the cave. Their grief is intense, and yet, it is not more so than the loss they have sustained is great. They weep for the best and kindest of brothers. All in that company deeply sympathise with the troubled sisters; but this does not stay their tears, because it does not give them back their much-loved brother. But hark! one, of the company, not a brother, but a dear friend, of the afflicted sisters, speaks. He requests the stone to be taken away from the cave. Strange request. Will not the sight shock the eyes, and the stench offend the smell?" For he has been dead four days, already." But it is done; and now He speaks again, not to the living this time, but to the dead. "Lazarus, come forth." And He is again heard and obeyed. Life returns! The dead lives! The buried one comes forth! The sisters rejoice, and all but one are filled with wonder, "Is not this the Christ?" Apply this question to His Transfiguration. Four per sons climb the steep acclivity of the beautiful Tabor. Slowly they wend their way, but still pursue their upward course until they reach the summit. Lovely place! But the sublime loveliness of Tabor's brow, and the extensive and matchless prospect which its lofty elevation affords, are soon forgotten, amid the sublimity of an event that made Tabor, not only to Peter, James, and John, but also to all the saints of God, in all ages, one of the most dear, and memorable places on earth. He, whom the other three designate Master, is transfigured. His face shines like the sun, and His garment is white as the light. And now two others, also glorious in their appearance, have joined the transfigured One. The strangers are Moses and Elias, legates from heaven, charged with a special embassy to Him. Who is this glorious and honoured person? "Is not this the Christ?" Yes! for a voice comes from the excellent glory, saying, "This is my Beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased, hear ye Him." Luke xvii. 5. Apply this question to His triumphant Entry into Jeru salem. Mount Olivet presents a scene difficult to conceive, and which it is impossible to describe. He who rides in the midst of that rejoicing multitude, is the object of their admiration, and the subject of their song. He is no ordinary person, and the court is no common one. Some go before, some on either side, and some follow after. Some cut down palm branches, and others take off their garments for Him to ride over, while they all sing, "Hosanna to the Son of David." And, as the enthusiastic acclamations roll down the sides of Olivet, across the valley, and reach even to the city of Jerusalem, we cannot help exclaiming, "Is not this the Christ?" And is not this the event predicted by the Prophet? "Rejoice, greatly, Daughter of Zion, shout daughter of Jerusalem: behold thy king cometh unto thee; He is just, and having salvation; lowly, and riding upon an ass, upon a colt, the foal of an ass. Zech. ix. 9. Apply this question to His Betrayal. Friendship has sometimes been assumed for vile purposes, and under its guise crimes of the foulest description have sometimes been perpetrated. Judas was a professed friend of Jesus, and his kiss seemed like the strong expression of a friend's love. But he was an enemy, and his kiss was a trick which betrayed his Master, and destroyed his own soul. But even this base act of the Saviour's betrayer, urges the question, "Is not this the Christ?" And is not this the event spoken of by the Psalmist. "Mine own familiar friend, in whom I trusted, which did eat of my bread, hath lifted up his heel against me." Psalms xli. 9. Apply this question to the price for which He was sold. To a sordid mind nothing seems too bad to be done for money; the most virtuous and useful life, is light and trifling placed in the balances with the glittering dust. Such an one was Judas. To say that he loved his Master less than he loved money is saying but little. He seems to have loved the sight, or even the name of money, better than he loved his Master, or surely he would have asked a higher price for his betrayal. But here again prophecy is fulfilled. "They weighed for my price thirty pieces of silver." Zech. xi. 12. Apply this question to His Death. Although crucifixion was not a novel thing in itself, since it was a doom to which the worst of criminals were usually consigned, still, there was much that was novel in the crucifixion of Christ. Crucifixion was inflicted on the doers of the greatest crimes. But Christ was not a doer of evil but a doer of good. Never had so much good been done, as Christ did,— much of it was done in the light of day, before the world's gaze, often on those who were generally known,—and it was attested by both friends and enemies. Crucifixion was inflicted on those who were proved to be guilty of the crimes charged against them. Christ was not proved to be guilty, He was tried in two courts, and declared to be innocent by the judge of each court. But the Jews, who were determined on His death, cared not that nothing worthy of death had been found in Him. They still cried, “Away with Him, away with Him, crucify Him, crucify Him." Pilate said, once, twice, and thrice, as the multitude loudly cried out, "Crucify Him." "Why, what evil hath He done." All they could say, was, "He ought to die,"which was only assertion, not proof. They still cried out, "Crucify Him, Crucify Him." And Pilate, finding he could not prevail, yielded to their cry, but to show that he viewed |