The good man may fall from grace and perish eternally. Ezek. xxxiii. 13. fwill entirely forgive and forget the sins of the penient. Ish. xliii. 25. wicked shall fall by their own counsels. ity is unselfish. I Cor. xiii. 5. Ps. v. 10; Apostles did not work miracles by their own power, out by the help they received from Christ. Acts iii. 12. ompared with context. in their religious instructions, ministers and teachers -hould assert nothing but what has the authority of God's Word. Jer. xxiii. 16; Ezek. xiii. 17. best has redeemed us by his own blood. Rev. i. 5. Heb. ix. 12. "Mountain," will be our next word. AUNT JANE. Nauman the Syrian. 2 KINGS, CHAP. V. In the HEN a family is made up of a good tive in a heathen land, and yet she remembered her country, her prophet, and her God. She spoke in honour of these, even among idolaters. She also manifested ten derness and benevolence towards her master and his wife. She said," Would God that my lord were with the prophet that is in Israel, he would cure him of his leprosy." This simple and affectionate remark led to the restoration of her master to health of body, and, what is better, to the conversion of his soul. Happy will our lives be, happy our death, and thrice happy our eternity, if we spend life's short day in getting good, and in doing good to the bodies and souls of our fellow-creatures. Let us feel with our blessed Lord, that we must work the works of Him that sent us, while it is day. T. B. Joy over One. HE sharp, quick sound of a crier's bell was heard above the rattle of carriages and the hum of multitudes hastening home as night came on, and the words, "Child lost! child lost!" fell upon the ears, and sent a thrill of pain to the hearts of fathers and mothers, as the crier slowly passed up the street to the next corner, where he stopped to give a description of the wanderer. How many held their breath and listened! "Child lost! Child lost! A little girl-not quite three years of age-her hair light and curly-eyes blue; when she left home she was dressed in a scarlet frock and white apron-has been missing for hours!" And again the bell was heard as the crier went on, proclaiming as he went the same mournful story. And where all this time was little Lily Ashton ? Soon after she left her father's door, she made the acquaintance of other children in the street, with whom she played awhile and then many things amused her as she ran along on the crowded sidewalk, unnoticed by the busy throng; but at length she discovered that her home was no longer in sight, and that no dear papa or mamma answered her call; and the poor little lost one sat down on a door-step and wept bitterly. A kind-hearted gentleman came that way-one who loved children, and who was never happier than when they smiled on him from their bright faces, which they could hardly help doing, when he smiled so pleasantly on them, and who was always ready to speak comforting words when they were in trouble. "What's the matter little Elossom?" he asked. His voice was so full of love that Lily stopped crying, and brushing back her curls, looked up to see who it was that spoke to her. The light from a street lamp above her shone full upon his benevolent face. "I isn't little Blossom; I is Lily, and I want mamma," she said, and the tears began to flow again. "But Lily won't cry any more, because we will go and find mamma. Will Lily go with me?" Her tears ceased flowing, and she looked up into the kind face once more. 66 Has you got a little girl, and is she little Blossom ?" 66 No, my dear; I have no Lily nor Blossom, only when I find one such as you ; but I love little girls and boys, and I don't like to see you cry. Will you go with me to find your mamma?" Lily stood up and put her hand in his, for her heart was won. The kind gentleman lifted the tired little girl in his arms, and carried her to the nearest police-station, where he knew he would learn what she could not tell him about her home. And in a short time he placed the lost darling in the arms of her mother, whose anguish was thus turned into Joy. He found other children, brothers and sisters, in that home; and as the parents and children gathered about little Lily, lost an hour before, but now found, and as they laughed and wept by turns, he felt that he was receiving a richer reward in seeing their happiness-their joy over one dear child-than any thanks, however earnest, could be. I know you do not wonder that this family were so glad to see Lily again. But their gladness reminds me-perhaps it has reminded you also-of some of the words of Jesus, "Joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth," Can you tell why the happy family of the redeemed in heaven are joyful when a sinner repents? A sinner, you know, is one who is disobeying God-who does not love nor trust in Christ-who is lost in the world, and who will never find the way to that beautiful home above, unless he repents. Do you not think that if you were in heaven, and could hear that some one on earth, who had been wicked, had repented and begun to love Jesus, and was coming to be in heaven too-happy and holy for ever —you would be glad? Perhaps some dear friends of yours are there now, and they are hoping to hear that you are in the way to the same home, if you are not already in it. Dear child, have you begun to walk in that path which leads to the "beautiful city built above?" Come with the children of God, and there will be joy in heaven over you, far beyond that which was felt in Lily's family when she was found, for One is there who loves you far more than any friend here on earth can love, and He will receive you gladly into the number of the blessed.-The Child at Home. The Poor ye have always with you. T was a bright, beautiful June morning, when I met, upon one of the quiet streets of the city, a poor, miserable-looking cripple. A thrill of pain first impelled me to pass silently by ; but then the thought came into my mind-Perhaps a few kind words might prove like sunshine to his heart. He was pitifully deformed, the cords and tendons of the system having become contracted, so that his crooked limbs crossed each other, making him walk in a tottering, staggering manner. His arms were curved so that they could no more be straightened, and his fingers drawn up so that they looked more like the claws of some large bird, than parts of a human hand. His long, light hair falling from beneath a crushed hat, partly shielded his distorted face from notice. One arm pressed against his side a portfolio of cheap pictures, by the sale of which he gained the pittance that still held the soul to that poor, suffering body. He was pleased to have his pictures praised, and though he could hardly talk plainly, he did not seem unwilling to receive a little wayside call. I asked him if he did not get weary with his heavy portfolio? "Oh yes, ma'am," said he, " but it buys my bread. It is all I can do." "Have you a mother living?" "I had one, ma'am, who always took care of me; but she died four years ago." "Have you no father?" "I never saw my father. He is dead too. A kind man took care of me after mother died, but he's been dead a year now, and I've no friends-no home." "You know of God and heaven." |