Have you never wished, dear children, that Jesus Christ was still upon earth, or that you had lived in Judæa when He was there? I am sure you have felt as well as sung:

'I think, when I read that sweet story of old,
When Jesus was here among men,

How He called little children, as lambs to His fold,
I should like to have been with them then.
I wish that His hands had been placed on my head,
That His arm had been thrown around me;

And that I might have seen His kind look when He said,

Let the little ones come unto Me.'

It is natural and right that you should think So, but yet it is much better even for us that Jesus Christ has gone to heaven. Jesus Christ told His disciples, who had known and loved Him on earth, that it was 'expedient' for them that He should go away, and we are sure that it is good for us too. Shall we try and find out two or three reasons why we may be glad Christ is gone to heaven instead of remaining upon earth?

of

'Mr. Jesus' lived, because he wished to go and see Him. The Ministers could tell him he need not go anywhere to find Jesus-He was close to him. How disappointed that poor boy would have been if he had been told Jesus lived in a town several hundreds of miles away.

Another reason why we may be thankful that the Lord Jesus has gone from earth to heaven is, because if He was upon earth we should wish to stay here always. Christian people desire to be where Christ is. But we cannot stay here always. We must die. What a terrible thing death would be if, instead of taking us to Christ, it took us from Him! And it is because to depart' is 'to be with Christ,' that people who love Jesus Christ are not afraid to die, are happy in their deaths. I shall soon see Jesus,' said a little girl when she was very ill, and knew she could not live long. I am going to Christ,' said a young Missionary as he was dying. We often sing, Heaven is my home;' surely it is best that Jesus should be where our home is. And I do not think heaven would seem very much like home if Jesus were not there.

Him to cure her sick daughter, but she had to go to the place where Christ was to ask Him to do it. If Jesus lived here now, He would have to live in one place, and then no one could see Him who did not go to that place. Or else He would travel about, and then very few would see Him more than once or twice in a lifetime. And how difficult it would be to get alone with Jesus-to have Him all to oneself! But now Jesus can be everywhere at once-with sick children in their beds, with healthy children at school or at play, with children all over the world who pray to Him, with you and me when we are sorry for our sins and want Him to forgive us, and when we need His help. In a village I lived in many years ago, some Ministers preached in the open air, and told the people about Jesus. One poor boy asked where

Heaven is better than earth; you are all certain of that, are you not? If we could live for ever here, we are quite sure it would

we could never go to heaven unless Jesus had gone there first. Our sins had shut the gates of heaven against us. They were opened to let Jesus Christ through, and they have stood open ever since. I go to prepare a place for you,' Jesus said to His disciples. So when we reach our 'Father's house on high,' everything will be ready for us. If we belong to Christ, we have the right to be with Him where He is. When we get to heaven, Jesus will be there to welcome us, and to make us feel at home. If a beggar-boy were put into a palace, do you not think he would be afraid to look at the lords and ladies and the king? Do you not think he would feel strange amidst all the splendour? But suppose the king's son came and took him by the hand and led him to his father, and said he knew him and loved him very much and wanted

him to stay with him. He would begin to feel at home then, especially if he had known the prince. Jesus Christ, God's Son, knows us and we know Him, though we have never seen Him. The place where He is is our proper place.

I could give you ever so many more reasons for being glad Jesus has ascended to heaven; but my space is nearly gone. The more you think about it, the more reasons you will find. Some you will not be able to understand till you are older.

But I do want you to remember that you

can touch the Lord Jesus now that He is in heaven. You can touch Him by faith; you can pray to Him, and He will answer you; you can love Him and be sure that He loves you. And by-and-by you will see Him and be with Him for ever.

'Yet still to His footstool in prayer I may go,
And ask for a share in His love;

And if I now earnestly seek Him below,
I shall see Him and hear Him above,
In that beautiful place He is gone to prepare
For all that are washed and forgiven:
And many dear children are gathering there,
For of such is the kingdom of heaven.'

PATH.

HE next day came and went, and then the next again, but on the Friday evening, as Bessie and Harry came home from school, the little girl lagged behind her brother. Harry grumbled, but the child could not help it.

'Dear me, the clock has been altered again, I suppose,' asked mother as she turned to greet her darlings.

No, mother, it hasn't,' replied Harry; 'but Bessie wouldn't come along.'

'I couldn't, mother,' said the little girl. 'You're tired, dear, and shall have some tea.' But Bessie could not eat, and all through the night she tossed restlessly on her little bed, saying she was thirsty, and that her eyes and throat hurt her, 'O, so much!' And the next morning Harry was not sent to school; but he did not enjoy his holiday, for Bessie had the scarlet-fever, and you can fancy how miserable he was. Nor was this all-baby became first fretful, then ill with the same complaint. O, how Harry longed to tell his secret to his mother! but there was no time now. In a few days after, Harry, too, failed; and he lay at death's door just when the others were beginning to get better.

One day when Bessie was recovering, she told her mother of the morning when they had done wrong; and the mother's heart was

torn at the thought of her darling dying with a lie upon his soul. They had well-nigh given him up now, and the mother knelt and prayed earnestly that God would spare him to repent of his naughty deed. It was Sunday, too, and the sun shone and the earth smiled back to it, as though it was nothing to it that a boy lay on the very edge of the grave.

'Mother!' Mrs. Ashford started, for Harry had been unconscious for some time.

My boy, my darling,' and she took the feeble hand in hers, what is it?'

'Mother, I heard what you said,' he gasped ; do you really think that I shall die?' The last word came out with a terrible wailing sob. Not if it pleases God to spare you. He can, my darling, if it is His will.' 'Mother, I shall die! It is right, too, mother, for—for it is all my fault.'

Yes, dear, I know all about it.'. 'Has Bessie told you, then?'

'Yes, dear, and now you must ask Jesus to forgive you; ask Him at once, dear, and then my boy will be at peace.'

6

Mother, I have times and times, and I longed to tell you before, but you were so busy, but I told Jesus. O! do you think He has heard?'

'Yes, yes, Jesus always hears; and now mother's boy must lean upon the good [Continued on page 74.

don't you think our being ill was a punishment?'

'You might have been ill in any case,' said his mother; 'even if you had not called for Arthur, for the fever is so prevalent. I do not call this a judgment on you. I know this, that there are always bulls in the wrong path, and that if we turn and run away, making up our minds never to go that road again, God will guard us from all real danger, and help us to please Him. He sends the bulls to stop us, because He does not like us to be wicked; you see, the first bull didn't make you really turn back, and then He sent a second. But though those who walk in the right way of course often have sickness and trouble, yet there are no bulls-no frights for those who really walk with Jesus, and meet what He sends with Him.'

From the rocks with a deaf'ning roaring I fall, And tumble and toss on the cresses below; 'Mid the thickets I rush where the blackbirds call, Where the wild-brier roses and the sweet lilies grow.

By many a beautiful velvety lawn,

Where violets sparkle with my crystal spray;
Beside the high ridges of gold-waving corn,
And through hazel-covers where whistles the jay.

Until, rushing away with thrice-doubled speed,
I join a great river with burstings of glee,
Which, shelving along through its deep muddy
bed,

Flows grandly and silently toward the blue sea.
JOHN F. MORROW.