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unprepared! You may die young; are you prepared to meet your God?
"We may endure the rude ravage of time, And exult while the loud howling tempest shall roar;
Or we too may fall in the midst of our prime,
And the place that now knows us shall know us no more." Sunday-school Teacher! this should encourage you. How happy must the teacher of these girls feel to think she has trained two scholars for heaven! What a noble reward, even for the most earnest and self-denying labour! Two children trained for heaven! Two immortal souls rescued from perdition! Two of Christ's lambs gathered safely into his eternal fold! Is it not worth labouring for? Is it not worth praying for? Oh! then, be more diligent, be more devout, be more in earnest. "Work while it is called to-day;" and then, when the last great day shall come, may many of those whom you instruct from Sabbath to Sabbath be found at the right hand of the Judge, appearing as sparkling gems in that crown which it will be your honour and your happiness to cast at the Redeemer's feet! Wigan, Sept., 1849.
W. M. H.
It was on a visit to a humble cottage that I, by chance, as some would say, heard of Mary Blagdon. But I will not call it chance; for I think it must have been ordered by an All-wise providence, that I might learn of her, formerly my scholar, the two all-important. lessons; viz., how to bear affliction, and how to die. It may be well to speak of her, first, as a scholar. When I became a Sunday-school teacher, Mary was among the number that were committed to my charge. She was remarkable for her good behaviour, her quiet and gentle deportment, and was ever attentive to what was said; but her attendance was very irregular, the reason of which I afterwards found out. She had no shoes of her own to wear; in fact, she always appeared very thinly clothed. From her irregular attendance, it cannot be supposed that she
What shall I com
I heard no more of Mary until the time before-mentioned, which was in the year 1845. I was then informed that she was in a galloping consumption. I went to see her; and, oh! what did I see? pare her to? A skeleton, a mere shadow! She was grown so tall in the four years, that I hardly knew her again. Her countenance was pale and emaciated, except when flushed with the consumptive bloom. Yes, The hectic flush was on her cheek,
And sunk her once bright eye; The deep-drawn breath, the hollow cough, Were symptoms she would die.
She instantly recognised me, and said, "You were my teacher. I am so glad to see you. Oh! that I had gone more constantly to school. It is true I often had no stockings or shoes to put on ; but what did that signify? I could have gone without any." I inquired the state of her mind as regarded eternity. She replied, "I have no desire whatever to live in this world; it is such a wicked world. But I want to know that my sins are forgiven, and that I belong to Jesus." Here she burst into tears, but continued, "I am the chief of sinners; my sins seem greater than any one's. My chief desire for wishing to come to L was, I thought I should be more likely to see some friend who would instruct me in the way of salvation." But she was not so ignorant as she supposed herself to be; for she had been taught of the Holy Spirit that needful lesson-the depravity of the human heart. She had also a correct knowledge of the plan of salvation; though she had not obtained it of mortals, for no one visited her; nor of books, for she could not read. It was quite evident she was Heaven-taught. I questioned her as to the nature of faith. She replied, "Oh! I often think I have none. My sins my sins! they are as a mountain height! But I know that one drop of Jesus' precious blood would be enough to wash them all away."
In strains like these the child reveal'd
She replied, in a tone of surprise and disappointment, "What! can't you stop to pray ?" At another time a person was speaking of her age: she said, with emphasis, "I'm young in years, but old in sin."
Through indisposition I was prevented from seeing Mary for three weeks. When again restored, I bent
Many and frequent were the visits I afterwards made her; and though her words have imperceptibly glided from my memory, yet the expressive countenance, which spoke more than pen can describe, will never be forgotten. Her my steps toward the lowly cottage
frame daily grew weaker, and her breathing more and more difficult. The medical gentleman who attended her said that her lungs were so far gone that she breathed as if through a sieve; yet amid such weakness and sufferings not a complaint or murmur escaped her lips. But gratitude flowed in abundance for the least kindness shown her. She seemed to drink deep into the spirit of the meek and lowly Jesus, whose young disciple, I hesitate not to say, she was. He was preparing her fast for celestial regions. Her faith in him grew strong. Oh! how she loved the name of Jesus! She always wept when she spoke of him. With what eager attention would she listen to his sacred word, when read to her! Oh! she loved to think of that world where Jesus dwelt in all his glory, and longed for an entrance there, that she might behold it. She often said she hoped to find her mother there, who died when Mary was quite young, and also her sister, who died some time after. She entreated her brother to leave off his wicked ways, and told him the consequences of sin. Her anxiety for her father was great; she wept over his sins, and prayed for his soul. "Ah!" said she, one day, as I sat by her bedside, "all I can do is to pray for them, and that I have done, and will do, as long as I remain here." She also reminded her aunt, at whose house she was staying the last two months of her life, of the necessity of being born again. "I cannot repay you for your kindness," said she; "but I can pray to God, and he will be sure to reward you. I hope you will follow me to heaven." She delighted much in hearing prayer ascend from her bed-side to the throne of grace. A person went one evening to see her, and it being late, promised to call the next day, and read to her.
where she resided:
'Twas evening, and the setting sun
As I descended the hill, I looked around on the harvest-field. It was on the 21st of August. The reapers had been employed gathering in the precious fruits of the earth. The thought flashed across my mind, Perhaps I may see Mary no more; this may be the last time. It was too true. The Lord of the harvest came that same night, and ordered her to be gathered into the safe garner in heaven. As I entered the chamber where Mary was lying, what a scene met my view! Mary was dying! A solemn silence reigned around. The sun was setting in all its beauty, magnificence, and splendour, and casting its last departing rays on Mary,-a striking emblem of the dying young Christian, whose sun was about to set, never more to rise in this world. where it had had so many dark clouds to struggle through. But I think I never beheld a lovelier sight. Her forehead and lips well contrasted with the sheet that covered her, and her cheeks were dyed deep with the rose's hue; her hair hung carelessly over the pillow, on which her head was reclining, bathed in cold streams that ran down her face, viz., death-sweats. As I gazed on that countenance, which once was full of agitation, but now calm and serene in the very article of death, I could not but adore Him who had said to the troubled waves, "Peace, be still." She appeared to be in a sweet sleep. But when I arose to depart, she tried to raise her hand, and could not. took hold of it. She gave me a gentle pressure, moved her lips to kiss me, fixed her eyes steadily on mine: a smile passed over her features, while
she faintly whispered, "Good-bye, goodbye." I cannot express what I felt; but the feelings that came over my heart are in my memory yet.
The first sound that fell on my ear, when I awoke in the morning, was, Mary is dead!" Though I rejoiced to know that her captive spirit had got its liberty, and was safely lodged in its native home; though I believed her to be in the presence of Him whom, when unseen, she adored,
At Zion's everlasting hills,
and though the fourteen years that she spent in this world was one scene of unabated sorrow, yet nature could not but weep for her. To memory she was dear. With Mary I had spent some of the happiest moments of my life. remember her saying once, "I wish all the world knew Jesus."
Her aunt told me that after I left she revived, and knowing her time was short, wished to have it spent in the most profitable manner. She desired the person who sat up with her to read, which she did the greatest part of the night; but feeling weary, laid down. The anxious child, wishing to improve every moment of time that remained of her short life, entreated her to get up, exclaiming, "Read, read; it will not be much longer. Read about death." She read for the space of ten minutes, when Mary requested to be turned. Whilst in the act of turning
her, she sunk back on the pillow, and was heard to say, "Ah! I thought so. Come quick, quick, quick;" probably meaning, Come, Lord Jesus; come quickly." A struggle ensued, the tent fell, and the heaven-born longing spirit fled to that world where it fain would be, on August 21, 1845.
'Tis finish'd, the conflict is o'er;
No more I behold her on these mortal shores;
Her heaven-born spirit to Jesus is fled, Her skeleton form is entomb'd with the dead.
Days of weariness, nights of distress,
Great was the cost her Saviour paid.
No more I behold her mourning o'er Him Who on Calvary's cross salvation did win. "My sin is the height of a mountain," she'd say,
"But one drop of His blood can wash it away."
Thrice happy child, how great thy estate! Thy poverty fled before heaven's bright gate!
Sin, want, nor sorrow cannot enter there; How blest the inhabitants! the country how fair!
The victory's obtain'd! what joy and delight!
A companion of saints and angels of light! Scaring in glory with seraphs above! Thou hast for thy home a kingdom of love! A SUNDAY-SCHOOL TEACHER. Lavington, Wilts.
The Children's Gallery.
LETTER FROM A MISSIONARY
IN THE EAST INDIES. DEAR CHILDREN,-You have Christian parents, and kind Christian teachrs, and the whole Bible; therefore, although you hear much of the poor Hindoos and Mohammedans, you can hardly picture to your minds the miserable condition of these poor people. You read in Acts xviii. 6, that "some
the people blasphemed;" but you
can scarcely imagine how dreadful it is to hear the heathen and Mohammedans blaspheming the name of the ever-blessed Son of God! You often hear that God looks upon these poor people, and calls his sheep out from the wolves, one here and one there; but the wolves do not like to let the sheep go away from them, and they oppose them very much, and evil entreat them; and why? because they
hear the voice of the great Shepherd, and seek to follow him who "came to seek and to save them that are lost." I shall here give you a short account of a lamb of Christ, who struggled hard to get away from the wolves, but they were very strong, and got some who had the rod of authority to allow the little lamb to be taken away by the wolves again. The case is as follows:
(that is, the house where the Missionaries lived.) The boy answered at once, I did eat." All the assembly called him a liar; but he yet declared, "I did eat, and of my own free will." The Upadhya, (that is, the Brahmin who presided,) said that the boy might be restored to his original rank if he would drink water that had been sanctified by the washing of Brahmins' feet. The courageous boy said, "I will not drink any of the dirty water in question. I do not wish to be admitted into caste again. I desire to be baptized, and to be a Christian." When they could not shake his firmness, they sentenced him to be imprisoned for a year. There he was taken, and his legs were tied with cords for some days. The native Christian who tried to speak to him on his way to prison. succeeded in getting into the prison, when the boy's parents went to see him; he saw him very badly treated, but he could not help him. Another day he went, and took a copy of the Acts of the Apostles, and some parts of the Bible in writing, and gave them to him; but some policemen near saw them, and took them from him. At last, after three months' dreadful suffering the Brahmins succeeded in making him say he had not eaten, as he before stated; but to show that his heart remained the same, I will give you a copy of a letter he wrote to the English gentleman who had ordered him to be given up to his father. He wrote as follows:
Some Missionaries from the Free Church of Scotland came to this great country, and commenced a school at a place called Kampter, near Magpore, about three or four years ago. The place where the school is belongs to the English, but a heathen king reigns in Magpore. One of the boys told the Missionaries last year that he believed in Christ as the Saviour of the world, and he would be a Christian. His father heard of this, and beat the poor boy very much, and imprisoned him. As soon as he was again free, he went to the Missionaries for protection. The father complained to the Rajah (King), aad he applied to the acting Resident, Capt. Ramsay, who ordered that the poor boy should be given up to his father. This compelled the Missionaries to give him up, because they could not do anything against the law. He was led away by his furious enemies, looking sorrowfully on the ground. A native Christian went and tried to speak some words of comfort to him, but he was soon driven away by the curses and threats of the angry Hindoos, whom some people call meek and "HONOURED SIR,-I don't wish to gentle. The boy was taken before a worship idols, because I don't believe number of Brahmins, to answer ques- on them; and I wish to become a tions which were to be put to him. Christian by the righteousness of Jesus The first question asked was, Have Christ. He is the Son of the living you eat any food at the Bungalow?" and true God who made the world.
He is the Saviour of men. He suffered much pain in this world for men, and I suffered also much pain in prison for about three and a half months; and the King did not justice very well, and he kept me in prison in vain (that is, unjustly); and you told the King to give Baba near his father-that also the King did not do. I am lying in the verandah of the house, and I feel much cold in the night. I am awaking in the night three times by cold; and I can't become a Brahmin, because I don't wish. Therefore, how many days shall I suffer pain? Therefore you give order to become a Christian by grace, because you have liberty to give order. Now in Poonah, and in Nagger, and in the Bombay, Brahmin become a Christian, but they did not suffer pain like me, and I suffer much pain in prison.
I am, your very humble servant,
Now, dear children, I dare say you remember when Peter was put in prison, all the Christians prayed for him, and God heard them, and delivered him. What I want you to do, besides the Missionary-boxes, is to pray much to God to help this poor boy, and to bring him out of prison, and make him his own for Christ's sake; God will surely hear you. I will show you, by a copy of a prayer, how God had taught a poor Hindoo to pray, which, as a Hindoo, he never knew.
Copy of a prayer found in the house of the Missionary after the Baba had left it:
"O God of assemblies, forgive my sin, and make my heart to be changed, that I may serve thee; and let not any danger come in this house because I am living here, and am crying near
you every day. And do thou hear and make my mind pure; this I pray every day near you, and keep this house, and allow not to any man to come here and try to take me away; and bless my relatives and friends, and make their hearts pure, that they may serve thee, and worship thee, and continue (walk) according to thy wish. Also make my father's, and my mother's, and my brothers', and my sisters', and also my wives' hearts pure, that they may serve thee, and worship thee, and put away their bad evil thoughts, and put good thoughts, that they may not take me away from this any more. And give ear to my prayer, and bless me; and also to my two supposed fathers, (that is, the Missionaries,) and also to Mrs. Hislop, and also to Mrs. Apler, (the Missionaries' wives,) for the sake of Jesus Christ."
This prayer is so beautiful, that it requires nothing to be said for it. Of course he cannot yet write English as English boys can. Perhaps you may get tired of reading if I write any more, so I will try to tell you something more about this little believer in Christ afterwards; in the mean time, I hope all who read this will pray every day like him; I may then be able to tell you that God has opened his prison doors. Yours, in Christian love,
Benares, East Indies, June 27th, 1849.
THE MISCHIEVOUS BOY.
BY ISAAC T. HOPPER.
I RESIDED in Philadelphia, in the vicinity of a market. One evening, as I heard a loud rap at my front door. was quietly sitting with my family, I I immediately went to the door, and