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THE CHILDREN'S CORNER.

The Children's Corner.

THE BURNING HOUSE.

withinside of the walls, or they The care of Providence seems to would all have been crushed. When have been exercised in a remarkable they brought him into the house manner over the early life of that where his father was, the good man zealous and active servant of Christ exclaimed—“Come, neighbours, let -Johu Wesley. When a little boy, us kneel down! let us give thanks six years of age, the house of his to God!

He has given me all my father, who was a pious clergyman, eight children- let the house go - I at Epworth, in Lincolushire, caught am rich enough!" fire at midnight, so that when the The memory of Mr. Wesley's family awoke, they found them. escape on this occasion is preserved selves surrounded with flames. Mr. in one of the early prints of him; Wesley, the elder, succeeded in in which, under the head, is the effecting the escape of all the little representation of a house in flames, members of his household from the with the motto, “Is not this a brand devonring element, with the excep. plucked out of the burning ?” tion of his son John. This dear And this boy, thus wonderfully boy, through the carelessness of the saved, became, by the instructions of servant was left in the nursery. his pious mother and the blessing of Awaking soon after, and seeing the God, one of the most zealous and room very light, he called to the useful men this country ever promaid to take him up; but no one duced. His life was prolonged many answering, he put his head out of years, chiefly, it is supposed, through the curtains, and saw streaks of fire his regular and temperate habits. on the top of his room. His father, And during a very loug period he startled by the cries of the child, travelled everywhere preaching the attempted to go up the stairs, but Gospel of Jesus Christ, and doing they were all on fire, and would not good to tbe bodies and souls of men. bear the weight of bis body. Find His usefulness did not terminate with ing it, therefore, impossible to give his life. He devised plans for keepany help, he kneeled down in the ing up the preaching of the Gospel hall, and recommended the soul of at home and abroad, which have been the child to God. John, however, the means of leading thousands and got up and ran to the door, but hundreds of thousands to the Holy could get no further, all the floor Saviour and a happy heaven. He had beyond it being in a blaze. He bis failings like all other men, and then climbed up on a chest which some of his admirers say too much stood near the window. A person in his praise; but after all, he was a in the yard seeing him, proposed great and good man, and God blessed that he should run and fetch a him. “They that be wise shall shine ladder: another answered, “there as the brightness of the firmament, will not be time; but I have thought and they that turn many to righteousof another expedient. Here, I will ness as the stars for ever and ever." fix myself against the wall, lift a Think of this, iny young reader; for light man and set him on my you too should fear God, love the shoulders." The plan was adopted, Saviour, and try to do good in your and they took him out at the win- day and generation, and then num. dow. At that moment the whole bered with the righteous you will“ be roof fell in : providentially, it fell | had in everlasting remembrance.”

THE PATRIARCH'S DEATH-BED. He was living when I reached the house. I had feared that I was too late, having been absent on a journey, and learning, on my return home, that the aged man was drawing near to the gates of death.

He was the oldest man in the parish. More than fourscore years had bent his frame, and he was now on his dying bed. His children and grandchildren were around him, and with reverential affection were ministering to his comfort, or watching the approach of the last moment of his long and eventful life. He had been a man of power.

His frame was herculean. More than six feet in height, and faultless in his proportions, he stood up among his fellows a model man. His arm was strong. Even in old age he had no superior. He could carry a weight that no other man could raise from the earth. He was an active, stirring man; all his life he was busy, and in pushing forward every public enterprise he was more useful than any

three men besides. He was a strong man in prayer. With a faith that grasped firmly the promises, and an ardour of love that glowed intensely when he drew near to the mercyseat, he laid his petitions earnestly at the foot of the Throne.

But he had become old, very old, and his once erect and commanding frame was now bent, and his step was less steady, though his arm had not lost its power.

The stoutest frame is not exempt from the approach of disease, and the man who was never unwell in his life must expect to sink and to die. The aged patriarch was sinking. He could not conceal it from himself or others. He felt that he was, for the first time, mastered. A violent fever seized him'; he was soon stretched on the bed, and groaned in pain. And he felt that he should soon die. There was no mistaking the symptoms of approaching death. Probably they were more obvious to him than they would have been to one who was oftener under the power of disease.

Yet in this time of trial to his faith the old patriarch was true to himself, and true to the profession he had often made before many witnesses. He was strong in God; and, strengthening himself in the power of his might, he was ready to wrestle with the angel of death. A quarter of a century ago his wife had died in his arms, and he had had a solitary

THE PATRIARCU'S DEATH-BED.

man.

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pilgrimage since. Now his children, and their children, clustered around his dying bed, and listened to his words of parting. There is something truly sublime in the death of an old

It is painful to see a young person die. It is joyful to see the departure to glory of one who has well spent a long life on earth, and is now to be escorted in triumph to the skies. The patriarch was sitting up in bed when I entered. His white locks were long, and hung on his shoulders. was losing its lustre, and a pallor was over his countenance that told me at a glance the impress of death was on him.

You see I am dying,” he said, as I entered the room. “ And it is good for the saints of God to die,” I answered.

“ I am the least of all saints, and not worthy to be called a disciple; but I do feel that Christ is mine."

“And you are his.”
“So I hope, and so I will hope.”

The children were pressing near to him to catch his words, and he turned fr me to them, as if would finish something be was saying when I came in.

“And the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob bless you, and keep you, and be your God for ever,

As he spoke, he reached out his hand towards the head of his eldest son, himself a man of grey hairs, who kneeled at the bed-side, and the band of the old man rested on ihe head of the son. "The Lord bless

you
for

your kindness to your old father.' “Speak not of it,” said his.son in the midst of his tears and sobs. “O that you might stay with us till we could all die together!"

I was struck with the thought, “All die together!" it would be sweet to live together so as to make it the wish of all to die together.

And then the rest came, one by one, and knelt down at the side of the bed, and received his benediction in the name of the Lord. All wept but the patriarch. He was calm in the midst of universal sorrow. The dignity of his character was never more seen than now, as he sat bolstered up in bed, and all in tears while he was serene and hopeful.

“It is not hard to die,” he said to me. “I could die a thousand times, if this is all.”

“ It is not such a death as the Master died,” I observed. “O no! that was the cross, and this is the crown.

I was never so happy in my life as now; and I am dying.”

TIE PATRIARCH'S DEATHBED.

“And does the Saviour appear lovely and precious in this hour?"

“The chief among ten thousand, and altogether lovely," he said, with such distinctness and strengih of tone that it sounded doubly sweet to my ears.

“And what views of heaven have you now?" I inquired.

“I have thought much of the glory of God, and it seems to me to fill heaven; so that I think of little else but of Him who fills it with his presence and love.”

Such words as these, and many more that I cannot recall, were spoken with great deliberation, and they served to calm the tumult of feeling in the group of mourning children. They listened with wonder, and silent tearful pleasure, to the words as they fell from his lips, and earnestly desired that he might live to speak to them often and long of the hopes that were before him. I was obliged to leave them, and reluctantly gave the aged man a parting hand.

“I will come again in the morning,” I said to him as he pressed my hand, unwilling that I should leave him “To-morrow, I trust, I shall be in my Father's house.” And

you will be at home there, I doubt not.” “Perfectly at home; good-bye."

I went over early in the morning, for the state of my own family would not allow me to spend the night from home, and, as I entered the house, it was evident that the old man had fallen asleep in death. The stillness of death was on it.

His was a noble frame, and never did it look more noble than when stretched on the bed, with a thin white sheet spread over it. He lay in the arms of death as still and peaceful as an infant. Death had done its work, and his spirit had returned to Him who

gave

it.
Who shall weep when the righteous die ?

Who shall mourn when the good depart ?
When the soul of the godly away shall fly,

Who shall lay the loss to heart?

He has gone into peace; he has laid him down

To sleep till the dawn of a brighter day;
And he shall wake on that holy morn,

When sorrow and sighing shall flee away.

POETRY.-ANECDOTES AND SELECTIONS.

Poetry.

THE DYING PILGRIM'S SONG.

O, WHAT a glorious day

And as I rise I'll sweetly sing, Is now before my view!

0, death! 0, death! where is thy My soul unto this heavy clay

sting!” For ever bids adieu ; And flies away, no more to see

My sufferings all are o'er, The scenes of dark mortality.

My journey's at an end,

My time is past, and I no more Triumphant I shall rise,

O'er earth my way shall wend. From this poor desert land, Up to yon world I take my flight, And soar with joy beyond the skies, To dwell with God in realms of light. Before his face to stand;

Leeds.

W. W.

Anecdotes and Selections.

Tue WONDERFUL BOOK.—Many other books have perished in the lapse of ages, but the Bible still lives in the affections of an innumerable multitude who consult it as their oracle and follow it as their guide. More than three thousand years ago Moses wrote his five books and they remain unto this day. About thirty centuries since, David composed his psalms and spiritual songs, and they continue to be read and sung by millions of our race. Nearly eighty generations have passed away since Isaiah and Daniel took up the harp of prophecy and struck from it notes which are now heard in every quarter of the globe. It is eighteen hundred years since the fishermen of Galilee began to preach the gospel to their countrymen, and their writings have come down to us as a precious heritage, chasing away our griefs, rebuking our worldly mindedness, and directing our pathway to heaven. During this long period libraries have been consumed in the flames, many works of ancient authors have perished, nations have been destroyed, and vanity as well as glory has been stamped upon the literature of men; but there stands the Bible, the first parts of which were written more than three thousand years ago, and the last books eighteen centuries since; there stands the Bible, venerable for its age, the victor in a multitude of conflicts with sin, and error, and unbelief, as well as the subduer of nations to the faith of Jesus; there stands the Bible, which furnished Milton with themes for his immortal poem, which Newton read with the docility of a child and with the reverence of a saint, which Locke, Pascal, and Hale loved and revered, and

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