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pleasure; the stern and indignant expression of his countenance, is even before me when I knock at his door; he rejects me; he will never receive me; his consent, is but a cruel mocking of my distress ; there is no hope ; no, I must continue to live as I have hitherto done.” But what does the father of the prodigal child ? He perceives his son when he is a long way off. He runs to meet him. “Come to my arms, enter my house, seat thyself at my table; I will restore to thee all that thou hast lost in leaving me; instead of thy rags 'the best robe,' royal apparel; instead of unwholesome food, thou shalt be satisfied as with marrow and fatness; ' in. stead of my heavy displeasure, my love, with which I will so surround, so overwhelm thee, that thou cannot refuse me thine.” Such are God's dealings with man according to the gospel. He does not say to him, I will pardon thee to-morrow; I will love thee to-morrow, when thou hast done something to render thyself worthy of it; but he says, “I forgive thee to-day; I loved thee when thou wast mine enemy; I have expiated all ; I receive thee in grace, without delay, vile, covered with thy sins, such as thou art, that thou mightest love me, and in loving, obey me.'
“ From the French.”
LINES TO THE MEMORY OF DAVID NASMITH.
THE FOUNDER OF THE LONDON FEMALE MISSION.
(By one of his Sabbath Scholars.)
If I could borrow Young's poetic fire,
Could Cowper's piety my muse inspire,
To strains like theirs, I would devote my pen,
And sing to benefit my fellow-men.
With fiction's tale I would not deck my page:
No earthly splendors would my thoughts engage :
Nor would I sing of heroes great in war,
Borne on in pomp in Mar's triumphal car,
Plauded in shouts by the unthinking crowd,
Forgetful that their fame is bought with blood;
And, that to merit all the proud parade,
Are matrons widowed, children orphans made.
I'd sing of such, as with desire intense,
To save lost souls, at every risk dispense
That word which tells of everlasting peace,
Whose dictates are, that wars on earth should cease.
I'd sing of those who worldly wealth despise,
And grandeur's glare is worthless in their eyes.
Such as would rather soothe the bed of pain,
And point the sufferer to a Saviour slain,
Than wield the sceptre of the mightiest king,
And drink the choicest pleasures power can bring.
Alas! how few are subjects of my song!
How few are found among the teeming throng,
Who, in the world, are yet above its love,
Whose work is here, and their reward above.
Yet some there are, and some have passed away,
Who gained the summit of the narrow way;
That journey past, they from their labors rest-
Their names be sacred, and their memories blest.
Just such a man my Sabbath teacher was,
An honored labourer in Jesus' cause.
Faithful was he, and I remember yet
His winning looks; nor shall I soon forget
With what affectionate and earnest zeal,
He wrestled for our soul's eternal weal ;
And how he pray'd with us that we should flee
To him who hung on the accursed tree,
Who once was humbled, though exalted now,
And in whose presence every knee must bow.
“ Ah, seek him now, my children,” he would say,
“ Wash in his blood, and purge your sins away:
And when he comes to judge the quick and dead,
When time shall cease, and earth and heaven are fled,
Hailing his presence with your songs of joy,
His praises shall your willing tongues employ,
Far, far beyond the reach of pain and death,
And where no plague can cast its withering breath.”
'Twas thus he sought to raise our souls to God,
And guide our footsteps in the heavenly road.
And when he left awhile his youthful band,
To take his sojourn in a foreign land,
It was not in pursuit of earthly gain,
He fearless braved the dangers of the main ;
His object was the weal of sinful man,
His errand to proclaim salvation's plan,
Columbia, let your crowded cities shew,
Your lanes and alleys rife with sin and woe,
How he turned pity to your mournful plight,
And urged his plans to send you gospel light,
Thousands shall bless him, through eternal years,
For that bright hope which banished all their fears,
And praise the Lord, that stirred up David's mind
To scorn the world, and cast its glare behind;
And, 'mong the thousands, none shall praise him more,
Than I who many wasted years deplore,
Till he, returning, still his work pursued,
And me a loiterer in the vineyard viewed.
Oh that my words like seraphim's could flow,
To tell th'amount of gratitude I owe
The Giver of all Good, for that blest hour
When words, directed by the Spirit's power,
Poured from his lips, and, like the piercing dart,
Entered the core, and won to God my heart.
He roused mestill to God be all the praise
And led me on to tread those wiser ways
In which God's folk delight; their wills subdued,
Their hearts with sympathetic love imbued.
Oh blessed happy hours of social prayer
I've spent with him, before the morning air
Was warmed and ’lumined by the cheering sun,
Or man his busy labors had begun.
Yet surely God was there, and warmed our hearts,
And shed such grace as to the mind imparts
That wish intense to tell to others round,
What peace and joy we've in the Saviour found.
Alas! those days are past, my teacher's gone,
Like meteor star, he briefly, brightly, shone,
Then past away, and forms a brighter now,
In that fair crown that decks the Saviour's brow,
Just as he lived, he died.--His warning brief,
Death came as sudden as the midnight thief,
And summoned him to leave his work of love,
And join his song with kindred saints above.
He cheerful heard the summons of his God,
He meekly bowed beneath th'amicting rod ;
But still, while in the very pangs of death,
Just ere he yielded up his parting breath,
His soul yet labored for our sinful race,
And, in his pleadings to the throne of grace,
The lost and ruined had a foremost place.
He died-and when he died a saint expired,
Whose noble breast with holy ardour fired;
Expended ne'er a thought upon himself,
Whom not ambition's lure, nor worldly pelf,
Could make forget his nobler, greater end
That cause for which he scrupled not to spend
His youthful and his manhood's active days
All for God's glory, and his Saviour's praise.
Peace to thy mem'ry, honored, valued man,
Be mine to follow in the course you ran;
Be mine to dedicate my youthful strength
To God's own glorious cause: and when at length,
My mortal hour arrives, like hiin may I
Not cling to life, nor hesitate to die ;
But fresh from fighting in the Christian field,
Up to my God my willing spirit yield.
S. S. T. Magazine.
TO THE EDITOR OF THE FEMALES' ADVOCATE. Will you allow a friend to request the insertion of the following hints on the subject of the circulation of your Magazine ?
I was a little concerned at the alteration in the price of the Advocate, fearing that, unless its circulation could be greatly increased, the Society, with whose benevolent labor it is more immediately connected, would be a loser by the change. In order to prevent this, permit me to suggest that each of your readers would endeavour to obtain an additional subscriber for it; the New Postage Act presents admirable facilities for introducing it to a relative or friend, and by clipping the edges of the Magazine a little it may be transmitted at the small charge of One Penny to any part of the United Kingdom. I have myself tried the plan, and I am happy to say that I have obtained five additional subscribers. Trusting that this hint will be generally acted upon by your readers, I remain, &c.
AN ANCIENT PENITENTIARY
AND REFUGE FOR INDIGENT FEMALES. “A. D. 1300. Before the reign of Elizabeth, Queen of Portugal, the gospel produced its usual effects in that kingdom, but operated in an extraordinary manner during the reign of this princess, who was distinguished for piety, charity, and humility. She was so thoroughly persuaded of the vanity of dress, and of the idle amusements of the great, that she employed the time and money commonly spent in that way, in acts of devotion and charity. She passed her time in reading devout books, in attending divine service, or in relieving the poor, especially such as had been reduced from affluence to poverty, She visited the sick, and served them, dressed their wounds, and placed indigent females under the direction of prudent and virtuous matrons. This Queen reclaimed several abandoned females, and endowed a large house for the reception of penitents."
Byan's history of the effects of religion upon mankind.