from the Father, and go to the Father," but He is ever with the Father, who is in the bosom of the Father; nor was the bosom of the Father ever deprived of the Godhead of the Son, "I was with Him as one brought up with Him;" nor do we understand that God the Son of God, the Creator of all, was Himself created, or made of things which were not, but was existing from existing one from one, to whom like glory and power with the Father was produced eternally from the Father, for "he that hath seen the Son hath seen the Father." All things were evidently created by the Son, but He is not a creature; as Paul speaks of the Lord, "for by Him were all things made," "and He is before all things:" the word created agrees with all things, but that "He is before all things," with the Son only. 3. He is therefore a perfect offspring from that which is perfect, born before all hills, that is, before every intelligent and reasonable nature; as He says in another place," the first-born of every creature:" but when He calls Himself first-born, He means not that He was a creature, but that He was the offspring of the Father; for it is a stranger to His Godhead to be called a creature, for all things were created by the Father through the Son, but the Son only was born eternally from the Father. Wherefore God the Word was the first-born of every creature, immutable from immutable; the body, however, which He took for us, was created; of which Jeremias says, according to the Septuagint translation, The Lord hath planted for us a new salvation, in which salvation men shall walk;" according to the translation of Aquila, The Lord hath created a new thing in woman" but this salvation which was planted for us new and not old, for us and not before us, is Jesus Christ, who for our salvation was made man and His Name Jesus is sometimes interpreted salvation, and sometimes Saviour: and this salvation springs from our Saviour as illumination does from light. Wherefore this new salvation, which was made from our Saviour, as Jeremias says, has created for 'us a new salvation; and as Aquila translates it, "The Lord hath created a new thing in woman," that is, in Mary; for nothing new has been created in woman, except that the body of our Lord was born of a virgin without marriage; as also He speaks in the Proverbs in the Person of Jesus, "The Lord created Me, the beginning of His ways, for His works of old:" He saith not," He created Me before His works," that no one might think that He here spoke of the Godhead of the Word. 4. Whatsoever, therefore, is said of His creation, is used of His Body; the God-man was created the beginning of His ways, whom He hath shewed forth for our salvation; for by Him we have access to the Father, "for this is the way that leadeth to the Father." But this way is something discernible by the bodily sight, that is, the Lord-man; all things therefore the Word of God created, who was not Himself created, but begotten: for He hath created nothing equal to, or like, Himself; for it belonged to the Father to beget, but to the Maker to create; the body, therefore, of the Lord, which He bore for us, was made and created, as Paul says, "who of God is made unto us wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification, and redemption;" although the Word both was and is the wisdom of the Father, before us and every creature; but the Holy Spirit, which proceedeth from the Father, is ever in the hand of the Father who sent Him, and of the Son who bore Him. The Father, therefore, having, as we said, existence in Himself, begat the Son, but did not create Him; as the river from the fountain, as the tree from the root, as brightness from light, which nature acknowledges is inseparable. Through whom to the Father be glory, inight, and majesty, before all ages and to all eternity. Amen. BEAR INJURIES PATIENTLY. CHAPTER I. OTHER, I hate that Sarah Jones, I do," exclaimed Mary Barker, as she threw off her hat and cloak, having just returned from the parish school in the afternoon. "Hush, Mary, I'm shocked to hear you speak in this way," replied her mother. "What has Sarah done to offend you ?" “Oh, mother, she is always doing something horrid iu school, and putting the blame on others for what she does herself. One day, she made a great many blots in Harry Bennet's copy-book, and got that poor little fellow into no end of a scrape, and she never owned to it, even when Mr. Morton gave him a flogging for denying it." "My dear child, you should remember that that poor girl's mother has never taken any care of her, and never taught her as I have you, and her father is always beating her. Poor girl, she has a wretched home. But after all, what proof have you that she did it ?" "Oh, mother, I have proof enough! Why, just as we were coming out of school on Wednesday afternoon, which was the day it happened, Harry Bennet comes up to me, crying bitterly, poor little fellow, and he says to me, I really did not do it, but I know who did, and I cannot tell of them because it would be unkind.' So then I asks him who did do it, and he says, 'don't tell then, 'twas Sally Jones, for my sister saw her do it;' and then he sobbed again, and said, 'Oh, 'tis very hard to bear, for she is always doing those kind of things to me;' and so she is, mother, she takes advantage of him, because he is such a meek little fellow. Well, I was mighty angry, and told Harry I would pay her out; but he begged and entreated me not to, for he said he did not wish to return evil for evil, but rather good for evil. Well 'twas odd to hear a little fellow tell of that, now, was'nt it ? I suppose he heard it in church. And now to-day she has taken it into her head to play her tricks on me, but I won't stand it from that girl, no, I wont!" "Ah, Mary," said her mother, "I wish you would follow the example of little Harry; if he has daily vexations from Sally, and bears them patiently, I'm sure you ought to do so; and it is a disgrace to a big girl of twelve years old to set such a bad example. You must learn to bear and forbear." "Oh, but mother, 'tis very hard to keep from being angry, when you see others wronged as well as yourself, just through a saucy girl like that." "Once conquer your pride, Mary, and you will find it much easier. Now if you had taken no notice of what Sally did, she would no longer care to tease you; but when she sees you are in a temper about it, it will be something for her to catch hold of.” "But, mother, if I take it quietly, she takes advantage of me as she does of Harry." "Not if you treat it as a joke, child, that's what you should do; treat it as a silly little joke, and nothing more." "I don't believe I could do that, mother." "Oh yes you could, child, if you tried. Be determined to do it, for where there's a will there's a way. Will you try, dear, to-morrow, if anything of the sort happens again ?" "Yes, mother, I'll try."" "That's right, Mary. Be sure Sally will get tired of teasing you, if she finds that you take it quietly. I've no doubt you will have trials to-morrow at school, but make up your mind to them beforehand, and they won't seem so bad." The next morning, Mary Barker woke with the resolutions of the night before fresh on her mind, and she prayed earnestly for strength to carry them out. That was the right thing to do. At half-past nine Mary went to the school, which was about a quarter of a mile from where she lived. When she got there she went straight to her place, and got out her books. She was third in the second class; Sally was in the same class, but she was four below Mary Barker. Sally did all she could to vex Mary that morning, and spoke against her to some of the girls; this was purposely done in Mary's hearing. Mary could not help wishing that Sally should be caught talking, or that she should be turned in her lessons, but however neither of these things happened. Sally said her lessons remarkably well, and then turned to Mary with a triumphant sneer, as she had just been reproved for bringing one of her les sons imperfect. But before the morning was over Mary had overcome all unkind feelings towards Sally. After school, Sally went up to Mary, saying contemptuously, "So you've not condescended to speak to me this morning; I suppose you've got a pain in your temper still!" Mary was on the point of answering bastily, but she remembered her mother's words, and her own resolutions, and only said, "No, I am not cross with you, Sally, please don't think so." "Oh you little hypocrite!" exclaimed Sally; "why you know very well what a passion you were in yesterday, and this morning you would not speak to me, and now you make out that you are so amiable!" "Well, what has that little crosspatch got to say for herself?" exclaimed a voice close to her, and then some of the bigger girls in the class came up to Sally. "Why, she actually says she's not cross," said Sally, laughing. "Not cross, indeed!" exclaimed another; "it's very plain she thinks herself better than she is." "Please don't go on so, Sally," said Mary, at last, "it seems as if you wanted me to be cross." "Then get along, I'm sure we don't want you," exclaimed Sally, giving her a push. So Mary ran home as fast as she could. When she went back to school at two o'clock, Sally seemed to avoid her. Mary got into trouble that afternoon, for she could not find anything that she wanted. Her pen was gone, and her slate, pencil was gone, so she could not write her copy or do her sums, and she had a severe reproof for her carelessness. While the others were writing she had a long lesson given her to learn. The girls were called on to shew their copies. Sally went up in her turn, and to Mary's great surprise she saw lying in Sally's place her own pen. Mary's first thoughts were those of anger and revenge, and it was not without a great struggle with herself that she overcame these bad feelings, and was making a resolution which was rather hard, to do as Harry did, and return good for evil. This resolution had been prayerfully made, and Mary was anxious that it should be carefully kept. When school was over she went straight home, without staying where she might be so easily tempted. Mary went to bed that night feeling happier that she had really tried, and had succeeded in conquering herself. CHAPTER II. WE will now pay a visit to the home of Sarah Jones, which was not as peaceful as that of Mary Barker. Poor child, she had not had the same advantages, which may partly account for her not being a good girl. On the afternoon of the same day, when school was over, Sarah stayed to loiter about with some of her rude companions, for she was in no hurry to go home; on the contrary, she was glad to keep away as long as she could. Presently, however, she turned to go home with her favourite companion, Margaret Willis. Mrs. Jones came to the door of her cottage, scolding Sarah for being so late. "This is just what you always do, never come home to help me with the baby, and Kitty here has been screaming and fretting the whole day long, and Ted and Bill do nothing but fight and squabble all day; and between 'em all, why it's enough to drive a body crazy!" As she said this, she turned to go into her cottage, muttering to herself angrily. Sarah followed her a few minutes after, in no very good humour. Her mother gave her a piece of dry crust, and a little drop of milk in a broken mug. Sarah was quite satisfied with this poor fare, and took it greedily, for she seldom got anything better. She then had to put the children to bed; Kitty fretted and whined, and all Sally did to stop her was to scold her and box her ears. But when Bill and Kitty were put to bed, they kicked and fought with Sally, who found it no easy matter to manage them. The next morning she had another dry crust for her breakfast, and afterwards her mother shoved her out of doors, with a box on her ears for being insolent, so it may be understood why Sarah was never very anxious to get home. Sarah was angry at having been turned out of the house, and felt inclined to vent her rage on any one she met. When she got to the school she saw several girls talking eagerly about something. She joined the group, and enquired what was the matter. "Ob, don't you know, Sally? haven't you heard? why, Harry Bennet is dangerously ill, he has typhus fever, and it is not expected that he'll live; and Jane Bennet says that it is fearful to see him in his delirium, that he cries out so about something, but of course she can never understand anything that he says, but she says that she's sure something has distressed him lately; and they say, too, that fever is likely to spread in the village." Sarah was much shocked to hear this, and turned abruptly away, for she could not bear to think that Harry, to whom she had been so unkind lately, was per haps dying; so she tried to keep out of the way of those who were talking about it so eagerly. "If Harry was to die," she thought, "what should I do? I wonder what it is that he was unhappy about." It suddenly struck her that perhaps it was her fault; perhaps her unkindness, or rather cruelty, had made him wretched. She tried to get rid of the thought, but she could think of nothing else, and she longed for school to be over for she felt so uneasy. She did not go home before afternoon school, as it was a good walk to her cottage, so she generally brought her dinner with her; several of the others did the same, but to-day Sarah had not brought hers, as she had been turned out by her mother in the morning. But Mary Barker saw that she was without any, so she asked her to come home with her, and said she was sure ber mother would not mind letting her share their dinner. They walked a little way in silence, but presently, Sarah asked anxiously if Harry Bennet was very ill. "Yes, very ill, I believe," replied Mary.* "When was he first taken ill ?" enquired Sarah. "Well, he has been sickening for some time, but the fever showed itself yesterday afternoon. I think I shall just look in at Mrs. Bennet's, and ask how he is," said Mary. So they asked at the door, and heard that he was just the same. They did not say anything more about it then, for they were soon at the door of Mary's home! Sarah always liked coming to Mary's cottage, because it was always so clean and comfortable, and there were no children screaming and fretting, as in her own home; and besides, Mrs. Barker was always so bright and cheerful and kind. When they were returning to the school after their dinner, Sarah said to Mary, "Oh, Mary, I wish my home was like yours. Yours is so quiet and comfortable, and mine is wretched. Mother is always scolding about something, and the children are dreadful, it's one perpetual racket all day long. Oh I wish there were no such things as children!” Oh, don't wish that," said Mary, "I fancy I should rather like some little brothers and sisters." "You'd be tired of them soon enough," replied Sarah; "I know I'd willingly change with you." "But couldn't you do anything to make your home more comfortable?" asked Mary. "Oh no, there's no quieting the children," replied Sarah; "they are such plagues!" They had now reached the school, and joined several of the others who were going in. When Sarah went home that evening, she thought of what Mary had said about trying to make her home comfortable, and she wondered what she could do. She wisely resolved to try to be more gentle with her brothers and sisters. When she put the children to bed that evening they were crosser than ever, but she soon saw that being kind quieted them much sooner and better than being sharp and rough. After that she put the room tidy; and she felt happier for having for once tried to do her best. The next morning she asked eagerly, the first thing, how Harry Bennet was, and the answer was that he had slept rather better between one and four, and was perhaps a shade better, but not out of danger. Sarah was glad to hear that there was the least improvement. We will now pass over three weeks. Harry had been in great danger for several days, and had then gradually improved, and he was now able to sit up for a little while in the day, though he was very weak. This was a great relief to Sarah, who had felt very anxious abonim, and had resolved, when he was well enough, that she would ask to see him. Mary had remarked several times lately to her mother that Sarah was so altered; she was kind, and especially to her, and she seldom loitered about after school now, but always went straight home.. Sarah went as usual to enquire.. for Harry, and being told that he seemed rather better, she asked to see him. She was very much shocked to see how he was changed; she had not expected to see such an alteration.! 1 He was pleased to see her, and asked after all his schoolfellows. Sarah tried to talk of what she thought might interest him, but somehow the words would not come, and they were rather silent for some time, till Harry said, "Sarah, how kind of you to come and see me, when I have so often vexed you." "No, you have'n't," said Sarah. "Oh, Harry, can you forgive me?" she added, sobbing "Forgive you! what for ?" he asked, in surprise. "Oh, Harry, you know how unkind I have been to you and I have been so wretched all the time you've been ill, thinking on it!" "Of course I forgive, anything there is to forgive; it was my fault for being so tiresome to you, but I hope we shall get on better together now, Sarah, so never mind." Sarah made up her mind that they would get on better together. She did not stay much longer with Harry, as his sister came in and said that she had better go, as he must not talk too much. Sarah felt much happier, now that she had seen Harry and asked his forgiveness; and she made good resolutions for the future, which we hope that she kept, for there was very evident improvement in her, and also in her home, which she endeavoured to make happy and comfortable. She grew very fond of Harry, who al ways came to her in his little troubles, as she was like a sister to him. Mary Barker* also became a great friend of hers,' and Sarah always said that it was through her that her own home was so much happier. than it used to be. FAITH AND SIGHT. If there were no f difficulty in the Christian Creed, if there were nothing left insoluble and unexplainable in Christianity, there would be no place for faith. In Christian work we must be content to see no result of our toil, and satisfied simply, as it were, to prepare the ground for the seed of the future. JEREMIAH.-We admire the Romans, who had such a trust in the destiny of their country, that when the land outside the city walls was in the hands of the Carthaginians, they bought it at the full market price. and the conduct of Jere miah, in buying the field' when in the hand of the Chaldeans, may be compared, as shewing no less his perfect trust and faith in the promise of God. |