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consciousness remained in power, and scraps of this hymn were continually in her mouth. Sometimes her father, to give her a little change, would lift her in his strong tender arms, and have her to sit on his knee by the fire. On such occasions, when her attention was roused by the entrance of a visitor, the old refrain came instinctively to her lips, and, looking up, she would give. utterance to the plaintive cry—

'Come to Jesus just now,
Just now, come to Jesus.'

Soon complete unconsciousness set in, and she did not notice even the mother who, in terrible anguish, was bending over her bed; still at intervals a smile would flit across her face, whether from some remembered joy of her short earthly life, or from a glimpse into opening heaven, we may not tell; but this we do know, that it was 'well with the child' as she went down into the dark river of death, for she was 'Safe in the arms of Jesus.' Then the end came, and Grade had gone to God. All that was left to us was the little body that had been the home of the spirit for five short years; and that, too, having been laid in the small coffin by a mother's careful hands, was covered up and by and by taken to rest in God's acre, and into Gods keeping.

I said all that was left to us, but that is not quite correct. I wonder if you children could guess what else besides the body is left in this world when people die— something indeed that may continue long after the body has become dust? It is the remembrance of their life; and if it was a Christian life, how blessed should that remembrance be.

Now, I know that boys .and girls don't like the preachy bit that is apt to come at the close of a story like this, what in my young days was called 'the moral.' Well, I won't detain you, but just to say that there are two distinct thoughts that I would like you to carry away with you—the one is that we should get ready for death, the other that wo should get ready for heaven.

It is a serious thing to die, and the only possible preparation is by taking our Gracie's advice, and 'Come to Jesus just now.' Jesus loves little children, and will be glad to be friends with you; and then you really do belong to Him, for God made you, and has cared for you all the time. Then you know if you get well acquainted with Jesus in this world, get to feel that He is really your friend who died to save you, you will be able quite to trust Him to carry you safe through when you come to die. As to the other, 'getting ready for heaven,' is that not the same thing? It is the same, and yet it is also something more. Just as the emigrant for some foreign shore naturally thinks a good deal about the country where he is going, and makes all necessary preparation, so should we think about heaven that it may not seem a strange place, but be homelike.

We do not know very much about the employments and scenes in the life to come; only this much we are told, that neither sin nor sorrow can ever enter there. And if wc would be preparing for heaven, let U3 vow bo seeking to be like Christ in all our thoughts, feelings, and actions, so will the 'Happy Land' be no strange country to us, and this is just what grown-up people speak of as 'sanctification.' Thus does little Gracie's 'footprints on the sands of time' help to draw us on to the better land, for they point in that direction, and her clear young voice comes ringing across all these years to tell us also the way:—

'Come to Jesus just now,
Just now, come to Jesus.'


IT is observed that Caisar set a noble example to all military commanders, while, in his numerous battles, he never said to his legion, 'Ite? go on, but 'Venite,' come on, or follow me. In all the labours or sufferings to which Christians are called by their Master, let them not forget that he has gone before them, and continues to proclaim, 'Follow me, and live.'

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little town in the South of Bohemia. But although he lived so long ago, Wickliffe was before him. Wickliffe was preaching the pure truth, in his little parish in England, and had been preaching it for many years, through long struggle and opposition, while Huss was still a little child in his Bohemian home. Wickliffe died tranquilly at his own house at Lutterworth, and among those he loved. The flames of martyrdom lay before Huss; and the Rhine was to receive his ashes when the fire had done its work.

But the names of the two men come together in our thought as Reformers before the Reformation time. Both good men, who faithfully taught what they knew was true. One in England while Edward Third reigned, and one far away in Bohemia.

Huss was the friend of Jerome of Prague, whose fate was like his own. They studied at the same University, and both protested with whole-hearted earnestness against the abuses of the church of Rome.

In the year 1402 Huss became preacher in the Bethlehem chapel at Prague. He was also made confessor to the Queen, and so gained access to court. Thus his influence spread alike among high and low, and soon his strange new doctrines alarmed the authorities of the church. For it was new to hear bold declamations against confessions and indulgences. And priests were at that time going through the country selling indulgences, to raise money for the Pope, who wished to make war on the King of Naples.

Against all this Huss openly protested. He declared it was a wickedness, a cruel deceit. For the poor foolish people . crowded to the priests to buy pardon for their sins, and thought they might do what evil things they would without fear of God, while they had indulgence from the Pope.

Huss had before this time been accused as a follower of Wickliffe, and been summoned to appear at Rome. He

had disregarded the summons. He was strong enough to disregard it, for all the people were his friends.

Again he was condemned by the Pope, and thinking himself no longer safe in Prague, he retired to his native place. There he continued preaching with great power. He moved the people by his earnestness; and thought, perhaps, that in shelter of the little town he was safe from the Pope and the great authorities of Rome.

But he was not long to be allowed this quiet. He was summoned to a council at Constance, and when he reached the town was seized and thrown into prison. The Pope had resolved upon his death; and on the sixth of July, 1415, he was burned to death, and his ashes thrown into the Rhine. , n. w. n. w.


EDDIE and Willie, the one eight, the other six years of age, were bright little fellows, and loved each other dearly. They would play happily together for hours, while their dear mother was attending to the wants of their sweet baby sister. But it happened one day, as they were enjoying their plays, that Eddie, the older brother, did something that exceedingly displeased Willie. In an instant, he raised his little fist and said: 'I would strike you, Eddie—if mother was willing!' Though he was very angry, the hand fell. The blow was not given. A long pause ensued, but they finally resumed their sports.

How many children, do you suppose, would have been thus thoughtful, when angry, of mother's wishes?

When anything occurs to displease you, and your naughty tempers rise and make you feel as if you would just like to strike your dear brother os sister, or any other playmate, remember Willie. Stop and think 'if mother' would be 'willing,' and never forget that 'the eyes of the Lord are in every place, beholding the evil and the good.'

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SPHERE is a mountain in the Holy Land -*. which is called mount Tabor. Near this mountain there lived a little boy whose name was Selia. He had pious parents who often told him about the good angels that Jehovah sends down to earth, to walk beside little children and guard them from harm and to teach them how to be wise and good and happy. Now, Selia loved flowers very much, and so ho thought, 'Surely, the flowers too, have an angel to take care of them. Oh, how I wish I could see him!'

The little boy went often away up by himself to the quiet mountain, and would sit with his large blue eyes gazing up to heaven, or resting thoughtfully on the flower-carpeted hillsides. He was sitting watching, waiting, if perchance he might hear the rustle of the angel's wings. But, in vain: he saw not, nor heard the flower angel.

Then he thought, 'The angel works when no one sees; at night he comes and cares for the flowers, sprinkling them

with dew, that they may bloom all day, and then at dawn he disappears. Oh, how I should like to thank him!'

So he went and gathered all the loveliest flowers that he could find in the valley. He wove them into a beautiful wreath and, thinking of the flower angel, he laid them softly on the mountain side. Then, with a heart full of peace and joy, he went to his home.

When he was going to bed in his little room, his mother said to him, 'My dear Selia, what have you been doing all day? Have you been away again among the flowers?' So he told her how he had gathered all the loveliest flowers in the valley, and had woven them into a wreath and laid it in a field where the angel of the Spring would find it, that very night. His elder brother laughed, and said, 'You fool, if the angel can make flowers, he can get plenty of his own, and does not need any from you.' This vexed the little boy very much, and he looked sadly to his mother. She said, 'Do not heed him, dear; the angel will welcome your gift, for he looks not only at the flowers, but at the loving heart which made you wish to wreathe and consecrate them to him.' This comforted Selia very much, and he fell asleep. In his sleep the flower angel visited him and smiled upon him in his dreams.

Early the next morning he was up and away to the hill. Home again he came, shouting for joy. Mother, he cried, 'The flower angel has been pleased to welcome my gift. He has not despised it, for see, over all my wreath he has sprinkled drops of shining dew. R. R. K't.

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OUR readers will notice the black border round, our music page this month. It tells that the sweet singer who has so often delighted them has gone to a better home on high. Quoting from a letter of her own in reference to her father's death, we have to announce the fact that on the morning of Tuesday, the 3rd of June, Miss Frances Ridley Havergal 'entered Into Life.' It was only a week or two before that she had sent us the hymn which we now print, along with a few others which will appear in the 'Dayspring,' and the intelligence of her departure came to us with a sad surprise.

Miss Havergal was a daughter of a well known clergyman of the Church of F.ngland—the Rev. W. H. Havergal of Worcester. Ho was a man of sincere piety, and endowed above many with the gift of song, which he sought to consecrate to the Master's service. His daughter inherited her father's gifts and spirit. She, too, had the gift of song in no mean degree, for she was both a poet and a musician; and it was her supreme desire to use her powers in advancing the cause of the Saviour. Her heart's deepest desire was expressed in one of her own hymns, now very familiar to many,—

'Jesus, Master! whose I am,
Purchased Thine alone to be.

By Thy blood, 0 spotless Lamb,
Shed so willingly for me;

Let my heart be all Thine own,

Let me live to Thee alone.

'Jesus, Master! whom I serve,
Though so feebly and so ill.
Strengthen hand and heart and nerve

All Thy bidding to fulfil;
Open Thou mine eyes to see
All the work Thou hast for me.'

She first became known by the publication of her volume of poems entitled ' The Ministry of Song.' After that she became a contributor to several religious periodicals, and the 'Dayspring' was frequently enriched by her pen. Besides the book

which we have mentioned, she published several others, as 'Bruey,' 'Under the Surface,' 'The Royal Invitation,' 'Loyal Responses.' Many of her pieces were published in the form of leaflets, and had a very large circulation. In all, her endeavour was to do good; and in looking over her letters, mostly relating to business, we have been struck with the earnest spirit breathed through them, and the constant desire to bring, by her verse, to some weary pilgrim

'The quiet and refreshment of an upward pointing thought.'

It was not by her poems alone that she sought to point upward to the skies. In a letter written some years ago, she says: 'I am setting aside all literary requests, &c, for a spell of more direct work for Christ, such a singularly wide "open door" seeming to be set before me that I cannot refuse to enter. I have several Bible classes or readings every week, and eager welcome in every cottage and farm-house. God is blessing me beyond anything of the kind I ever had.' So earnest was she that she injured herself by her devotion to work. In another letter, written shortly after, she says: 'I am not at all strong, and find that having several different Bible classes or meetings a week, with separate preparation for each, and all the 'interviews' and personal following up which they involve is too much for me, and I could not keep it up much longer without risk. As it is, I have had a series of small breaks-down and fits of exhaustion, and cannot do all that would bo otherwise within my reach. But God knows how to put the weights on the clock; and the Lord Jesus is indeed a good Master, and it is worth any suffering to be permitted to work for Him at all.' The toil and excitement proved too much for her, for both in mind and body she was finely cast and sensitive.' She fell into a nervous fever, and her life was despaired of. Her own impression was that she was dying; but she said ' It is perfect peace': and when a text of Scripture was repeated to her, she replied, 'It is true; I have

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