In the choir above!

G. LINNEUS BANKS.

Is not this world a beautiful school-room which He has built for us? It is hung with pictures old and new, summer pictures and winter ones, and with many lovely pictures of Himself. Here, too, we listen to pleasant music, and learn to sing songs of our heavenly home, while by the sweet lessons of Jesus heaven is brought next door to us.

You have read of one, whose very first lesson in Christ's school of love brought him so near heaven that Jesus could say to him, To-day shalt thou be with Me in paradise.' Paradise is the happy land.

Stephen too was a good scholar in Christ's school of love, and grew so like his Master

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You have many friends, dear children, and may learn something from every one of them. Jesus, the Friend who is 'kind above all others,' says to you, 'Learn of Me.' You were sent into the world that you might learn of Him, and if you do not learn of Him all your other learning is nothing. Learn of Him now in His school of love on earth, and when school is over He will carry you through the dark of death to His home of love in heaven.

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Jesus built our school-room,
Sky, and sea, and land,

Bright with pictures painted

By the Master's hand.-Heaven, &c. Love is His sweet lesson

Taught with matchless grace, Till we catch the brightness

Of the Master's face.-Heaven, &c.

Then we sing His glory

Till our hearts rejoice,

Learning notes of sweetness

From the Master's voice.-Heaven, &c.

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When we learn of

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Lord, with Thee, Home for e-ver-more!

If our hearts are weary, Rest is passing sweetRest like that of Heaven

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At the Master's feet.-Heaven, &c.

And at eve we fear not,

Though we hold our breath, Carried in His bosom Through the dark of death.

In at Heaven's door,

Home for evermore;
Oh, to be, Lord, with Thee,
Home for evermore !

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O! but the town is hot and dry! Here we no longer stay,

Off to the country, cool and clear, on wings of light away!

The door is banged-the reins caught up--the whip is cracked amain;

Will rattling wheels, to young fresh hearts, ere bring such joy again?

In that same street that very hour, on that bright morn of spring,

A gentle form of maiden grace lay wan and withering;

The prayer went up as incense from a holy censer poured,

Down came the willing angel straight, and loosed the silver cord;

And when that eve the boys and girls ran shouting by the sea,

SHE went to spend the long bright days where summers ceaseless be.

GERTRUDE.

SOMETHING ABOUT BURMAH.

horses' trampling feet,

She knew that household band was borne to life more green and sweet;

Yet if a pang came o'er her breast, it vanished in a sigh,

While holier meanings lit the depths of her resplendent eye,

And as the sounds in distance died, a low clear voice awoke

Of tone so flute-like, that it seemed she rather sang than spoke:

'Yes, these to fields and woods are gone, with pulses bounding high,

'For May now hangs her blossoms 'neath a blue delicious sky;

'And they will climb the mountains, and inhale the balmy breeze,

'And gather flowers, and launch the boat upon the sunny seas;

"Then pluck the Autumn fruits, and stand beside the waving grain,

'And, when the winds blow chill, return to city's home again :

[go, 'But I-O! fairer far the land to which I surely 'Where fadeless trees are mirrored in the

crystal river's flow;

'Where high upon the hills of God, aye steeped in golden sheen,

"The angels find their radiant rest 'mong pastures ever green:

'Where peace unutterable fills, like light, the liquid air,

"And speech divinest music hath, for perfect love is there;

'Say, what are all the loveliest scenes here spread from shore to shore,

"To that far boundless spirit-land, whence travellers come no more?

'O, but this earth is dim and drear! I would

Bengal, and then look eastward, you will see Burmah marked. Look next for the gulf of Martaban, and you will see Rangoon, which is a large city. The Burmeese call Martaban the 'gulf of golden waters.'

Around its shores there are several missionary stations, twenty-two missionary families, and four hundred and fifty native preachers and schoolmasters. More than twenty-six thousand converts have been baptized. You might read about these missions in a book written by Mrs Mason called 'Civilizing Mountain Men.' She mentions that not far from Rangoon is a mission station where Mrs Ingolls, the widow of a good missionary, lives and works. About five years ago Mrs Ingolls came to England; she wanted rest, and she wished to tell others about her work and schools. One day I went to a large drawingroom and Mrs Ingolls was there, who gave an interesting account of her mission school, and about one of her scholars who sorely tried her patience. I will try and tell you just what she told us:

'In the jungles the women often sell their children to get money or to pay their debts. Hearing that one girl about twelve years old was going to be sold for about two pounds, I resolved to rescue her. I prayed that the Lord would incline the mother's heart to let me take the child. So I paid the debt on condition that the girl should serve me for seven years. A writing was drawn up and signed by the chief priest, and the girl's friends. I am fond of children, but there was something about this girl that made me tremble; she was so rough, and wild, and uncouth. The first thing I did was to send her to the warm bath, and cut her tangled hair, and clothe her in clean garments. I tried to teach her to comb her hair, but she would persist in sticking her fingers through it, and even pull her hair out.

'For the first three months nothing would induce her to go into the school-room, she would say, "O, teacher, I cannot; let me go stride the buffaloes, let me go up the trees and get the leaves to boil, let me dig up the snails for dinner." (Snails are much eaten.)

'At last I got her into the school, and set her to copy the letters A B C. She copied two, and then ran off down to the river. She came back to me with a large jar of water saying, "O, teacher, it is so hot learning, let me pour this water over you." Another day I set one of the elder girls to teach her the Lord's prayer, but in three minutes she was off. It was in vain to teach her to work, she would not hold the needle, letting it fall, when I put it between her fingers. She saddened me very much, but I went on praying for her.

'But she was kind hearted, and was pleased to wait on the pilgrims, who often came to us for rice, when they passed by on their way to worship their god at Rangoon. It was very sad to see these crowds; often there were mothers carrying their babies the long journey, which took some of them three months to accomplish. I used to go out and reason with them, and tell them of the true God, the Creator, ever near, ever able to hear us without going long journeys. Perhaps out of two hundred, fifty would say, "We like what you tell us, we will stay with you and hear more about your God."

'I then said to Meepu, "What can I do with all these people?"

""O, teacher, let me do it all, I can get the leaves, I can boil the rice and the snails."

'One day I remember thinking Meepu was a very long time boiling the rice, so I looked into the cooking kitchen. There were large dishes of nice hot rice, and there was Meepu eating as hard as ever she could. I said, "O, Meepu, you have always been kind, and let the pilgrims eat the rice, why do you take it?' 'She did not seem the least ashamed, saying, "O, mother, the rice was hot and nice, I have so often fed others, I thought I should like to eat myself now."

'I drew a thought from this: Here am I often feeding others with the bread of life, and very little time to get any myself, and here I see you in England with Bibles, and sermons, and soul feasts always spread, and so like Meepu I want how to eat myself.

Now I will tell you something about their gods:

"The Burmeese worship four gods, the last

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is called Gudamah, and they believe that once it was an ant, then a pigeon; a monkey, a tiger, and then an elephant. Sometimes I asked them, "Did your god create the world, the stars, the sun ?"

"Oh no, they were there before him."
"Then why do you worship him?"

"He commanded us; he sat seven years in one posture counting beads, and by that merit finished his term of transmigration. He told his servants to burn his body, and then like dry leaves it would be consumed, and his spirit would end in smoke. And he told them they must make images like him, and offer rice and fruit to them. So his followers place fruit and rice before the images every day."

"The way these poor people pray is this, they get some one to write this prayer out on a palm leaf: "O, Gudamah, on account of the merit I acquire by placing before thee fruit, flowers, and rice, I entreat thee to let me go when I die to the thirty-third heaven, and then become a man.' The reason why the poor women pray to become a man is because their husbands treat them like slaves, and sadly kick and beat them. These poor people never pray for the forgiveness of sin, and they have no idea of the real happiness and holiness of heaven.'

Perhaps, dear little readers, you think how foolish their prayers are, and that you would never pray like them. But do you really pray? How often during the closing prayer in the Sabbath school do your eyes wander, and you never say one word in your heart. And worse than that, I have seen whispering and laughing. Ah! this is sin indeed; and your very prayers make God angry with you. For, the Lord will not hold him guiltless that taketh His name in vain.' And how much you lose! Why, you never get anything from the Lord Jesus. He has so much to give to them that ask Him in their hearts. He says in the Bible He will give a new heart, the Holy Spirit, pardon and peace, but you do not care to ask. O do cry, Lord, teach me to pray,' or else the time will come when,

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Twill then for ever be in vain,

To cry for pardon or for grace.'

"Then shall they call upon Me, but I will not hearken.' 'Seek ye the Lord while He may be found, call ye upon Him while He is near.'

MARIA V. G. HAVERGAL.