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MABEL'S JOURNEY.

MABEL'S JOURNEY-A PARABLE.

SUCH a nursery full of children,
Such lighthearted shouts of glee,-
Till as twilight slowly deepened.
Came they near to me;
Sitting round me in the firelight,
Baby on my knee.

'We are tired of playing, Auntie,'
So my blue-eyed Charlie said,
'Tell us just one little story,
'Ere we go to bed,
'Only just a little story--
'Or a song instead.'-

'Well,' I answered 'You shall have one.' Joyful rose the children's shout,

‘But I think that you will wonder

'What it is about,

For my story has a meaning,
'You must think it out.'

Long ago dwelt little Mabel
In a valley green and fair,
Many a friend had little Mabel
Guarding her with care,
But her Father was a monarch
And He dwelt not there.

Far beyond those distant mountains
Which her eyes could scarce behold,
Stood His palace all resplendent,

Where the walls were gold,-
Where the gates of pearl were fashioned
Wondrous to behold.

And her Father sent a letter One day for the little maid, 'You must travel through the forest 'To My home,' it said; 'Not for all its gloom and darkness 'Need you be afraid.'

'I will promise to be near you, 'Though my face you will not see; 'When the danger presses nearest, 'Only call to Me,

'Till in that same place where I am 'There my child shall be.'

Bravely forth stepped little Mabel, While the green trees o'er her bend, Heeding not the toilsome journey,— Thinking of the end;

Thinking of the royal Father

Who would be her friend.

Oftentimes the wild beast's roaring
Filled her heart with doubt and fear,
Yet the sounds would always lessen
As she drew more near;

And instead, a strain of music

Would delight her ear.

Paths all strewn with thorns and briars,
Seemed the way where she must tread;
Planted she her footsteps bravely,
Thorns and brambles fled,-
Little, fragrant, wayside flowers
Sprang there up instead.

Till at length she reached a river
Flowing very deep and wide-
Mabel knew that she mnst cross it
Let what might betide;

For she saw her Father's palace
On the other side.

And while thus she waited, wondering
Lo, she saw the waters stir,
From them rose a veiled figure

Held its arms to her.

Whispering soft-Your Father bids me
Be His Messenger.'

Very calmly flowed the river
For the twain who o'er it passed,
Sudden gleams of golden glory

O'er its waves were cast,
And her Father's stately palace,
Reached the child at last.

Sweet, the rapturous bursts of music,
Echoing from its glorious dome,
Sweet, the tones of white-robed children.
Glad that she was come;
Sweetest was her Father's whisper,
'Mabel-Welcome home.'-

KATIE THOMSON.

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WAITING.

WAITING.

HICH is hardest-waiting or working? This man here with his brow all covered with sweat, and his limbs feeling sore in every muscle through the stress of ong-continued toil says, 'working, to be sure!' But I am not quite so sure of that. I have a strong impression that waiting is harder than working, and that when the Great Teacher wishes to set us a hard and difficult lesson, He asks us to WAIT. People can judge of these things best by their own feelings, and it is for that reason that I now tell you how I felt when God asked me for six months to get this lesson, as we say, by

heart.

I had met with what seemed at first to be a very slight accident; it turned out, however, to be more serious than was supposed, and the consequence was that for a whole half-year I was not permitted to cross the threshold of the door, and for a good part of that time was compelled to lie in bed, or on a sofa. I can remember, looking back for thirty years, what a trial it was, and how, when the other children were permitted to go out for play, my heart felt as if it would break that I could not go with them. And then, when the shouts came up from the street of merry, healthy children romping about and having all manner of games, it made me long so to join them, and I more than once thought it was hard in the Heavenly Father to keep me a poor prisoner month after month. From the corner of my window I could just catch a glimpse of a box of flowers which, when the summer wind passed over them, seemed to have a way of making all kinds of signs, by nodding their heads and waving their slender arms to come out '-to 'come out,' and I used to shake my head in return and say 'I MUST WAIT; I MUST WAIT!' And, above all, when the birds commenced in the same strain, it was hard to bear. Two or three perky little sparrows used to hold a meeting on the roof of an outhouse from which they could look into the room where I lay, and when they took up the cry, morning after morning, wont you come out?' and I was forced to give the same old answer, it

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seemed particularly hard-harder, I can tell you, than the hardest day's work I have done since. But, there was good in it after all; for it taught me, when I was young, to know the fact that this WAITING is just one of the ways in which God trains His children to put faith in Him, and to see that He does all things well.

One day, many years after what I have told you above, I had a splendid proof of how some people spoil things by not waiting. I had given two little boys a scarlet-runner each. They had seen how a few which I had planted the summer before, had grown up higher than the door of the house, and had looked with wonder and admiration at the glowing, red flowers and the little threadlike fingers which clung to the pole so that the highest wind could not shake them off. They would have scarlet-runners, too. So one was planted on each side of the door, and for a day or two, I could mark how the little ones ran almost every hour to see whether there was no sign of the green, pointed spear making its way through the earth. I heard, on one of these occasions, a shout of joy, and came out to have my share of the gladness. There it is at last! a beautiful speck of green. I saw at a glance that there was disappointment in store for my young friends, but thought it better that they should learn the lesson without my interference. 'Surely,' said one of them, 'when the scarlet-runners came up last year they had a different look from this one,' and gradually it dawned upon them that this was another kind of plant, as indeed it was, being one of those common garden weeds, which like all weeds, and like all that is bad, grow much easier than better things. Next day, the earth round the place where the scarlet-runners had been planted seemed to me as if it had been disturbed; and on the following day there was the same appearance, puzzling me, and setting me to look at the stakes and nets by means of which I had confined the poultry, which are about the worst gardeners I know. But that the poultry (if it was they) should always select the same spot for their gardening, seemed to me a curious

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THE LITTLE HOME MISSIONARY.

thing. At last I discovered what was being done. My young friends had become WEARY OF WAITING, and had taken to a personal inspection of the scarlet-runners, for the purpose of seeing whether or not they meant to grow, and by NOT WAITING had entirely defeated their own wishes and completely spoiled the scarlet-runners. They had learned a lesson, however, which many other people have yet to learn-that more good work is spoiled by not waiting than by any other means.

HE SAW NO MAN BUT JESUS ONLY.

WISH to tell the readers of the 'Dayspring' of a little boy who lived in a village in the country. He was surrounded by the finest scenery, by woods, by a lake, by all that is most beautiful in nature; but this poor boy could not enjoy as other boys could, climbing the hills, wandering through the glens, or bathing in the shallow places of the lake. He was feeble and delicate. suffering much from pain and weariness, and was often confined to the house, and frequently to bed. Still, as long as he was able to go out of doors, he improved his time by attending the week day, and Sabbath schools, and acquiring useful information. On Sabbaths, when the bell for church rang, it was sure to bring Willie forenoon and afternoon to church, and there you might have seen him in his pew looking up with his pale face and listening eagerly to the old minister.

I might tell you much of Willie, of his gentleness and patience amidst weakness and suffering, and of all the other graces that shone in his character under the chastening hand of his gracious Father, who by these afflictions was bringing Willie very near to Himself. I shall, however, mention only two of his sayings to show you how he felt about JESUS, the sinners' Friend.

A lady of rank, well known in the village for her devoted labours among the poor, promised to visit Willie. The neighbours told him that this lady asked many pointed and hard questions at people, and wondered if Willie would not be afraid to see her.

She came and spoke seriously and kindly to him about the Saviour, and when she left, his mother asked him how he liked the lady's visit. Willie's reply was, 'mother, I liked her visit very much, and she didna' ask me ony hard questions; she just asked me if I loved Jesus, and it wasna' a hard question to answer that.' I wonder, now, how many of my readers could say that that would not be a hard question for them to answer.

On a bed of sickness and death Willie seemed to have constant communion with that Saviour whom he loved, and, as the result, he was filled with peace and joy, and though poor and sickly, was happier than a prince. Disease soon did its work on the feeble frame of him who found it not a hard thing to say that he loved Jesus, and his mother saw that she must soon bid him farewell. One day as she was watching by his bed, Willie could not see her, but knew she was there, and said to her, 'mother, I am blind noo, but I STILL SEE JESUS.' Yes! while the shadows of death were darkening his bodily eyes, the glories of heaven were beginning to break upon his soul.

L

THE LITTLE HOME MISSIONARY.

ITTLE Tommy was a scholar in a large infant class in the Sabbath school. His elder sister brought him when he was under four years of age. Although so young, he was quiet and attentive in the class, and had not been many nights there when he could sing the little hymns in which all the children delighted to join. During the time of prayer no one seemed more earnest than little Tommy, who stood with clasped hands and closed eyes, repeating, after the teacher, the simple petitions. The box of moveable letters, which was used in the class, was something new to Tommy, as he had never been in a day school. soon got to know the letters and the little words, and was always able to repeat at the close, the Scripture text which formed the subject of the evening's lesson. Tommy was not, like some little boys and girls, content with repeating the verse in the class, but like a little missionary told it

He

A CHILD'S RESOLVE.

to his father and mother when he went home. Here is one of the verses he learned, which he repeated to himself all the way home, lest he might forget it before he got there.

Look unto Me, and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth; for I am God, and there is none else.

Isaiah xlv. 22.

And in his own simple language, he told his father and mother the story the teacher gave to illustrate the verse.

The youthful readers of the 'Dayspring' will not wonder at Tommy being called a little missionary, when they know that his father and mother did not love the Saviour, and spent the Lord's day in idleness and pleasure. Still they could not but listen to the word of God which was preached to them every Sabbath evening, by their youngest child. He was their only teacher; for his elder brothers and sisters threw their Bibles aside when they came home from the school.

Little Tommy attended the infant class regularly for about a year, when one Sabbath evening his place on the front seat, where the very little ones sat, was vacant.

His

father called upon his teacher during the week to say that Tommy had been taken ill, and that his little boy was crying to see his teacher, but he was afraid he would not now be able to know him. In an hour or so the teacher was at Tommy's bedside. Bedside! -a dingy corner in a dirty room, in which on a little straw with a few rags as a covering, lay the bright-eyed little lamb. He started up when he heard his teacher's voice, and with a sweet smile upon his pale

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face gave him a kindly welcome. He listened again to the story of the Good Shepherd who takes care of the little lambs, and said that he would soon see Jesus in the 'happy land.' He was not mistaken. The next day when the teacher called, little Tommy was unconscious, and two days after that, he helped to lay the body of the little missionary in the narrow house, in the hope of a glorious resurrection.

All that little Tommy knew of Jesus and Heaven, he had learned in the infant class of the Sabbath school. The teacher was much pleased afterwards to find, from what his sister told him, that her little brother had carried so many of the precious truths of God's word to his careless parents. Tommy was taught a little prayer in the infant class, and asked to repeat it every night and morning. This he never forgot, and at the same time reminded his elder brothers and sisters of their duty. Here is the little home missionary's prayer:—

Lord, look upon a little child,
By nature sinful, rude, and wild;
O put Thy gracious hands on me,
And make me all I ought to be.

Make me Thy child, a child of God,
Wash'd in my Saviour's precious blood;
And my whole heart from sin set free-
A little vessel full of Thee.

A CHILD'S RESOLVE.

I will serve the Lord, while my heart is fired
With the zeal of youthful days;

And I will not wait till my feet are tired
With the world's weary ways.
For the spring of life is greener
Than its autumn sere and grey,
And the morning air is keener

Than the heated breath of day.

I will serve the Lord, ere my sight grows dim
With the world's blinding light,

And I will not wait with my lamp untrimmed
Till the dreary hour of night.
For the foe is best defeated

By a calm unflinching eye,
And 'tis watchful saints are seated

At the marriage feast on high.

C.

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