Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

50

SABBATH EVENINGS AT HOME.

OUR FATHER.

SWEET, blessed name! Gracious, loving

God, who draws the hearts of the little ones to Himself by these two words. For,

SABBATH EVENINGS AT HOME. TIMOTHY.

think of it! He who permits you to call "O, MAMMA, we had such a nice ser

Him 'your Father,' is the Great Supreme, and yet He stoops to little children, and says, 'when you come to Me, call Me "Father." Surely such a Father is worthy of all our love. Not long since, a person who was almost an entire stranger to me, applied to be admitted to the membership of the church.

I asked another if he knew him, and if he could speak favourably of him. No,' he said, 'I know very little of him; in fact I just know one thing, and that is, that he must be a good, kind father, for I have observed that at the meal-hour his children are always on the look-out for him, and whenever he turns the corner of the street in which his house is, they run to meet him; and one clasps his knees, and another holds up her arms to be lifted up into the father's arms, and as he lifts her and kisses her, the little fair head nestles upon the father's shoulder, and the face beams with joy.'

It was indeed a good sign of the father. Do you anxiously look for the great, loving Father who sent His Son to die for you? When you meet Him do you cast yourselves into the arms of His love, do you ask for the sweet kisses of His love, do you seek to feel the strong arms enfolding you, and to hear the loving voice say, Fear not, little children, it is my good pleasure to give you the kingdom'? I should expect that the children of whom I have told you above, would be very careful how they did anything that would grieve the father whom they run so often to meet. I do not know a sadder sight than children who have no respect for a father or mother, who set at nought all their good advices, who laugh at their warnings, and disobey their commands. There is just one sight sadder still-children who disobey God, who cast from them the warnings of a Father, all whose warnings are the offspring of His great love, and who grieve, day by day, the loving heart of Him who says, 'you may call me your Father.'

mon to-day. I never heard such a nice sermon before; it was all to little boys and girls, and it was so plain that I could understand every word of it. I wish you had heard it mamma, it was so nice!'

These were little George's first words after he came home from church one Sabbath afternoon. Little George was a fine bright-eyed little boy, a favourite with every one who knew him, and truly glad was his fond mother to see her much-loved son so pleased with what he had heard in the house of God. That moment, her silent prayer ascended to heaven, that the Holy Spirit might water the good seed sown that day in his young heart.

It was little George's privilege to attend the ministry of one who never forgot that Jesus had said to His disciples, Feed my lambs.' His good pastor always remembered the little ones of his flock. Every Sabbath he addressed a few words to them, and this afternoon his whole sermon had been to the children. Not only were the little ones delighted with it, but many parents and teachers thought it the best sermon they had heard for a long time.

Little George and his brother were both quite impatient to get telling how much of it they had remembered. So their kind mother promised that while papa was with his Sabbath class she would sit down beside them, and hear all they could tell her about it.

When they were all seated round the fire, mamma said, 'Now Georgie dear, you will tell me the text.

'O yes, mamma, I know the text. It was 2 Timothy iii. 15, "From a child thou hast known the Holy Scriptures, which are able to make thee wise unto salvation, through faith which in Christ Jesus."'

'And what was it that made you like the sermon so much to-day, Georgie. Were there a great many stories in it?'

'No, mamma, it was not that: but Mr made the meaning of the text so plain, and

SABBATH EVENINGS AT HOME.

told us so many things about Timothy that I did not know before, that all the sermon was one beautiful story. He told us that Paul loved Timothy very much, and that he wrote this letter to him when he was an old man in prison at Rome. Then he told us how Timothy had become a Christian. He told us too, that to know the Scriptures meant to love them, and that Timothy learned to love them when he was a little boy.'

And did he tell you anything about Timothy's mother?'

'O yes, mamma; he told us a great deal about her, and about his grandmother too; and about the heathen city where they lived, and the heathen god Jupiter, which was worshipped there. His mother Eunice, and his grandmother Lois, were pious Jewesses, and they were very much afraid lest their little boy should learn the evil ways of the heathen around them, and they took great pains to teach him to know and to love the Holy Scriptures. As soon as he was able to learn, Eunice taught him the lessons she had learned from her own mother in her childhood. She taught him to pray to the only true God, and to commit to memory psalms and texts, especially those promises which told of the coming Saviour.'

'And can you remember any of the texts and lessons which Eunice taught her little boy?'

Yes, mamma, Mr told us that she taught him the promise to Abraham, to Isaac, to Jacob, and to David, and the prophecy of Isaiah, "Unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given;" and all about the temple worship at Jerusalem, and the sacrifices which were offered there, and the feast of the passover, and the day of atonement.'

'And how did Timothy learn that Jesus had already come into the world, when his mother had only the Old Testament Scriptures?'

Little George could not answer this question, but Johnnie said, 'Mr told us that too, mamma. He said that the lessons of Scripture which his good mother had

51

taught him, were written on his heart by the Holy Spirit, and then he told us so beautifully about the time when Paul came to preach at Lystra, and how attentively Timothy listened to the story of Christ's death and resurrection. He said it was not the old, old story then, for Timothy had never heard it before. To him it was the new story, of Jesus and His love, and at once he knew that this Jesus whom Paul preached was the Messiah, for whose coming his mother and his grandmother had long waited, and in whom they had taught him to trust. Joyfully he received the glad tidings, and told his friends, "I have found Him of whom Moses and the prophets did write ;" and soon he joined himself to Paul's company, and became a preacher of the gospel. This, he said, showed us how the Scriptures made Timothy wise unto salvation. They led him to find Jesus, and in Him all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge.'

'Very well remembered, Johnnie. You do not know how happy it makes your papa and me to see you both attentive to what you hear at church, and how anxious we are to see our little sons grow up good and wise like young Timothy; and who can tell but that some day they may have the great honour of becoming ministers of the gospel!'

When the boys had told all they could remember, their mamma told them many more things which she thought Mr - had said, and they wondered very much how mamma knew what the minister had said when she had not been able to get to church.

'Do you know, mamma,' Johnnie said, 'I think you teach us just the very way that Eunice taught Timothy, when he was a little boy. What Mr told us about Eunice made me think of you, and of the hymn,

"Who taught my infant lips to pray, And love God's Holy Book and Day, And walk in wisdom's pleasant way! My mother."› 'And did my little pet Lizzie remember anything she heard at church?'

Lizzie had been there that day almost for the first time, and was too young to

[merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][graphic][merged small]

Μ% Y dear young friends, the much respected editor of your nice little magazine thinks that because I live in the country, I might be able to say something about some of the things that are to be seen in the country, which would be new and interesting to those of his young readers who live in towns. I know that not only children, but old people who live in the country, look with wonder and astonishment on many things which they see in the towns when they happen to visit them; and I have no doubt but that children from the large towns would wonder at some of the things we see in the country, and at which we never wonder at all, because we see them every day. In one respect, the sights to be seen in the country excel those of the

[ocr errors]

towns. In towns you see the wonderful works of man, but in the country you see far more of the wonderful works of God. In the country, especially in summer, we have a great variety of birds and insects, which are not to be seen in the towns; which, when thoughtfully considered in their habits and instincts, are fitted to impress our minds with the vastness of the Creator's works, and the care He has for all His creatures.

I shall notice one bird which is very plentiful in all country districts just now, and mention some of its habits. Its Scotch name is the Whaup, but its English name is the Curlew. It is referred to by James Hyslop, the Muirkirk shepherd, in his beautiful poem, the 'Cameronian's Dream :'

THE BOWER.

"The hills with the deep mournful music were ringing,

The Curlew and Plover in concert were singing.'

a

It is a tall, slender bird, about as high as a common hen, but not half so thick round the body. It has a long bill, slightly bent, resembling in length and thickness common tobacco pipe. With this bill it sucks up its food from the marshes in which it feeds. It has a clear strong voice, which gives a pleasing variety to the music when mingling with the voices of the other feathered songsters, with which the hills are always vocal on the fine spring mornings. The Curlew is of a grey colour, and this gives it safety when it is hatching its eggs on the withered grass on the moor. Its eggs are of the same colour as itself; and this shows the wisdom and goodness of the Creator in providing for its safety. Had the bird or its eggs been white or black, or any other colour than they are, they would far more readily have attracted the eye of the traveller on the moor, and so have been in far greater danger of being destroyed; but so like are they to the withered tufts of grass on which the nests are built, that the shepherds often pass them within a few yards without observing that they are there.

Then they have some wonderful instincts, which are worthy of notice. They are like the turtle, the crane, and the swallow, spoken of by the prophet, they 'observe the time of their coming.' They leave the Scotch hills about the month of September, and return again about the beginning of March, always within a few days of the same time. Before they hatch they almost invariably lay four eggs, and only four, and they place them invariably in the same position, with all the small ends pointing to each other. They know their natural enemies, and if a fox is seen on the moor, they know he eats their eggs, and wherever he goes a dozen or more of them will follow him, diving and screaming very angrily. The dog does not eat their eggs, but he sometimes destroys their young, so they dont mind the dog much till the young are out, and then they dive at him as they do at the fox, when he comes near where the

53

brood are. When they see any person on the moor at a distance, they generally rise off the eggs and creep along the ground before they take wing, and thus if the traveller has not observed the first motion, he does not find the eggs at the place from which the bird rises.

us.

Now, I would have it observed, that the good and wise Creator has furnished them with all these instincts, as well as with their form and colour, for safety and preservation. If they wanted any of them, it does not seem that they could long exist. And we must not fail to observe how faithfully they obey their instincts; and how they are in this respect a standing reproof to many of God has given them instinct, and they all faithfully obey it. God has given to us reason-a far higher kind of instinct-and we very often disobey it. All they do is for their own preservation and safety. But how many men destroy themselves and their neighbours, and know they are doing it! The poor drunkard knows that the drink is killing him, but yet he goes on taking it until he dies. The beasts of the earth, and the fowls of the air reprove him, but he heeds them not. What an awful thing is human depravity!

THE BOWER.

AN OLD SHEPHERD.

Will you come out and see
My pretty bower with me?

My sweet little house that lilac-boughs have
With windows up on high, [made;
Through which I see the sky,
And look up to Him who made the pleasant
[shade.

The sunbeams come and go
So brightly to and fro,

Like Angels of light, too dazzling to be seen;
They weave a curtain fair

About my doorway there,

And paint all my walls with shining gold and [green.

I have sweet music too,
And lovely songs for you,

To hear in my house among the lilac leaves;
For breezes softly play,
And robins sing all day;

I think this is praise that God on high receives.

FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL.

[merged small][merged small][graphic]

L

CHILDREN

EARNED men tell us that in other countries there are plants which bloom only at night. But in our own country it is usually the other way. When the warm sunshine of the day departs, thousands of little plants fold their gay petals, and compose themselves to rest, till the bright beams of the early sun and the sweet songs of the birds, invite these children of the day,' long before our little readers are astir, to spread abroad their glories and brighten the face of nature.

Did you ever notice, to mention only one flower, the change that comes over the

OF THE DAY.

bright-eyed daises, when the dew begins to fall? Each little daisy lifts up the white lashes of its eyelids and folds them together, just like a little nightcap, and so they all lie down to rest. And then the morning comes, and the robins hop about, and the lark's sweet voice is heard, and all the feathered songsters carol sweet music ever heavenwards, and the little 'day's eyes,' are all wide awake; and the busy bees and other insects come floating by, and hum their joy as they rest a moment to speak to the daisies.

But flowers are not the only children

« AnteriorContinuar »