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gracious power which would defend him from every evil, and guide him safely through the valley.

Here, then, is the secret of a happy death-Thou art with me.'

'Jesus can make a dying bed

Feel soft as downy pillows are.'

Many have found it so; like Dr. Payson of America, who said, when dying, 'My mind is so full of joy I can hardly bear it' -or like Janeway, who, while walking through the valley, exclaimed, 'Oh! these joys, the taste of which I have; these everlasting joys, which are at His right hand. Death, do thy worst; death has lost its terribleness.' I might tell you of many happy death-beds, but they all tell the same tale of pilgrims walking through the valley, fearing none evil, because Jesus is with them.

Think of this. In life and in death it is

in this country; on their return to the scene of their labours, they met with a hearty welcome, which is thus described by Mrs Milne :

'It was dusk when we approached Nguna, and after all our wanderings I was thankful to see our island again. At first no one was to be seen on the beach, but as we got nearer and were recognised, three large bonfires were lit and a great crowd rushed to the landing place. Ta, the native teacher, Matakoale and Marewote the chiefs, and all the rest of the worshipping people were there. What shaking of hands and beaming faces were there! They even put on extra dressing in our honour. Three times that evening Ta came to shake hands saying: "This is good." After tea we went outside, and Ta led the natives in a number of hymns, and then we had prayer. Contrary to our expectations, no one wanted anything for days, they seemed perfectly happy that we had come back. In many ways we noticed improvement on our people, which shews that the good work is steadily increasing. It was worth being away to get such a welcome on our return. We have much cause of thankfulness to God. Bands of our natives here go to the neighbouring villages to teach and preach Jesus Christ on Sabbath afternoons. Good old Matakoale-the cannibal bush-chief some three years ago-some times takes the whole day to visit several inland villages. He goes alone with his book in his hand, preaching the gospel and exhorting the people to worship the true God.

During our absence, a number of people and one old chief joined the Christians, and since our return a number more have come even from distant Islands.

The natives have prepared 1350lbs. of arrow-root to help to pay for a new church (a frame building from Sydney).

The trading station at Havannah Harbour is in possession of the French. They have bought land also on this Island. They say they have taken the group. What is to be the upshot?

We went to the next Island, Pele, and what a delightful change is there! a new church, a new village, and instead of grass huts they have houses with walls, doors, and windows, and all so clean. On Efate Island the gospel is spreading fast.'

THE COVETED PRIZE.

A! Doddie, my pet, sic a frolicsome wean,

HA!

Just look to the laddie, he's gotten again A haud o' the scissors; he hunts me fu' sair, I hide them, but aye he gets sicht o' them mair;

Here, gie them tae mammy, what! dear, wad ye greet?

They'd hurt my wee lammie, sae bonnie and sweet,

Micht put out his een, maybe cut his wee haun, But, what need I tell him! he 'll no understaun.

He sees but a glittering prize he would hae, And greets to get at it as mony may dae, Ne'er thinks o' the danger, nae caution will bide,

The scissors, the scissors, he clutches wi' pride. Ah! Doddie, my pet, sae fair featured and fine, Sae dear tae a father's heart, dearer tae mine, Just lippen tae mammy, wha loes ye ower weel Tae lea' ye wi' osht that could hurt her wee chiel;

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She likes na your greetin', but listens the same,
The first tae forgie ye, the last aye tae blame:
Wee minature man frae the finger Divine,
Wi' infinite longin's sae hard tae entwine,

Wi' trust in anither, the Faither abune,

Wha loes aye the sinner, while hating the sin, Wha hides whiles the glittering things that

we see,

Tae save our bit fingers, or aiblins our e'e;

Aye true and aye just at the centre o' a',
Aye richt in His judgments whatever befa',
Aye ready tae help, wad the bairns only heed,
A faither a' through, an' a mither indeed.

I'm wae that the bairnies i'll no understaun
The guid He wad gie them wi' bountifu' haun,
The ill he would spare them would they but
consent

Tae yield up their toys wi' a smile o' content,

Nor grieve Him tae gie them what micht be

their bane,

The worst they could seek for, a will o' their ain.

Ah! muckle He yielded for them long ago, An' sairly He suffered when Ane was laid low

Wha stood in oor place in the valley o' shame An' bore a' that Infinite justice could claim. For think ye, wha stumble at doctrines sae hard, How God could forgie without breakin' His word.

If mammie says, 'Doddie, I'll punish ye sair,' And Doddie gangs frettin' and storming the mair,

Then mammy maun punish tho' every stroke fa',

The first on that bosom that loes him ower a'.

Sae ye wha wad wander awa' frae the cross, Consider, there's naething but sorrow and loss, And mind while ye speak o' Heaven's mercy

to man,

That unsullied righteousness shines in the plan.

JANET K. MUIR.

P

OPE LEO X. was building a large church at Rome, now called St. Peter's. It was a very grand church, and was costing large sums of money. Amongst other devices to raise funds, he resolved to sell large quantities of what were called Indulgences, or Pardons of Sins. Of course, he did not plainly call them by this name, but the people believed it all the same.

A man of the name of Tetzel, came to a place near Wittemberg, in Germany, where Luther lived, to sell these indulgences. Some of Luther's congregation went and bought them, and shewed them to their minister. This roused Luther's indignation, who, in his quaint, homely way, said, 'Please God, I'll beat a hole in that man's drum!'

He first drew up ninety-five propositions protesting against the whole system of Indulgences. He, for one, did not believe in paper pardons. He would have none of

them. God pardoned us freely, and no pope or man had right to traffic in them. He nailed these up on the door of his church, 31st October, 1517.

This was the beginning of the great battle of the Reformation. In after years he wondered at his own rashness. What was he, a poor monk, that he should set himself, not only against the religion of the world, but the power of the world? Still he was right, and it was God who was guiding him. It was God that hid fear from his eyes, and made him go forward with boldness.

But the Pope was soon down upon him. He was summoned to Rome, whence, in all probability, he would have never returned, but his prince would only allow him to be tried in Germany. To Germany, accordingly, came the Papal Legate, with these words-Retract or Perish. But Luther would not retract unless convinced out of the Bible. The Pope,' said the Legate, 'is

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he was to be declared guilty of High Treason; incapable of any legal act of property, freedom, or worship, and counted infamous in life, death, and burial!'

Now, the grand thing about Luther, was his unlimited courage. When other people

would have hesitated he stood firm. In fact, he rose higher the higher the storms rose about him, and a notable instance of this occurred here. Without consulting with any one, he at once summoned a meeting of the people of Wittemberg to meet him at the East Gate, and there, in presence of them all, he cast the Pope's Bull into the fire, with these words, As thou hast vexed the saints of God, so mayest thou be consumed in eternal fire!' The people uttered a great shout, 'Glory to God and the Bible!' and that shout was heard all over Germany, and all over the world.

There was but one more resource to be tried, and it was the last. Charles V. was now emperor of Germany, and the Pope applied to him to lay hold of Luther. Charles was willing to please the Pope, but he was anxious also to please Germany, and a great part of Germany sided with Luther. He took this plan, therefore. He summoned Luther to appear before him, and give an account of his doings, in the presence of the nobles and the church.

There can be no doubt that the appearance of Luther at the Diet of Worms, on the 17th April, 1521, was the grandest event in modern times. So much depended on it. Had he faltered, the Clock of the World would have been put back. Had he done anything else than what he did, Europe would have been feeling it at the present day. But God gave him courage, and God gave him wisdom, and God gave him protection too, so that not a hair of his head was injured.

He was urgently entreated by all his friends not to venture into the lion's den. But Luther never feared the face of man. 'If there were as many devils in Worms, as there are tiles on the roofs, I would go,' he said to one; while to another he said,

'Though they should kindle a fire whose flames should reach from Worms to Wittemberg, and rise to heaven, I would go through it, in the name of the Lord, and stand before them. I will enter the jaws of the Behemoth and break his teeth, and confess the Lord Jesus Christ.'

Before such a man, what was even the emperor of Germany, or all the cardinals of the pope? He cared nought for them in comparison with Him Whose he was and Whom he served. And yet, he was but mortal too. Hear him on his knees that night in his own room, when he looked forward to the coming day that would decide his fate and the fate of his cause. 'My God, O Thou my God, stand by me against all the world's reason and wisdom. Thou must do it. Thou alone. For it is not my cause but Thine. I trust in no man. It is vain and to no purpose all that is flesh. I have not taken this upon myself, O God. Stand by me in the name of Thy dear Son, for the cause is right, and it is Thine. Amen. God help me. Amen.'

It was a great sight that met Luther's eyes next day when he faced the assembled European powers of Church and State. The sun, verging towards its setting, streamed full upon it, while the solitary monk, with head uncovered, and figure pale with recent illness, was ushered in. He was asked but two questions. First, whether he acknowledged the books before him as his? And second, whether he would retract what was said in them? With regard to the first, he acknowledged the books were his; but with regard to the second, he begged that he might be told where he was in error. He was told that the Pope was the judge of all right doctrine, and had decreed that these books were erroneous, and he must therefore retract. Luther made a reply of an hour in length, urging his right to have his errors pointed out to him; but, failing that, to stand by what he had written. After he had spoken, the Pope's officer said, they had not come there to argue, but simply to hear one decisive word from him. Would