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TO SHAKE OFF TROUBLE.

Set about doing good to somebody; put on your hat and go aud visit the poor; inquire into their wants, and administer unto them; seek out the desolate and oppressed, and tell them of the consolation of religion. I have often tried this, and found it the best medicine for a heavy heart.—Howard.

ACCESS TO GOD.

CouiD a memento be reared on every spot from which an acceptable prayer has passed away, and on which a prompt answer has come down, we should find Jehovahshammah, "The Lord hath been here," inscribed on many a cottage hearth, and many a dungeon floor. We find it not only in Jerusalem's temple and David's cedar galleries, but in the fisherman's cottage by the brink of Gennesaret, and in the upper chamber where Pentecost began. And whether it be the field where Isaac went to meditate, or the rocky knoll where Jacob lay down to sleep, or the brook where Israel wrestled, or the den where Daniel gazed on the hungry lions, and the lions gazed on him, or the hill-sides where the Man of sorrows prayed all night, we should still discern the prints of the ladder's feet let down from heaven—the landing-place of mercies, because the starting-point of prayer. And all this whatsoever you are. It needs no saint, no proficient in piety, no adept in eloquent language, no dignity of earthly rank. It needs but a simple Hannah, or a lisping Samuel. It needs but a blind beggar, or a loathsome lazar. It needs but a penitent puHican, or a dying thief. And it needs no sharp ordeal, no costly passport, no 174 VEESE8.

painful expiation, to bring you to the mercy-seat ; or rather, I should say, it needs the costliest of all; but the blood of the atonement, the Saviour's merit, the name of Jesus, priceless as they are, cost the sinner nothing. They are freely put at his disposal, and instantly and constantly he may use them. This access to God in every place, at every moment, without any price or personal merit, is it not a privilege?

VERSES.

Presented by a little Girl to herinvalid Sister on her Birthday.

Sister, accept this simple lay,

Unworthy though it be—
A small and feeble token

Of the love I bear to thee.

I'm sure you're weary, tossing
On that restless bed of pain;

But all those pangs you'll soon forget,
When you the haven gain.

When like a weary dove you soar,

Far from our outstretched arms; »

May Jesus clasp you to his breast,
And shield you from alarms.

What can we wish for, Sister dear,
But much of Jesus' love;

A golden harp to tune His praise,
A home with Him above!

THE BIBLE.

Within tjhese lids a treasure lie«,
Uncounted wealth—a heavenly prize—
A costly pearl—a precious gem—
A glorious crown—a diadem.

Here wisdom sheds her brightest rays,
Here lovely truth her power displays:
I bring eternal life to view,
And freely proffer it to you.

Divest life's journey of its gloom,
And gild the passage to the tomb;
Direct in the unerring Word
To happiness—to Heaven—to God!

THE JUVENILE REPORTER.

The Keporter is always glad to report good news, especially if they refer to the good of China, and the extension of the gospel in the world. He is sure his young friends will be glad to know that another—he wishes he could say their—missionary is on his way to Amoy. The Eev. Alexander Grant, the son of a minister near Aberdeen, was lately ordained in London, and set sail the following Saturday in the good ship Florence Nightingale, for China. He goes with a heart warm with zeal for the cause of Jesus and the salvation of the heathen. Let us pray for him—all of us—not once or twice only, but often, that God will make him a "good workman," and spare him long to do a great and good work in China. The Reporter always feels those missionary meetings to be very good places for him. In his young days he often thought of becoming a missionary himself; and even now the old feeling sometimes almost makes him young 176 LESSONS FOR THE SABBATH AND THE SCHOOL.

again—his heart feels so warm to the work, that, old as he is, when there is a cry for "more labourers," he has almost a mind to bundle up his things and go.

The Reporter took a peep into the new schools at Woolwich the other evening, and was very much delighted. It was the annual meeting of the Sabbath school; there were more than 400 boys and girls present, and Mr. Anderson (an old friend of theirs) was showing them some pictures, and telling them about stone books that were written before the Bible, and proved to us that it is true. The Reporter thinks that his friend, Mr. A., might be worse employed than in writing out some of his useful stories for the Juvenile Messenger,- and, therefore, he hopes to see him try his hand after the Christmas holidays.

He is very pleased to find that the Juvenile Missionary Association, in Regent Square, is going on briskly; quarterly meetings are held regularly, and it is quite expected that the first year's gleanings will be very encouraging.

The Reporter wishes he could say this of all his old friends. But he cannot. Some are doing very little, and others nothing at all. To such he would again say, "To whom much is given, of them much shall be required."

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An Indian Horseman.

AN EVENING AT A THIEVES'
MEETING.

I Have seen a good many ups and downs in the world with other people as well as myself, but all I have seen has more and more convinced me, not only that the Bible is true, but that no other book on earth can be so truly called the '' YouDg Man's Best Companion." I once thought all the rich were happy, and that, somehow or other, I would one day be rich myself; but I did not understand the world so well then as now. I have seen some making haste to be rich "fall into temptation and a snare," and rush on in the nearest road to destruction and perdition. Standing on the hill-top of life, I have taken a look both ways—at some coming up and others DECEMBER, 1857- ■ N

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