Page images
PDF
EPUB

THE MISSIONARY'S DEATH.
WEEP not for the saint that ascends

To partake of the joys of the sky;
Weep not for the seraph which bends

With the worshipping chorus on high ;
Weep not for the spirit now crowned

With the garland to martyrdom given,
Oweep not for him, he has found

His reward and his refuge in heaven.
But weep for the nations that dwell

Where the light of the truth never shone ;
Where anthems of praise never swell,

And the love of the Lamb is unknown.
O weep! for the herald that came

To proclaim in their dwelling the story
Of Jesus, and life through His name,

Has been summoned away to his glory.
Weep not for the saint that ascends

To partake of the joys of the sky;
Weep not for the seraph that bends

With the worshipping chorus on high ;
But weep for the mourners who stand

By the grave of their brother in sadness ;
And weep for the heathen whose land

Still must wait for the day-spring of gladness.

MAKING SATAN TREMBLE. A DEAR little girl of five years, after playing in the room, came and said, “ Mamma, I am going to make Satan tremble.“Oh! my dear, what do you mean?Why, mamma, I am going to pray, and you know Mr. Newton

says that.

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

In a former Messenger we gave you an account of good Dr. Judson, the Missionary to the Burmese; and perhaps you have heard others speak of the sufferings and tortures he was exposed by these cruel heathen people. They were all idolators, and, you know, that wherever there is idolatry there is cruelty. The name of their chief god is Guadama. They say that he was born 2480 years ago. He had lived in four hundred millions of worlds, and had passed through every condition of life of which you could GUADAMA's foot.

25

think. He had, at one time or other, been every sort of worm, fly, fish, animal, and, at last, was born the son of

ing Loodawdaneh. His height was thirteen feet and a half;his ears were so beautifully long as to hang upon his shoulders ;-his hands reached to his knees ;-his fingers were of equal length;—and with his tongue he could touch the top of his nose ! All these things were thought by the poor heathen to be sure marks of his divinity.

The print of Guadama's Foot is shown in many places, and the heathen pray to it! Some of these prints are in stone, and are handsomely gilded, and covered over in beautiful building, to keep them from the weather. The people believe that Guadama really made these marks with his foot in the course of his travels ! How sad that three millions of people should be in this dreadful darkness.

But there is another lesson which I wish you to learn from Guadama's Foot. How highly do the people of Burmah value the footprints of Guadama! They make copies of them, and pray to them! But Guadama is only a false god! and his foot-prints are all a deceitful trick of the Burmese priests.

You, however, know of One, who loved you so wonderfully as to die for you, and who has given you an example, that you should follow his steps. The poor Burmese do not receive any good from praying to Gaudama's footmark; but, oh, who can tell how happy, how useful you may be, if by God's grace, you study to walk as Jesus walked. It is very difficult to make out what is meant by all the marks of Guadama's Foot;—but the youngest child who reads this, may, with God's blessing, make out the footsteps of Jesu's life, and follow them in his own daily behaviour, in school and at home,

BERTIE'S LEGACY. We all joined together in prayer for the last time on earth. After this Bertie affectionately kissed Ernest and Emma, and they left the room. The thought ,struck me that after he was gone I should not know how to dispose of his books, toys, &c.; so I asked him what I should do with them. He thought a little, and then said, “ O, give half to God and half to the children; and be sure to divide them fairly. And give to Ernest my 'Pilgrim's Progress.'” I then asked how I was to give half to God. “0, the money to God! I have three shillings.” “But to what society?" He considered, and then exclaimed, “I love the Missionary Society." I told him it was enough to buy three tenpenny Bibles and a Testament, and had perhaps better be given to the Bible Society. Yes, give it,” said he, “to the power of God." He then added, “ Get a tenpenny Bible and a Bible collecting box, and put them one in each half of my box. The Bible is to show what the Society has done ; and when my friends come and give the children money, then hold Bertie's box for Bertie's share. And now, mamma, our conversation is done.” At about five o'clock that evening the boy became restless; and, being asked if he wished to depart and be with Jesus, he expressed a ready assent to the words, “To be for ever with the Lord!” and added, “Yet I could have wished to have done his will on earth as a minister.” Dear child, it is well that it was in his heart; but the Lord had said unto him, “ Come up higher.” His breathing grew fainter and fainter, till, without a sigh, he went out, and awoke in the bosom of the Lord. We could not follow him ; but our voices went up after him, praising and blessing God. A very green mound now marks the spot where Bertie sleeps until the morning of the resurrection.

OLD AGE.

Beautiful is old age-beautiful as the slow-dropping mellow autumn of a rich, glorious summer. In the old man nature has fulfilled her work: she loads him with her blessings; she fills him with the fruit of a well-spent life, and, surrounded by his children and his children's children, she rocks him softly away to a grave, to which he is followed with blessing. God forbid we should not call it beautiful! It is beautiful, but certainly not the most beautiful. There is another life-hard, rough, and thorny; trodden with bleeding feet and aching brow; the life of which the cross is the symbol; a battle which no peace follows this side of the grave; which the grave gasps to finish before the victory is won ; and, strange that it should be so, this is the highest life of man. Look back along the great names of martyrs; there is none whose life has been other than this.

THE MONK CONFOUNDED. A MONK was preaching one day at Imola, and he told the people that they must try to purchase heaven by the merit of their good works. A boy who was present cried out, “That's blasphemy! for the Bible tells us that Jesus Christ purchased heaven by his sufferings and death, and bestows it on poor sinners freely by his mercy.” A long dispute followed between the boy and the preacher. Provoked at the replies of his young opponent, and at the favour which the people showed to him, he exclaimed, “Get you gone, you young rascal, you are but just come from the cradle; and will you take it upon you to judge of sacred things which the most learned cannot explain ?” “ Did you never read these words said the boy, “Out of the

« PreviousContinue »