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PRAYER IN A SABBATH SCHOOL.

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sorrow. In living with my relatives, as I am compelled to fall into many sins, I am very desirous to believe in Christ, in view of hell-fire and the wrath of God, which is to be the portion of all the Cbristless ; and I ask of you under these circumstances to make proper endeavours to take me back into the mission. For your doing so, I will pray to and bless God on your behalf, through Jesus Christ.

The signature of NARRAINSAWMY. December 27, 1858.' “ True translation of the original Tamil.–J. B."

PRAYER IN A SABBATH SCHOOL.

O THOU from whom salvation came-
Thou, who art evermore the same,
Teach us to know thy holy name,

That we may fear and love thee.
When laden under sin we lay,
Thy sun arose with healing ray,
To lighten sinners in that way

Wherein they walk that love thee.
O may that sun arise on all
Who now before dumb idols fall;
May heathen nations hear thy call,

And rev'rence, fear, and love thee.
Thou gavest up thy Son to death
For all who look to him in faith,
Whom thou hast fore-ordained from wrath,

To save that they might love thee.
O free us from our sins, we pray,
And teach us all to know thy way,
That, walking in the light of day,

We more and more may love thee.

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THE FRENCH REFUGEES.

In thee we'll overcome our foes,
And so when Death this life shall close
We'll ever live in heaven with those
Eternally that love thee.

“D. G."

THE LAND OF THE LIVING. SAID one to an aged friend, "I had a letter from a distant correspondent the other day, who inquired if you were in the land of the living:” “No," replied the saint-like, venerable “but I am going there. This world is alone the world of shadow; and the eternal is the only one of living realities."

man,

THE FRENCH REFUGEES. ABOUT an hundred and eighty years ago, a large number of Frenchmen-several thousands—arrived in London. They were not tourists come to see our great city, nor soldiers come to fight us, but they were mostly poor silk-weavers, driven from their native land by Popish persecutors. They were a quiet inoffensive people, but Protestants, and therefore the king, led on by his confessor and others, determined to compel them to return to the "true church.' So he sent large bodies of dragoons into the provinces, to compel them to renounce their principles,

He carefully guarded the frontiers lest they should get away, but the God in whom they trusted opened for them

way of escape.”, Upwards of five hundred thousand of them made their escape, some to Switzerland, Germany, Holland, and England. Those who came to England settled in a place on the north-east side of London, called Spitalfields, and established the silk-weaving trade there, so well known over the world.

A very interesting meeting of the descendants of these French refugees was held in Spitalfields a few weeks ago. Nearly a thousand of them sat down to tea together in

a

THE FRENCH REFUGEES.

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a large school-room. They were all poor, very poor; and we fear that many of them did not know much about the God of their fathers, or of the great truths and principles for which they fled to a foreign land, for they have been sadly neglected; but it is very pleasing to see that something is being done for them now. Several kind friends attended the meeting, and addressed them on the great truths of salvation which their fathers knew and loved. Among others, Mr. Payne, the assistant judge, was present, and concluded his address with the following appropriate verses:

HAPPY OLD ENGLAND.
Five hundrerl descendants of French Refugees,
In happy Old England, all taking their teas,
Is surely a scene which should gladden our sight,

And fill both our heads and our hearts with delight.
"For they are successors to those of old time,

Whɔ fled from oppression to Liberty's clime;
And found in this happy Old England a spot,
Where malice and murder could visit them not !
And here they have labour'd, and studied, and stay'd,

And worship’d,'none daring to make them afraid;'
For happy Old England has long been a place
Where freedom of conscience can show a bold face.
“ All honour to those who were faithful to death,
And calmly to slaughter resigned their last breath :
All bonour to those who, possessing the power,
Escap'd from the monsters who sought to devour.
“And shame on the creed, by the Devil design'd,
Wbich tortur'd the body to conquer the mind;
And, had it God's leave, would still seek its desire,

E'en in happy Old England, by faggot and fire!
“Then, Christians, be active, do all that you can,
To speed our good wishes and forward our plan;
That all the descendants of French Refugees
In happy Old England may still be at ease!
“They claim your attention for gratitude's sake,
You cannot your efforts too earnestly make;
For happy Old England gain'd much by tbeir skill,
Its trade to increase and its coffers to fill !
“May all read their Bibles, and pray to their God,
And walk in the way which their forefathers trod;
And to them, at last, the rich blessing be given,
From happy Old England to go up to Heaven !"

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DARE TO STAND ALONE.'

Reader, be thankful that you live in happy old England. Forsake not the God of your fathers. Remember the advice and the warning the king gave to his son :

“And thou, Solomon, my son, know thou the God of thy father, and serve him with a perfect heart, and with a willing mind; for the Lord searcheth all hearts and understandeth all the imaginations of the thoughts; if thou seek him he will be found by thee; but if thou forsake him he will cast thee off for ever.

ONE LANGUAGE. A HINDU and a New Zealander once met upon the deck of a missionary ship. They had been converted from their heathenism, and were brothers in Christ, but they could not speak to each other. They pointed to their Bibles, shook hands, smiled in one another's faces, but that was all. At last a happy thought occurred to the Hindu. With sudden joy he exclaimed, “ Hallelujah!” The New Zealander, in delight, cried out “ Amen!” Those two words, not found in their own heathen tongues, were to them the beginning of “one language and one speech."

DARE TO STAND ALONE.
Be firm, be bold, be strong, be true,

And dare to stand alone;
Strive for the right whate'er ye do,

Though helpers there be none.
Nay, bend not to the swelling surge

Of popular sneer and wrong ;
'Twill bear thee on to ruin's verge,

With current wild and strong.
Stand for the right! Humanity

Implores, with groans and tears,
Thine aid to break the festering links

That bind her toiling years.

A PRODIGAL TURNED PREACHER.

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Stand for the right! Though falsehood reign,

And proud lips coldly sneer,
A poisoned arrow cannot wound

A conscience pure and clear.
Stand for the right !--and with clean hands

Exalt the truth on high ;
Thou'lt find warm, sympathising hearts

Among the passers-by.
Men who have seen, and thought, and felt,

Yet could not hardly dare
The battle's brunt, but by thy side

Will every danger share.
Stand for the right ;-proclaim it loud,

Thou'lt find an answering tone
In honest hearts, and thou no more

Be doomed to stand alone!"

A PRODIGAL TURNED PREACHER. A FEW years ago, there was in Boston a young man, the son of wealthy parents, who had given himself up to all manner of wickedness. He spent his time in drinking and carousing. His heart-broken parents first tried one plan, then another, to bring him to a better state of mind, but to no purpose. At last they resolved on sending him on a long voyage to sea. While on the royage he induced the crew-he leading to break into the spiritroom, where they had a general carousal, to the great danger of the ship and all on board.

By and bye they went to the Fejee Islands ; they landed at one of them, and while there, this young man visited the rude dwelling of a native chief, probably for mere amusement. The chief, who was a Christian, entertained him hospitably, and, supposing that he, coming from a Christian land, was a Christian too, asked him to pray with the family before he departed. Here was a dilemma. How could he pray ?-such a reprobate! The good old

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