paid me for it a thousand fold! such an

my son is of more

than a thousand

of heroism in

though blossomed with silver, and their fruits of

THE SAVIOUR'S FAITHFULNESS.

NOT seldom, clad in radiant vest,
Deceitfully goes forth the morn ;
Not seldom, evening in the west,
Sinks smilingly forsworn.

The smoothest seas will sometimes prove
To the confiding bark untrue;

And, if she trust the stars above,
They can be treacherous too.

The umbrageous oak, in pomp outspread,
Full oft, when storms the welkin rend,
Draws lightning down upon the head
It promised to defend.

But Thou art true, incarnate Lord!
Who didst vouchsafe for man to die,
Thy smile is sure, thy plighted word
No change can falsify.

WORDSWORTH.

GENEROSITY OF A SAILOR.

A FEW weeks ago, as I was walking along one of the back streets of this city on a rainy morning, I was very much struck with the melancholy figure of a blind man, who was endeavouring to excite charity by ballad-singing. Misery could not have found a form more suited to her nature. Whilst I was contemplating the wretchedness of the object, and comparing it with the strain which necessity compelled him to chant, a sailor, who came whistling along the street with a stick under his arm, stopped, and purchased a ballad from him: "God preserve you!" cried the blind man, "for I have not tasted bread this blessed day;"—when the sailor, looking round him for a moment, sprung up four steps into a baker's shop near which he stood, and, returning immediately, thrust a small loaf quietly into the poor man's hand, and went off whistling as he came.

I was so affected with this singular act of generosity,

that I called the honest seaman back to me. Taking the silver I had about me, which I think was no more than four shillings," Thy nobleness of soul," said I," which I have seen so bright an instance of, makes me sorry that I cannot reward thee as thou dost deserve. I must, however, beg thy acceptance of this trifle, as a small testimony how much I admire thy generous nature.”—“ God bless your noble honour!" said the sailor, " and thank you; but we will divide the prize-money fairly." Stepping back therefore to the blind man, he gave him half of it; and, clapping him upon the shoulder at the same time, added, "Here are two shillings for thee, my blind Cupid, for which you are not indebted to me, but to a noble gentleman who stands within five yards of you ; so get into harbour, and make yourself warm, and keep your hum-strum for fairer weather." MACKENZIE.

TRUST IN PROVIDENCE.

THINK not, when all your scanty stores afford
Is spread at once upon the sparing board;
Think not, when worn the homely robe appears,
While on the roof the howling tempest bears;
What farther shall this feeble life sustain,
And what shall clothe these shivering limbs again.
Say, does not life its nourishment exceed?
And the fair body its investing weed?

Behold! and look away your low despair-
See the light tenants of the barren air :
To them, nor stores, nor granaries, belong,
Nought but the woodland, and the pleasing song;
Yet your kind heavenly Father bends his eye
On the least wing that flits along the sky.
He hears their gay and their distressful call,
And with unsparing bounty fills them all.
Observe the rising lily's snowy grace,
Observe the various vegetable race;
They neither toil nor spin, but careless grow;
Yet see how warm they blush! how bright they glow;
What regal vestments can with theirs compare!
What king so shining! or what queen so fair!
If ceaseless thus the fowls of heaven he feeds;
If o'er the fields such lucid robes he spreads;
Will he not care for you, ye faithless, say?.
Is he unwise? or are ye less than they?

THOMSON.

THE CHILD JESUS.

THE birth of any infant is a far greater event than the production of the sun. The sun is only a lump of senseless matter; it sees not its own light; it feels not its own heat and with all its grandeur it will cease to be :but the infant, beginning only to breathe yesterday, is possessed of reason has within it a principle far superior to all matter-and will live for ever.

But this child is all prodigy. He is miraculously conceived; and born of a virgin. His coming "shakes the heaven and the earth." For what other child did ever the heavens assume a new star, or wise men come out of the East, or angels descend from glory?

What are other children at twelve years of age ! The mind is only beginning to open; the ideas are few and trifling. But behold this child, when twelve years old, doing his Heavenly Father's" business; sitting in the midst of the doctors, both hearing and asking them questions, while all that hear him are astonished at his understanding and answers.

Nor did his manhood disappoint the promise of his childhood. When he appeared in public, he spake "as never man spake." He healed the sick. He raised the dead. He cast out devils." He went about doing good." "He died for our sins; he rose for our justification." And he" entered into his glory, far above all principality, and power, and might, and dominion, and every name that is named, not only in this world, but also in that which is to come."-Such was the child Jesus!

JAY-Short Discourses.

CHRISTMAS HYMN.

BRIGHTEST and best of the sons of the morning,
Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid!
Star of the east, the horizon adorning,
Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid!

Cold on his cradle the dew-drops are shining!
Low lies his bed with the beasts of the stall!
Angels adore him in slumber reclining,
Maker, and Monarch, and Saviour of all!

Say, shall we yield him, in costly devotion,
Odours of Edom and offerings divine;
Gems of the mountain, and pearls of the ocean,
Myrrh from the forest, and gold from the mine?

Vainly we offer each ample oblation;
Vainly with gold would his favour secure ;
Richer by far is the heart's adoration;
Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor.

Brightest and best of the sons of the morning,
Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid!
Star of the east, the horizon adorning,
Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid!

HEBER.

THE DISCONTENTED PENDULUM.

An old clock, that had stood for fifty years in a farmer's kitchen without giving its owner any cause of complaint, early one summer's morning, before the family was stirring, suddenly stopped. Upon this the dial-plate (if we may credit the fable), changed countenance with alarm, the hands made an ineffectual effort to continue their course, the wheels remained motionless with surprise, the weights hung speechless, each member felt disposed to lay the blame on the others. At length the dial instituted a formal inquiry into the cause of the stop; when hands, wheels, weights, with one voice, protested their, innocence. But now a faint tick was heard below from the pendulum, who thus spoke :

"I confess myself to be the sole cause of the present stoppage, and am willing, for the general satisfaction, to assign my reasons. The truth is, that I am tired of ticking." Upon hearing this, the old clock became so enraged that it was on the point of striking. "Lazy wire !" exclaimed the dial-plate. "As to that," replied the pendulum, "it is vastly easy for you, Mistress Dial, who have always, as every body knows, set yourself up above me,-it is vastly easy for you, I say, to accuse other people of laziness!-you, who have had nothing to do all your life but to stare people in the face, and to amuse yourself with watching all that goes on in the kitchen! Think, I beseech you, how you would like to be shut up

for life in this dark closet, and wag backwards and forwards, year after year, as I do." "As to that," said the dial, is there not a window in your house on purpose for you to look through?" "But what," resumed the pendulum," although there is a window, I dare not stop, even for an instant, to look out. Besides, I am

really weary of my way of life; and, if you please, I'll tell you how I took this disgust at my employment. This morning I happened to be calculating how many times I should have to tick in the course only of the next twentyfour hours,—perhaps some of you above there can give me the exact sum." The minute-hand, being quick at figures, instantly replied, "Eighty-six thousand, four hundred times." 66 Exactly so," replied the pendulum; "well, I appeal to you all, if the thought of this was not enough to fatigue one?-and when I began to multiply the strokes of one day by those of months and years, really it is no wonder if I felt discouraged at the prospect; so, after a great deal of reasoning and hesitation, thinks I to myself-I'll stop!"

The dial could scarcely keep its countenance during this harangue; but, resuming its gravity, it at last replied: "Dear Mr Pendulum, I am really astonished that such a useful, industrious person as yourself should have been overcome by this suggestion. It is true you have done a great deal of work in your time; so have we all, and are likely to do; and though this may fatigue us to think of, the question is, will it fatigue us to do? Would you now do me the favour to give about half-a-dozen strokes to illustrate my argument?" The pendulum complied, and ticked six times at its usual pace. "Now," resumed the dial, "was that exertion at all fatiguing to you?” "Not in the least," replied the pendulum; "it is not of six strokes that I complain, nor of sixty, but of millions." "Very good," replied the dial; "but recollect, that although you may think of a million strokes in an instant, you are required to execute but one; and that however often you may hereafter have to swing, a moment will always be given you to swing in." "That consideration staggers me, I confess," said the pendulum. "Then, I hope," added the dial-plate,