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spirit-warrant-and power. The hope which we have is this, that “greater is He that is in us, than he that is in the world.” “I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me, and the life which I now live in the flesh, I live by the faith of the Son of God.” Christ is our strength, our merit, our leader, and our light to walk by. A Christian may be foiled, indeed, and trodden down, but may at length win the battle. The world, is the Christian’s grand enemy. There Satan is displaying his baits before the eyes of men. There the flesh is alarmed by frowns, and allured by favours: its reasonings, its sensualities, are all called into action there. There are ten thousand deceits suited to different frames and constitutions. Satan has his snares for the young man and the old man; something for the depressed, to sink them into despondency; and for the proud and presumptuous, to push them on to ruin. We have to meet the day in which we live, with its errors and evil customs, and to encounter the difficulties peculiar to our individual path-peculiar to the dispensation of providence under which we are cast. Difficul. ties rise up in the family, and in our profession: there are different things at different times, all of which have a united influence in stopping the Christian soldier in his course. But, “ To him that overcometh, will I grant to sit with me in my throne!"

The Christian may say, he is too feeble to do under such difficul. ties of himself. Nothing at all; he is not called to war in his own strength, but his Saviour's; and we read in the 12th chapter of this book, that “they overcame by the blood of the Lamb,” by "the word of their testimony,” and “they loved not their lives unto the death."

3. The Crown. Whatever short and strange roads to heaven may be invented by sects and parties, ancient Christianity, the good old way, is the way of the cross- the way of contest and of conquest. “I meet,” says the Christian, (I am now speaking the language of a faithful soldier of Christ, millions of whom have passed over the stage of life, and have entered “the rest which remaineth,”) “with many sharp conflicts, hard battles, I find that religion will cost me something—but how small the cost, in comparison with what I must pay, if I do not overcome. If I do not conquer, I must be conquered, by such an enemy as Satan. In the strength of Christ I shall win. When the battle is over, I shall reign with him. I shall see his face. I shall join the hundred and forty and four thousand followers of the Lamb.

He will say,

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Well done.' I shall enter into the joy of the Lord. I shall stand among them which came out of great tribulation, and washed their robes in the blood of the Lamb.'"

ANECDOTE. A French officer, who was a prisoner on his parole at Reading, met with a Bible. He read it, and was so struck with its contents, that he was convinced as to the truth of Christianity, and resolved to become a Protestant. When his gay friends rallied him for taking so serious a turn, he said, in his vindication, “ I have done no more than my old school-fellow, Bernadotte, who is become a Lutheran." “ Yes, but he became so," said his friend, “to obtain a crown.” My object,” said the Christian officer, “is the

We only differ as to the place. The object of Bernadotte is to obtain a crown in Sweden : mine to obtain one in heaven.”

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THE PRAYER OF JABEZ.

1 Chron. iv. 9, 10.
A son of grief, JAbEz, his name shall be,”

The dying sufferer said, and kissed her child.
" This word shall teach him at maturity-

Her pains who bore him-why he thus was styled;
His life cost her's, and he'll remember well
His mother, wberesoe'er on earth he dwell

Though these pale lips, that o'er his face have smiled
Their latest prayer, will then have ceased to move
For ever, to the words, the looks, the songs of love!
“He will remember her, though he alone

May mark her loss_he, and the boughs that wave
(Like those which overspread sad Zelzah's stone, *)
Above the turf that decks the early grave !"
-She spake, and died !

A score of years had come,
And one in manhood's prime, upon that tomb

A steady look of fond remembrance gave;
The sun's last rays from ocean to the skies
Shoot up—like a spent swimmer's arms before he dies :
“A son of sorrow born, I thus have grown
To riper years.

Grief after grief my breast
With anguish tears, and moan succeeds to moar.

No peace from war, no joy of home, no rest!
BENONI's name was changed, but mine remains,
Prophetic still, I fear, of future pains.

But why despair? I may indeed be blest
While there's a God! On Him I'll cast my care!"
He kneels beside his mother's grave, and this his prayer:

* Rachel's Pillar.

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O God! Thou God of Israel, hear!

As Thou hast Jacob heard,
So now to me wilt Thou draw near,

To me fulfil thy word.
O deign to make me blest indeed,

If not with fame or gold,
With what I more desire and need,

A place within thy fold!
O make me useful, while I live,

Both to the world and Thee ;
That I may unto others give,

What Thou hast given to me! Still round, above, beneath me cast

Thine hand of Providence;
And be in trials to the last,

My refuge, my defence !
Keep me from evil, lest I grieve

Myself, my friends, and Thee;
Lest for the paths of vice, I leave

The path prescribed for me! No more a child of sorrow then,

My prayer shall turn to praise ; And pleasures here begun, again

Shall live through endless days.

G. JR.

GOD MY PORTION.

With a confiding hope that fears no harm,

To thee, O Father, from the world i look ; For thou alone canst make my spirit calm

As the deep waters of a sheltered brook. Even as the dove flies swiftly to the wood,

And seeks her nest in some familiar tree,
So would I find thee in my solitude,

No longer such—if it be blessed by thee.
For where thou art is hope_where thou hast been,

The heart in vain an idol would enthrone;
Though at an early shrine it may have knelt,

There is no love, my Saviour, like thine own. Then still be with me, even to the end

In grief, my Stay; in joy, my only Pride: For while thou art my Father and my Friend,

This longing spirit asks no hope beside.

A. FOSTER, PRINTER, KIRKBY LONSDALE.

FRIENDLY VISITOR.

No. 306.

MARCH, 1844.

VOL. 26.

THE HAPPY HOME.

If happiness have not her seat,

And centre in the breast,
We may be wise, or rich, or great,

But never can be blest." He who has truly a happy home, has almost every desirable earthly blessing. There are comparatively few happy homes on earth; and we desire, in the following remarks, to shew our readers how this blessing may best be secured.

Let us fancy that we enter a splendid mansion 'in London.

It arrests the admiring eye by its massive grandeur. Passing through the spacious hall

, you enter, early in the evening, the parlour, adorned with every convenience and luxury which wealth can furnish. The most costly paintings, in rich gilt frames, ornament the walls. A brilliant chandelier is suspended from the lofty ceiling, illuminating with its clear flame the whole room, with a radiance hardly surpassed by that of the doonday sun. Imperial carpets are spread over the floor, so thick and soft, that a velvet cushion would be hardly more yielding to the pressure of the foot. Crimson damask curtains, mingled in delightful contrast with the finest embroidered muslin, hang in graceful drapery over the windows, glazed with plated glass, almost as transparent as the atmosphere itself. Sofas, and lounges, and divans, of the most luxurious pattern, and of satin covering, invite to soft indulgence. Mirrors, extending from the floor to the ceiling, reflect the lights of this gorgeous apartment, and invest the whole resplendent scene with mysterious and bewildering magnitude. Italy and China have furnished vases to adorn the rich mantel. Statuary from the chisels of Chantrey or Bacon embellish appropriate niches. Plate of massive silver glitters upon the sideboard. Costly engravings and

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books, in the richest editions of the London press, are lying upon the centre table; and arm-chairs, of luxurious capacity, and soft as down, entice to voluptuous enjoyment.

There are ladies moving about this apartment-ladies who were cradled in sumptuousness, and have ever been lapped in indulgence; and they are adorned with the richest fabrics of French and Italian looms. Each pleasant day the carriage is at the door, and they take their morning ride. There are children in this family; and in the bright and sunny mornings of summer, a careful servant draws them in their little carriage, rocking upon steel springs, along the gravelled walks, under the shade of the over-arching elms. The owner of this magnificent establishment, and the father of this family, has property invested in all valuable stocks, and his ships are exploring every sea. The nett annual profits of his business are thousands of pounds. “Surely, ” says the reader, “this must be a happy family. Here are all the ingredients of earthly joy.

Such a family may be happy, but these externals do not make it so. We had almost said, they have no tendency to constitute happiness.

Let us suppose that the passions of the members of this family are uncultivated and unsubdued. The father comes to his home in the evening, irritated by the petty annoyances of business. Always accustomed to domineer, he is the tyrant in his family; and when thwarted in any of his plans, the bursts of his rage cast their gloom around his fireside. In his fretful humours, he stalks through his parlours like the chafed hyena, and neither wife nor child can win from him a kind word. His children, accustomed to these outbreaks of petulance and rage on the part of their father, have lost all respect and affection for him. They regard him with no reverence. They greet him with no kind attentions. Their only object is, to teaze from him as much money as they can, to squander in extravagance. Brought up under such influences, they are heartless, empty-minded girlsmere fancy articles; and are strangers to any joy

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