O, that you all work of saving over in your presence, and you know it by heart. knew it in your heart. He took upon himself the the lost. You have read the epitome of his deeds. But there were many other things which Jesus did, not found in the inspired records. What is written you know. He carried light and joy wherever he went. Healing mercies he scattered like the dew. Lepers recovered, sight restored, demons expelled, and sins forgiven, marked his wonderful course. He has left us an example, that we should follow his steps.' By all the persuasives issuing from it, he bids us, also, do good unto all men.' Though we cannot work miracles, we can, by the grace of God, as to our spirit and aim in life, and general character, 'put on the Lord Jesus Christ.' Every incident in his life reiterates his precepts and exhortations, bidding us do good. And, added to these, as recorded by the evangelists, is that memorable declaration, rescued from oblivion by the care of an apostle, himself a paragon of goodness, or, rather, by the care and love of the Holy Spirit, moving and guiding his pen, .' It is more blessed to give than to receive.' The glorious Redeemer holds up before you his own illustrious example. Who of you, beloved friends, will not haste to tread in his steps? Your own well-being summons you to the work. To do good produces contentment and happiness, yea, creates a heaven in the heart. It subdues unholy passions and strengthens virtuous principles. It gives to life an object, placing us beyond the control of varying circumstances. No outward change can despoil us of the pure joys of benevolence. To do good will conform our character to the sweet and lovely character of Christ. If we have mourned over our lack of his spirit, if we have deplored our broken resolutions for virtuous living, our scanty proficiency in the knowledge and practice of things lovely, pure, and of good report, let us, in this blessed work, do with all our might what our hand findeth to do,' and it will stir to vigorous action every heavenly principle. And if any here addressed are not the happy daughters of the Lord, let me in all affection assure them, that the best way to please God, and to be accepted of him, is to begin immediately to live for his cause. There is nothing else worth living for. Nothing else is, comparatively, worthy a thought. These remarks are penned with a most deliberate and settled conviction of their truth and immeasurable importance. They urgently solicit your consideration. Do any fear that want would be their companion in the path pointed out? God has anticipated all such fears. Trust in the Lord and do good: so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed.' 'Blessed is he that considereth the poor: the Lord will deliver him in time of trouble.' But this life, what is it? A stepping-stone to the next. If we do good, from holy motives, we shall thus secure friends in heaven. 'Make to yourselves friends,' said Jesus, 'of the mammon of unrighteousness; that, when ye fail, they may receive you into everlasting habitations.' Do the utmost good with the property intrusted to you, and all the blessed in glory will become your friends, and at your death will receive your spirits to their everlasting habitations. Yes, he that giveth for Jesus' sake, to the thirsty but a cup of cold water, 'shall in no wise lose his reward.' The merciful Saviour will accept it as done to himself. Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.' My dear young friends, will you not admit to your hearts these impressive considerations? Where, on earth, is benevolence more beautiful, than in the female character? You exert, for good or ill, a wide and endless influence. O, let it win to virtue, Christ, and heaven, those whom sterner persuasives have no power to win. Live not, I beseech you, for yourselves. Live not a life of thoughtless pleasure. It is unworthy of you. Propose it to yourselves, I pray you, as the one great object of your being, to obey God, and accomplish all the good possible. Language cannot exhibit, nor can imagination conceive, its unutterable importance. But the years of eternity will reveal it, as they perpetually wax and wane. North Marshfield, Mass., March, 1845. PLEASURES OF TEACHING. Delightful task, to rear the tender thought; Thomson. Original. A SORROWFUL PICTURE. THOUGH years have since passed, that death-bed scene has all the freshness of yesterday. Two weeks before, I saw her in all the hilarity of early, but thoughtless womanhood, the portraiture of health. Now, as I approached, I remarked with astonishment the change. Her forehead, broad and expansive, was the only feature which had defied the withering blight of disease. Her eyes had assumed the glassiness of death, and her cheeks, once so full, were deeply sunken, though still retaining something of their native hue. In a word, I beheld the very image of 'gaunt death.' As I drew near she turned her eyes full upon me, and, as if conscious that 'Nature's tide was ebbing fast,' she said, 'Can't you pray for me? Nobody has prayed with me dursickness.' ing my Never shall I forget her look, her tone of voice. They seemed to say, 'none careth for my soul!' Nobody has prayed with me'! O, how those words thrilled through my heart. It was not, however, because there were not many who would most gladly have commended her to Him who forgiveth iniquity and healeth all our diseases. There were but few who knew her critical situation. There was a reason for this secrecy,. which may not be fully known till the secrets of men are disclosed and judged. I bowed before the throne of the Eternal, but could not resist the conviction, that it was not then a throne of grace. The heavens were as brass. During this time she was evidently the victim of the most distressing mental agony; but it was the sorrow which worketh death. At times she appeared as though she would disclose something, but her pride of heart, and the perpetuation of a good name as the solace of afflicted friends, would rise and stifle her deep relentings, about to break forth in confession before God. What must have been the certain, physical effect of such a state of mind, we leave for the reader to imagine. There is, however, no hastened by this vacil doubt but what her premature death was lation between a sense of duty and her selfish emotions. These last triumphed. She was heard to say when in death's chilly tide, to one to whom she had made some confidential disclosure, 'be sure that you never mention what I have told you.' Thus she died. 'Deeply mysterious!' perhaps the reader exclaims. So thought her friends. Call it not the providence of God, unless the inevitable penalty attached to the violation of a physical law, be such. Of a large family of children she was the youngest, and was most tenderly loved by an aged mother. But this child of her old age was the occasion of bringing her down to the grave in sorrow. From the time she became apprized of her daughter's death, and the cause, (to the discovery of which the above dying expression tended,) she went rapidly to the grave-dying broken-hearted. An extensive domestic circle was also thrown into great affliction, enhanced as it was by the reflection, that one within their own fold was the guilty cause of their sorrow. He was capable of deeds which dare not seek the light. It was in attempts to hide his own guilt and hers, by an act of deepest crime, that she fell a victim. If physical and mental suffering, if even the agonies of death, could atone for her crime, then would she have been absolved; but, alas, unpardoned, 'Sin kills beyond the tomb!' Many things might be said of him, who, 'On her womanish nature won, And age suspicionless; ' but as they would not meet his them over. That he is eye I pass black at heart, whatever may be his external accomplishments, in which villains sometimes excel, the history of this revolting death is proof. Till the virtuous We would not shock the modesty of the gentle reader, but few seemed more secure in virtue than she whose tragic end is here described. Avoid the accomplished libertine. manifest more decision here, virtue is insecure. stood that you associate with none who are not Then would the designing stand back, abashed. cence, chaste and lovely, be regarded as too sacred for unholy hands. Hampden Co., Ms., March, 1845. 6 above suspicion.' Then would inno A YOUNG LADY'S FRIEND. beauty break, Let thy fragrant sweetness wake! Hy-ho!Little flower, flourish and blossom. 2 Hy-ho! Gentle breeze, kindly regale us! Mild the sky that smiles above, Earth beneath is filled with love; Hy-ho! Gentle breeze, breezes regale us! 3 Hy-ho! Meadow streams, welcome your flowing! Bright your silvery rippling swells; Hy-ho! Meadow streams, sweet is your flowing! 4 Hy-ho! Birds of Spring, sing forth your pleasures! While ye pass on nimble wing, Let your gladdening music ring; Hy-ho! Birds of Spring, sing forth your pleasures! 5 Hy-ho! Heart of man, join the rejoicing! Wilt thou let thyself be sad, When all else around thee's glad? Hy-ho! Heart of man, join the rejoicing! |