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redeeming grace, when he gave Christ, his only begotten Son to renew our natures, and prepare an entrance for all who turn from sin, into a world where sin and sorrow never come?'

"Then, with simple but affectionate earnestness, she told of the sin of forgetting God, the need that our whole nature had of the washing of regeneration, and his willingness to save from the polluting power of the world all who will accept his grace, and only those. She reminded me, that I had no father, save Him who was in heaven; and that it was God who had watched my orphan youth, for the sake of Christ his Son, while all he asked in return was my young heart.

"Often had she thus spoken to me before, but never had I truly listened or understood till then. I felt my ingratitude, and longed to be the child of my Father in heaven. She led me home weeping, and opening again the word of life, read to me, and prayed over it, as she clasped me to her side. My pillow was wet with the tears of a sleepless night, but the sun rose with a gladness that it had never shed upon me till that morning. I stole from my room to the side of the stream again, and, kneeling upon the rock wet with the morning's dews, I cried, God, my Father, who art in heaven, thou art here-make me thy child through Jesus Christ!'-and, as my voice ceased in the deep stillness, I remembered the words of promise, as though they were spoken to my heart- I love them that love me; and those that seek me early shall find me.'

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"From that hour, my dear Charles, I have counted myself dedicated unto God. On that same spot I gave myself to him in the work of his ministry, and when

my deceitful heart wanders and fails, the memory of that scene comes upon my spirit to call me back, with a power I cannot resist.

"After the second year of my theological studies, I was alarmed on discovering symptoms of decaying health in my dear Aunt; but she smiled as sweetly as ever, and still went about doing good, though her cheek was wasted, and her step feeble. When she saw the anxious looks which my mother and myself interchanged, a tear filled her eye, but her face was as the face of an angel.' Again I left them, to return a commissioned herald of the Gospel of Salvation; and, on the Sabbath following, was to preach, for the first time, in the village near us. My Aunt had not been able to go to church for months before, but that Sabbath morning she seemed inspired with new vigour. The carriage of a friend conveyed her. She listened calmly to the sermon, and received with mute thankfulness the kind congratulations of those who crowded around my mother and herself. But when we reached again the cottage, her tears burst forth,— 'Lord! now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, was all she could utter. We carried her to her bed. About midnight, she fell into so sweet a sleep, that my mother ventured to repose by her side. The light of the morning broke, but the dear eyes of her we loved were sealed to behold it no more till the resurrection of the just.

"My mother lies with her in the churchyard of and I live to bless their memories. The picture which you see hanging in my study, just above my desk, is a view I took of the scene by the side of the stream, with my Aunt sitting on her favourite rock, the Bible open

upon her knee, and myself, in my boyhood's dress, gazing upon the beauties of nature as she spoke to me of God.

"Is it a wonder, then, dear Charles, that I love and defend the name of old maid ?"

"No, indeed, it is not," responded the weeping Brunton; "and I will love it for your Aunt Edith's sake. But then, you see, old maids would always be loved if they were like her-and it is their own fault when nobody loves them; for, if they will act like Aunt Patty-"

"Hush!" said George Douglas.

REV. DR. BETHUNE, OF AMERICA.

"IN THE MORNING SOW THY SEED."

"In the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thine hand; for thou knowest not whether shall prosper, either this or that, or whether they both shall be alike good."-ECCLESIASTES, xi. 6.

In the morning sow thy seed,

Nor at eve withhold thy hand;
Who can tell which may succeed,
Or if both alike shall stand,
And a glorious harvest bear
To reward the sower's care?

In the morning sow thy seed

In the morning of thy youth;
Prompt to every generous deed,
Scatter wide the seeds of truth:
He whose sun may set at noon
Never can begin too soon!

Nor withhold thy willing hand

In the eventide of age;
E'en to life's last lingering sand,

In thy closing pilgrimage,
Seed may yet be sown by thee—
Sown for immortality!

"By all waters," be it sown-
Everywhere enrich the ground,
Till the soil, with thorns o'ergrown,
Shall with fruits and flowers abound;
Pregnant with a sweet perfume,
Deck'd in Eden's loveliest bloom!

Sow it in the youthful mind;

Can you have a fairer field?

Be it but in faith consign'd,

Harvest, doubtless, it shall yield,

Fruits of early piety,

All that God delights to see.

Sow it on the waters wide,

Where the seaman ploughs the deep;

Then, with every flowing tide,

You the blessed fruit shall reap,
And the thoughtless sailor prove
Trophy to the cause you love.

Sow it 'mid the crowded street-
Lanes and alleys, dark and foul,
Where the teeming masses meet—
Each with an immortal soul,
Sunk in deepest moral gloom,
Reckless of the coming doom.

Sow it 'mid the haunts of vice-
Scenes of infamy and crime;
Suddenly may paradise

Burst, as in the northern clime
Spring, with all its verdant race,
Starts from Winter's cold embrace.

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