I hope this little thing taught Mary an important lesson – and may it teach you the same, dear little reader. Nothing was ever made by getting angry, but something always lost.
My love, you have met with a trial to-day
Which I hoped to have seen you oppose;
But alas, in a moment your temper gave way,
And the pride of your bosom arose.
I saw the temptation, and trembled for fear
Your good resolutions should fall;
And soon, by your eye and your color, my dear,
I found you had broken them all.
Oh, why did you suffer this troublesome sin
To rise in your bosom again?
And when you perceived it already within,
Oh, why did you let it remain?
As soon as temptation is put in your way,
And passion is ready to start,
’Tis then you must try to subdue it, and pray
For courage to bid it depart.
But now you can only with sorrow implore
That Jesus would pardon your sin,
Would help you to watch for your enemy more,
And put a new temper within.
“IT IS I!”
“Claim me, Shepherd, as Thine own,
Oh, protect me, Thou alone!
Let me hear Thy gracious voice,
Make my fainting heart rejoice.”
There was once a great storm on the Sea of Galilee.
The wild winds howled, and the furious waves rose almost mountain high.
There was a small vessel in the midst of this storm, and in this vessel were some of Christ’s disciples.
When the storm had reached its utmost fury, and certain destruction seemed to await those who were in it, a man was seen walking on the water towards the vessel.
The disciples were at once struck with wonder and amazement. They were doubtless somewhat superstitious, and supposed it to be a spirit; for they were well aware that nothing having flesh and blood like themselves could walk on the surface of the water without sinking.
But whose familiar voice is that, heard even above the roar of the sea, and the noise of the winds? Who is He that dares approach their vessel on such a night?
The voice is the voice of their Saviour; and He who dreads not the rage of the billows, is He whom “the winds and the sea obey.” What are His words? They are few and well chosen – such as were best suited to the occasion: “It is I; be not afraid!” Oh, how welcome the visitor! How delightful that familiar voice! How the downcast hearts of the disciples throb with joy when they welcome their Saviour to their bosoms! How their hearts gush forth in thanks when they see the raging billows become, at His command, as gentle as a lamb, and the furious winds as innocent as a little child.
Children, do not we gather some important truths from this Scripture narrative? In the storms of adversity and sadness, affliction and bereavement, ought we not hear Christ saying to us, “It is I; be not afraid?”
The beating rain in torrents fell,
The thunder muttered loud,
And fearful men with deep grief dwell
Before their Saviour bowed.
The billows lashed the rock-bound shore,
The howling winds roared by,
While feeble cries rose on the gale,
“Christ, save us, or we die.”
Upon a bed of sweet repose
Our blessed Saviour lay,
While round Him played the lightning’s flash
From out a frowning sky.
And feeble cries of grief and woe
Were heard around His bed, —
“Oh! Jesus, wake – we perish now,
Our courage all has fled.”
The lightnings flashed, the thunder roared,
The foaming waves rolled by,
And Jesus calmly rose and said,
“Fear ye not; it is I.”
Loud roared the winds in wailing notes,
The night was cold and chill,
And to the raging storm He said,
“Hush, ye winds; peace, be still.”
The winds were stilled, the sea was calm,
The clouds soon passed away,
And sunny skies, with golden gleams,
Beamed on the face of day.
“What man is this,” the seamen cry,
“That e’en the sea ’ll obey?
He only whispered, ‘Peace, be still,’
And darkness passed away.”
THE ORPHAN
“An orphan in the cold wide world,
Dear Lord, I come to Thee:
Thou, Father of the fatherless,
My Friend and Father be!”
“Cold is the world without a father’s arm to shield, and a mother’s heart to love. The sun shines but dimly on the head of the orphan, for sorrow claims such as its own, and no earthly power can release from its embrace. When a father dies, and she who ‘loves with a deep, strong, fervent love,’ is laid in the grave, then is the brightness of earthly existence extinguished.”
Children, how accurately do the above lines describe the lonely and forsaken condition of the orphan!
Have you never felt your little hearts throb with sorrow when you saw the children of the Orphan Asylum walk quietly down the aisle of the church and seat themselves in regular order in the front pews? Did not their plain dress speak to you in language which you were obliged to hear? Did not the prayer arise from your breasts, that God would be a Father to the fatherless, that He would watch over, guide and protect, throughout the journey of life, that helpless little band of fatherless and motherless children?
How lonely must their condition be. No father to counsel, no mother to love, no home beneath whose shelter they may rest, but dependent upon the cold charities of a colder world.He who would treat unkindly, or wound the feelings of an orphan, is worse than the brute of the field.My young orphan friends, there is but one source to which I can direct you; there is but one friend who will never desert you; there is but one house whose door will never be closed against you.That source is God; that friend is Christ; that house is one not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. God will counsel you; upon the bosom of Christ you may “lean for repose;” and the angels of heaven will ever welcome you to their blest abode.The kind father and the loving mother, from whom you have been separated by death, you shall meet again, if you are Christians.And to you, dear little readers, who know not the length and breadth and depth of a Saviour’s