THE SEASONS.

Autumn.

We all do fade as a leaf; and our iniquities, like the wind, have taken us away.-Isaiah lxiv. 6.

SEE! Autumn commences her reign,
The reapers in clusters appear:
The fields and the orchards again

Are clothed with the wealth of the year.

The woods are beginning to fade,

And soon will their verdure be gone:
The nightingale flies to the shade,
Her sorrows in secret to mourn.

The leaf that now glides down the stream
This sentiment seems to convey-
Earth's charms, like a shadowy dream,
Our fondest reliance betray.

Let man mark the picture, and learn to pursue
Delights more substantial, abiding, and true.

Winter.

There remaineth a rest to the people of God.-Hebrews iv. 9.

THE jasmine that grew o'er the wall,

Or clung round the cottager's door,

Is doom'd with the roses to fall,

And bloom in its sweetness no more.

The elms stand defenceless and bare,
Each shrub is with icicles hung;
The snow sails in clouds through the air,
And falls the rude branches among.

The traveller weary and faint,

Heaves many a sigh as he goes;
But check'd is the rising complaint
By the thought of a grateful repose.

So the heavenly pilgrim with troubles opprest,
Consolation derives from the prospect of rest.

Written during the illness of a Young Friend who has since died of consumption.

THE Flower! ah! must it fade?

Can it be true

That all its freshest colours and brightest hue
Shall never more be gazed upon by those

Who have so tenderly watched o'er the rose?

The Flower! ah! must it die and wither from our view? Its beauteous green young leaves-must they all perish too? Its lovely buds and blossoms, so gladdening to the sightShall they no more burst forth to greet the joyous light?

The Flower! ah yes! it ceases now to live

On earth-but bounteous, heavenly Gardener give
Thine heavenly dews to water this sweet flower,
That it may bloom above, in Eden's beauteous bower.

THE GLOW-WORM.

"OH! what is that which shines so bright,

My mother, on the ground;

And sheds a ray of pale blue light,

On everything around?"

"It is the glow-worm's light you see,
A simple grub at most;

But yet it has a quality,
No other creatures boast.

If you observe this worm by day,
No beauty you will find;
'Tis darkness only can display,
The glories there combined.

A useful lesson you may glean
From this poor simple worm;

There's not a creature e'er so mean,
But glory may adorn."

H.

THE MOTHER'S FIRST QUESTION.

On the east end of Long Island are two aged pilgrims, who have been the parents of eleven children. Three are not, and one of the living eight is thought to be "just on the verge of heaven." They have hope that after the separations of earth shall have ended, they shall all meet again, an unbroken family in heaven. One of the sons has his home on the deep. He is now master of the whale ship L. A. of G. His voyages have varied in length from one to three years. On his last voyage save one, he sailed around the world, and in just one year from leaving home returned with his ship full, and without having dropped his

anchor during the whole voyage.

His visits have usually been short at home. But his aged mother did not let them pass without repeated admonitions respecting the "chief concern." He would turn all off by the reply, "Oh, mother, we can't have religion at sea." When he left home for the voyage above mentioned, the mother's heart was unusually anxious. In remembrance and prayer she followed her beloved son in his long and trackless way; and often, as she said, was so burdened in spirit that it seemed to her she must die. In none of the former voyages had that son been the object of such agonizing prayer. When the ship had been gone a year, a neighbour, who also had a son in the same ship, came in to bring the news that she had been unsuccessful, and had gone to the northwest coast. This was sad news to the parents. They sat up till a late hour, talking of the absent ones; and when they lay down, it was to think and pray.

Two hours after midnight, the mother heard a footstep in the entry-way. The door opened, and some one entered. "Who is there ?" No reply but the footsteps approached the parents bed-room. "Who is there." A well-known voice replied, "Edwin." In a moment the aged mother's arms were around the neck of her sailor son. Her first words of greeting were, "Edwin, have you found the Saviour?" Let the pious parents who have long wrestled for the conversion of an impenitent child, imagine how the heart of that yearning mother throbbed, when her son replied, Mother, I trust I have."

There were tears of sacred joy shed in that house. The prayers of many years had not been unheard, nor forgotten. The Prayer-Hearer had waited until importunity had become great. In the best time he gave the gracious answer. The son found that it was not impossible to enjoy religion on the sea. His soul had found peace when the ship was on her homeward voyage.

THE TWO BLIND CHILDREN.

A word now to the parents who pray for impenitent children. Do you watch as well as pray? Do you watch for favourable opportunities to speak seasonable and suitable words to your children? Do you watch to see when their hearts may be unusually serious and tender? Do you watch your own example before them? Do you watch for the answer to your prayers? Do you watch to see what books your children read-with whom they associate-and whether they are attentive to the proper means of grace? Do you watch more earnestly, and prevailingly, for their spiritual welfare, than for their worldly prosperity? If an absent son or daughter should come home this night, would your first inquiry be, "Have you found the Saviour ?" The prayer that will prevail must be importunate, persevering and believing. It must be accompanied with suitable efforts. Parents who so labour and pray may expect the promises of God to be fulfilled.

THE TWO BLIND CHILDREN.

I HAVE been thinking lately what a great blessing God confers upon us when he gives us sight. Think how many things you can see, and how happy it makes you to be able to look at them. There are many bright and beautiful things in the world which could not at all add to our happiness if we were blind, but which if God grants us the blessing of sight, afford us a great deal of pleasure.

To aid you a little in thinking I will mention a few. There is the deep blue sky curtained around so softly bright with the beautiful and ever changing clouds. There is the rising and the setting sun; the pure silver moon; the twinkling stars, and the beautiful rainbow, which makes you almost dance for joy every time you gaze upon it. And there but a little