But we must leave David and pass on to the time when the "Son of David" came. If ever this lower world of ours was the stage on which heavenly strains were played by the choristers of the skies, it was at the advent of the Messiah. What an Alleluia chorus that! I have heard that grand composition by Handel in your glassy edifice at Sydenham, under that beautiful dome; in that noble Philharmonic Hall, and the stately St. George's Hall in Liverpool, when some of the best singers of modern times have warbled forth those grand accompanying words; but these, what were they? What are all the performances compared with that chorus of heavenly music that those poor shepherds heard on the plains of Bethlehem on that bright starry night 1870 years ago? Yet, poor as they were they heard it; and those singers sang so plainly that those poor men understood the words, "Glory to God in the highest," &c. How astonished must they have been! How their hearts must have been thrilled! "It was in

deed glad tidings."

By way of conclusion let me ask a solemn question. If the elements of music are in every thing around us, in the winds above, in the water around, in the earth beneath, in the voice of Him who rides in the whirlwind, are our hearts tuned aright? Melodiously tuned? Tuned to sing

"Praise God from whom all blessings flow,

Praise Him all creatures here below;

Praise Him above ye heavenly host,

Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost."

If rot, go to Jesus with this prayer, "Lord help me!".

Brinkworth.

ANNIE E. PORTNALL.

PRAYER.

"Pray without ceasing."-St. Paul.

DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS,-Conceive for a moment of a human being living without prayer, or not speaking to his Father who made him. Can you conceive of anything more revolting, especially of enlightened people, in a land which vaunts of a superior refinement and Christianity? We do not wonder at the poor heathen in bowing down to blocks of wood and stone, but remember they possibly have never been taught better. But in a land which has so many advantages, and so many Bibles and good cheap literature, and teeming with schools and churches, we say that there remains considerable less excuse, and will be judged accordingly at the last day. Those who know what their duty to God is, and doeth it not, will be beaten with more stripes; and those who do not, shall be beaten with few stripes. My dear young friends, I believe at the last day considerable allowance will be made with regard to the heathen. But I think quite the contrary with regard to us as a nation and people. The gospel is supposed to have been preached in Europe by the apostle Paul and some others centuries ago. The value of prayer is truly great, for without prayer we shall never fully understand the Scriptures as we ought, or at least not with so much profit. Without prayer we cannot expect to obtain any spiritual blessings; therefore we shall be barren and unfruitful. Without prayer we can never, never obtain the pardon of our sins, and thus finally perishing in them, we shall be for ever shut out of the heavenly city. Without prayer we should resemble the brute creation; nay, I think we should be worse. Prayer, or speaking to God, has wrought mighty acts and doings in the history of sinful man. Look in the Bible, and then you will see what prayer has been the means of doing on the minds of men and nations. Prayer is the Christian's life.

A true Christian cannot live without prayer. Jesus, who was our great model when upon earth-and is now-was always praying to his Father. God hears heart-prayers, although short and simple. Look at the thief, and the publican, and many others; therefore may you pray as the apostle Paul admonishes-" without ceasing."

THOMAS HEATH, JUNR.

MRS. B

THE DRUNKARD'S DYING CHILD.

BY THE REV. JAMES B. DUNN.

sat near a scanty pallet, on which was extended the suffering little Freddy, her bright and beautiful boy, reduced to skin and bone. His large, mysterious eyes were turned upward, watching the flitting of leaves, and the filaments of sunshine that peered through the foliage of the multicaulis. An infant about a month old, meagre, weary of his existence, lay on her bosom, and she in vain trying to charm it to repose.

"Mamma," said Freddy, reaching out his waxen hand, "take me to your bosom.”

"Yes, love! as soon as Maria is still."

"Mamma, if God had not sent us that little cross baby, you could love me and nurse me as you did when I was sick in Cincinnati. My throat is hot, mamma. I wish I had a drink in a tumbler, glass tumbler, mamma, and I could look through it."

66 Dear, you shall have a tumbler," cried Mrs. Blip quivering with emotion, and a wild fire in her eyes.

her

"Yes, mamma, one cold drink in a tumbler, and your poor little Freddy would fly up, up there, where that little bird sits. Will papa come to-night, and get us bread? You said he would. Will he get me a tumbler of water? No, mamma, he will be drunk! Nobody ever gets drunk in heaven, mamma ?"

"No, no, my son, my angel!"

"No one says cross words, mamma ?"

"No, bless your sweet tongue."

"And there is nice cold water there, and silver cups?" "Oh! yes, my child, a fountain of living waters." "And it never gets dark there ?"

"Never, never!" and the tears fell in streams down the mother's pale cheek.

"And nobody gets sick and dies?"

"No, my love."

"If they were to, God would let the angels bring them water, I know he would, from the big fountain. Oh! mamma, don't cry. Do people cry in heaven?"

"Oh, no, sweet one; God wipes away all tears," replied the weeping mother.

"And the angels kiss them off, I 'spose. But tell me, mamma, will he come there ? "

66 Who, my son?"

"You know, mamma; papa."

"Hush, Freddy, dear, lie still; you worry yourself."

Oh, my throat! Dear me, if I only had a little water in a tumbler, mamma; just one little mouthful."

"You shall have it ;" and as the mother said this, the poor child passed away into the arms of Him who shal evermore give it of the bright waters of everlasting life.Nat. Tem. Society.