HYMN. O GOD thrice Holy ! Might! three-fold O TRINITY Unknown! Perpetual Font of proper light, Thrice blest Thyself alone! O Unity, for ever True! O Truth, for ever one! O Holy Love, Whose bounties through Thine whole creation run! Thee in thick darkness! Thee amid Angels encompass, and with dread, We in Thy Name regenerate, O FATHER! grant the power to do, FATHER most blest! co equal SON Miscellaneous. - THE LILIES OF THE FIELD.-Gotthold, the child of pious parents, was one day gazing on a lily. Thoughtfully he stood with folded hands, while quiet peace and joy illumined his countenance; and his father drew near him and said, "Of what thinkest thou, my child?" "I am pondering on the words which the SAVIOUR spake of this flower, when He extolled it above Solomon in all his glory," was the child's reply. "And what has caused thee now to think thereof?" said the father; "and why is thy heart so moved thereby?" "Oh! my father," answered the boy, "When I gaze on these flowers, I feel as if He were standing by them, and as if I were listening to the praises of their beauty from His lips. It seemeth to me so wonderful, so indescribably touching, that He should condescend-" "My child," said the father, "I sympathise with and revere thy feelings, but rememberest thou not that He came to exalt the earthly, and loose it from the bands of death? Therefore He Who praised the innocent beauty of these lowly and lovely flowers, maketh them also, by his life-giving Word, eternal comforters to anxious and troubled souls. And so have the lilies ever stood: an abiding memorial of heavenly wisdom and love, which eternally united the True, the Good, and the Beautiful. So will they ever stand. Are not the lilies as fair and beautiful this day, as they were in that hour when the LORD looked upon them?"-KRUMMACHER. JOURNEY TO GRAHAM'S TOWN.We set off in eight waggons, drawn by twelve oxen each, for Graham's Town, which we reached on the sixth day, after having outspanned for the Sunday by Bushman's river. The novelty of the scene, and of the mode of travelling, alleviated what would otherwise have been great fatigue to the females and the children; and the charm of jolting along through woods filled with flowering mimosas, cactuses, and aloes of various kinds, and many other strange and beautiful shrubs, made us forget the minor inconveniences of the journey. The heat, however, on Saturday was very trying, while outspanning on the Quagga flats, where we had no shade but what our waggons cast on the ground (which at mid-day was not much), and a hot wind driving against us. We thought of the mercy of GOD's presence with the Israelites as a cloud by day, as well as a pillar of fire by night. One thing during the journey pleased me exceedingly. We had two Kaffirs and a Fingo lad among the drivers and leaders of our oxen, and at night, after we had withdrawn to rest, and in the morning before we rose, I heard them, sometimes under one of the waggons, sometimes in a retired bush near us, offering up their prayers near us, either severally or conjointly, in their native tongue. Occasionally too (especially on Sunday evening) they sang what I afterwards found to be Wesleyan hymns translated into Kaffir. I asked the Fingo boy on Sunday morning, through the medium of a Dutch interpreter, to repeat to me his prayer, which he did, in a very reverential tone and manner, telling me that he had been trained to this at Salem (Wesleyan Missionary Station). This lad was quite naked, except a coarse woollen shirt, short and loose; and evidently more clothing would have been an inconvenience to his fine limbs and active frame. He ran like a lapwing at the head of our oxen, first on one side, then on the other, then diverged into the bush for berries, or scampered over the flat to fetch "Hottentot figs;" never seeming tired or footsore, though the ground was thorny and stony, scarcely ever taking a seat with the driver at the waggon head, and then only for a few minutes. I must also mention another proof of the good done at Missionary stations, perceptible in one of our number, and that in the very point in which Missionary stations are in the worst odour, viz., their training in temporal matters and habits of industry. Our Hottentot waggondriver, Janke, happened to have his wife, child, and niece with him on the journey, which, though we esteemed it a great nuisance at first, as filling up the front of the waggon, we after the first day became accustomed to. The wife, Elsin, though of shrewish turn, was an excellent needlewoman, and both her own garments and Janke's testified that if she had not profited much in the ways of Christianity at Bethelsdorp, (where I learned she had been for some time in training,) she was yet superior to her race in a knowledge of the notable arts of her life. Bethelsdorp is a London Missionary Station near Port Elizabeth. I held Divine service twice on the Sunday while outspanning by the Bushman's river; once in the small inn near which our waggons were stationed, and once in the bush, summoning around us the few English who lived near the spot, and inviting such coloured people as understood English. *** We were on the whole not a little glad to arrive even at an almost empty house in Graham's Town, after spending so many nights on the mattresses stretched on the top of our boxes on the waggons. Nothing could exceed the kindness with which we were received by Mr. Heavyside and his amiable family. Mr. H. has been for fifteen years the only Clergyman of our Church in the capital of the Eastern District, and the hopelessness of representing the Church effectually, and of combating the numerous difficulties of such a very extensive sphere as is here open to him, seems almost to have overpowered him.-Colonial Church Chronicle. MARIAN began the next morning by wondering what a Sunday at Oakworthy would be like, but she was glad the formidable first meeting was over, and greeted Gerald cheerfully when he came into the room. After a few minutes a bell rang, and Marian, thinking it must be for family prayers, hastened into the passage, wondering at herself for not having asked last night where she was to go. She was glad to meet Caroline coming out of her room, and after quickly exchanging a "good morning," she said "Was that the bell for prayers?" "No, it was for the servants' breakfast," said Caroline, "and for ours in the schoolroom too." "But don't you have prayers in the morning?" said Gerald. "No," answered Caroline gravely. "Why not?" the little boy was beginning, but Marian pressed his hand to check him, shocked herself, and sorry for Caroline's sake that the question had been asked. Caroline spoke rather hurriedly, "I wish we could, but you see papa is out so often, and there are so many people staying here sometimes; and in London, papa is so late at the House-it is very unlucky, but it would not do, it is all so irregular." "What?" said Clara, hopping down stairs behind them, “O, about prayers! We have not had any in the schoolroom since Miss Cameron's time." "Miss Cameron used to read a chapter and pray with us afterwards," said Caroline; "but when she was gone, mamma said she did not like the book she used." "Besides, it was three quarters out of her own head, and that wasn't fair, for she used to go on such a monstrous time," said Clara. "Hush, Clara," said her sister, "and mamma has never found a book she does think quite fit." "There's the Prayer Book," said Gerald, "O that is only for Church," said Clara, opening the schoolroom door; "O she is not here! Later than ever. Well, Marian, what do you think of her?" "Of whom?" asked Marian. "Of poor unfortunate faithful Morley," said Clara. "You call her so after Queen Anne ?" "Yes," said Caroline, "and you will see how well the name suits her when you are fully initiated." "But does she like it?" "Like it?" and Clara fell into a violent fit of laughing, calling out to Lionel, who just then came in, "Here is Marian asking if we call Miss Morley poor unfortunate' whenever we speak to her." "She is coming," said Lionel, and Clara sunk her boisterous laughter into a titter, evident enough to occasion Miss Morley to ask what made them so merry, but the only answer she received was from Lionel, "Something funny," and then both he and Clara burst out again into laughter, his open and hers smothered. Marian looked amazed. "Ah! you are not used to such ways," said the governess; "Clara and Lionel are sometimes sad creatures." Breakfast took a very long time, and before it was quite over Mrs. Lyddell came in, spoke in her rapid good natured tone to Marian and Gerald, and remarked rather sharply to Miss Morley that she thought they grew later and later every Sunday. Nevertheless, no one went on at all the faster after she was gone. Miss Morley continued her talk with Caroline and Clara about some young friends of theirs in London, and Lionel and Johnny went on playing tricks with their bread and butter, accompanied by a sort of secret teasing of Clara. Nothing brought them absolutely to a conclusion till one of the servants appeared in order to take away the things, and unceremoniously bore away John's last piece of bread and cup of tea. Johnny looked up at the man and made a face at him; Miss Morley shook her head, and Caroline said, "How can you be so naughty, Johnny; it serves you quite right, and I only wish it happened every morning." "Come, Gerald, and see the ponies," said Lionel. "My dears," said Miss Morley, " you know your mamma never likes you to go out before Church, especially to the stables; you only get hot, and you make us late with waiting for you." Nobody asked you to wait for us," said John, Gerald." "Come, "No, I see Sir Gerald is a good little boy, and is coming steadily with us," said Miss Morley. "Yes, Gerald, do," said Marian. "There will be plenty of time by and by," said Gerald, sitting down again. "O very well," said John. "Well, if you won't, I will; I want to see Elliot's colt come in from exercising, and he will be sure to be there himself now." Lionel and Johnny ran off, Caroline looked distressed, and went out into the passage, leaving the door open. Walter was coming along it, and as she met him she said, "Walter, the boys are off to the stable again; we shall have just such a fuss as we had last Sunday if you cannot stop them. Is Elliot there again ?" "I am afraid he is," said Walter. "Then there is no chance!" said Caroline, retreating; but at that moment Lionel and John came clattering down from their own distant abode at the top of the house. "Who likes to walk with me through the plantations to Church?" said Walter; "I was coming to ask if you liked to show that way to Gerald." Lionel and John, who had a real respect for Walter, thought it best to keep silence on their disobedient designs, and accept the kind offer. Gerald gladly joined them, and off they set. Miss Morley, Caroline and Clara had all gone different ways, and Marian remained, leaning her forehead against the window, thinking what her own dear Sunday-school class were doing at Fern Torr, and feeling very disconsolate. She had stood in this manner for some minutes when Clara came to tell her it was time to prepare for church, followed her to her room, and contrived to make more remarks on her dress than Marian could have thought could possibly have been bestowed on a plain black crape bonnet and mantle. Through all the rather long walk Clara still kept close to her, telling who every one was, and talking incessantly, till she felt almost confused, and longed for the quietness of the church. Mr. Lyddell's pew was a high square box, curtained round, with a table and a stove, so that she hardly felt as if she was in church, and she was surprised not to see Elliot Lyddell there. They had to walk quickly back after the service, dine hurriedly, and then set off again so as to be in time for the afternoon service. Miss Morley sighed, and said that the second long hot walk almost killed her, and she went so slowly that the schoolroom party all came in late. They found no one in the pew but Mrs. Lyddell and Walter, and Marian once more sighed and wondered. On coming home Miss Morley went in to rest, but as it was now cool and pleasant, her pupils stayed out a little longer to show the park and garden. They were very desirous of making the Arundels admire all they saw, and Lionel and John were continually asking, "Have you anything like that at Fern Torr?" |