Was it opening too, to his poor heart, so long closed against its light and love? Were Mary's prayers at last to be answered? She lay as if asleep a little while. By and bye, opening her eyes and seeing her father still watching beside her, she looked earnestly into his face, and said "Father, dear, I don't know how long I shall be here to speak to you; I should like to say one thing. I should like very much, when I am dead, if you would lay me in the chapel-yard, near my school." "I will do anything you like, dear," said her father, “but I don't know why you should care about it: you don't think you will know anything about it then, do you?" "Perhaps not," said the little girl, "but, father, dear, I should like it. I think you will like to come to chapel then sometimes, to be near your Polly." Weary with the effort of speaking, and relieved of the anxiety which had weighed upon her mind, Mary fell asleep. She had done what she could to lead her father to the Good Shepherd, who had led her to the green pastures, and by the still waters, and had made her to " go in and out" in such peace and loving confidence; and now, in the silence of her heart, she committed him to God, and fell asleep. She never woke again. She died so calmly and peacefully, that her father, who was still watching by her, could not tell when she ceased to breathe. "So fades a summer cloud away, So sinks the gale when storms are o'er, So gently shuts the eye of day, So dies a wave along the shore." Mary was dead; but the lessons of love, and duty, and devotion to the will of God, which she had learned at school, and which she had almost unconsciouly taught at home, lived after her. From the day of her death, a new life seemed to come to her father. It was indeed expedient for him that she should go away." Sorrow had broken down all barriers of pride and evil habit, and self-dependance, and out of the deeps the bereaved father called unto God. The image of his dead child was ever before him, in her love, and purity, and truth. Her prayer for him still sounded in his ears. through all, a sense of his wasted life weighed upon him with inexpressible agony. His whole soul lay prostrate before God." Deep called unto deep at the noise of His waterspouts. All His waves and his billows had gone over him." And But with the consciousness of guilt awakened by his child's innocent life and early piety, came also from the same source, light, 66 and hope, and comfort. Words which she had read to him of compassion for the erring, forgiveness for the sinner, love towards all, came over his soul and calmed the storm, and lifted him out of his despair. Him that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out." "Draw nigh unto God, and He will draw nigh unto thee." "A broken and contrite heart He will not despise." "As far as the east is from the west, so far hath He removed our transgressions from us." Passage after passage, speaking of God's forgiving love, came to his mind, and with them the sound of the beloved voice that had read them to him. He took down her Bible, and turned over the precious pages, marked by her dear hand at the parts she loved best. His eye rested on the parable of the prodigal the last chapter which Mary had read to him. He read it from beginning to end, verse by verse, as if his very soul drank in the blessed words. Again and again he read it, and then burying his face in his hands, he remained lost in thought. "I will arise and go unto my Father," repeated he, when at length he lifted up his face; "If he went, I may go. I will arise and go unto my Father, and will say, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in Thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called Thy son." And he kneeled down, and prayed unto his Father. son, That night, in Mary's little room, her father read the same chapter from her Bible, to her mother and brother, and they prayed together for the first time, to her Father and their Father, to her God and their God. They kneeled round her bed, where she lay in her sweet calm sleep, and they prayed that as it had been their Father's will to take their darling from them, He would so change their hearts and lives, that through His forgiving love they might be restored to her in heaven. They prayed that they might grow like her in humility, and tenderness, and love, and seek to walk ever as she had done, in her Saviour's footsteps. 66 66 Oh," said little Johnnie amidst his tears, putting his arms round his father's neck, "Oh, father, how I wish Mary could have been really here to-night! How glad she would have been!" "She cannot come to us, Johnnie," said his father, but we can go to her. We must try, Johnnie, with all our hearts; God will help us," and he laid his hand on his little boy's head. Johnnie, dear," said his mother, I think you must go to bed 66 now." 66 66 "Yes, mother," said Johnnie; but he did not move from his father. "Good night, my boy," said his father, kissing him. But still Johnnie did not move. "What is it, Johnnie? What are you thinking about?" 'I want to know, father," said Johnnie in a low voice, "whether you would come and let me say my prayer with you, now Mary can't come ?" 66 Johnnie. We shall both smiled through his tears. How glad she is, I dare 6 It is said There is joy Mother and I will come by turns, like it," answered his father. Johnnie "Oh father, how glad Mary would be! say," added he, looking up at his father. "Yes, Johnnie, I dare say she is. among the angels in heaven over one sinner that repenteth.'" Mary was dead; but the silent influence of her young life, the sweet Scripture words which she had read to her father, and the deep sorrow with which God had touched her heart, had "made the crooked straight, and the rough places plain." "Old things had passed away; behold all things had become new." He did not forget his little Mary's words. He laid her in the chapel yard which she used to cross each Sabbath as she went to school. The grass grew green over her grave, and her little school-fellows and her teachers, who had all loved her so well, often stopped beside it, to think of Mary and her bright home in heaven. And Johnnie and his father and mother came there in the quiet evenings; and the first Sabbath after Mary was laid there, and always when he could, her father came to chapel. It was sweet to him to come and "be near his Polly;" but he found a better comfort there still, in the words of eternal life to which he listened. He missed his dear child sadly at his cottage hearth, and in his summer evening walks; but he thought of the beautiful words she had sometimes read to him, "Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit." The little corn had died; and the seeds of eternal life which God had planted in it sprang up, and brought forth fruit, some thirty, some sixty, some a hundredfold. SUBMISSION. From "The Dove on the Cross." Do with me what Thou wilt, I will lie passive in Thy hands; Do Thou Thy holy will. "Tis Thine to choose-my portion let it be Imbue my soul with light; Unite, and let me thus receive Thy Spirit into mine: Absorbed in close communion, let me feel The peace of God into my bosom steal. M. D. GEORGE MÜLLER, THE ORPHAN'S FRIEND. (Continued from page 105.) Oh let my weakness have an end! The spirit of self-sacrifice.-Wordsworth. The good begun by thee shall onward flow In many a branching stream, and wider grow.-Carlos Wilcox. In his early youth, the facility for contracting debts had been one of the most dangerous sources of temptation to Mr. Müller. This consideration, probably, made him afterwards extremely strict in his notions with regard to pecuniary obligations, and, from the time that ne chose "the better part," he resolved that he would never engage in any private or public undertaking, in which there were not means to meet his liabilities immediately. When the first proposition was made to form the Scriptural Knowledge Institute, the advice of Paul to the Romans, to "owe no man anything" was to be literally followed. "We intend," says one of the clauses, "never to enlarge the field of our labour by contracting debts, and afterwards appealing to the Church of Christ for help; because this we consider to be opposed both to the letter and the spirit of the New Testament; but in secret prayer, God helping us, we shall carry the wants of the institution to the Lord, and act according to the means that God shall give." So fully did he carry out his views, that, while he had premises on hire, he laid by every week the amount of the rent which would be due at the end of the quarter. This plan has proved eminently successful. If debts had been incurred, as a general rule, the attempt to establish an orphan-house would, in all probability, have been a failure. Many donations promptly given, lest there should be present need, would often have been deferred; purchases would have been made at a great disadvantage, and Mr. Müller would not have received the entire confidence which was so necessary to his success. The obstacles and difficulties, however, have been very numerons in adopting this plan. Each day's necessities had to be thought of; the houses were often nearly bare of provisions from meal to meal; and at times, at the commencement of the undertaking, great as was his faith, the shadow of a misgiving would pass through his mind that he should have to dismiss the children. But the food was never really deficient at the appointed hour; in one way or other donations were received in time, or the labourers, as he calls his assistants, came forward with contributions, or a stock of miscellaneous goods, sent at different times for sale, were brought out and sold to meet the need. On one particular occasion, he had but three half-farthings in hand in the morning; on another he writes thus: "August 13th, 1840.-There was to-day the greatest poverty in all the three houses; all the stores were very low, as the income throughout the week had been so small. In addition to this it was Saturday, when the wants are nearly double in comparison with other days. At least £3. was needed, to help us comfortably through the day; but there was nothing towards this in hand. My only hope was in God. Between twelve and one, two sisters in the Lord called upon me, and the one gave me £2 and the other 7s. 6d. for the orphans. With this I went to the Boys' Orphanhouse about one o'clock, where I found the children at dinner. Brother B. put the following note into my hand, which he was just going to send off: - 'Dear brother,-With potatoes from the children's garden, and with apples from the tree in the play-ground [which apples were used for apple dumplings], and 4s. 6d. the price of some articles given by the labourers, we have a dinner. There is much needed, but the Lord has provided and will provide.' There came in further this day, by sale of reports, 1s.; by the box in the Girls' Orphan-house, 1s.; by childrens' needlework, 6s. 6d. ; by a donation of one of the sisters in the orphan-houses, 6s. Thus we had this day £3. 6s. 6d. to meet all necessities, and are brought to the close of another week." So successful was Mr. Müller in imparting the enthusiasm of his own benevolent natnre to those who came within his influence, that during the time of his illness, his desires respecting the establishment of an orphan-house for boys were so much facilitated by his friends and assistants, that it was opened before the close of the year. He has never permitted any persons to be employed in connection with the orphan establishments, unless they had a love for children; possessed, according to his judgment, sound religious. principles, and were ready to follow up their prayers for the success of the schools, by sacrifices of a pecuniary nature when the necessities of the children demanded it. Well may he say that it is not so difficult to obtain money, as to meet with individuals qualified to carry on the work. The good done by him in rescuing children from poverty; in giving, under Providence, health and vigour of body to the diseased and feeble, and in imparting spiritual and mental instruction to the minds and souls of those who would probably have been sunk in ignorance and vice, does not end there. His own self-devotion has called forth so much benevolence from others, that it is scarcely 1 |