selfish this decision! Vainly you hope to delay repentance till you are satiated with earth's joys, and then in sight of death, seek for Him whom you have grieved, insulted, crucified! Is this your sense of honor?

No! be manly, be honorable, and accept NOW the loving entreaties of Jesus. Though you have wronged him, still he looks on you with unutterable tenderness and cries,

"Love's redeeming work is done,

Welcome sinner! come, oh come!

"No, not now, I have no time, I shall have leisure by and by, in a sick chamber to attend to these things." Stop! how do you know that you ever will be on a dying bed? In a moment, in a twinkling of an eye, your spirit may pass into eternity! Thousands are thus called every week; be ye then forwarned-set your house in order, for this very hour you may be called for!

In conclusion, my brother in Christ, how do you feel in contemplating this "unpeakable gift?” You have heard the story of your Saviour's agony at Gethsemane and Calvary, does not your heart melt in gratitude for what he did for you?

Join then with me and sing,

"Were the whole realm of nature mine,

That were a tribute far too small,

Love so amazing! so DIVINE!

Demands my life, my soul, my all!"

Is any cross too heavy, any burden or self denial too

grevious to bear for Him? are you growing in grace and daily learning new "Lessons at the Cross." Do you carry your religion into your business, your studies, your conversation? Are you laboring for souls, and daily wrestling at the throne of grace for some one definite object?

If you, my brother rejoice in a Saviour's love, go draw up a list of a few you fondly love, yet who are strangers to Jesus, and while you are praying "Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done on earth," remember these, name by name, in your petitions; for he hath said whatsoever we shall ask in faith believing, we shall receive. Thus you may add new jewels to his diadem, and glorify the riches of Redeeming Love. Boston, 1852.

GETHSEMANE.

'Twas night! and in Jerusalem, repose.
Bright o'er its temples, battlements and walls,
Was cast the moon's soft silvery mantle.
Lovely the scene, in solitude profound!

Fair Cedron's stream, now gliding low, had hushed
Its murmurings; wearied mortals, slumber sought.

Forth from the city gate, there cometh One,
E'en at this stilly hour of tranquil night,
And seeketh lone Gethsemane, to weep;

Oft hath the Garden and the Mount witnessed
The fervor of his soul.

No holy prophet He, nor Angel bright,

From realms of bliss; He was the Son of God!

Behold him now in agonizing prayer,

And hear his words of melting tenderness;
'Father, if it be possible remove

From me this cup of sorrow and of grief;

But not my will, but thine, O God! be done.'

See now those falling drops of precious blood!
Was ever Love like this?

For man, for rebel, sinful man, he bled,

And died and rose again triumphantly.

He is our Great High Priest, and doth prepare

For those who serve Him here-a home in Heaven!

Monson Academy, 1851.

HENRY LEMANN;

OR, THE SABBATH BREAKER'S END.

The facts which I have embodied in the following narrative came under my observation some years since, and I trust they will prove a warning to those who lightly esteem the commands of God.

Ir was a mild, beautiful Sabbath morning, when the good ship Charles, anchored off St. Domingo, and at length, after a tempestuous voyage, found a safe harbor and a quiet resting place.

The sun had risen cloudless over the waters of the Carribean Sea, throwing its balmy light over the Indian isles. Now and then a ship hove in sight, with its white sails gleaming in the sun-light, then changing its course, was lost in the distance. Scarce a sound was heard, save the rippling of the waves, or the morning carol of the birds, straying from the land, as it were, to welcome the wandering mariner to port..

So beauteous was Nature now, in her holy rest, so calm and quiet was the scene, that a young officer leaning over the taffrail, and gazing on the broad expanse of ocean, exclaimed "what a glorious morning!" "Yes," replied Henry Lemann, "so it is, and before next Sabbath, I shall be at home." The cap-tain's barge coming alongside just then, interrupted further conversation. Soon after the captain went ashore, and the work about the vessel having been completed, the crew scattered; some went below, others took books and tracts which they had stowed

away in their trunks, and seated themselves on deck and began reading. Just then Henry Lemann approached and said to a shipmate, "Come, George, let's take a swim in the harbor, we'll have some fine sport; come." "No, I rather not,” replied his companion, still continuing his reading. "Oh come along, and leave your tracts and Bible till another time; for my part I would give more for a glass of whiskey, than a shipload of such trash.", With an oath on his lips he stepped into a canoe with another sailor, and pulled off from the vessel. Henry Lemann never trod that deck again! he had long provoked the vengeance of his God, and now his end drew near.

He had been in the water but a few moments, when suddenly he noticed a huge shark rapidly cutting through the waves towards him. Instantly he shouted to his companion in the boat, "Save me! for Heaven's sake, save me!" With sinewy arms, and a strength nerved by despair, he strove to reach the boat, but in vain! a dimness came over his eyes, and his lips quivered in mortal agony as he felt the teeth of the shark. His friend had, at his first cry pulled towards the spot, and came near enough to give the monster a blow on the back with his oar. ever could not save the suffering sailor. The voracious shark accomplished his work, and in the dreadful struggle, wrenched off the thigh of the exhausted man. His comrade in a moment afterward succeeded in seizing him and placing him in the boat. Fainting, he was conveyed on board the ship, and every effort possible was made to save his life, but what could

He how