THE WORKHOUSE GIRL. MY DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS,

I wish to tell you about the happy death of a poor workhouse girl; but before I do so, let me say to those of you who read this little book, and have not given your hearts to God, reflect that every year, month, day,—aye, every moment that passes, brings you nearer to an eternal world; and although you are young in years, you are not too young to die. The young, as well as the aged, have many solemn warnings to prepare for death. One friend and companion after another is snatched away, and you know not how long you have to live! Do not think you will put off religion until you are more advanced in years: you know not that you will live to see those years. You have not a moment to call your own.

"The rising morning can't assure

That you will end the day;

For Death stands ready at the door,
To take your lives away."

Give your hearts to God now, in youth. Has not Christ said, "I love them that love me, and they who seek me early shall find me?" O be encouraged by this, and many other promises which you may find in his Word, that he will not cast you off, but will love you freely. Has not God so loved you as to give his only begotten Son to die for you; and can you refuse to devote

your best days-the time when you are free from care and anxiety-to him who died for your sins? I once visited a poor girl about fifteen years of age, who was taken into the Union-house at Her parents were dead; she had no relations near her; and when ill, was obliged to be taken care of there. When I conversed with her, I found her in a very thankful frame of mind. She blessed God for providing such a bed as the one she was lying on for her, and said she never thought she could feel so happy in such a place. "God is with me," said she, "he will not lay upon me more than I am able to bear; he hath promised never to leave or forsake those who put their trust in him. I have trusted in him, and will unto the end. Through the precious blood of Christ I hope for pardon for my sins." She requested me to read and pray with her, saying she was sure her friends would also be very pleased if I would, (meaning ten or twelve persons who were lying ill in the same ward with herself.) I complied with her request, and when I rose from my knees she said, Thank I shall never hear your you; voice again on earth, but I hope to spend a never-ending eternity with you in heaven." When I called a day or two after, the nurse informed me she was gone, and believed she died rejoicing in the Saviour. The last words she uttered were, "It will soon be over, nurse; I shall soon be with Jesus."

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Would you not, my dear readers, like to die rejoicing in the Saviour? You may. If you serve and love him in health, he will be with you in sickness, and support you in death. Give your hearts to God; then, like this poor girl, you will be happy under all circumstances, for he will support you.

Lincolnshire.

IS GOD MY FRIEND?

"MOTHER, who made the vine that creeps Beside the mossy wall?"

"Twas God, my child, who never sleeps; Whose watch is over all,

"He made the bright and beauteous flowers, And everything we see;

He blesses all thy infant hours,

And is a Friend to thee."

"My Friend! and then is God my Friend?
The God who lives above?"
"Yes-God will kindly condescend
To bless thee with his love.

"Then go to him my child, to-day,
He will thy Father be;
And when He takes thy soul away,
Thou wilt his glory see."

E.

"I will go mother, I'll resign

All earthly good for Heaven;

How sweet to call the Saviour mine

To know my sins forgiven!"

SINGING GLORY.

AROUND the throne of God in heaven,
Thousands of children stand:
Children, whose sins are all forgiven,
A holy, happy band,

Singing glory, glory, glory!

In flowing robes of spotless white
See every one array'd:
Dwelling in everlasting light,
And joys that never fade,

Singing glory, glory, glory!

Once they were little things like you,
And lived on earth below,
And could not praise, as now they do,
The Lord who lov'd them so,

Singing glory, glory, glory!

What brought them to that world above,
That heaven so bright and fair,
Where all is peace, and joy, and love,—
How came those children there?
Singing glory, glory, glory!

Because the Saviour shed his blood
To wash away their sin;
Bath'd in that pure and precious flood,
Behold them white and clean,

Singing glory, glory glory!

On earth they sought their Saviour's grace,
On earth they lov'd his name;

So now they see his blessed face,
And stand before the Lamb,

Singing glory, glory, glory!

THE forest of spines upon the back of the porcupine presents a very formidable rampart, and an effectual barrier against invading foes. There was a prevalent opinion, that the creature had the faculty of shooting out the thorns or spears from its back, against any enemy that might attack it. This, however, is not true. It appears that the spines are attached rather loosely to the skin of the animal, and that a few, sometimes, are disengaged during its encounters with its foes. It seems also the case, that the porcupine not only uses its spines as weapons of defence, but that when they are erected, it drives backwards with so much force as frequently to wound the assailants by piercing them with