The babe it wept,-with pity moved, "This is a Hebrew child,"

The princess said; and hard was proved Her faith, who gave the babe she loved Thus to the waters wild.

And now,

his sister from behind

Advanced, from terror free;

Yet doubtful spake, "O lady kind!
Shall I a Hebrew matron find,

To nurse the child for thee?"

"Go," said the princess,-homeward flew The little maid in haste;

And hence the weeping mother drew,
To clasp again, with transport new,
Her infant to her breast.

O Lord, how wondrous are thy ways!
For who, this infant saw,

Could dream of those tremendous days,
When forth from Sinai's smoke and blaze
He bore thy holy law?

And oh! how marvellous and wide
Thy mercy's genial plan :
That Nile is sin's dark rolling tide,
The ozier basket by its side

The feeble bark of man.

In vain he weeps, or calls for aid,
No mortal power can save;
But Grace, like that Egyptian maid,
Descends, in heavenly smiles array'd,
To snatch him from the wave.

THE ST. KILDA MAN.

A POOR man belonging to the distant isle of St. Kilda, (an isle to which there was no access, but once or twice in the year) was coming into the great world, the isle of Skye, and as the boatmen were plying their oars, they spoke of the magnificent and wonderful sights he would behold in the latter island, and asked him if he had ever seen a cabbage or a tree. The poor man gave them such an answer as an islander was accustomed to give, but the boatmen carried the joke too far; they asked him if ever he had seen a God in St. Kilda! The poor man became serious," From what country came you," said he, "to ask such a question ?" "We come,' said they, "from the island of plenty, where nature spreads her bounty before us." "Ah !" said the poor man, "in such a land you may forget your God, but the St. Kilda man does not; surrounded by the stormy ocean, separated from the rest of mankind, and dependent on a precarious subsistence, he is from morn till night reminded of his providence, he can never forget his God."

Within thy circling power I stand;
On every side I find thy hand.
Awake, asleep, at home, abroad,
I am surrounded still with God.

I once knew a boy who was employed by his father to remove all the loose small stones which, from the peculiar nature of the ground, had accumulated in the road before the house. He was to take them up, and throw them over into the pasture across the way. He soon got tired of picking them up one by one, and sat down upon the bank to try to devise some better means of accomplishing his work; he at length conceived and adopted the following plan :-He set up in the pasture a narrow board for a target, or, as boys would call it, a mark, and then collecting all the boys in the neighbourhood, he proposed to them an amusement which boys are always ready for, firing at a mark. I need not say that the stores of ammunition in the street were soon exhausted, the boys working for their leader, when they supposed they were only finding amusement for themselves. Here now is experimenting upon the mind; the production of useful effect with rapidity and ease, by the intervention of proper instrumentality; the conversion, by means of a little knowledge of human nature, of that which would have otherwise been dull and fatiguing labour, into a most animating sport, giving pleasure to twenty, instead of tedious labour to one.

Abbott's Teacher.

66

"GET out of my shop directly!" said Mr. Thompson to Harry Joues, you shall not stay in it another minute.

to come here directly!"

Go and tell your father

"Do forgive me, sir!" muttered the boy, "I dare not go home, I am sure; father will beat me so when he knows. O do forgive me, sir! do forgive me!"

"I cannot allow a boy who has taken money out of my till to stay in my shop for one minute. You must go home, and bear your punishment, which you ought to have thought about when you was stealing this sixpence. Here I have it.

I marked it, that I might know it. I must shew it to your father. I suspected you had taken money before, and I thought I should find you out. I am sorry for you, but here you shall not stay; so go."

Poor Harry was in a sad mess. He would gladly have worked for a month for nothing, and so paid for the sixpence he had stolen twenty times over, if his master would have permitted him. How to go home he knew not. He dare not meet his father. You might have told, if you had seen him as he went creeping along the street, with his head down, that something was the matter.

Home he did not go, but turned into another street, and wandered out into the fields. But everything seemed to condemn him. Nothing looked as it used to do. The fields, and trees, and flowers, which once seemed to welcome him and say, "We are glad to see you, Harry," now appeared as if they were ashamed of him, and he thought they said to him, "Ah, Harry! what have you been doing?"

So it was, you will remember, with our first parents when they had done wrong. They did not meet God as they used to do, but were afraid and hid themselves amongst the trees of the garden.

And so it always is, that when any one does wrong it makes him feel ashamed, and he does not know what to do with himself.