mitted to your trust! These children, in all probability, will be happy or miserable in eternity, according to the course you pursue with them. They have this day been admitted into the congregation of Christ's flock; they have been invested with great and glorious privileges; but whether those privileges will ever be of any service to them, depends, in a very considerable degree, upon you. I do entreat you, therefore, for your children's sake, and for your own sakes, seek with all diligence and earnestness 'the kingdom of GOD and his righteousness.'" This was the baptism. And it awakened in the mind of Mr. N. a lively interest in the word of GOD, and the salvation of his soul. His whole heart was gradually changed. He became a new man; and the affections of his soul, his mental powers, all his temporal affairs, all his domestic duties, felt the change. His children soon became partakers of his heavenly blessing. He diligently and prayerfully trained them for the skies. And though in one short year he was called upon to part with three out of their number, he bowed in meek submission to the supreme will of the LORD. But he was visited of God, by a severe trial of his faith. His eldest son, who was not present at the baptism, and who declared that he would not submit to it except by force, matured his feelings of depravity with vile associates. He forsook his father's house, and he despised his father's tears and prayers. His mother on her death-bed, knew no pang but one. It was the thought of her James, her prodigal. He came to her apartment, and she appealed to him in the most touching language, but in vain. He soon returned to his associates and to his sins. And on the waters of the lake, without regard to the statutes and ordinance of the Almighty, whose wonders were around him, he lived without GOD and without hope. But in a storm, which spread its awful terrors over his frail bark, he at last experienced the severity of judgment. He was in sight of shore, and near his father's house. But on a wreck, he was at the mercy of the furious gale. Upon the beach his friends assembled. And there too was his distracted father. Without thinking of himself so much as to protect his head from the chill blast, the venerable man had risen from his seat, and hastened to the agonizing spectacle. And as his long white locks were flowing in the wind, that was about to sweep his "James" into destruction, he implored, "O save my child, I will give all that I possess if any one will make the effort." But all attempts would have been vain. A gloomy night soon mingled its thick darkness with the frowning storm. The weeping father now reluctantly withdraws, yet earnestly ejaculates, "O GOD, help me to bow in humble submission to this dispensation, and say thy will be done." From that time, he became entirely absorbed in heavenly things. He lived and died a Christian. "Peace," said Mr. Heyden, as he concluded the narrative, "Peace be to his memory." The sacrament of baptism, blessed to the spiritual good of Mr. Northend and all his family, except the one profligate companion of the ungodly, is an interesting and instructive theme, profitable for reflection. The incidents are well disclosed; and the narrative iş such, as to awaken a concern on this important subject, POETRY. HOME OF THE CHRISTIAN. Written for the Monthly Repository and Library of Entertaining On the high clifts of Jordan with pleasure I stand, There, rivers most graceful eternally glide, And groves, rich with verdure, grow up by their side; 'Tis there, all the nations redeemed by the Lamb, All over those peaceful, delectable plains, How happy those beautiful realms of repose, The pleasures of Glory, O! when shall I share, Those landscapes to range undisturbed with a sigh, HOME. Seest thou my home? 'Tis where yon woods are waving Where yon blue stream & thousand flower-banks laving, 'Midst these green haunts how many a spring lies gleaming, My home--the spirit of its love is breathing There am I loved! There prayed for! There my mother There, in sweet strains of kindred music blending, Ask where the earth's departed have their dwelling, My lonely heart, that love unchang'd is there. And what is home? and where, but with the living? That with the dead, where'er they be--is mine. Go to thy home, rejoicing son and brother! J. HOLFAST. TO THE IVY. Lone tenant of the wasted spot Beneath Destruction's leaguering rage. Child of decay! No blushing flower, The Warrior's cross, the nameless stone, And show thy clustering wreaths alone. Yet, type of Truth when Fortune wanes; The whirlwind's shock and tempest's gloom : To me thy mournful leaf excels The violet and the queen-like rose MORAL BEAUTY. 'Tis not alone in the flush of morn. Oh no! it lives, and breathes, and lies, It lives in the heart where Mercy's eye It lives, in the breast that naught inspires Proud visions, that show a lifted mind, Thy image is still my constant gaze, |