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AGAINST Amanna's rocky shore a gallant vessel dashed,

And soon above her towering masts the sullen billows washed;

But ere the bark went down, her crew had climbed that islet reef,

And from impending death had found a harbour of relief.

No voice of friendly welcome, no pity-beaming face

Greeted the homeless wanderers in that wild and far-off place;

But they praised the God of heaven, who alone was strong to save

Even life itself, amid the strife of wrestling wind and wave.

But thirst, with direst sufferings, those stalwart men assailed,

And at this new calamity their hearts with terror quailed.

They roamed all o'er the desert isle, if haply some clear spring

Might to their wasting energies new life and vigour bring.

Vain, vain the search; and dark despair was setting in each eye,

As they saw no other fate than just to lay them down and die.

Only one hardy mariner, to suffering long inured, Continuing his lonely path, by blessed hope allured,

Reached a deep thicket, where the sound of bubbling waters thrilled

His ear as with sweet music, and his soul with rapture filled.

In eager haste he knelt beside that rippling rill, and drew,

With a long deep draught of its crystal wave, courage and life anew;

Then, raising his eye to heaven above, "My God, accept," he cried,

"The praise of a grateful heart, for Thou hast thus my need supplied!"

And now, does he haste away, think you, to his comrades in distress,

And bid them share his new-found joy? Ah, so you would surely guess!

But listen-he reasons with himself:

God that brought me here,

""Twas

And showed the secret spring of life, with its waters fresh and clear.

There's plenty for all to drink, I know, but no need for me to tell,

For He who guided my steps here, can guide the steps of my friends as well."

Days passed: he drank and lived, while those around him pined and died.

Full oft upon their dreadful fate he looked, and sadly sighed

"Oh, would to God they knew where flows that life-renewing tide!"

Alas! he vainly wishes-one by one they perish soon,

And he, of all that gallant crew, stands silent and alone.

At length a whitening sail appears-he hails it with delight;

Kind voices cheer his heart again, and hope grows strong and bright.

But when the sailors leap on shore, and view the dread array

Which death had left behind, they start in horror and dismay.

"How livest thou among the dead? say whose these mouldering bones?"

"Alas! my comrades all," he cries, in lamentable tones,

"Consumed by thirst, have perished long-I mourn their hapless fate."

"How livest thou?" again they ask. He hastens to relate

How God his footsteps guided to the tiny forest rill, Which, had his brethren known, mayhap they had been living still. "Ah! wretched man,

auditors exclaim;

ION.

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of the midland and western counties of England, something floating down one of the streams which had overflowed its banks attracted the attention of a party of villagers, who were watching the course of the torrent and the devastation which marked its path. They followed it in a boat, and, overtaking it, picked up a wicker cradle, containing an infant, apparently about four months old, fast asleep, and perfectly unconscious of its danger, as you see in the picture.

"Poor little thing!" was the prompt and natural exclamation of a lady, in whose hearing the incident was mentioned; and such, no doubt, will be the exclamation of many of the young readers of this narrative. Their feelings will be stirred in behalf of the little one rescued from so perilous a situation.

Far be it from me, my dear young friend, rudely to check the flow of your kindly feelings. It is well, it is lovely, to see young hearts moved in behalf of the helpless. The world will soon enough come in with its hardening influences. But, while you are thinking of the little infant, let me affectionately ask you whether its case does not bring with it a lesson for yourself?

It was floating down the stream. How is it with you? The world, too,

has its stream, and multitudes, children as well as those of riper years, are carried down by it. Are you swimming with it, or striving against it? The world has its attractions, its pleasures, and its follies, even for you. Suppose the little one in the cradle, awakening from sleep, had crowed and laughed at the trees, and the shrubs, and the flowers on the banks of the stream down which it was hurrying to destruction, you would have been tempted, even more than before, to exclaim, "Poor little thing!" Take home the lesson, dear reader, and act upon it.

It was asleep. Well for the little one in the cradle; but for a soul to be asleep in the midst of danger, is a very sad thing;-never is its danger greater than when in such a case. Happy the child whom the Lord will not suffer thus to sleep-whom He overtakes with some call of His Word, saying, Awake, thou that sleepest," or, with some event of His providence giving the alarm, “What meanest thou, O sleeper? Arise, call upon thy God."

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It was hastening to destruction. And so is every one who is following the course of this world. "It leadeth to destruction" is the inscription over the gate, and all along the highway of the world; and blessed is the child who hears the voice of warn