Page images
PDF
EPUB

0, COULD I MOUNT ON ANGELS' WINGS.

A SONG FOR CHILDREN.

BY THE REV. JAMES KNAPTON.

O could I mount on Angels' wings, I'd haste away, away,
Far from this dreary wilderness, to realms of cloudless day;
That bright and glorious world above, unstain'd by human tears,
Unchanged by days, or weeks, or months, or slowly-waning years,
Where sinless spirits meet when all the storms of life are o'er,
And, in one ceaseless song of love, triumphant praises pour.

I'd hasten to its gates of pearl,—its streets of glittering gold,-
And see what heart can ne'er conceive, nor human words unfold;
The high and changeless throne of Him, whose love, and truth, and

power, Through many a chequered scene of woe, have brought me to this

hour; And ne'er shall fail to be my strength, till death's fast rising tide, Far from this sorrowing vale of tears, hath borne me to His side.

O could I mount on Angels' wings, my home should ever be
Beyond the burning stars above, where spirits wander free;
Where dwell in light the countless hosts, who once so firmly stood
Forth for the truth, though earth around was reeking with their blood;
And gold, with all its glittering train, uprose in bright array
To blind their eyes, and tempt their hearts from God and Christ away.

And shall I not on Angels' wings, with joy ascend at last
Though here awhile I bear the cross, and brave the bitter blast?
O shall I not in triumph then, appear before His face,
Who pours into the weakest heart His all-sufficient grace?
Surely I shall, if stedfastly I watch, believe, and pray,-
On Angels' wings ascend at last, away !-away!-away!

Think not thou art keeping the commandments, if thou close up thy sense to any manifestation of thy Creator's love in the scenes which encompass thee; but know thou wilt best prepare thy soul for heaven by steeping it in the spirit of heavenly beauty, by making thyself familiar with all joyous and lovely things, and carrying away in thy heart the rich extract of their mingled influences, as a cordial for darker and sadder hours. A life without joy is a life without religion. J. J. TAYLER.

REPENTANCE.

THERE IS JOY IN HEAVEN OVER ONE SINNER THAT REPENTETH."

“Earth shall reclaim her precious things of thee.

Restore the dead-thou sea."

CHRISTMAS Day and a heavy snow.

Village children go tramping through the soft white heaps ; horses stagger and stumble along the white roads; every thatched roof is hidden by a spotless coating of pure flakes. The sun shines down merrily, and church bells ring clearly through the bright cold air. The children are going with their parents to worship the Good God, and thank him for the gift of Christ unto the world ; and the streets of Wilby are alive with passers to and fro. Among them is a kind pleasant looking woman, walking with her husband and son.

“A merry Christmas, Mrs. Lamore !" cries a rough hearty farmer, as he overtakes them. " How's the children ? and where's Nelly ? Hast thee heard from Harry lately? Long time since I saw any of you -- how do Dick ?”

“A merry Christmas to you, farmer Holmes," replies Mrs. Lamore. “Nelly's at home, minding baby, but she's very well, thank ye. Dick, make your bow! As for Harry, we haven't had a letter for I don't know how long—I wonder where he's spending his Christmas, dear fellow. Is Mrs. Holmes well, sir ?"

“Ay, aye, all right," is the reply. “She asked me to tell

you that she'd sent down a beefsteak pie for the children, and something to keep the baby warm-how, now! no thanks. Bless you, woman, I couldn't eat my Christmas dinner if I thought any of my people hadn't got one! No, don't thank me.--I can't bear to be thanked. Good luck to you all, and a merry Christmas. Maybe you'll find a letter from your lad when you get home.” And the kind hearted man disappears before Mrs. Lamore can manage to get out a word.

After the service, little knots of friends assemble

of mind, and how well the hardest kinds of labour can be performed without this aid. Many people who are obliged to expose themselves to cold and damp, take spirits “to keep the cold out," as they say. Dr. Carpenter inquires into the reasonableness of this, and determines that a different kind of food is much more desirable to keep the cold out. The breakfast which he recommends is coffee, with bread and bacon.

The Esquimaux and Greenlanders who live in such very cold regions, subsist chiefly on the oily food provided for them,—the fat of the whales, seals, and bears. This is very warming food, and even Englishmen, when visiting those regions, have acquired a relish for it. Dr. Hooker, who accompanied an expedition towards the south pole, wrote to a friend, -"Some of the best men on board our ship never tasted grog during one or more of the antarctic cruises. They were not one whit the worse for their abstinence, but enjoyed perfect health. Many of our men laid in large stocks of coffee, and, when practicable, had it made for them after the watch on deck."

Sir J. Richardson, who was engaged in a most trying expedition amidst the everlasting ice of the arctic circle, states the following as his experience,—“I am quite satisfied that spirituous liquors, though they give a temporary stimulus, diminish the power of resisting cold. We found, on our northern journey, that tea was much more refreshing than wine or spirits, which we soon ceased to care for, while the craving for the tea increased.”

“In all the recent over-land arctic expeditions,” says Dr. Carpenter, “which have been sent out by our government, it has been expressly provided that no fermented liquors shall be used, and the Hudson's Bay Company have for many years entirely excluded spirits from the fur countries to the north, over which they have control, to the great improvement of the health and morals of their Canadian servants, and of the Indian tribes.” Even the Russians appear to be finding out the “injurious effects of taking spirits in very cold weather.” Dr. Carpenter was assured by an intelligent old mail residing at Wareham, in Dorsetshire, who,

during fifty years, had been exposed to the greatest severity of the winter's cold in his little boat, while pursuing his trade of a fowler, that although the use of brandy or ale might seem, at first, to cause the cold to be felt less, the case was very different when he was exposed to it for days together; and that those even suffered the most who drank a large quantity of fermented liquor. He stated that all the fowlers whom he had known who were much addicted to the use of brandy, died early; while he and his brother, who were temperate, had preserved their lives to old age.

“ In the winter of 1796, a vessel was wrecked on an island on the northern coast of America ; there were seven persons on board; it was night; five of them resolved to quit the wreck and seek shelter on shore. To prepare for the attempt, four of them drank freely of spirits; the fifth would take none. They all leaped into the water,—one was drowned before he reached the shore; the others came to land, and, in a deep snow and piercing cold, directed their course to a distant light. All who drank spirits failed, and stopped, and froze, one after the other; the man who had abstained from drink reached the house, and about two years ago he was still alive.”

Thus does Dr. Carpenter show that cold may be borne better without the use of intoxicating drink. But intoxicating drink is also taken as a remedy against the effects of heut ! Worse and worse ! “A far smaller quantity of alcoholic liquor suffices to produce intoxication beneath a burning sky than in a frosty atmosphere.” The poison works more quickly, and is far more destructive. The natives of the beautiful islands which are situated near the equator, subsist chiefly on vegetables and fruit, and such is the food by which man is best enabled to bear intense heat. Sir Charles Napier, when at the head of the English troops in India, said to a regiment which had lately arrived, " You are come to a country where, if you drink, you're

If
you

be sober and steady, you'll get on well; but if you drink, you're done for."

In this country, the intoxicating poison often saps life by degrees; in India, the fatal end may be foreseen at once.

dead men.

0, COULD I MOUNT ON ANGELS' WINGS.

A SONG FOR CHILDREN.

BY THE REV. JAMES KNAPTON.

O could I mount on Angels' wings, I'd haste away, away,
Far from this dreary wilderness, to realms of cloudless day;
That bright and glorious world above, unstain'd by human tears,-
Unchanged by days, or weeks, or months, or slowly-waning years
Where sinless spirits meet when all the storms of life are o'er,
And, in one ceaseless song of love, triumphant praises pour.

I'd hasten to its gates of pearl,—its streets of glittering gold, -
And see what heart can ne'er conceive, nor human words unfold;
The high and changeless throne of Him, whose love, and truth, and

power, Through many a chequered scere of woe, have brought me to this

hour; And ne'er shall fail to be my strength, till death's fast rising tide, Far from this sorrowing vale of tears, hath borne me to His side.

O could I mount on Angels' wings, my home should ever be
Beyond the burning stars above, where spirits wander free;
Where dwell in light the countless hosts, who once so firmly stood
Forth for the truth, though earth around was reeking with their blood;
And gold, with all its glittering train, uprose in bright array
To blind their eyes, and tempt their hearts from God and Christ away.

And shall I not on Angels' wings, with joy ascend at last
Though here awhile I bear the cross, and brave the bitter blast?
O shall I not in triumph then, appear before His face,
Who pours into the weakest heart His all-sufficient grace?
Surely I shall, if stedfastly I watch, believe, and pray,
On Angels' wings ascend at last, away !-away!- away!

Think not thou art keeping the commandments, if thou close up thy sense to any manifestation of thy Creator's love in the scenes which encompass thee; bu know hou wilt best prepare thy soul for heaven by steeping it in the spirit of heavenly beauty, by making thyself familiar with all joyous and lovely things, and carrying away in thy heart the rich extract of their mingled influences, as a cordial for darker and sadder hours. A life without joy is a life without religion. J. J. TAYLER,

« PreviousContinue »