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THE SHUNAMITE'S CHILD.

directed their steps toward the field waving with golden grain, in which the labourers were busily engaged reaping down the harvest. The father heard the sweet voice of his child, and stood listening to its soft and melting tones. As he drew nearer his prattling ceased, and the affectionate parent noticed with pain his pallid cheek and languid eye as he took him in his arms and heard him faintly say, "Oh! father, my head! my head!" And seeing that he was ill, he straightway told the lad to carry him back to his mother. With what emotions does that fond mother now receive her child writhing in agony, who had so lately gone out from her the emblem of health and joy! She lays him on her knee, and gently rubs his throbbing brow with her soft hand, and laves his burning temples with water, which the servants had hastened to bring cold from the fountain. Thus, for several hours, she unceasingly exerts herself to relieve his sufferings; still he is fast sinking under them, and continues imploringly "Oh! my mother, cannot you help me?" The startling truth, not to be mistaken, now forces itself upon her mind. She desires her servants to leave the room, for she feels that the hour for the trial of her faith and submission has come; but she has resolved what to do. The moaning voice of her child is fast dying away, and the last tremulous tones refusing to pass his quivering lips, his dimpled cheeks turning ghastly pale, and his glassy eyes seeming to say, "Adieu, my sweet mother! I go to Him to whose care so often thou hast committed me." Can she submit? Can she, without a murmur, surrender him up to death, the grim messenger there before her commissioned to bear him away in his icy arms? But a few hours before she had given him up to God to do with him whatever he willed. Had she given him without reserve? Has she no will now to be consulted? She lifts her eyes to Heaven and prays that if it be possible the bitter cup may pass from her, but if not, that she may have true submission in this trying hour. She looks again upon her child. His little breast heaves high, his cold blue hands fall flimsy down-the clammy sweat is on his brow-one gasp he gives and all is over. A strong faith is now wrought in her heart, upon which she acts. She makes no preparation for his burial, but carries him up to the consecrated room of the prophet, and lays him upon his bed. She feels assured that the holy man can raise her child to life, and she resolves to go direct to him. Shall she make known her purpose?— Would not the idea be considered visionary, and her plans thwarted, or at least delayed, should she divulge them? This is possible. With a presence of mind, therefore, seldom evinced by the most distinguished characters the world has ever known, she determines to go without telling any one what has happened. And summoning to her aid all the fortitude which her noble soul possessed, she commenced making the necessary preparations. The swelling tide of grief is all suppressed; her countenance betraying not the least trace of sorrow. With a sweet smile upon her lip, she is telling the servants who anxiously inquire after the child, that all is well with him; that he is quietly sleeping upon the bed of the prophet, and must not be disturbed.

Yes, he sleeps. Oh! how does this thought, like an arrow, pierce her troubled soul! He sleeps the sleep of death. Yet every emotion must be stified, and she appear calm and composed, if she succeed in getting away. All the directions to her servants having been given; she calls to her husband, praying him to send her one of the young men, and one of the asses, that she may run to the man of God and come again. She desires not to be questioned respecting her errand, but says it shall be well; and he, confiding in her judg

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ment, complies with her request. She charges the servant to drive on with all possible speed, and not to slacken his riding on her account except she bid him. The prophet sees her coming afar off, and sends his servant to meet her. In answer to the questions which his master commanded him to ask, "Is it well with thee? is it well with thy husband? is it well with the child?" She says it is well, but stops not, for her business is not with him. She finds the man of God at Mount Carmel, and falling down at his feet for the first time indulges her grief in tears. The prophet perceives that her soul is vexed within her, but knows not on what account till she asks the simple question, "Did I desire a son of my lord?" He bids his servant take his staff and go and lay it on the face of the child. The servant goes in haste, but this does not satisfy the mother, and she says, "As the Lord liveth, and as thy soul liveth, I will not leave thee." Her importunities prevail. The prophet follows her. They meet the servant presently, who tells them the child is not awakened. The man of God now reaching the house finds the child dead, and lying upon his own bed. He prays, therefore, to the Lord, and placing his mouth the second time upon his, the child sneezes seven times and opens his eyes. He sends for the mother. She comes and finds that her faith was not in vain, but that her hopes are all realized; overcome with joy and gratitude, she falls down at the prophet's feet, and then takes up her child and goes out.

Before acquainting the family with the wonderful story, see her repair to her own private chamber to pour out her soul in thanksgiving and praise to God for his unbounded goodness. Are there any mothers at this age of the world ready to follow the example of that devoted Shunamite? Do you say there are no prophets now who can raise the dead? True; when the body ceases to breathe it can no more be revived. But is there not another death to which your children are exposed? And is there not a prophet near who can restore to ifle? Look at that child by your side! Is it not gasping its last? Ah! is it not not already dead in trespasses and sins? What will you do with it? Will you prepare to bury it in the vanities and follies of this world? Oh, no! Hasten to carry it to the house of God, which you have helped build in your midst. is the true prophet, who alone can restore to life from that death of deaths which your precious child now sleeps. In that house you will find his servant, the minister of the Gospel, sent to comfort you, but you must not stop there. No. Go to the prophet himself, Christ Jesus, and tell him as he liveth you will not leave him. Will he not stoop down from his lofty throne, and finding your child dead in his house, will he not breathe upon it the reviving influences of his Holy Spirit? Oh! will he not present it to you in newness of life, even that life which is everlasting? Try it, Christian mother.

DANIEL, AN EXAMPLE TO YOUNG MEN.

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THE predicted event is accomplished. Jerusalem, beautiful for situation the joy of the whole earth, the city of the great king, is besieged and taken by Nebuchadnezzar, the monarch of Babylon. Many a tearful eye is turned towards Mount Zion, now in the distance. The Psalmist has described the feelings and deportments of the Jewish captives in numbers which never have been, and never will be equalled. By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down; yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion. We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof. For there they that carried us away captive

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required of us a song; and they that wasted us required of us mirth, saying— Sing us one of the songs of Zion.' Do you not admire the resolution of the captive, the patriotism and piety which breathe in his inimitable reply? If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning. If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth; if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy.' But amid this scene of distress, another opens to our view of quite a different character. The tears, at least, of the princely captive shall be wiped away. The royal mandate has gone forth, and it will surely infuse joy into the youthful bosom. Kindness will do what insult could not accomplish. And the king spake unto Ashpenaz, the master of his eunuchs, that he should bring certain of the children of Israel, and of the king's seed, and of the princes; children in whom was no blemish, but well-favoured, and skilful in all wisdom, and cunning in knowledge, and understanding science, and such as had ability in them to stand in the king's palace, and whom they might teach the learning and the tongue of the Chaldeans.' Everything conducive to their comfort is provided; their accommodation is alike suited to their birth and destiny, For the king appointed them a daily provision of the king's meat, and of the wine which he drank: so nourishing them three years, that at the end thereof they might stand before the king.' Now the selection is made, and among these we find the children of Judah, Daniel, Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah. And shall they, at this ardent period of life, when hope beats high, when ambition indulges in loftiest aspirations, forget their God, their country, their kindred, and father, or mother, or brother, or sister, or lover? Let one of the princes answer for the rest, and listen and wonder. But Daniel purposed in his heart that he would not defile himself with the portion of the king's meat, nor with the wine which he drank: therefore he requested of the prince of the eunuchs that he might not defile himself.' He carried his resolution into effect. God gave him favour with the prince of the eunuchs. And so it came to pass, that Melzar took away the portion of their meat, and the wine that they should drink, and gave them pulse to eat and water to drink, according to their request.' God gave also to Daniel and his fellows the blessing with simple fare, and communicated to them knowledge and skill in all learning and wisdom: and Daniel had understanding in all visions and dreams. And their external appearance and mental acquirements approved themselves to the king. In all matters of wisdom and understanding that the king inquired of them, he found them ten times better than all the magicians and astrologers that were in all his realm.'

There are two, among other things, in the history of these princes which must excite the attention of the young. The first is, their healthful and fair appearance. And we believe that the most of young people have some desire, and when kept within due bounds a lawful one, that their faces should not be worse looking than the children which are of their sort; and it may be, perhaps, a smaller number who are as anxious as Daniel and his fellows were about the second, to have knowledge and skill in all learning and wisdom. How, then, it may be asked, did their singular resolution bear upon these two things, their physical and intellectual, and we may add, moral character? In other words, how did their resolution to eat pulse and drink water further the welfare of their soul, body, and spirit? 'But Daniel purposed in his heart,' as did also his three associates, that he would not defile himself with the portion of the king's meat, nor with the wine which he drank.' Daniel and his fellows were young

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men, and destined to occupy high political situations in the court of Nebuchadnezzar. Think of them even in this light, and their resolution was the wisest. Who ever heard of a dissipated young man making much improvement? Those who have risen to eminence in any profession have, at least in their younger years, been temperate in all things. And even an apostle who had finished a literary course, requiring many a day, and week, and year of devoted attention, when he was come to the years of maturity, and was engaged in planting churches, carrying on also an epistolary correspondence with them, kept under his body and brought it into subjection. Human nature in its earliest years, and in its prime, requires not the kind of nourishment which supports old age. Let the history and experience of Daniel and his three abstemious companions declare it. A probation of ten days, though in their favour, will not suffice; a period of three years will test the folly and impropriety of such an expedient,and what is the result? The words will speak for themselves, and the health, and appearance, and honour, which they record,- -are a sufficient counterbalance for all the obloquy and persecution which these four youths must have endured at the luxurious idolatrous court of Nebuchadnezzar. 'Now, at the end of the days, at the end of three years, that the king had said he would bring them in, then the prince of the eunuchs brought them in before Nebuchadnezzar. the king communed with them; and among them all none was found like Daniel, Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah: therefore stood they before the king. And in all matters of wisdom and understanding that the king inquired of them, he found them ten times better than all the magicians and astrologers that were in all his realm.' Our own observation proves that the majority of those who at Daniel's age have despised the pulse and water, and preferred the royal provision, and have listened to pleasure's syren voice, have ruined not only their bodies, but their minds,-that to them business soon became an intolerable burden, and that they speedily made shipwreck of every honourable pursuit. We have often observed the advantageous circumstances in which multitudes have commenced the business of life; and in innumerable instances it has been found that a probation of three years has almost always tested principle and practice too,—that pleasure, in a variety of shapes, has been the worm at the root of the gourd, that by forestalling the enjoyments, and aping after the customs of those whose age and capital and standing in society entitled them to relaxation and innocent indulgence, the prospects of such young men have been completely, and for ever blasted. The drunkard and the glutton come alike to poverty: 'Drowsiness clothes them with rags.' In a very short time, a luxurious appetite carries business, and character, and wealth, and everything that is excellent before it; brutalizes the man, and proves alike destructive to health and to morals; renders its victim a burden to himself and a nuisance to society, till a premature death carry him to the grave.

Young men, if you are to do much for God, if you are to arrive at those situations where you shall possess wealth and influence, which with his blessings are so much to be desired, remember that all your energy is required, that all the substance you can now accumulate is necessary to procure the means of becoming skilful in wisdom, and cunning in knowledge, and understanding in science, you must not associate with the idle and dissipated. They will assist and rejoice in your destruction. Far be it from us to abridge your lawful comforts, to cherish in you a morose and gloomy disposition, or to lay an embargo on any of the innocent amusements of life; but keep in mind, that if you pluck the

fruit ere it be ripe, your harvest will be a heap in the day of grief and desperate sorrow,—that a cheerless and dishonourable old age is the inevitable consequence of indulgence and dissipation in youth. Yes, the quivering voice of the aged debauchee, could speak in loud and striking emphasis, that but for unlawful juvenile excesses, he had been in other circumstances to-day. Remember, O remember, that if Joseph had sinned against God, he had never obtained the chariot; that if Daniel had chosen and delighted in the royal provision, he had never secured the favour of Nebuchadnezzar, the honours of Belshazzar, or the interference of Darius.

THOUGHTS ON HEAVEN.

"IF in this life only," says the apostle, we “have hope, we are of all men the most miserable." This is true of the experience of every Christian. Exposed to peculiar trials, which are never experienced by the natural man, and arising from the various difficulties which beset his progress, and, above all, from that body of sin and death which the believer constantly feels he carries about with him, he would be the the most unhappy of mortals were he not assured that he shall one day be delivered from all his troubles, and shall lay down that load of corruption which now presses him to the earth, and in another state of purity and bliss, shall bid a long, an eternal farewell to sin and suffering, and enter into that world where the noise and din of conflict are heard no more, but are lost in the loud notes of exulting triumph. Yes; it is the prospect of future blessedness which inspires the Christian in his course. It is the glorious prize that awaits him at the end of his toils and woes, that animates his exertions, and inspires his hope. But it is not to a Mahommedan paradise that he looks forward. It is not the Elysian fields of sensual delight, towards which he casts a longing eye, and after which he breathes his most devout aspirations. Oh, no! That heaven, the bliss of which he hopes to partake of, is of a different nature altogether. It is the heaven of the Bible, a place of purity and affection, where the immediate presence of God is enjoyed; where the Saviour "sheds the brightest beams of his overflowing grace;" and where every thing is spiritual, and holy, and divine.

There is much diversity of opinion on the subject of heaven; and, however, much the Bible reveals on this point, still there is much which is involved in obscurity. But whether it be a material heaven; in whatever part of the universe it may be placed; whether from this earth is to arise a new heaven, and a new earth to be the future habitation of the blest; or whether their residence shall be in that thrice holy and sacred place where the presence of the Deity more peculiarly resides; is, to us, a matter of comparative indifference at present. There is enough made known to awaken our most ardent longings, and to excite in our souls the most intense desires after the attainment of it; and if we ever do arrive there, we shall find that our loftiest conceptions have been cold and tame, that the most high-wrought descriptions which imagination may have conceived, shall no more have brought down the mighty theme to our comprehension on earth, than the representation on the canvas of some awful and sublime scene of nature can realize the roar of the thundering cataract, or the fury of the tempest tearing up the trees by their roots, and commingling the elements in one universal mass of confusion: we shall acknowledge that "the half has not been told us."