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cleansed, and a way of access opened to the throne of God. There on the cross he conquered death, and him that had the power of death, even the devil. He died, but

He conquered when he fell

'Tis finish'd said his dying breath,

And shook the gates of hell. He rose again from the dead-he ascended to glory–he is now exalted as a Prince and a Saviour at the right hand of God; and to him every knee shall bow, of things in heaven, and things on earth, and things under the earth, and every tongue confess that he is Lord to the glory of God the Father. Yes, my young reader, his name shall be remembered when the names of Alexander, Cæsar, Buonaparte, and Wellington shall be forgotten. All shall be blessed in him, all call him blessed; in every land his name shall be known, his praises sung

For him shall endless prayer be made,
And princes throng to crown his head;
And infant voices shall proclaim,

Their early blessings on his name. The victory he obtained on Calvary over satan, death, and hell, shall be the subject of conversation when the bloodstained ruins of Sebastopol are forgotten. For then he spoiled principalities and powers, and finished the salvation of deathless millions of the human race. Blessed Jesus!

Thy victories and thy deathless fame,

Through the wide world shall run!
And endless ages shall proclaim,

The triumphs thou hast won! Young reader, learn to form a proper estimate of the glory and honour of the matchless Saviour. Let your bosom glow with the warmest admiration of his character, and above all give him your heart; submit to his authority and sing

My heart, thy throne, blest Jesus see,
Bows low to thee, to thee alone!



SWEET child, look upward to the sky,

Yon twinkling stars behold,
That gild the night with beaming eye,

Like lamps of burnished gold.
Come, walk with me this sweet spring day,

For earth is green and fair,
And blossoms ope with tinted ray,

And fragrance fills the air.
And look upon the streams that flow

To cheer the fruitful plain,
The mightier rivers deep and slow,

That swell the unfathomed main;
Then, shouldst thou, wondering, inquire,

How came these things to be?
Who woke the stars' untading fire ?

Who made the surging sea ?
The youngest star amid the throng

Would with its pencil write,
“GOD MADE ME," as it rolls along

Through fields of boundless light:
The lowliest flowret makes reply,

Though in the desert born:
“GOD IS MY MAKER," is its sigh

To the refulgent morn.
And when the sun forsakes the day,

And dews their tear-drops weep,
“PRAISE GOD OUK MAKER," then they say,

And fold themselves to sleep,

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PLAYING IN SPRING-TIME. THERE they are ! all as merry and happy as boys can be. It is the first Wednesday afternoon in May, and they have a holiday; and so they have left the town in a party, and wandered two miles off into the country, where they have found two trees near enough to each other to fix up the rope they have brought with them for a swing. Those bigger boys are resting, for they have had a good run over the common, and two younger ones are playing at shuttlecock and battledore. They have brought two little dogs with them, one black and the other white, which they call “Topsy" and "Eva," and they seem to be as happy as the boys are.

Well : it is all right for boys so to enjoy themselves when they have a week-day holiday, for it is very pleasant, after being shut up among the smoke and noise of a busy town all winter, to get out into the open fields, and breathe the fresh air, and gather the sweet wild flowers, and hear the birds sing their joyous songs.

In olden times the first day of May was a holiday for young people in England. We do not wish such days to come back again, for though some of their play was innocent and harmless, there were some things done which we could not approve. MILLER, in his “ Country Year Book” has thus described the scenes which were then witnessed in English villages :

"You have perhaps heard of May-day and May-games; and although they are merry old customs which are fast fading away, yet, you will like to know something about this ancient English holiday. Our ancestors used to rise early to welcome in this sweet season of the year, and with joyous shouts and merry music bring home may-blossoms. They decorated the tall may-pole with gaudy garlands, made of ribbons and flowers; they erected a green arbour, and selected some comely village girl whom they crowned as Queen of May, and they danced and made merry upon the village green to welcome in the month of flowers. Even in the olden time kings and queens, accompanied by their titled attendants, left their palaces and their castles, and rode forth into the still green country, to gather the sweet may-blossoms: and the poet Herrick in a later day tells us how, in honour of May, the streets were trimmed with trees and made green,


until they looked like a park; that over the porch and door of each house there hung a fresh bough, amid which branches of the may-blossoms were neatly interwoven; and that ere the sun had well risen, many a boy and girl had returned from the woods laden with them, and brought back with them, too, an eager appetite to enjoy their breakfast of cakes and cream. And Spenser, a much older poet, also informs us how the young folks used to flock out in the early morning to gather may-bushes and sweetbrier, with which they returned home and decorated their houses and the pillars of the church ; and how they crowned the king and queen of May with flowers, and went and came to and from the green wood, accompanied with such sweet music that it made his very heart dance to hear it.

But poetical as the customs of our old May-games may appear in print, they were accompanied by scenes of rude, drunken, and boisterous revelry, which would but ill accord with our better regulated notions of decorum in the present day; for we should find but little pleasure in gazing upon a noisy group of men and women, throwing themselves into all kinds of grotesque and ridiculous attitudes, as with loud whoop and holla, they hand in hand whirled round the tall may-pole to the music of some old blind fiddler, or the drone of some drowsy bagpipe. Such soenes are only pleasant when youth become the actors, when the laugh and shout rise and ring from the happy hearts of the young; and the grave and matured eye looks with a quiet smile upon their merriment-for such antics but lessen the respect which is due to the wisdom of years, when the actors are men and women."

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