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had been in tears, perhaps confessing his sins be fore God, and begging forgiveness for his dear Son's sake.

"Henrie had never been happier in his life than he now was; insomuch, that he could not help jumping and tripping as he went along the room, and breaking out into singing hymns of praise..

My boy,' said the Marquis one day to him, you seem full of joy in your prison.'--'Yes, my dear Father,' said Henrie, running up to the Marquis, I am happy, because I hope to spend a happy eternity with you in the presence of Him who died for us.' Oh, beloved Henrie!' said the Marquis, putting his arms round his neck; blessed child! you, under God, have been the means of bringing your poor sinful father to his Saviour.'

"In this manner the winter passed away, and the spring arrived; at which time the Governor gave the Marquis permission, attended by a guard, to walk with his family every day upon the roof of the' castle. There the Marquis enjoyed the fresh air and the beautiful prospect; and he said that all the pleasures of Paris were not to be compared to his happiness on such occasions,

"Four years did the Marquis and his family live in this confinement. All this time the Marquis and Henrie grew in grace, and ripened for eternity; insomuch, that the Marquis at length, like the martyrs of old, instead of fearing death, began 10 look forward with hope to the happy time when he should be present with the Lord, and absent from the body and holy Henrie, seeing his earnest prayers granted, and both his parents' hearts turned to God, was ready to depart whenever it should please God to call him. At the end of the fourth year of the Marquis's confinement, the small-pox broke out in the village, and the infection was brought to the castle: the Marquis and Henrie were both seized

by this dreadful disease, and both died in consequence. Thus God, in his great mercy, removed them from this world of sin and sorrow into glory. After their deaths the poor Marchioness, hearing that the Waldenses had been driven from their happy valleys by the King, removed into a small house in the village near, where the Governor supported and protected her till her dying day. She lived in the fear of God, and died in the faith of our Lord Jesus Christ; rejoicing in the hope of being restored to her beloved husband and children.— I shall give you in this place a little prayer, which Henrie used for his father and mother, and which any child, who is so unfortunate as to have any relations who do not fear God, may make use of in their behalf.

"A Prayer to be used by a Child for unbelieving and ungodly Friends and Relations.

"O Lord God Almighty! hear the prayer of a poor child, who comes before thee, not in his own name, but in the name of that dear Saviour who died for him upon the cross. I come now, O Lord, in his dear name, to ask thee to have pity on my dear (father, or mother, or brother, &c. &c.) who is living without God, and who never thinks of his Saviour, and has no care about his soul, O Lord God Almighty! turn the heart of this my poor friend; turn his heart, and let him not die in sin. O Lord, how dreadful would it be if he should die and go to hell, there to live for ever in the lake of fire and brimstone! Oh! save him, save him from this dreadful place! Give him faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, and wash him from his sins in the blood of the bleeding Lamb. He does not think of praying for himself: O, therefore, accept my prayers for him! And thou, O dear Saviour, plead

for him, that he may not be lost! I will come unfo thee, O Father, again and again: I will call upon thee day after day, for this my poor friend, who lives in wickedness. O Almighty God, hearken unto my prayer; I beseech thee, hearken to it, for the sake of Him in whose name I come, even my beloved Saviour, thy Son, our Lord Jesus Christ: to whom, with Thee and the Holy Ghost, be all honour and glory for ever and ever. Amen." "Our Father," &c.


ARISE, my tend'rest thoughts, arise;
To torrents melt, my streaming eyes;
And thou, my heart, with anguish feel
Those evils which thou canst not heal.
See human nature sunk in shame!
See scandals pour'd on Jesu's name!
The Father wounded through the Son;
The world abus'd, the soul undone!
See the short course of vain delight
Closing in everlasting night;
In flames that no abatement know,
Thongh briny tears for ever flow!
My God, I feel the mournful scene ;
My bowels yearn o'er dying men;
And fain my pity would reclaim,

And snatch the firebrands from the flame.

But feeble my compassion proves,
And can but weep where most it loves:
Thine own all-saving Arm employ,

And turn these drops of grief to joy.


ONE Sunday, soon after the death of poor Miss Augusta Noble, Mrs. Fairchild having a bad cold, could not go to church with the rest of the family.

When the children were come home from church, Mrs. Fairchild asked Lucy what the sermon was about.

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Mamma," said Luoy, taking her Bible out of her little basket, "I will shew you the text: it is in Hebrews xii. 1: Let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us.'

When Mrs. Fairchild had looked at the text she said, " And do you remember any thing more of the sermon, Lucy?

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"Indeed, Mamma," said Lucy,." I did not understand the sermon: it was all about besetting sins. What are they, Mamma?"

"You know, my dear," said Mrs. Fairchild, "that our hearts are all by nature wicked."

"O yes, Mamma: I know that," answered Lucy.

"Do you recollect, my dear," said Mrs. Fairchild," what things our Lord says naturally proceed out of man's heart?"

From within, out of

Lucy. "Yes, Mamma: the heart of men, proceed evil thoughts, adulteries, fornications, murders, thefts, covetousness, lasciviousness, an evil eye, blasphemy, pride, foolishness: all these evil things come from within, and defile the man.' (Mark vii. 21-23.)"

"Now, my dear," said Mrs. Fairchild, "although our hearts are naturally inclined towards all kinds of sins which are named in these verses, yet every man is not inclined alike to every kind of sin.”

"I don't quite understand you, Mamma,” said Lucy.

Why," answered Mrs. Fairchild, "what I mean is this; that one man's evil heart tempts him particularly to one kind of sin, and another man's to another. One man, perhaps, is inclined to covetousness: another, to be drunken; another, to swear and blaspheme; another, to lie and deceive;

another, to be angry and cruel; and that sin which a man feels himself most inclined to is called his besetting sin."

"Oh! now I know what besetting sins mean," answered Lucy. "Has every body a besetting sin, Mamma?"

"Yes, my dear," answered Mrs. Fairchild:



all have, although we do not all know what they are; for Satan will, if possible, keep us from the knowledge of our own evil hearts."

"Have I a besetting sin, Mamma?" said Lucy. "Yes, my dear," said Mrs. Fairchild. "What is it, Mamma?" asked Lucy.

"Can you not tell what fault you fall into oftener than any other?" said Mrs. Fairchild.

Lucy considered a little, and then answered, She did not know.

"I think, my dear," said Mrs. Fairchild," although it is hard to judge any other person's heart, that your besetting sin is envy. I think I have often observed this fault in you. You were envious about Emily's doll, and about poor Miss Augusta Noble's fine house and clothes and servants, and about the muslin and ribbon I gave to Emily one day, and the strawberry your papa gave to Henry; and I have often thought you shewed envy on other occasions."

Lucy looked grave when her mamma spoke, and the tears came into her eyes. "Mamma," she said, "I am a wicked girl: my heart is full of envy at times: but I pray that God would take this sin out of my heart; and I hate myself for it-you don't know how much, Mamma."


My dear child," said Mrs. Fairchild, kissing Lucy, "if you really grieve for your sins, and call in faith upon the Lord Jesus Christ, you will surely in God's good time be set free from them. And, oh! how happy shall we be when we have no longer any sinful passions to trouble us; when our hearts

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