Puslapio vaizdai
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So Mrs. Fairchild broke off her discourse with her little girls, and bade them go and play a little before bed time.

The prayer which Mrs. Fairchild gave to her little girls was called, " A Prayer that God would shew us our Besetting Sins, and give us Power, by the Help of his Spirit, to resist them ;" and was as follows:

The Prayer.

O Lord God Almighty! thou Glorious and Holy Trinity, Three Persons in One God! I, a poor sinful child, (trusting in the merits of my dear Saviour, for whose sake thou hast promised to answer prayer, am come to beg of thee to make me acquainted with the sins of my heart; to the end that, knowing myself, I may hate myself and love thee. Make me, O dear Lord, by thy Holy Spirit, to know what my besetting sin is. I know that every child of Adam has some one besetting sin: some are most strongly inclined to pride; some to cruelty; some to anger; some to vanity and conceit some to pragmatical talkativeness; some to evil thoughts; some to stealing: every one has his besetment. O Lord, open my eyes by thy Holy Spirit, and make me to know what mine is; that I may be humble, and may know that I have need to call for help from God. O Father! holy Father! teach me to know myself: shew unto me all the dark corners of my wicked heart, for my dear Saviour's sake; for the sake of Him who bled and

died for me. Hear my prayer, Almighty God; and grant me thy Holy Spirit, to save me from the power of my besetting sins.

Now to God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost, be all glory and honour, for ever and ever. Amen.

"Our Father," &c.

HYMN XXIII.

O FOR a closer walk with God!
A calm and heav'nly frame!
A light to shine upon the road
That leads me to the Lamb!
Where is the blessedness I knew
When first I saw the Lord?
Where is the soul-refreshing view
Of Jesus and his word?

What peaceful hours I once enjoy'd!
How sweet their mem❜ry still!
But they have left an aching void
The world can never fill.

Return, O Holy Dove! return,
Sweet Messenger of Rest!

I hate the sins that made thee mourn,
And drove thee from my breast.

The dearest idol I have known,
Whate'er that idol be,

Help me to tear it from thy throne,

And worship only thee.

So shall my walk be close with God;
Calm and serene my frame;

So purer light shall mark the road
That leads me to the Lamb.

STORY ON LOVE TO OUR PARENTS;

OR, A

VISIT TO MARY BUSH.

NOT very long after the death of poor Miss Augusta Noble, a note came from Sir Charles and Lady Noble, inviting Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild to dinner the next day; but not mentioning the children, as they used to do, when they sent their invitations,

"Poor Lady Noble!" said Mr. Fairchild; wish we could give her any comfort! but, God being willing, we will certainly go."

The next day, when Sir Charles's carriage came for Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild, they kissed the children, and told them, "when they had dined, they might, if they pleased, go with Betty to see old Mary Bush." Mary Bush was one of the old women who lived at the end of the coppice; and, being a pious woman, Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild were not afraid of trusting their children with her. The children were very much pleased, and made haste to get their dinner: after which Lucy packed up a little tea and sugar, which her mamma had given her, in a basket; and the little girls, having put on their bonnets and tippets, went into the kitchen to see if Betty was ready. Betty was tying up a small loaf and a pot of butter in a clean napkin; and she had put some nice cream into a small bottle, for which John was cutting a cork.

"Betty, are you ready?" said Henry: "Lucy has got the tea and sugar, and Emily has got miss dolly, and I have got my hat and stick. So come, Betty, come!"

"But who is to milk the cow?" said John, pretending to look grave: "Betty must stay to milk the cow at five o'clock."

"No, John!" said the children, all gathering round him: "good John, will you be so kind as to milk the cow, and let Betty go?"

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Well, I will see about it," said John, putting the cork into the cream-bottle.

"There's a good John!" said Emily. "I love you, John!" said Henry. Betty, come! make haste away."

"And now,

So the children set out; and they went out across the garden to a little wicket-gate, which Mr. Fairchild had opened towards the coppice, and came

into Henry's favourite Sunday walk. The green trees arched over their heads; and on each side the pathway was a mossy bank, out of which sprang such kind of flowers as love shady places-such as the wood-anemony and wild vetch: thrushes and blackbirds were singing sweetly amongst the branches of the trees.

"This is my walk," said Henry; " and I say it is the prettiest in the country."

"No, Henry," said Emily; " it is not so pretty as the walk to the hut at the top of the hill; for there you can look all over the coppice, and see the birds flying over the tops of the trees."

"Sister," said Lucy,

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now you shall carry my basket, and I will have the doll a little.”

"With all my heart," said Emily.

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Why don't you give miss to me?" said Henry. "Oh, yes!" said Emily: "did not I give her to you one day; and did not you hang her upon a tree in the garden with a bit of string round her neck, and say she was a thief?"

"Lucy," said Henry," let us have a race to that tree which is fallen down over the path."

So away they ran; and when they got to the tree they sat down upon the trunk till Betty came up with Emily. On one side of the fallen tree was a place where the wood had been cut away and the woodmen had made themselves a little hut, which they had now left empty. Round this hut were scattered many dry sticks and chips.

"Master Henry," said Betty, "here are some nice sticks: let us gather a few together: they will do to make a fire to boil Mary Bush's kettle."

"Oh, yes! Betty," answered the children: and they set to work, and soon gathered a great many sticks; and Betty tied them together with a piece of packthread which Henry pulled out of his pocket: then Betty took off her bonnet, and placed the

bundle upon her head. They went on to Mary Bush's. The children wanted to help to carry the sticks; but Betty would not let them, saying, they were too heavy for them.

"But we can carry the bread and butter," said Lucy so Betty allowed them to do it.

When they had walked a little farther, they came in sight of Mary Bush's house, down in a kind of little valley, or dingle, deeply shaded by trees. In the very deepest part of the dingle was a stream of water falling from a rock. The light from above fell upon the water as it flowed, and made it glitter and shine very beautifully among the shady trees. This was the same stream which took its course through the Primrose Meadow, and on toward the village, and so to Brookside Cottage, where Nurse lived a clear and beautiful stream as could be.

Mary Bush's cottage was so large, that, after the death of her husband, she had let half of it to one Goodman Grey; who lived in it, with his old wife Margery, and cultivated the garden, which was a very good one. John Trueman's wife was Mary Bush's eldest daughter; and Joan, Nurse's son's wife, her youngest; and it was said of them, that there were not two better wives and mothers in the parish: so Mary Bush was very happy in her children.

When the children and Betty came up to the cottage, they found Mary Bush spinning at the door. "We are come to drink tea with you Mary," said Lucy.

"And we have brought bread and butter, and tea, and cream, with us," said Emily.

"And a bundle of sticks," added. Henry, "to boil the kettle."

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Welcome, welcome, my little loves!" said old Mary, as she got up and set her spinning wheel on one side: " Come in, little dears!"

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