Wash'd in his Saviour's precious blood,
He need not fear to die;
His sins are pardon'd by his God,
He'll live above the sky.

For ever free from sin and pain,

He'll sing his Saviour's praise;
While saints and angels join the strain,
And endless anthems raise.

THE DROWNING CHILD.

A FAMILY, the father, mother, and three children, the youngest between two and three years old, had been making a visit, and were returning to the city of New York by one of the Williamsburgh ferry-boats, toward evening, on the fourth of July. They were evidently in humble life, and had had a rare treat in the pleasure of a holiday, dressed in their best, and flushed with the enjoyment of health.

They were sitting in the stern of the boat, and near the railing; the younger children playing near the parents, frolicsome as kittens. It was a picture pleasing to look on, and it made one's heart glad and grateful to see a group so joyful in each other, and evidently as blest among themselves as if they had been born to wealth.

It was a very pleasant day, and a pleasant hour of the day. A few minutes more would bring them home, and the children, tired of the day's play, would be asleep. Suddenly the youngest, frolicking on the floor, rolled

under the railing, and in an instant was overboard. Many were looking on, but it was so sudden and unexpected that no one could arrest it. A shout was raised for the boat to be stopped, but before that could be done the father leaped over into the deep, and struck out manfully in search of his drowning child. The mother had shrieked with agony as her child had gone, and now that her husband was also overboard, her anguish was terrible to behold. A lady strove to console her; gathered the other children about her, and bade her trust in God and hope for the best. The father proved to be a noble swimmer, but the water was so agitated by the motion of the boat that he could see nothing of his child, and for some minutes he beat about to no purpose. Small boats put out from the shore, and one of them picked him up when he was nearly exhausted, and he was brought to the steamer and lifted on board. Here was a fresh scene of distress, when the father and mother met again. He had returned from the watery grave himself; but their child, their pet lamb, was lost. As he was raised

on deck, the mother cried, "The child, the child, where is he?" He looked at her, and with a thoughtfulness and beauty not to be expected in such a moment, answered gently, “Mary, God has him!" The boat still lingered, and the passengers were straining their eyes into the distance, hoping that one of the boats might yet rescue the child. It

had now been half an hour in the water. Presently a shout went up, and the word was passed along that the child was found. It was picked up by one of the many in search, and a solitary oarsman rowed on with his precious charge. As he came alongside, the hardy old tar, with a tenderness of feeling that did him honour, covered the face of the child. He could not bear to shock the parents with the sudden sight of their dead

child! Yes, it was dead. It was taken on board, and the gentle lady who had sought to comfort the mother in her anguish, took the little one and opened its dress and laid her hand on its heart, but it was still. All the means that could be applied were of no avail to restore the spirit that had fled. What a change was here! The boat

reached its wharf, and the family,—a mourning, wretched family,-went off with their dead child to their dreary home. The papers, the next morning, mentioned, under the head of accidents, that a child was drowned from one of the ferry-boats yesterday; but how little of the sorrow of that disaster is told in such a line! How much sorrow there is in this world, that we know nothing of.

A DAY WITH JESUS.

If we have not spent a day with Jesus here, we shall never spend eternity with Him hereafter.

I will give you two short reasons for this. I. He would not know us.· - We should be strangers in His company. I am afraid many children will come up to the judgmentseat, and plead that they have been regular at school and church, and expect to go through the golden gates of heaven. But Jesus will say unto them, "How can you think of coming here to me? True, you came to school and church; but you never really loved me—you never sought me at home, or gave up your hearts to me-you never really spent a day with me in prayer or praise, or even wished to do so. You did not love the company of godly children, and of God's servants. You are strangers to me. Depart from Me; I never knew you."

II. We should not be fit for His company. -You would not think you were fit now, dressed and educated as you are, to go and sit down to dine with the Queen of England; you would be unlike every body else at the table; you would not know what to do, or what to say, or how to look. But if you were taught all those things first, and dressed properly, and made rich, and introduced to the Queen's company beforehand — then, perhaps, you might be fit for her presence.

Well then, dear children, it is so with heaven. How do you think you will ever be fit to dwell with God, and to talk with angels, and to sit with Jesus at His table through all eternity, unless your hearts are first prepared for it, by sitting with Him now in His presence, and spending happy days in His company? You would not know what to do, or what to say there. You would be unlike everybody else; the angels would turn away from you with pity; and God would hide His face.

Come then to Jesus, while you can. Now give up your hearts to Him; seek Him in prayer; love His holy presence; and read His precious word. Then, dear children, you will not only go to hear and see where He dwells; but because you have loved to spend a day with Him below, you will spend eternity with Him above, and praise Him as having bought you with His own precious blood.