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make me well : if not, keep me from murmuring,”

After this she remained silent for some time, only saying occasionally, “ Papa, mamma, are you near me?" for the light in the tent was so dim that she could not always distinguish them; but when assured that they were still by her side, she murmured, “It is such a comfort to know that you are near me."

Just before she died, she asked her father to repeat something, and he repeated the twenty-third Psalm; upon which she said, “Oh, how precious !” Dear child, she was indeed walking through the dark “valley of the shadow of death,” fearing no evil, for she felt that Jesus was with her, and that, resting on Him, she could pass safely through. She also found comfort in listening to various hymns, particularly that one which contains the verse beginning

“ Jesus can make a dying bed.” Her breathing now became extremely laboured, and her voice so husky that she could scarcely speak. Her last words were,

Papa, will you please to raise me up? ?and while he did so, and took her tenderly in his arms, her mother fetched little Henry to give her a parting kiss. She smiled upon him with an affectionate and happy expression, and in a few moments afterwards, without one struggle or sigh, her happy spirit passed from earth to heaven. Her

body still remained clasped in the arms of a tender earthly parent, but her spirit was with Jesus.

« On earth she sought her Saviour's grace,

On earth she loved his name,
And now she sees his blessed face,
And stands before the Lamb,

Singing, Glory, glory, glory.” If her parents could have seen her rejoicing amongst " the countless multitudes" for whom our Saviour died, perhaps they would have checked the tears which flowed so fast; but, although they could not do this, they yet remembered where to seek for comfort; and, clasping his dead child still closer in his arms, the poor father called on all present to join him in prayer, which he offered in Syriac, that the Nestorian attendants might understand it.

The next day the poor mother prepared her dead child as well as she could for the grave-I say as well as she could, because there was no preparation made for an event like this. Instead of a coffin, she was laid on her little bed, and this was carefully secured to Judith's horse. Little Henry wept bitterly as he watched these sad preparations, and said, “Oh, mamma, I do wish it was the time when Jesus was on earth, that he might raise the dead.” Then, again, he tried to comfort his parents, saying, “ Don't cry. It is no matter if Judith is gone to heaven; and I'm sure she is. Last Sunday, wben we were walking on the roof, she said to me, 'Henry, perhaps I shall die

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on this journey: and think how delightful it will be to go up to heaven, and see God, who never dies.'"

At length the party set out, for they had a journey of a hundred and forty miles to retrace, and every step of the way brought back fresh remembrances of their child. They could not help weeping when they beheld the horse, that had so lately carried her, full of spirits and radiant with health, now walking slowly along, with drooping head and lagging pace, as if conscious that he bore no living rider. The muleteer who led the horse was mute with grief: he, too, had loved the joyous child, and received many tokens of her thoughtful kindness. It was a sad, and would have been a silent journey, but for the occasional cries of poor little Henry, saying, “What shall I do without Judith? Who will sing with me now? Who will play for me on the seraphine? What can do?

Towards evening they reached Seir, where they were met by a band of kind and sympathising friends, and soon afterwards the mortal remains of Judith were laid in the same grave, upon the sunny hill-side, with those of her sister Fidelia. There were many spectators of this scene, and all wept, for young as she was, she had already been a kind friend to many. And she was especially mourned for by a number of women who had formed her class in the Sundayschool.

Our object in printing this is not to praise

the dead, but to show forth the great goodness and love of God to sinners. Remember, also, that it is not how a child dies, but how he lives, by which we are to judge whether he is one of God's dear children. We have seen that Judith was a dutiful and affectionate daughter; a thoughtful and loving sister; that she possessed a thankful spirit, and an unmurmuring submission to the will of God; and that, much as she loved her earthly relatives, she longed to be with Jesus—" to live with that God who never dies;" and if she had any wish to get well, it was that she might “ do good.Do you wish to be like Judith, to have her thankful, happy spirit, in life, and her sweet peace in death? The same way is open to you, the same Saviour is ready to receive you, the same God is waiting to bless and strengthen you in all good resolutions. Even now He is speaking to you by the voice of His Holy Spirit—“Seek ye My face.” Go to God at once: do not wait until this desire for better things has passed away.

Like Judith, you may never see another sunrise : like Judith, you may be called suddenly away from life and all its enjoyments, and made to lie in that grave “ where is no repentance.'

Let me entreat you never to rest, until, in simple earnest faith, you can say,

*God is my Father, Jesus is my Saviour, and, through His merits, I trust that heaven may be my home.”Abridged from one of a valuable series of Tracts, by Miss H.D. Howe.

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The poor

THE GLEANERS. The valleys also are covered over with corn : they shout for joy," Psa. Ixv. 13. Here is a pretty picture ! mother, and her little children, have been gleaning in a corn-field, and taking home what they have gathered to make some bread. How happy the children look, with their pinafores so full, as if they had been useful in helping their poor mother! Perhaps they remember how much she has done for them, and they are glad to do what they can for her in return. My dear young

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