The playful humour; he could now endure,
(Himself grown sober in the vale of tears,)
And feel a parent's presence no restraint.
But not to understand a treasure's worth,
Till time has stolen away the slighted good,
Is cause of half the poverty we feel,

And makes the world the wilderness it is.-Cowper.

MEMORABLE MORNINGS IN SCRIPTURE.

THERE are some very remarkable mornings recorded in Scripture, which are worthy of attention. It was a morning long to be remembered, in which the angels hastened Lot, and led him and his family out of Sodom. The sun rose before he entered Zoar; and when Abram got up early, and looked towards Sodom, he beheld, and lo, the smoke of the country went up as the smoke of a furnace. It was a happy morning in the life of Isaac, when peace and plenty were secured to him and his family, by a contract, confirmed by oath, between him and a neighbouring king, to perform which, they rose betimes in the morning. It was a morning sacred in memory with Jacob and his posterity, when, after his dream of a frame with steps, opening a passage from the earth to the temple of the King of kings, graced with heavenly officers going up and down to teach him the doctrine of Providence, he rose up early, set up a pillar, and dedicated both the place and himself to God. Nor could time ever erase out of his memory that other morning, when a man wrestled with him until the breaking of the day; "Let me go," said one," for the day breaketh." "I will not let thee go,” replied the other, "unless thou bless me." What memorable mornings were those, in which Moses rose up early, stood before Pharaoh, and, in the name of Almighty God, demanded liberty for his nation! What a night was that in which the Israelites passed through the sea, and what a morning succeeded, when Moses stretched out his hand, and the tide rolled back with the dawning of the day, and floated the carcases of the Egyptians to the feet of the people of God, on the shore! Early every morning for forty years, the cloud was taken up, and the manna fell. What an

honourable morning was that for Daniel, when a great king visited him in the lion's den! And to mention no more, that was a morning sacred to memory throughout all generations, in which Jesus, the King of Israel, was cut off. It was early in the morning that the anxious Mary resorted to the tomb of Jesus. "In the end of the Sabbath, as it began to dawn, towards the first day of the week, came Mary Magdalene and the other Mary to the sepulchre;" Matt. xxviii. 1. Mark says it was very early in the morning, at the rising of the sun. John says it was very early, when it was yet dark.

While Christ is proclaiming himself to be the light of the world, and declaring that he who followeth him shall not walk in darkness, surely the slumberer will no longer remain in a state so degrading, and so similar to that of nature's darkness. Since the Holy Scriptures are asking him, let the sleeper arise, and call upon his God.-Duty of Early Rising.

TO A CHILD IN PRAYER.

FOLD thy little hands in prayer,
Bow down at thy mother's knee;
Now thy sunny face is fair,
Shining through thy golden hair,

Thine eyes are passion-free;

And pleasant thoughts like garlands, bind thee
Unto thy home, yet grief may find thee—
Then pray, child, pray!

Now thy young heart, like a bird,
Singeth in its summer nest;
No evil thought, no unkind word,
No chilling autumn wind hath stirred
The beauty of thy rest:
But winter cometh, and decay
Shall waste thy verdant home away—
Then pray, child, pray!

Thy bosom is a house of glee,

And gladness harpeth at the door
While ever with a joyful shout,
Hope, the May-queen, danceth out,
Her lips with music running o'er;

But Time those strings of joy will sever,
And Hope will not dance on for ever—
Then pray, child, pray!

Now thy mother's voice abideth
Round thy pillow in the night;
And loving feet creep to thy bed,
And o'er thy quiet face is shed
The taper's saddest light:

But that sweet voice will fade away;
By thee no more those feet will stay—
Then pray, child, pray!

Conversations at Cambridge.

SELF-CONCEIT.

NEVER think more highly of yourself than you ought What a vast alteration would take place in society, if this reasonable rule were to be attended to! If every one were to fall into his proper place in self-estimation, (as he must eventually do in the estimation of others,) how many mistakes-how much mortification would be prevented! For it is in every sense true, that "he that exalteth himself shall be abased."

But it requires years and much experience to know ourselves; hence it is, that self-conceit is the fault of youth and ignorance; while we look for true modesty among the wise, the learned, and the venerable.

How much better would it be to learn our own insignificance by observation and reflection, than to have it discovered to us by our friends and neighbours.

Yet it often requires very broad hints from those around us, before we even begin to suspect that we had rated ourselves too highly; and sometimes even this will not do; rather than suppose themselves mistaken, some will imagine all the world to be so, and conclude that their merits are overlooked. But this is a kind of injustice that rarely takes place in society: and if, owing to accidental circumstances, it should in any instance be the case that we are thought of more meanly than we deserve, let it ever be remembered, that nothing can be done on our parts to redress the grievance. In most cases, indeed,

the more we can help ourselves the better; and he that would have his business done must do it himself; but here it is just the reverse. If we set but one step towards our own exaltation, we shall assuredly have to take two or three downwards for our pains. To deserve esteem is in our power, but if we claim it, we cease to deserve, and shall certainly forfeit it.

Young people, at the period when they are acquiring knowledge, are very liable to self-conceit; and thus, by their own folly, defeat the great purpose of instruction, which is, not to make them vain but wise. They are apt to forget that knowledge is not for show, but for use; and that the desire to exhibit what they know, is invariably a proof that their acquirements are superficial.

Besides, like most other faults, self-conceit is no solitary failing, but ever brings many more in its train. They who are very desirous to shine themselves, are always envious of the attainments of others; and will be ingenious in discovering defects in those who are more accomplished than themselves.

Now, is there any gaudy weed who would fain become a sterling flower? Let such be assured that this wish, if prompted by right motives, and followed up by sincere endeavours, will not be in vain. But let it be remembered, that such a change can never be effected by merely adopting the colours, and affecting the attitudes of one. This would be but to become an artificial flower at best, without the grace and fragrance of nature. Be not, then, satisfied with imitation, which, after all, is more laborious and difficult than aiming at reality. Be what you would seem to be; this is the shortest, and the only successful way. Above all, "be clothed with humility, and have the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit," for of such flowers it may truly be said, that "Solomon in all his glory, was not arrayed like one of these.”—Jane Taylor.

WONDERS AND MURMURS.

STRANGE that the wind should be left so free,
To play with a flower, or tear a tree;
To range or ramble where'er it will,
And, as it lists, to be fierce or still:

Above and around to breathe of life,
Or to mingle the earth and sky in strife;
Gently to whisper, with morning light,
Yet to growl, like a fetter'd fiend, ere night;
Or to love, and cherish, and bless, to-day,
What to-morrow it ruthlessly rends away!

Strange that the sun should call into birth
All the fairest flowers and fruits of the earth,
Then bid them perish, and see them die,
While they cheer the soul and gladden the eye.
At morn, its child is the pride of spring,
At night, a shrivelled and loathsome thing!
To-day there is hope and life in its breath,
To-morrow it shrinks to a useless death.
Strange doth it seem that the sun should joy
To give life, alone, that it may destroy.

Strange that the ocean should come and go,
With its daily and nightly ebb and flow-
Should bear on its placid bosom at morn
The bark that, ere night, will be tempest-torn;
Or cherish it all the way it must roam,
To leave it a wreck within sight of home;
To smile, as the mariner's toils are o'er,
Then wash the dead to the cottage door;
And gently ripple along the strand,
To watch the widow behold him land!

But stranger than all, that man should die
When his plans are form'd, and his hopes are high
He walks forth a lord of the earth to-day,
And the morrow beholds him part of its clay;
He is born in sorrow, and cradled in pain,
And from youth to age—it is labour in vain;
And all that seventy years can show
Is that wealth is trouble, and wisdom woe;
That he travels a path of care and strife
Who drinks of the poison'd cup of life!

Alas! if we murmur at things like these,
That reflection tells us are wise decrees;