Lost! lost! lost! Dear me, what a sad thing it must be to be a lost child, to be wandering about not knowing the way home, amid strange faces and with no father or mother to care for you, or guide you! And sadder still is it to have lost the right road to the home on high, and to be wanderers from our Heavenly Father. Ah! there are many like this, not only in London but all over the world; and many, too, who have never heard of the heavenly home or the right way to it. Hanging up against the wall in my bedroom is an ugly little modern image, all head and body and no legs, and with a face something like a monkey's. This ugly little fellow came all the way from New Zealand, and there, many years ago, before the little New Zealand boys and girls went to school to learn of Christ and the way to heaven, he used to be hung up in their homes, and they used to be taught to say their prayers to it. Ah! they had never heard of the right way, and were little wanderers going out in the cold and dark without any one to help them on their journey. Some of you who read this story, have ever since you could stand by your mother's knee been taught the right road, and just as the fathers and mothers in Judea, in the olden time, brought their little ones to Christ, so your fathers and mothers have taken you by the hand and are trying to lead you to Jesus. Well, will you not pity those who have none to care for them Then pray for the wanderers, and do what you can to send them missionaries and bibles, that they may be brought into the right road, and be gathered at last in the great Home on High UNCLE ROBERT. VILLAGE MISSIONARIES, OR, "TO EVERY ONE HIS WORK." CHAPTER I. It is the 31st of May-a bright sun-shiny day, and the village of W. M. is in a pleasant bustle; for in the evening the new schoolrooms are to be opened, and there is to be a missionary meeting held within them, the first ever known in the village. All the people are talking about it, and most will try to be there. Mark Barnett, the orphan cripple boy, cannot leave his couch, but he sends his offering to the minister-a pretty basket plate which he has for some time been engaged in manufac turing, and he writes on a label, "Mark Barnett hopes Mr. M. will accept this plate for the collection; it is all he can give." The meeting is over. What a pleasant time it was! the room so beautifully decorated, the speeches so earnest and interesting, the singing so sweet, and the assembly so attentive Before the collection Mr. M. held up Mark's pretty basket, and told the people whose offering g it was; and he said he hoped it would not remain long empty; and his last words were "Live by Christ,” and they were the sum and substance of all that had been spoken that evening. Many a heart swelled with a new feeling of earnestness and determination to do something for the Lord's work; many a one woke up to a previously unfelt conviction that he was placed in this world to help forward the great missionary cause, which consists quite as much in a daily life of ministering love to those around us as in the transport of the Gospel to the heathen. The minister's only daughter was then looking forward to many years of work for Christ; and that evening, on bended knees, she consecrated anew her life to Him whom she loved to serve. While she formed plans for aiding the missionary cause," by distributing missionary boxes and collecting pence, she deter mined to speak to those about her, with greater earnestness, of Christ, to urge them all to come and trust in Him. May Ernley and Allen Beecher dreamt that night of far-off lands, of the palm groves and of coral reefs, and of ships bearing good tidings to their inhabitants, and they determined, by God's help, to become missionaries. CHAPTER II. A IT is the last day of the year; we enter a quiet chamber, and on a low couch there lies the minister's only daughter. short illness, and she is on the threshold of her heavenly home. She calls for her missionary box. "I don't know exactly how much there is in it, but you will keep it until the next meeting in May. Oh, to think that I shall be safe then! When May comes I shall be- "Where everlasting spring abides, And never withering flowers.'" Well was it for her that she had devoted the early spring-tide of her life to the service of Christ. She did what she could, while she could; and now she is with Christ, which is far better. CHAPTER III. SEVENTEEN years are gone, and we must look far away from W. M. for Allen Beecher. Beneath a spreading palm tree in a distant heathen land there is an earnest labourer, who tells the good news of a Saviour to thousands perishing for lack of knowledge. He is often weary, but help is sent him from on high. By his side is one who ministers with him. It is May Ernley, who is aiding, working, and praying with her husband, a true missionary's wife. Already little dusky faces brighten at her approach, and in a strange sounding language kind words are spoken which brightens the darkness of the heathen land. Mark Barnett, the cripple, is dead. He was found in calm repose one morning; no human voice could waken him from that slumber; and so another of the village missionary band has heard the sound of His voice, who shall say to all His faithful labourers, whether old or young, rich or poor, learned or unlearned, "Well done, good and faithful servant, enter into the joy of your Lord.” LINES FOR NEW YEAR'S DAY. I've been in chase of pleasure, I said, "I will be happy- But while I thought, and as I sought, But, ah! it was no wonder― Who from on high came down to die, Unless I am forgiven, Oh, Saviour! now while thus I bow, I wish to be Thy servant; To run, by grace, the heavenly race, Oh, Jesus! by Thy Spirit, My heart and soul refine; And when I die, above the sky Let me in glory shine. Thus may I find true pleasure, And pass along, with gladsome song To realms of endless day. R. R. |