LITTLE BY LITTLE.

Do my dear young friends ever think how almost all that is good comes to us? Did you ever see a farmer planting and sowing? Down in the moist earth goes the seed and yellow corn, grain by grain, little by little. God sees the farmer at his work, and knows full well that he has done what he could; so he kindly sends the gentle rain, drop by drop, and not one of these little drops ever forgets its errand upon which the good God sent it to the earth.

"I have found you out," said the rain-drop to the tiny grain of wheat: "though you are dead and in your grave, God has sent me to raise you up."

Well, there is nothing impossible with him; so when the rain-drop has done its errand, a spark of life shoots out from the very heart of the tiny grain, which is dead and buried, and little by little it makes its way out of the tomb, and stands a single blade in the warm sunlight. That is nobly done; and if the great God pleased, he could make that little blade strong and fruitful in a single moment. Does he do this? No. Little by little does the stalk wax strong; and its leaves grow slowly, leaf by leaf.

Is it not so with every thing that is good? Should we like another way better? Impatience would.

It was only a few days ago that I heard a little girl

say:

"I am tired, tired, tired! Here is a whole stocking to knit, stitch by stitch! It will never be done."

"But was not this one knitted stitch by stitch ?" I asked, taking a long one from her basket, and holding

it up.

"Yes."

"Well, that is done."

The little girl was counting, instead of knitting, her stitches. No wonder that she was tired.

Did you ever see a mason building a house of bricks? "Poor man!" Impatience would say ; "what an undertaking, to start from the earth, and go on so far towards the sky, brick by brick!" Who ever saw a patient persevering person try, and not succeed at last? So, then, step by step, which is God's way, must be the best

way.

Let us see that we do every day what we can. Any little boy or girl who, in looking back upon a day gone by, can say, "I have done one thing well," may be happy with the thought that he has taken one step in the way of wisdom. But remember one thing, dear little friend, the buried grain of wheat would never start into life if God did not send it help; and it is by the same help that it increases day by day.

As the little rain-drop-God's beautiful messengerdescends into its tomb, so, in the darkness and death of

sin, the Holy Spirit comes to us. If he breathe upon our hearts, we live to do good; without him, we do nothing good. Let us obey this Spirit, and all good will be ours at last, though we gain it little by little.— Early Days.

One step and then another,

And the longest walk is ended;
One stitch and then another,

And the largest rent is mended;

One brick upon another,

And the highest wall is made;

One flake upon another,

And the deepest snow is laid.

So the little coral-workers,

By their slow but constant motion,
Have built those pretty islands
In the distant dark-blue ocean;
And the noblest undertakings
Man's wisdom hath conceived,
By oft-repeated efforts

Have been patiently achieved.

Then do not look disheartened
O'er the work you have to do,
And say that such a mighty task
You never can get through;
But just endeavour day by day
Another point to gain,

And soon the mountain which you
Will prove to be a plain.

feared

"Rome was not builded in a day,"
The ancient proverb teaches;
And Nature, by her trees and flowers,
The same sweet sermon preaches.
Think not of far-off duties,

But of duties which are near ;
And having once begun to work;
Resolve to persevere.

"THE GARMENTS OF SALVATION."

THERE are few Sabbath scholars in London who have not heard of the good Dr. Fletcher of Finsbury Chapel. Many of them have heard his voice. It was a noble sight to see his chapel on a Christmas morning, when it was crowded by nearly four thousand Sabbath scholars, who came, with their teachers, to hear the Doctor preach. But this "prince of preachers," as he was called-this

kind-hearted, fatherly minister of Christ, has passed away to his home in glory. It is now nearly two years since he preached his last Christmas sermon. Many will long remember it. We have placed the text at the top of this page "The garments of salvation." As none of us will ever listen to the tones of his winning voice again, it may do us good to read over the last loving words he spoke that Christmas morning. He said,—

"One word, my beloved young friends, and I have done. Christ has given me a sweet word to utter in your ear; then you will say, that when you left Finsbury Chapel, you heard good tidings of great joy from the lips of the minister. In the name of Christ I have to say this to you: 'Look unto Me, my daughter; look unto Me, my son; look unto Me, ye teachers; look unto Me and be ye saved. If you will only look to Me; if you will only ask Me to save you, I will not wait till to-morrow's sun; I will save you now; I will send you saved from this chapel, and enable you to commence the journey to heaven, and I shall be at heaven's gate ready to receive you, and you shall dwell with Me in my heavenly inherit ance. Look unto Me and be ye saved, for I am God; I cannot lie. I am God; I cannot deceive, for I am Love. Look unto me and be ye saved.' Let each one now say, 'Lord Jesus, save me: bring forth the best robe and put it on me.' Amen and Amen."

GOD'S CARE OF THE BIRDS.

CHILDREN, where do the birds sleep?

"In the trees," answers a little voice. Do they sleep in the nests?

"Yes, they do when they are little baby-birds; but when they grow up to be men-birds and women-birds, they sleep on the branches of the trees."

"I wonder they don't fall off," says little Molly.

Well, it is a wonder. If you could see that bird sitting on a limb, and the wind blowing, and the branch swinging in the air, and even the peaches or apples shaken off, but that little creature holding fast in its sleep, you would wonder more still. But God has been very good to the little birds, and has made them on purpose to hold on to the branch while they sleep. Little strings run down their legs under the skin to their toes, and when they rest down on a branch, these strings draw their toes tight round the branch, so that the more soundly they sleep the more tightly they cling to the twig. But Tommy there has been trying to speak for some time; let us hear what he has to say. Well, Tommy, what is it?

Why, I wonder the birds are not afraid in the dark night, when the wind blows so."

Oh, God takes care of the birds. Read what Jesus says in Matt. vi. 26.

"Why is a child better than a bird ?"

Why, when a bird dies there is no more of him. His body wastes away, and he has no soul. Now, what is it that looks out through your eyes? Does the eye itself see? No; no more than the window sees. You look through the window, and your soul looks through your eyes, and hears through your ears. Now, when you die, if you love God, what becomes of your bodies and souls? You will find an answer to this question in the 37th answer in the Shorter Catechism.

If, then, a child is so much better than a bird, and God takes such care of the birds, why should children