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had been sent away as good for nothing. And then all trace was lost; but, as boys nearly always went to the shipping port near, she went there. Footsore and weary, she walked day after day through the streets, when at last, passing a shop where they sold old clothes, she saw a jacket hanging conspicuously at the door. She knew it was her Willie's jacket, and she went into the shop and asked the woman who kept the shop how she came into possession of it. The poor woman told her a pretty boy had come in and sold it, and then she saw him with a party of strolling players; and then all trace was again lost. Poor Mary Stephens! when she returned to her home it was but to die; and she slept peacefully in the old churchyard. But James Stephens' words are living yet.
“Go Work To-day in My Vineyard.” HERE is the Lord's vineyard? Do you need to ask?
It is, my brother, in your own heart. And this is a field which the most of us need to cultivate
with far more assiduity than is our wont. We trust that we are Christians; but what sort of Christians ? Are we content with the graces that already are flourishing in us, if indeed there be any? This work of cultivating our heart is work that God gives us to do, and for which He will hold us responsible. And by cultivating the heart, I mean just what the plain import of the words conveys. I mean that we need to cultivate our affections, our love for God and for our fellow-men. Doubtless we do not feel that we have enough religious knowledge. But the most of us could do without more knowledge, if only we could have more affection. It is our heart, after all, that is at the bottom of what we do. Whether we shall do much or little depends very greatly upon whether we love much or little. Every one of us needs to cultivate his heart. It is not that we should seek mere external emotion, which, like the morning cloud and the early dew, soon passes away; but what we do need to cultivate is, first of all, that depth of love to God which will lead to entire consecration to Him ; which will lead us to do anything, everything we can, to advance His cause. And then we need to cultivate love for our fellowmen, the souls for whom Christ died; a genuine regard for the best interests of every one with whom we have to do, every one whom our influence can reach. We need to cultivate this love, for it will not grow and flourish without cultivation. We must work in this vineyard of our own heart, if we expect to see fruit there.
Where is the Lord's vineyard ? Christian parent, it is in your own family. The great Father of all has given you these tender plants to train for the garden above. How are you discharging that trust? Nowhere else can you do your work under so favourable circumstances. Ties of tenderest affection unite you to your offspring, and them to you. You know as no one else can their varied dispositions. You know—you certainly ought to know-how to adapt your instructions to them. And you are neglecting the field that lies right at your very door if you are not seeking to train your children for God and heaven.
There is more, I am persuaded, in this matter of Christian nurture than we practically think. Is there any good reason why the children of Christian parents should not grow up to be Christians themselves, and this at an early age, ratifying thus the vows breathed over them in their very cradles ? Is there any good reason why Christian parents should not expect their children to become Christians very early in life ?-expect it, when they train them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord, and trust to the grace of a covenant-keeping God, who has said, “I will be a God to thee, and to thy seed after thee?” It is a work, Christian father, Christian mother, that you cannot, that you should not dare to delegate to any one else, for no one else can do it so well. Oh, if God spares to you these plants to bloom
in their sweet beauty and fragrance around your home, train them, so far as human effort will avail, for the great Husbandman; for those
“Everlasting gardens, Where angels walk, and seraphs are the wardens; Where every flower brought safe through death's dark portal
Becomes immortal.” Where is the Lord's vineyard, do I hear you ask once more? My dear brother, it lies all about us. “If you want a field of labour you can find it.” It is in the godly example you can set. It is in the word you can speak for Jesus. It is in the letter of Christian counsel you can write. It is in the class in sabbath-school you can instruct. You can find some work to do, if only you have a heart to work. That is the great thing—the heart to work. Remember that God means that you shall work somewhere; that you shall do something. Remember that there is some work that He means for you especially; and that unless you do it, it is likely to go undone.
“Lift up your eyes and look on the fields, for they are white already to harvest.” There is something you can do. If you cannot sway the sickle, you can bind the grain ; or if not this, you can gather up the scattered ears that would otherwise be neglected; or, at the very least, you can carry the cup of cold water to those who bear the burden and heat of the day. There is something you can do. The command is addressed to you as it rings: down from the skies, “Son, go work to-day in My vineyard."
0. A. K.
The Rocket Line. in n the early part of March, 1873, the ship Lena,
of 1000 tons, laden with rice, having had a pros5 perous voyage home, was lying at anchor in Tor
bay, waiting for orders. Suddenly the wind changed to the east, and blew strongly right into the bay.
The Lena, unable to get away, prepared to ride out the
gale. During the morning of the 15th she was observed from the shore to be in distress; and about three o'clock in the afternoon a cry was raised in the streets of Brixham, the famous fishing-port of Torbay, that the ship had parted her cables, and was being rapidly driven by the huge breakers towards the shore.
Every heart throbbed with anxiety for the safety of the crew, and a shout was raised for the rocket line.
The gallant coastguards were already filling their light cart with tubes, ropes, lines, cork-jackets, with other appliances; and soon away went cart, men, and rocket apparatus, at a rapid pace, to the spot where it was thought the ship would strike.
When the coastguards, and a strong body of friendly hands from Brixham and Churston Ferrers, reached the cliffs above the lovely cove of Elbury, at the southern extremity of Torbay, the Lena's crew had let go a spare anchor, and the ship was riding heavily a quarter of a mile from the shore, her tall masts quivering now and then as her bottom touched the ground.
As quickly as possible the rocket was fired from the nearest point of the cliffs, and the thin line attached flew over the rigging between the masts. The bewildered crew were then instructed by signs to haul away, and soon the stouter and stronger rope was made fast to the foremast, the other end on shore having been attached to a tree.
Here was at once a means of safety established between the ship and the shore. Immediately the cork buoy, with a stout canvas bag attached, was run along the rope by means of a block, and when it reached the ship, one of the crew placed himself in the bag, and was drawn to the top of the cliff. Thus one after another those poor sailors lately in peril of their lives were rescued..
As I was standing by, I heard the following exclamation : “What a wonderful and blessed invention is this rocket line ! Here are these poor sailors drawn safely to land along a distance of a quarter of a mile, and high above the raging