may assault thee. Search the Scriptures; believe the promises and the declarations they contain, and thou shalt never be disappointed of thy hope. And to thy trust, add precaution and exertion. Say not, in thy trials, I have committed all into the hands of God, what can I do? It is as much thy duty to use and apply the means of relief afforded thee, as it is to trust in the grace and mercy of God.

Of this Jacob found the benefit. He sent a present to his brother to appease him, and directed the messengers to apprize him that he was approaching, (ver. 20.) He placed his family in the best order he could to receive him, whether he came as a friend or foe; and, having cast his care upon God, he submissively awaited the result. That result was favourable: "Esau ran to meet him, and embraced him, and fell on his neck, and kissed him, and they wept *." How beautiful is it to see families dwelling together in unity: and how delightful, (when family harmony has unhappily been interrupted,) to see forgiveness, and a revival of affectionate kindness. Families would never be disunited, if all parties were actuated by Christian motives. But, alas-as it too often happens that this is not the case-be ready to give way a little, where thou canst do it without forsaking thy duty or thy principles.

After the reconciliation between the brothers, Esau returned to Seir, and Jacob journeyed to Succoth, and established himself for a time near the city of Shechem; and, in thankfulness to God for his protecting care over him, he erected an altar to Him. Reader, when thou receivest special mercies at the Lord's hand, imitate Jacob; give thyself to the service of God. Let thy house be a bouse of prayer and praise: be the priest, if I may so say, of thy family: worship God: dedicate thyself, and

all thou hast, unto him. This is the secret of happiness; this is the way to prosper, and to be at peace.

Observe, too, Jacob's affection, as a parent. When evil tidings were brought to him of Joseph, "he rent his clothes, and put on sackcloth, and mourned for his son many days; and he said, I will go down into the grave unto my son, mourning." Parental affection is a feeling natural and strong. It is sad to see how injudicious many fathers and mothers are in their manner of shewing it; and still more sad to observe, that there are some parents who are tyrants, rather than parents; appearing to aim at nothing else than to shew their power and authority. Fathers are commanded, in Scripture, “not to provoke their children to wrath." Mothers are to love their offspring, and be "teachers of good things." Reader, art thou a parent? Observe with what love and tenderness our Lord is represented in Scripture as regarding children; note how many are the commands, in the word of God, to bring up children in wisdom's ways. And will not thy obligations to obey these commands, and to copy the example of thy Lord, joined to the feelings that Almighty God hath implanted in thy breast, urge thee to watchfulness and care? Thou lovest thy child; shew thy love, by labouring to lead him in the right way. Inculcate on his youthful mind reverence to God, a sense of accountableness to Him, and a full assurance that happiness is to be found in the path of duty alone; and be watchful that thine own example shall agree with thy instructions. It is surprising how early and how deeply these principles may be ingrafted in the heart. Perform this thy bounden duty in a spirit of tender

and thou wilt, with the blessing of God, sow seed that shall, in due time, spring up, and bring

• Gen. xxxvii. 35.; xtv. 28.; xlvi. 30.

forth abundantly to thine own happiness, and to that of thy child. Thou wilt be the instrument of giving to society a valuable, because a good and pious member; thou wilt be an instrument of training up thy child for heaven. Thy kindness to thy children is likewise to be shewn by thy endeavour to promote their temporal good. Provide them, as thou canst, with comforts, food and raiment; nurse them when sick, guard them from danger, promote in every way the proper enjoyments of which their tender years are capable.

It is dreadful to see a father expending, in drunkenness and profligacy, those earnings that are his children's due. How melancholy to behold a child growing up in misery and vice! How doubly melancholy to know that its own father is the cause of such woe. O, what lasting punishment is in store for such a heartless wretch; whilst respectability, peace, and comfort, are the portion of the watchful and affectionate parent!

We have only further to notice Jacob's resignation in the prospect of death, and his devout preparation for his departure. "The time," "it is said, "drew near that he must die'*." With calmness he made his last requests known unto his son Joseph; and, having so done, he bowed himself upon the bed's head in token of his submission and resignation to the will of God.

Reader, " prepare to meet thy God." Look to the foundation on which thou art resting. Is Christ in thee thy hope of glory? Art thou following after holiness, as that without which thou shalt never see God? Then be of good cheer, and hold on to the end. Strive too to grow in grace. The nearer thou art to the prize, the more ripe shouldest thou be for the enjoyment of its glories.

Gen. xlvii. 29.

G. B.

RIDING ROUND THE GREAT OAK.

(Sent by our Correspondent T.)

A FARM of Parkly's at the hall,

One Satfield hir'd; nor large, nor small;
'Twas just an hundred pounds a year,
And reckon'd neither cheap nor dear;
With unremitting toil and care
He liv'd, and something had to spare.
At half year's end he surely went,
And, at the mansion paid his rent.

One day, as rent was tend'ring down, 'Twas found deficient, just a crown;

His head he scratch'd-his shoulders shrugg'd!— And from his fob, his purse retugg'd!

Turn'd inside-out!-Thrice shook it well!

When three times told, 'twas all the same!

"So! here's some blunder of my dame!
She told it fifty, I dare say,-

I met no gypsy by the way!"
Something besides, he mumbled o'er.
Quoth Parkly, "Teaze yourself no more
The crown I promise to forgive,

If you'll acquaint me how you live;
Keep a sick wife; breed children five;
And, as the country has it, thrive;
Yet never fail your rent to pay,
Each Michaelmas and Lady-day.
My farm, you know, is thrice the size;
And snug within itself it lies;
And 'tis my own, yet, I protest,
I can but drag along, at best."
Said Satfield, and he shook his head,
"Why master, somewhat might be said;
But, if so be, the thing be so,

Truth, landlord-I know what I know!"
"Then what you know discover, do;
And I shall know-what I know, too;"
"Aye, master, but 'tis sometimes best,
To curb the truth; so let it rest."
"Come, give it rein."-"You'll take it ill?”
"No; call me tenant, if I will."
"Why then, six mornings, all together,
At six o'clock (and heed no weather)

Round your great oak in Farfield ride,
Three times at least, whate'er betide;
Then home to breakfast; on your life,
Be secret; trust not e'en your wife;
Saddle your mare yourself, and strait,
Steal slyly through your hunting gate."
"Go, you're a wag."-" But mark my rule,
And, if it fails you, call me fool."

They part. That night, upon his bed,
Parkly recall'd what Satfield said.

What if I rise, and take my mare,"

Thought he?"There's health in morning air."
The oddness of the whim possess'd,
And, for his heart, he could not rest.

At five, he rose; not madam knew;
At six, the hunting-gate went through:
O'er the first field, went all so fast;
But o'er the rest at leisure pass'd.
Full oft he stopt, with "None so fine!
Are these the grounds that once were mine?
Mine still I ween! but what they be,

"Tis hard to say, for hard to see!

Once were they grounds? they still are so,
Else, whence could all these thistles grow?
That ever I was bred or born!

Fallow the fields that should be corn!
That should be fallow, corn is there!
These hedges down!-Yon meadows bare!
I wonder, (for 'tis out, by now)

I wonder where my team's at plough!
My sheep not folded all this night!
Was ever farm in such a plight?"
Farfield, at length, he reach'd full sad:
And 'twas the farthest field he had;
The oak, as bid, rode three times round.-
As he returns, new troubles wound,-
His neighbour's field for harvest brown;
His own all green, or trodden down!

At home he lights, his mare puts in,
His horses where? Some at the bin!
Some deep in dung, instead of litter!-
His very soul was in a twitter!
The teat still weeping for the pail!
In every barn slept every flail!

Round kitchen-hearth, slept cats and curs!
The servants fast!-But hark! one stirs!
Down creep the maids in loose attire,
To dress 'em prattling round the fire!