would always think of God. And when we die, may we go to heaven. . God bless our fathers and mothers, and sisters and brothers, and our teachers; and make us to be obedient and kind, for Jesus Christ's sake. AMEN.

My darling, cease awhile your play,
You know it is the sabbath day;
That day by God our Father given,
To teach us all the way to heaven.

You are a little child, 'tis true,
And little yet for God can do;
But you can kneel to him, and pray,
That he would bless this sabbath day.

And you can say that pretty hymn
I taught you once to sing to him ;
And you can think how good he is,
Who gives you life and happiness.

Come hither, draw your little seat,
And sit you down now at my feet ;
And let us both together look
For some sweet tale in God's own book.

You are, 'tis true, a little child,
But see how kindly Jesus smil'd,
When children in his arms he took
And blest them with a father's look,

Now was not that a happy child,
On whom so dear a Saviour smil'd ?
And would you be by Jesus blest ?
By God's beloved Son caress'd ?

Well, if you would such blessings share,
You must look up to him in prayer ;
Angels around his throne rejoice,
When children lift in prayer their voice.

You cannot see your Saviour now, But all your blessings from him flow; And every child who asks his love . Shall lie upon his breast above.

LINES WRITTEN BY A LITTLE BOY,

NINE YEARS OLD When Jesus Christ was here on earth, The Jews despis'd his lowly birth; Yet for all this He reigns above, And there is styled the God of love.

His life was holy and unblam'd,
He healed the sick and cured the maim’d;
The malice of his foes forgave,
And gifts to rebel men he gave.

The bruised reed he'll never break,
Or faith despise, however weak;
He said he never would forsake
His sheep when heaven and earth should

quake.

At length condemned, and tried, betray'd,
Upon the cross his limbs they laid
On Calvary, he gave up the ghost,
The wonder of the heavenly host.

The sun was darken’d in that hour,
When Jesus robb'd the grave of power:
And when this sacrifice was slain,
The temple's veil was rent in twain.

Re.

On the third day, the seal, the stone,
Could not detain him in the tomb;
He rose victorious o'er the grave,
And to his followers peace he gave.

Then clouds did hide him from their sight,
And wafted him to realms of light;
And heaven's high portals ring with songs

of joy,

Whilst hallelujahs angel tongies employ.

- LINES INTENDED FOR A WATCH PAPER.

Moments swiftly fly away;.
Nothing can compel their stay;
Whither are they leading me?
To a vast eternity;
To a heaven of perfect bliss,
Or a dreadful dark abyss !
What, my soul, then canst thou do,
With such prospects in thy view ?
Flee to Jesus, flee away;
Not tomorrow, come TO-DAY ;
Come this moment for to thee
The next may be ETERNITY!

Veritè.

AN EPITAPH
On a tomb-stone in a church-yard near

London.
Stop for a momënt, youthful passers by,
On this memento cast a serious eye ;
Tho' now the rose of health may flush your

cheek, And youthful vigour may your health be

speak; Yet think how soon, like me, you may become In youth's fair prime, the tenants of the

Verite.

A. Poster, Printer, Kirkby Lonsdale.

FORMER TIMES. Amongst the many mercies we enjoy, it is not the least, that we live in happy and peaceful times. That we may be daily grateful for this mercy, we shall do well often to think of the former state of things in England. Many of my readers are aware of the cruel sufferings, that our forefathers have often endured for their religion. But besides the disturbed periods of Popish persecution, this country has often been the scene of civil wars. And what misery must have then prevailed! It is bad enough for