The Boy That Would Not Get Mad

I ONCE heard an interesting story about two little brothers. One of them was ten years old, and the other eight. The oldest boy had, within a few months past, indulged the hope that God had given him a new heart. He thought he was a Christian.

But his little brother did not believe that his heart had been changed. He thought his brother was no more a Christian than he had always been. He said he could not see any difference. Yet he meant to try him and see; for, as his brother now appeared more sober than usual, and was more willing to go to meeting than before, he did not feel certain that he was not a Christian. Now, how do you think this little boy, eight years old, undertook to find out whether his brother was really a Christian?  Why, every time he could get a chance, he would tread on his brother's toes, kick his heels, or pinch his arms, to see if he wouldn't get mad as he used to do. But his brother bore it all with meekness and good nature, without an angry word or look. This was very different from what he used to do. He had before always been ready to take revenge on the spot for such an abuse. The youngest brother was sure that he could not do so; for he knew he would get mad if anybody should treat him so unkindly. He soon became convinced that his brother  was a Christian, and that himself was not. He became very anxious about the salvation of his soul, and in a short time he too indulged the hope that God had pardoned his sins and given him a new heart.

Sabbath School Visitor.



PRESS on! Let not your courage fail!

Ascend the mountain breast the gale!

Look upward, onward, never fear,

The blest inheritance is near.

Though storm and tempest intervene,

We'll look beyond this periled scene,

To where all Heaven smiles above,

And Seraphs chant their songs of love.

Press on! We soon shall reach the goal,

Where trials will not oppress the soul;

Faint not! And then a crown you'll wear,

And in all Heaven's glories share.

Climb boldly o'er the rocky steep

He who fails alone must creep 

Though keen your anguish, never forget

Bright immortality's in store for you yet.

Press on! Though clouds of thick dismay

Arise to oppress thee on thy way;

And let thy thoughts to Heaven rise,

And peal an anthem through the skies.

We soon shall leave this vale of tears,

To reign with Christ through countless years;

And sing that song so long desired

That is alone by God inspired.

Rochester, March, 1853.