The Child's Gospel.

"O MOTHER, I have heard the child's gospel

today!" cried little Mary, who had hurried

home to her sick mother. "Our pastor

said that Jesus died for the little ones, just as

much as he did for grown folks, and that

we may love him and be his little lambs just

as really and truly as if we were as tall as he.

Don't you feel glad, mother? I do. I

was in such a hurry to get home to tell you,

that I ran up against old Miss Green. She

made a crooked face at me, and said, 'Children

are always in the way.' But it didn't

take the happy out of my heart one bit, for

I knew Jesus didn't think children were in

the way; and I was so glad to think that I

had heard the child's gospel."


Thirty years ago,

a little boy, the son of pious parents, was invited

to spend a few days at the house of a

friendly family. When dinner came on the

table, Philip, though very hungry after his

journey, could not be persuaded to touch a

morsel of food. Again and again did they

urge him to eat, and as often did he look

wishfully at the contents of the table, but

resolutely declined. At last the lady kindly

inquired if there was any reason why he did

not eat his dinner. Bursting into tears, and

sobbing so that he could scarcely speak, he

exclaimed, "You haven't blessed it!" That

family ever afterward asked the blessing of

God on their food, and that little boy is now

a missionary in Jamaica.

- -*

I RECOLLECT a pleasant story, told by a

pious minister, about a monk of former days

He resolved to leave his monastery on the

ground that he there too frequently met with

causes of provocation, and was betrayed into

anger and other sins. Accordingly he  

retired into the desert in the hope that solitude

would enable him to serve God

with an easier mind. One day his pitcher

happened to upset, and, when lifted up, fell

a second time, which kindled his anger to

such a pitch that he dashed it to the ground

and broke it into a thousand pieces. When

he came to himself, he said: "I now see that

I cannot be at peace, even in solitude, and

that the fault lies not in others, but in myself."

He then returned to the monastery,

and, after many strenuous efforts, succeeded

in subduing his passions, not by flight, but

by self-denial.