THE PRECIOUS BLOOD OF CHRIST.
A fountain fulness still remains
Of pardoning blood from Jesus' veins,
Though millions have its virtues tried,
And from its riches been supplied.
And yet it ever is the same
To all that come in Jesus' name;
Not one that to it shall repair
Will ever perish in despair.
It makes the filthy sinner clean,
Though vile as I or Magdalene;
Here David lost his crimson sin,
And thousands more as well as him.
Manasseh here lost all his crimes,
And now in glory brightly shines;
Also dear Paul, of sinners chief,
From this dear fountain got relief,
And writes so sweetly of its power
To save e'en to a dying hour;
Yea, all the while he travelled here,
This fountain was to him most dear.
No savèd sinner ever knew
Better than Paul what blood can do,
For he himself its power had tested,
And on its efficacy rested.
And all the hosts around the throne
Bear witness to what blood has done;
Their holy joy and heavenly bliss
Is concentrated all in this.
Oh, may this joy and peace be mine
When called to leave the things of time!
To sing of Jesus' love and blood,
And dwell for ever with my God.
B. W.
LITTLE HELPS BY LARGE HEARTS.
A friend had been sitting a little while by the bed-side of a poor woman—rendered utterly helpless from paralysis—reading the Scriptures to her, when the door was gently opened, and three neatly-dressed little girls entered the room, each carrying a small basket. One of them approached the bed, and after a few simple and kind inquiries, held up the little basket she had in her hand, saying, "My mother sent you this, and hopes soon to come and see you." The poor woman thanked the child gratefully, and said, "Put it away, my dear, for me."
The little girl seemed quite used to the employment. She went over to a cupboard, emptied carefully the contents of her basket, and with a modest "Good-bye," the three children withdrew.
The poor woman then gave an explanation to the friend who was present. "These little girls," she said, "are the children of a very respectable butcher, and every Saturday afternoon their mother employs them to carry about to poor people scraps of meat and bones. They are nice children, and take quite a pleasure in doing it, and they have given me, and many others, many a good dinner."
Now, who can calculate the amount of good resulting from the thoughtful charity of this mother? We read thus of God's redeemed people—"their works do follow them"—not to heaven for recompense, as some vainly imagine, but on the earth. Continually we see the truth of this in the effects produced, after the lapse of years, from works done by those whose bones have long been turned to dust. Who can tell the influence this weekly act may have upon these three children, if spared to grow up to womanhood? And thus, when their mother's place knows her no more, her "works will follow her."