THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL TEACHER.

Could the redeemed lay by their palms,
And cast their glittering honours down;
To take a robe of lovelier charms,

To wear a brighter, fairer crown:

The theme is found-'tis Charity; "Tis Charity, Jehovah's theme! Woven the robe-eternity

Shall brighten and reflect its beam. Blest is the man, whose mite is given,

To feed God's poor-though small the boon, Shall his reward be lost?-yon heaven

243

With heaven's tall throne, shall sink as soon.

Yet more exalted he, who shares

The unwearied Teacher's holy toil,
Who plants the seed, whose daily prayers,
Whose midnight tears refresh the soil.
Yea, higher shall his seat be found,

Who makes these chosen lambs his care;
Richer the gems that gird him round,
The tear of pity will be there.

244

HEATHEN CONVERTS.

VISITS OF THE HEATHEN CONVERTS TO CHRISTENDOM DANGEROUS.

It was urged, at the late annual meeting of the American Board, that a visit to this country by the Converted Heathen would be unfavourable to themselves; because there is so much of wickedness manifest here, that they would have less respect for Christianity than when they left their native shores.-Conn. Observer.

WE hear of a lovely land beyond

Our sunny Indian isles,

Where the bright and perfect blessedness

Of the Sinless ever smiles:

Oh Earth! of thy glad garden spots,
None surely is so blessed

As the Missionaries' native home,
Embosomed in the West.

Thence holy men came o'er the deep,

And soft-eyed Woman came, With errand to our shores of HIM

Whose is the hallowed name.

HEATHEN CONVERTS.

That lovely land is surely heaven,
Of pearl, its cities are,-

And its dwellers, shining angel ones
That wait and worship there.

REPLY.

O stay ye in your Bengal bowers,
And stay ye in Ceylon;

The distant view is beautiful,

Approach, and it is flown.

There's darkness over Burmah broods,
The Hindu's chain is fast,

But there's sadder than the pagan night,
And stronger bands than Caste.

The favoured nations on whom rest
Beams of the Crucified,

Are they that bow them down to gold,
And wrap them in their pride.
If fearful be the trump that wakes
The heathen world to loss-

What speechless doom bides them that day
Who perish at the Cross!

245

246

THE CHEROKEE WORSHIPPER.

THE CHEROKEE WORSHIPPER.

"She had her Matthew, Acts, and Hymn Book, very carefully wrapped in a new handkerchief. Before the exercises commenced, she would carefully unfold the handkerchief, read a verse or two in the Book of Life, then carefully fold up the books and press them to her breast, while tears of gratitude for the invaluable treasure, bedewed her sable cheeks."

BEYOND the Father of the Floods,
By Christian pity sent-

To lure the pagan from his gods,
The Christian teacher went.

He taught the Indian, by the brook,

Of a bright eternity;

He taught in the wilds from Heaven's Book, And glad was the Cherokee.

And with the worshippers knelt one

Who lowly bowed her head,

As if observing eyes to shun,

And tears of joy she shed.

THE CHEROKEE WORSHIPPER.

247

And she undid her handkerchief,

And as she read of Him
Who walked Judea once in grief,
Though Lord of cherubim-

And bowed him to the fatal tree,
And drank the cup of gall,
And bore the bitter pang, that she
Might be released from thrall-

Tears filled her eyes-the gushing flood
Of sorrow, you might see,

That it should cost such precious blood
To save the Cherokee.

And while the tears rolled down her face,
Unto her throbbing breast

The Book, that told her of such grace,
Most thankfully she pressed.

How often have I heard the same
Glad tidings that she heard,

And pride was bowed not down in shame,
Nor rising faith was stirred.

How often have I listless, pored
Upon the page of heaven,

Nor wondered, melted and adored,
For its wealth of promise given!