GROUPS FOR STUDY. 5 that chair; and as soon as the little feet can run, he will lead the way, and take his place at that sacred spot; and in days to come, when he is far away from you-divided, perhaps, by the river of death-the recollection of that early holy shrine shall come to his heart, like a vision of brightness, to keep his lips from joining with the scoffer, and his feet from running into paths of vice. Are you a mother?—a praying mother! and has your son gone forth to battle with the world's strife? Is he well prepared to meet the enemy who will assail him on all sides, with colours as various as the hues of the rainbow? Have you stored his mind with truths divine, and taught him the value of prayer, and the power of the grace of the Spirit? Yet are you afraid of the errors which may beset his path, and the wolves in sheep's clothing always ready to destroy? Are you afraid he may be thrown among those who laugh at his mother's God, and his mother's religion, as a thing only suited to "weak women?" Are you afraid he may some day think and act as they do, and throwing off all restraint, rush into sinful pleasures, greedily forgetting that there is yet another world, and another life beyond the grave? Are you trembling, lest in this day of convenient profession he should hear another Gospel than that which he heard from the lips of your faithful pastor, when he took his seat by your side in the Sanctuary, a young and artless boy? Are you anxious about all this? Oh, then, keep fast hold of your son by prayer-bind him with strong bands of faith to the horns of the altar; let your Heavenly Father be constantly reminded of him, by your daily and hourly cries and supplications on his account. Make haste!—the spoilers are abroad. There are those about his path who may enchant him by sweet sounds of harmony; but, like the bird whirling round and round the head of the beautifully crested serpent, he will soon fall, if he listen long, into the fangs of destruction. Are you saying there is no danger-you have no fear? Well, come 6 GROUPS FOR STUDY. with us to yonder chamber-tread softly, it is a dark and dreary place the gate of the grave opens into it, and the shadows of death are flying all around. A pale and dying man is gasping away his life there, amidst the sighs and tears of a few sad and melancholy women-and among them stands his mother! and, ever and anon, she listens with breathless anxiety to hear the sound of her Redeemer's name, but it comes not from those pallid lips! With solemn tread, a messenger brings a letter to the dying man; it comes from a gentle spirit, to whom he was made useful while he held the truth-or, at least, professed to do so→ and this is a last anxious effort to remind him of the past and the future. A tremulous voice reads the letter to the dying man, while the tears chase down the cheeks of her who holds it. Does the sufferer feel the solemn truths he listens to? He smiles-but there is no love nor benevolence, nor hope nor happiness in that smile. Listen, he speaks-what does he say? "HERS IS THE ENTHUSIASM OF RELIGION-MINE is the PHILOSOPHY OF RELIGION!!!" "What, my son?-speak again." There is no use listening any more, heart-stricken watchers!-he has spoken his last on that subject--and so he dies! Say, would you have your son, in the last dread day, stand by the philosophical man of error, on his mound of sand, or by the simplehearted disciple of Jesus, on the Rock of Ages? Take heed how, and where, and what he hears; and keep him near your heart in prayer. But turn we now to another group. In a cottage on a mountain, there sits a widow with eight children-five of them under the age of fourteen. She called them regularly around her, and led them in family worship; and often, at the dead of night, her low voice was calling on her Heavenly Father to have mercy, and bless her fatherless children. Before the youngest had reached the age of twenty-one, all except one son had hope in Christ-that son, early in life, left the family to learn some business, but on becoming of age he THE LAST HOURS OF A FAITHFUL FRIEND. found himself among the followers of the Lamb, listening to the Word of Life. His heart was touched-the sound of his mother's voice at midnight, when he slept in the chamber with her, came back with power-he, too, found peace in believing, and has long been a pillar in the church, and the superintendent of a Sabbath school. The mother still lives in peace and quiet, waiting till her change come, while her children are handing down her influence to the third generation. 'Whatsoever shall ask in my ye name, I will do it. Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life." THE LAST HOURS OF A FAITHFUL FRIEND. I WAS sitting one evening by a smiling fire, waiting for my tea, half awake and half asleep, when the postman's double rap made me start again. I turned my face to the door and looked anxiously for the entrance of my servant, who, presenting a letter, said, "I beg pardon, Sir, but I fear the old gentleman is worse, for there is put outside ‘in haste.'" "Is there, John?" I said, "we shall soon see;" and on opening my letter I read as follows :— "Dear CHARLES,-Our old and excellent friend is very bad, it is certain he cannot continue many days; we are all anxious to see you before he goes. Come as soon as you can to "Your affectionate Uncle, "C. P." My plans were soon formed,-I resolved to start on the morrow; and on the evening of a sharp but bright December day, I was wending my way amongst scenery dear to my remembrance, as recalling the happiness of bygone times. I felt fired with the enthusiasm of my youthful days, and in imagination was springing across the brook, from side to side, which winds through the park, and where I had spent delightful hours and days in pursuing good old 8 THE LAST HOURS OF A FAITHFUL FRIEND. Walton's gentle art; but, alas! the spring and the vigour were gone, I had become old and stiff, and must be content and thankful for a firm and steady walk. Just at the moment the carriage drove up to the door, and I was ushered into the dining room where my uncle was seated, but rose to give me a hearty welcome. "Charles," said he, “I am glad to see you; you have done well that you are come. Our old friend is no better, and the general report is he cannot continue many days; this circumstance has made a great bustle in the whole neighbourhood, where he is greatly respected; but you will be glad to retire to your room, and when you join us tea will be ready. This is a luxury I always enjoy after travelling. On my return I found my aunt and a very old friend, who united in expressions of cordial friendship and kind welcome. The warm room, and a delightful cup of tea, soon made us all feel very comfortable, and we began to talk freely of other times. "Well, Charles," said my uncle, "I fear you are come to see the last of an old friend; it is pleasant to think of the happy days we have spent together, and we are indebted to him for much. Our acquaintance commenced under very favourable circumstances; what a pleasant meeting we had at his first introduction amongst us, and how uniform has been his kindness ever since! Indeed, our comforts seemed so identified with him, I don't know what we should have done without him. What a charming part he played on the morning of that happy day, when we went to the consecration of our new Church; he seemed to make everybody cheerful and good-natured. But, alas! our experience, like all terrestrial bliss, has been dashed with some bitter bowls. I think I never shall forget that night of suffering, when your dear wife died; what I felt when I entered the street, and found it littered with straw, no one can tell. The sudden ceasing from noise of the rattling wheels seemed to suspend me between earth and heaven; and, almost an unconscious being, I trod that hall THE LAST HOURS OF A FAITHFUL FRIEND. 9 where I had so often received her cheerful welcome, and when I entered her chamber, I felt the solemnities of death were there, the darkened room, the noiseless step, the expressive look, the drawn curtains, all awakened the tenderest sympathies; and when I gently moved back the curtains, and first met the eye of the patient sufferer, my very heart died within me. The effort was too much for both, and poor suffering humanity found relief only in tears. She extended her hand, and the gentle pressure said all she was then able to say. When she rallied, the first words that broke from her lips were, 'It is all right.' O what a magician is the love of God shed abroad in the heart! It is all right,-yes, because the hand of God is in it. But hear, she speaks again: 'I am very weak, but my blessed Jesus is unspeakably precious; the fear of death is entirely taken away soon I shall be like Him and with Him for ever; to depart and be with Christ is far better.' Then, turning her eyes upon you, she continued, 'As to my dear husband, I have such a holy confidence in God, I am sure He will never leave, never forsake him; and my motherless babe I leave with Him.' Her end was, indeed, peace." Our old friend on that day wept much. How forcibly I am reminded of those striking lines :— : "Our sighs were numerous and profuse our tears, For she we lost was lovely, and we loved Her much. Fresh in our memory, as fresh As yesterday, is yet the day she died. We gathered round her bed, and bent our knees, In fervent supplications to the throne Of mercy, and perfumed our prayers with sighs, Of self-abasement; but we sought to stay An angel on the earth, a spirit ripe For heaven; and mercy, in her love, refused, Most merciful, as oft when seeming least! Most gracious when she seemed the most to frown! On which she lay, and all the faces, too, |