back on their habit of quoting daily texts; and, though they must have fainted often in their hearts, yet Christ's word, like bread, thus fed and sustained them; and so they became bent more than ever on standing by the cross they had come so far to preach. By and by, two new missionaries joined them. Traders, too, who were sent out from European settlements in quest of skins and furs, appeared from time to time, and the Moravians began to travel with them long distances, both to the north and south. In this way they sometimes succeeded in spreading their glad tidings in the darkest and loneliest corners. After the small-pox passed away, especially, while one or two remained in charge of household matters at the little village, the others went out on all sides, preaching as they went-rendering help-doing kind things-relieving distress-and, above all, telling of the blood of Christ that cleanseth from all sin. Every where they found the Greenlanders so rude and savage in their minds and hearts, that it seemed as if they never were to move and melt them. Many things in the simple gospel they were utterly at a loss to understand-the name of Jesus Christ-how the blood of the cross alone saves the soul-what it is to believe and love and accept Christ. The bread was broken into the smallest crumbs, but even thus the hearts of these poor blind heathens refused to feed upon it. They began, in a certain degree, to respect the self-denying men who were so plainly seeking their good, night and day; but, though some were led, in this way, to haunt the mission village, it was more that they might beg something out of the missionaries' stores, than that they cared deeply about the tidings of God's love to their souls. For a very long time this was the state of things; and so wearied and worn out at last were these devoted servants of the cross, by their hardships and failures, that they met to discuss the question seriously, whether or not they were now plainly called upon to abandon their post. You can easily imagine how solemn and anxious a question this was with them all. One or two amongst them perhaps were heart sore and faint: but, in most, there was so deep and true a faith, that even now they did not despair. It seemed that their love waxed more sublime, and their purpose the loftier, as their fortunes went down to a lower and lower ebb. They argued simply, that the Master had called them-it was His work-and He had come to seek and save that which was lost. What right then had they to decide according to what might to them look like success -were the times and seasons not in His hand-and had it not been said, that "at evening time it shall be light ?" So they gathered round the communion table once more, and partook of the Lord's Supper, that they might rise up, strong as ever, to begin as it were afresh: and, as we shall see, at last there came down upon them a gleam of promise, like the first touch of heaven on that lonely frozen world. Just when their night was darkest, it was far spent-the day was at hand. "THE LORD IS MY PORTION, SAITH MY SOUL." 66 Though thou hast gold and land beside, Pleasures of earth are the soul's snare, Therefore will I hope in Him." Lam. iii. 24. A CHILD'S HEART. LITTLE readers, who take up this little magazine to look over its pages, perhaps never have thought of the great and awful mystery on which they can lay their hands, just at the very moment. If you are sitting very happily at a mother's knee, that you may read aloud, and look up now and again to meet that beaming precious smile-or if you are leaning over the table's edge, that you may spread out and look as gravely as the grown people at the sheets before you or if some are sitting down upon the half dim hearth, that you may catch the flicker of the fire, to help you out with what our pages have to say-you may listen, if you choose, to the beatings of this mysterious thing, in the very quiet of your own hushed breath. The mystery, so deep and awful, is your own heart. Now, place your hand upon it, and feel its calm strong throbbing, while we tell you why we call it perhaps the greatest mystery God has made in all the world, that is so full of what is strange and solemn. It is surely very startling to know, for one thing, that your young beating heart holds the fountain of your life— that it gives no less than seventy strokes in a minute, at each stroke welling out life through all the body, as you have seen a crystal spring well up its deep waters on a summer's day-that it is so perfect and beautiful a fountain, that, as the Bible speaks, we may call it a golden bowl, and the nerves that bind it a silver cord that it is so delicate a fountain, that a little wound may break it, a breath of disease may poison it, the accident of a moment may stop its pulse-and yet, in all the dangers, troubles, and toils around us, so wonderfully is this frail thing preserved, that sometimes it beats on through fourscore years, both when men sleep and when men wake, never ceasing, never wearied, never spilling the life it carries, till old age snaps the string, and it stands still at last. But thinking of it in another way, the smallest and tenderest heart becomes to us a greater wonder still. For does it not take on, we cannot tell how, strange deep impressions of people and things, even when you are least aware, that are never to be forgotten. If you stand before a mirror you can see how it reflects the image of your face and figure, and whatever else you place opposite to it; but then, when you pass away, that image passes away toothe fair shining face of the mirror becomes again pure as day. The little heart is a mirror too, but of a very different kind. Image after image may be printed on it, but, if they are once caught, they are rarely if ever rubbed out; the heart keeps them in its deep quiet secret; and when years have gone, it often turns over these things that were stamped upon it in its childhood; and, just as the impressions made are good and happy, or just as they are dark and unholy, so will the life of a man, taking its tone from the heart, be full of happy memories and truthful deeds, or it will be so false and restless and dissatisfied, that it will never wear an open honest face amongst men, and never think pure and hallowed thoughts alone with God. An example of all this may be had in the image that may have been left on some of your own little hearts by the sweet and loving face of a mother, who may have watched, not long since, with her tender smile, over your prayers and your dreams, although she sleeps now in the quiet churchyard, and her loving voice and touch are gone. Yet you are sure that the image of the holy face will hang above you wherever you wander, or however long your path may be in the world, and, long long after this, in the slumbers of night, her hand and whisper will often visit you, with the thrill that made your child's heart so glad. Then, on the other hand, you can pity surely those child brothers and sisters, who are brought up in homes where there is nothing fair and beautiful to love, where all the impressions made on their young hearts are those of sin and darkness and sorrow. When you think, therefore, how the heart makes the life, is it not worth all your thoughts and prayers now, that on your hearts may be wrought images of all that is good and true and Christlike; while you will long to give a helping hand to those who have not been loved and taught and guided as you have been, and in whose hearts and life there may be wrapped up the gloom of sin and shame. And so the little heart is a great mystery, since it has in it in this way the seeds of all that may grow up in your after life. The seeds are very tender just now, and very small, and may often be planted when you are very careless and unwatchful; but deep down about the strings of the heart they take a subtile root. As you grow, they grow; they come above the soft soil with a gentle bud; their shoots are so whisperless and feeble, it may be, that, for a long time, you scarce notice their growth, or you think you can bend or break or root them up, as easily as you could the green sapling. But then the root grows strong-the branches grow out into every thought and habit the whole heart is embraced and woven in by their thick powerful arms, and then comes a day when you see it is too late to cut down or root up or destroy. Is it not startling, then, to think, that, even while you are reading these simple pages; while you are going every day to your classes and your games; while you are listening to the words and catching the looks every day of the older world about you-your child hearts, in their great tender secrets, are opening and growing in the way we have described, and telling already, as in a little book under the eye of God, something of what your future in this world and the next is to be. Children, watch over the little beating hearts-oh, "watch and pray, lest ye enter into temptation!" But still more than this: the heart may be a temple. The Bible tells us that Christ may dwell in the heart by faith. So that it may become God's temple--full of His light and love and grace-its inner place a living altarand, within its little shrine, all heaven contained, since, wherever Christ is, there heaven must be! Is not this the highest wonder of all? There is no spot where Jesus loves to dwell on earth, so much as in the heart of a dis ciple-no place so much as in the heart of a little child. He knocks now at the door of your hearts, dear little readers do not shut out His great love-open to Himlove Him-embrace Him-and give Him all your hearts, and He will make them the purest and holiest things in all the world. He will write His name upon them, and print His glorious image so deeply and abidingly in them, that it will never pass away. OUTLINES OF SABBATH SCHOOL LESSONS. LIFE OF CHRIST. I. The Word. The Forerunner's Message. THE WORD. Who-how described-His godhead-His work-how "life" and "light?" COMING INTO THE WORLD. How received-" the world”– "His own"-" sons of God"-"the Word made flesh -full of what-how God declared in Christ? " JOHN'S MESSAGE. When and where he preached-his message-explain it. II. John in the Desert. Baptism of Christ. (Read Matth. iii. 5-17; Mark i. 5-11; Luke iii. 7-23.) THE BAPTIST'S PREACHING. His congregation-how composed-give the points of his address. JOHN'S BAPTISM. What-how distinguished from Christ's -terror of His coming-John's fate. CHRIST BAPTISED. His answer to John-what happened— the Voice-explain. III. The Temptations in the Desert. (Read Matth. iv. 1-11; Mark i. 12-13; Luke iv. 1-13.) FIRST TEMPTATION. Who led Christ-circumstances-how He could be tempted-the tempter's first words-the answer-explain both. SECOND TEMPTATION. Circumstances-second effort of the tempter-his subtlety-how met. THIRD TEMPTATION. Circumstances-the tempter's falsehood in his third effort the reply-" departed for a season"-explain. How Christ overcame in all, |