Read Ebook: Our Gift by Teachers Of The School Street Universalist Sunday School Boston

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Ebook has 350 lines and 25954 words, and 7 pages

"Well," said Mary, "I must confess that I have done this often, and without being conscious of any wrong feelings; some how or other, I did not consider that the reproof belonged to me; or ever ask myself if I had committed the fault which was exposed."

"For this reason, I remarked," continued Mrs. S., "that children insensibly contract this habit from their parents; and the defect extends to physical as well as moral errors. Not long since, I had an interesting conversation with Mr. R., a well-known philanthropist and physiologist, who is devoting his life to the alleviation of some of the ills of human existence. He told me that, a short time before, he delivered a lecture to parents on the physical training of their children, and pointed out the great mistakes which are often made. On retiring, said he, I overheard many remarks, but not one spoke as if I had addressed him. Every one could point to some one else who might well profit by the lecture; but not one would believe that I meant to say to each individual present, as Nathan said unto David, 'Thou art the man.'"

"I am sure," observed Clara, "I never felt the full force of this saying of our Savior before, although I have read it a hundred times. I shall read the whole chapter again, carefully, to-night."

"And so will I," added Mary.

Mary returned home that evening well pleased with the two conversations she had taken part in; and better still, she and Clara profited by them. I am happy to add, that their schoolmates are gradually correcting many evil habits by the good example of these two girls; and thus Mary and Clara have the double satisfaction of improving their own conduct, and of being instrumental in improving that of others.

BOYS BECOME MEN.

If you were to be boys always, and didn't need to know anything more than just enough to enable you to enjoy your sports from day to day, it would not be so necessary, perhaps, as it now is, to attend strictly to your every-day studies; though the influences of the Sunday school would be necessary, even then. Boys cannot enjoy their sports together, unless they are truthful, just, and kind; and it is in the Sunday school that these graces are most successfully acquired. But boys will become men; and all the knowledge they can acquire in boyhood will become serviceable in manhood. Therefore, boys should be diligent.

TO THE PORTRAIT OF FATHER BALLOU, HANGING IN MURRAY HALL.

O, much-loved features! Faithful counterpart Of one we love, and cherish, and revere; Thy gentle influence shed o'er every heart, And be thy spirit ever present here.

Look from thy quiet resting-place on us, With that familiar smile so dear to all, Which ever seems to speak of happiness, And every mourner would to hope recall.

Thro' childhood's sunny days and youth's bright morn, Mid changes and mid sorrows, thou hast been A light to guide, a hope to cheer and warm, And to the heart bring joy and peace again.

And for thine honored form how fit the place, Where childhood's ear instruction would receive; Preside o'er all, lend all our efforts grace, To learn God's love, and on his word believe.

Thy Master's faithful servant! Who, in love, Took little children in his arms to bless; While looking down from his bright home above, Through thee diffusing peace and holiness;

May his pure spirit ever with us dwell, Shedding o'er all our thoughts its heavenly ray; Our hearts attune the song of praise to swell, And o'er our darkness pour eternal day.

And when thou'rt left alone, to bear the name Of him whose faithful emblem thou art made, May thou through ages still endure the same, Though all around thee shall decay and fade.

May his dear memory, which through thee shall live Long in the places which his love has blest, Shine as a beacon, life and light to give, And hope at last in God's eternal rest.

SUSAN'S REPENTANCE AND APPEAL TO HER ELDER SISTER.

I once knew two sisters, the only companions of a widowed mother, who, though they had no relatives and but very few friends, and should therefore have been the more closely united in heart, were in the habit oftener of harshly rebuking and blaming, than of encouraging, assisting, and comforting each other. I often wondered at this, as they both had many estimable traits of character, and could only account for it, not excuse it, by the fact, that they had been much separated in early life, and, since their reunion, had had to encounter many obstacles, and bear the weight of many heavy disappointments. I confidently hoped and believed that the good sense of one or both of them, would in time lead them to see their error, and the sin of thus fretting and irritating each other. Nor was I disappointed. The younger, whose conscience was the most sensitive, first made the discovery, and immediately began trying to remedy the evil, and to induce her sister to aid her in the endeavor. Imagining some of her thoughts and feelings, I have put them in rhyme.

We have done wrong, dear sister; for we have not patient been, But answered often hasty words by hasty words again; And when we should with gentle acts have soothed each other's care, We've made by cold indifference our lot more hard to bear.

We have done wrong, dear sister; I remember how we've grieved Our widowed mother's anxious heart, so long of joy bereaved; O, were we loving, good, and kind, and all our murmurings o'er, Might not the smiles come back again and light her face once more?

And more: we have offended God; this day I feel and know We have forgotten his commands, and gained us nought but woe. O join with me as, filled with grief, most earnestly I pray, That he will yet be merciful, and take our sin away.

LITTLE EMMA.

One Saturday afternoon, little Emma came into her mother's room, and said to her, "Mother, may I go with Abba to her Sunday school? She says, they are all so happy there."

"My child," said her mother, "why do you wish to leave your own school and go to a strange one?"

"Because, mother, Abba has often told me what a good school they have, and how much she loves it."

"Well, as you are very anxious to go, I will grant your request this once, on condition that it must never be repeated."

The next morning, this pleasant little girl was up very early to make ready to go with her friend to the new Sabbath school.

She was delighted with all she saw and heard; and when the pastor took her by the hand, she said to herself, "I wish mother would permit me to come here every Sunday. I will ask her, at any rate." After the school was dismissed, she went home, revolving in her mind what she should say to obtain her mother's consent.

Her mother observed how thoughtful she appeared, and said to her, "Emma, how did you like Abba's Sunday school?"

"Oh, mother! I was so happy; do let me go there. They sing so sweetly, and the pastor was so kind. He had an affectionate word for all. Their superintendent, too, was so pleasant, I know I should love him."

Her mother said to her, with a very sorrowful countenance, "Do you know, my child, that they teach very erroneous doctrines there, in regard to a future life? They teach that all will be eventually holy and happy, both the good and the bad."

"But, mother, I should think it would make us all happy to believe so. The minister told us that 'God is Love;' and that cannot be a bad doctrine. I am sure I would much rather think so, than that he would hate any of us, for you have often told me that hatred was very wicked. I cannot think that a good and wise being would do that which you have taught me is wrong. Then they all seem to love each other dearly. They are like a pleasant family of brothers and sisters. Do let me go, will you not, dear mother? I should be so happy."

Her mother said many things to convince her that it was not right to change her school. But she was very unhappy, and said so often, "Do let me go," that her mother consented to gratify her; thinking, perhaps, that she would soon tire of it.

Sunday came, and Emma was nearly the first one there; so anxious was she to be in season.

She entered the schoolroom with a bright and happy face, and when the superintendent came to her, she said, "I have come to join your Sabbath school. Will you receive me?"

To add to her joy, the superintendent gave her a seat in the same class with her friend Abba, who was a very kind and good little girl; and she found a number of others in the class who were very glad to see her there. One little girl lent her a book to study, and when the teacher gave her a lesson for the next Sabbath, she said, "I have a lesson now. Fanny lent me her book, and I have already learned a lesson from it."

This pleased her teacher very much; for she thought that there were many little girls who would have been very glad of such an excuse to put off their lessons. Ever after, she was very constant in her attendance, always had her lessons very perfect, and never stayed at home, even if it chanced to be a rainy clay; for she would say, "My teacher will be there; and I am sure if she is there, I can go. Besides, I know it will make her very happy to see me always in my place."

In this way did this good little Emma continue to go on, acquiring knowledge, and gaining the love and good-will of all who knew her. She was always happy and cheerful; kind to her parents, obliging to her brothers and sisters, ever ready to assist the poor and destitute, having a kind word and a happy smile for all. And this she learned from that one great and ennobling truth, that "God is Love."

THE OLD SABBATH SCHOOLROOM.

A PARODY.

How dear to our hearts is that old Sabbath schoolroom, Which each Sunday morning presents to our view; The seats, the piano, the portrait that's near it, And ev'ry loved thing which our memory knew. Our dearly-loved pastor, his wife who comes with him, Our Superintendent, and dear Mrs. G., The teachers, the pupils, and faithful Librarians, We each Sabbath morning invariably see. That old Sabbath schoolroom, that dearly-loved schoolroom, That blessed old schoolroom where all love to be.

That old Sabbath schoolroom we hail as a treasure; For often, when weary and anxious with care, We've found it the place of a heavenly pleasure We seek for with ardor, but find not elsewhere. How eager we enter, with hearts that are glowing, And quick to our places,--we all know them well,-- And then with our song-books, and souls overflowing, The anthem of praise we unitedly swell, That old Sabbath schoolroom, that dearly-loved schoolroom, That blessed old schoolroom where all love to be.

Blest truth,--from our teachers with joy we receive it,-- That God is our Father, our Savior and Friend! There's nought so alluring could tempt us to leave it, Though fraught with all pleasures the fancy can lend. And when far removed to some distant location, The tears of regret will intrusively swell, As mem'ry reverts to our former vocation, And longs for the schoolroom we all loved so well. That old Sabbath schoolroom, that dearly-loved schoolroom, That blessed old schoolroom we all love so well.

THE HUNTER, AND HIS DOG JOWLER.

A FABLE.

A famous hunter in the woodland country had a dog which was particularly fond of certain kinds of game, but exceedingly averse to other kinds of much better flavor. Now it happened that, whenever the hunter wished to give chase to moose or deer, Jowler was sure to scare up a woodchuck, or some still filthier game, leaving the deer to make good his escape.

Day after day thus passed away, leaving the hunter's labors no suitable reward. It was in vain that the hunter expostulated with his dog. Neither threats nor blows were of any avail. When the master would hunt one thing, the dog was sure to be hunting something else.

At length, both master and dog seemed to tire of their constant conflict, and to desire some adjustment, whereby each might accommodate his own taste to some extent, and yet live in harmony with the other. With this view, a friendly conference was held, in which Jowler appeared so tenacious, that the hunter well-nigh despaired of any adjustment whatever.

It was, however, finally agreed, that Jowler should hunt game to his own taste five days in the week, and devote the remaining hunting day to such game as his master preferred. Jowler, however, was careful to stipulate that, if he chanced to find himself ill, or not in hunting trim, on the sixth day, he should be considerately dealt by, and not forced to go beyond his strength.

The arrangements being fully made, a paper was drawn up containing the articles of agreement, and both Jowler and the hunter affixed their names thereto. Jowler, no doubt, congratulated himself on having it all to his liking five days out of six; while the hunter, perhaps, flattered himself that the taste of venison one day in the week, would so improve the standard of Jowler's tastes, as to bend him, at length, altogether to his own wishes.

It was not long, however, before Jowler refused to hunt for another reason. He said, he had followed his own game with such constancy and alacrity for the five days, that he was too much exhausted to hunt venison on the sixth day. He must rest from any farther fatigue; and claimed the continued indulgence of his master, by virtue of their contract.

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