sent me, draw him.

Him that cometh unto me I will in no

wise cast out.' That's my precious text."

Next day, however, this interesting Sunday scholar suffered from another severe attack of her wasting disease, and appeared to be sinking. She whispered, "I want to go home. to-day, I am so happy. Jesus is so precious. All, all is peace." During the whole of the day she was longing to go home, if God's will. She repeated again, "Jesus died for me, and I trust Him-my precious, precious Saviour!" In the evening she said, "I am almost home. Jesus will never leave me; no, no, never forsake me. This is His precious promise." She, in a little while, again faintly whispered, "Jesus died for me. He supports me. I love Him. He is very precious. I am resting in Jesus." When silent, the dying girl's countenance beamed with joy, and broke into the sweetest smile as she repeated, "I long to go home. I rest in Jesus."

The same peace supported beloved Mary on the morrow. Again, as her teacher entered the room, she whispered, “I rest in Jesus. Blessed Jesus! my precious, precious Saviour! Oh, what has He not done for me?" Weary and worn, she lay with closed eyes, at intervals only looking round her, faintly smiling, "Jesus is with me." In the latter part of the day she revived a little, and tried to testify of her love to Christ. She referred to the past, and said, “that for many months the earnest counsel and devotion of her teacher had impressed her so, that she had loved to retire for secret prayer." When in any trouble, she always repaired to her closet, and found comfort there. She was in the daily habit of reading her Bible, and lately

kept it under her pillow, to peruse the first thing in the morning.

At this time occurred Mary's birthday-just seventeen years of age. She was calm, and pleased to look at some flowers Willie had brought and placed within her view. She delighted in those gifts from her heavenly Father's hand; but oh, how emblematic of herself, soon to wither and to die! or, shall we not say rather, that she was about to be transplanted to the paradise of God, to bloom for ever with undecaying beauty, in the light of His countenance? It was not expected that she would have been spared to see that day. She said, "My last birthday!" She spoke very little, but loved to hear sweet promises and hymns read. She looked once more as if contemplating the joys of heaven, and said, "I shall not be here long." In the afternoon she asked for her Bible, and wished to have it propped up before her. It being very small print, another one was brought: "No," she said, "that one won't do; it is my own Bible that I want"-the one that had been her companion in days of health. In the night, her mamma said, she thought she was dying, and felt afraid of the last struggle. It was but a passing cloud, and her eye regained a remarkable brilliancy as she said, "What is there to fear? Death is nothing to Glorious! glorious!

the glory beyond. Jesus is with me! Death is only going home."

The day succeeding, this happy girl was sinking rapidly, and the dews of death gathering on her fair brow had to be gently cleared away to soothe her. She was greatly exhausted, and unable to talk much, but perfectly serene. In the afternoon the sound of sacred music reached the

hall from some passing minstrels, and Mary, listening to the singing, said, "That is nothing to what it shall be in heaven. I shall sing more sweetly there." Gradually she became weaker; and as she lay quite powerless, she faintly repeated, "Happy! happy! happy!"

Contrary to expectation, Mary opened her eyes on the dawn of the Sabbath, and said, "How sweet to go to heaven on God's own day! I shall sing there to-day." Her mamma asked her, "On what are you resting, my love?" She replied, "He will never leave me; no, no, never forsake me. Jesus died, and I trust Him. All's well, all's well!" She remained quite conscious to the close, and was enabled to take a touching farewell of those near and dear to her, including her papa's protégé, Neddy Bruce, a gleam of heaven seeming to irradiate her countenance with celestial brightness. Then, fixing her eyes intently, she softly uttered, "The angels, the angels are come to fetch me!" and in a few moments peacefully exchanged an earthly Sabbath for the blessed rest of the unending Sabbath above.

"There is an hour of peaceful rest

To mourning wand'rers given;
There is a joy for souls distress'd,
A balm for ev'ry wounded breast:
"Tis found above in heaven!

"There is a home for weary souls,

By sin and sorrow driv'n;

When toss'd on life's tempestuous shoals,

Where storms arise, and ocean rolls,

And all is drear but heaven!

"There fragrant flowers immortal bloom,

And joys supreme are given;

There rays divine disperse the gloom;
Beyond the confines of the tomb

Appears the dawn of heaven!"

Such was the departure of that redeemed spirit to glory; and when the minds of those she had left were released from watching, sorrow burst forth throughout that now darkened dwelling, but it was only for a short space. It was not the sorrow of the fearful, for great was the hope of a bright immortality. Willie, and I may add Neddy, as might have been expected, grieved longest, and felt their loss most keenly; but as time flew on with constant wing, they came to think of their dear sister and friend as not dead-" not lost, but gone before," and they would meet her again, with many another Mary, in that happy and glorious realm, where there is no more suffering, separation, or death.

All that was mortal of sweet Mary Denison was interred within the shade of the neighbouring church, in compliance with her last request, that her body should rest "near God's house-the place where sinners are brought to Christ."

CHAPTER VII.

THE HERALD OF PEACE.

FOR several years the Canongate Sunday Mission School could not boast of a more promising scholar than Edward Bruce. Punctual in his attendance, without which no real progress can be made, and quiet, respectful, and attentive in his conduct, he did not think that he was conferring a favour by doing so, as many foolish young men think, but rather that he was enjoying a blessed privilege. Therefore he profited much, and rapid was his advancement. He soon ceased to be a pupil, and became an earnest teacher, and a bumble and prayerful believer in the priceless truths which he taught. He seemed to have completely realised his responsibility as an instructor of the young, and he did not trifle with his sacred office. These duties he performed during the whole time of his studying for the ministry-the calling which through the continued kindness of his friend, Mr. Denison, he was enabled, and felt inclined, to select.

Mr. Bruce was now twenty-five years of age-a tall and somewhat dark-complexioned man, and well developed in mind and body. He had just concluded his Divinity Hall