breathe; and on the next inquiry which was made about him, the reply was, "He is gone home." Yes, he had gone home to that dear Saviour who loved him, redeemed him, sanctified and saved him, and whose love to him was unquestionable, because of the evident love which it enkindled in him. "We love him because he first loved us."

"IT WAS MY BROTHER'S."

WHILE passing rapidly up King Street, we saw a little boy seated on a curb-stone. He was apparently about five or six years old, and his well-combed hair, clean hands and face, bright though well-patched apron, and whole appearance, indicated that he was the child of a loving, though indigent mother. As we looked at him closely, we were struck with the heart-broken expression of his countenance, and the marks of recent tears on his cheek. So, yielding to an impulse which always leads us to sympathise with the joys or sorrows of the little ones, we stopped, and putting a hand upon his head, asked what was the matter? He replied by holding up his open hand, in which we beheld the fragments of a broken tin toy-a figure of a cow.

"Oh! is that all? well, never mind it. Step into the nearest toy-shop and buy another," and we dropped a fourpenny into his hand. "That will buy one, will it not ?" "Oh, yes," replied he, bursting into a paroxysm of grief, "But this was little brother Tommy's; and he's dead!"

The wealth of the world could not have supplied the vacancy that the breaking of that toy had left in his little heart. It was Tommy's; and he was dead!

THE CHILD'S CONFESSION.-TO THE DEPARTING YEAR.

THE CHILD'S PRAYER.

My Saviour, at thy gracious throne

I bend a willing knee;

O never leave my soul alone,

But keep me near to thee.

Through all my childhood's sunny years
I've found my wants supplied,
And thou, amidst life's thousand snares,
Hast ever been my guide.

Still keep my wayward spirit right,
Each wicked thought subdue;
Cause me to live with heaven in sight,
With thee, my God in view.

THE CHILD'S CONFESSION.

A WEAK and thoughtless child, I come
To mourn my cold and sinful heart;
So prone from thee, my God, to roam,
And after every folly start.

And sadly I remember too,

Whene'er I think of time that's gone,
How oft what I ought not to do
I very foolishly have done.

O pardon me, my God, I pray,

Teach me to do thy holy will;
And every hour and every day
Be wiser, holier, happier still.

TO THE DEPARTING YEAR.

A FEW short hours, and thou, O year! shalt be
Where years have found a grave;

A sparkling drop in Time's fast filling sea-
A gem upon its wave-

One setting star among a countless host,
A glancing meteor, seen but to be lost!

Like mortals, once this dying year was young,
And Winter saw its birth;

Upon its youth Spring sweetest flowers flung,
And Summer lent it mirth;

For its decline we heard sad Autumn sigh;
Winter, who saw it born, will see it die.

Thy many hours have fled, O bygone year!
And with the past thou art,

And voices which I loved, no more are here
To glad my lonely heart;

But memory lends to thee a cheering ray,
And hope gives promise of a brighter day.

Old year! we know full well what thou hast been,

And now for thee we grieve;

The stranger year as yet we have not seen,
But may we not believe

That Heaven upon its dawning hours shall cast

A halo brighter even than the last?

Farewell! farewell! though 'mid departing years
Those soon forgot must be,

And passing time shall bring new hopes and fears
To wile our thoughts from thee;

Thy hopes like angel voices oft shall come
To chase our sadness and dispel our gloom.

We may not bid the coming year farewell,

Earth may have claimed her kindred dust e'erwhile;
And friends who wept the blossom when it fell
Have dried their tears, and e'en begin to smile;
Then, Heavenly Father! may we gain the prize
Of living faith, made perfect in the skies!

WINKS & SON, PRINTERS, LEICESTER.

M.S.H.

THE

CHILDREN'S MAGAZINE,

AND

Missionary Repository.

EDITED BY JOSEPH FOULKES WINKS.

VOLUME XXI.

1858.

LONDON:

SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, & Co.

LEICESTER:

PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY WINKS & SON.