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disseminates it amid dangers and discouragements, and does good through evil report and through good report, steadfast and immoveable in both. It is faith that preaches a gospel to the poor, and sees the soul of the possible angel beneath the rags of the actual beggar, and reconsecrates humanity's desecrated temples for the presence and worship of the Infinite. Faith is the germ of all progress, all improvement. If love be the principle of conservation, faith is the principle of progression. If love, peace, meekness, be needed to maintain the good that is in the world, faith is needed to increase that good, and to put down, or turn into good, the evil that exists by the side of it. There is a wisdom of experience, and there is a wisdom of hope; and the former, though excellent in its place and its way, soon sinks into the torpor of skepticism and worldliness, unless cheered and reinforced by the latter. If the one be useful to prevent men from attempting and expecting too much, the other is all-essential to prompt them to attempt anything great. If without the one, many follies would be committed by the good; without the other, goodness itself would languish into feebleness and mediocrity. There is a saving faith,' though not of the sort exactly that theologians tell us of. There is a saving faith, and there is no salvation without faith. There is a saving faith in every good man's heart, and it is this faith that gives him strength for goodness. The faith that truth is stronger than error,—that good is stronger than evil,-that right is mightier than might, this is the saving faith; this is the faith that must save the world, and without which there can be no salvation for the world. The world wants this faith for its salvation. The world wants men that have faith in man, that will go forth into its waste places, and heal its diseases, and bear away its mountains of sin and sorrow. Blessed be God! there is, and ever has been, faith upon the earth, and will be, in larger and larger measures, till the world through faith shall be saved.

I have been led, my hearers, into this train of reflection, by the perusal of a brief memoir which has appeared in some recent popular periodicals, of a singularly meritorious and admirable individual, whose history, humble and unpretending as it is, is one of the noblest examples I have ever read, of the faith that removeth mountains. I allude, as some of you may have already anticipated, to the lately deceased John Pounds, of Portsmouth, a shoe-mender, and gratuitous instructor of poor children. It has seldom been my happiness to read a biography of one of my fellow-creatures, which speaks so powerfully to my own heart; and I shall feel that I am rendering you the best office within my power, this afternoon, if I depart in some degree from the usual course of our public services, and, instead of preaching on a point of doctrine, or an abstraction of morality,-read to you, with a very few comments, the simple, homely, matter-of-fact, but all-eloquent sermon, of a good man's life.

John Pounds was born at Portsmouth in 1766. An accident which occurred during his apprenticeship in the dockyard rendered it necessary for him to learn another trade. He placed himself under an old shoemaker, became enabled to obtain an honest subsistence as a shoemender, and for thirty-five years was the occupant of a weatherboarded tenement in his native town.

About twenty years ago John Pounds took upon himself the charge of a feeble little boy, his nephew, whose feet were deformed. He effectually cured this distortion, by an ingenious imitation of the ordinary mechanical means recommended by the faculty. His heart warmed towards this poor child, one of a large and poor family, and he became its instructor, a task which gave him great delight. But he was not content to confine his exertions to his little nephew; and his heart being fairly engaged in the duties of education, and seeing the necessity of instructing the poor, he began to seek out pupils amongst the most neglected and destitute. His second pupil was the son of a poor woman, who was herself absent from home the whole of the day, endeavouring to obtain her living as a hawker, her child in the meantime being left amidst frost and snow in the open street. Unfortunately there were too many children whose parents were too poor to provide, or too reckless to care for the instruction of their offspring, and scholars became so numerous that his humble workshop, 'which was about six feet wide and eighteen feet in depth, could not contain so many as he would have willingly taught. Some principle of selection was necessary, and in such cases he always preferred and prided himself on taking those whom he called the little blackguards.' His biographer says, he has been seen to follow such to the town quay, and hold out in his hand to them the bribe of a roasted potato to induce them to come to school.' In the last few years of his life he had generally forty scholars under his instruction at one time, including about a dozen little girls, who were always placed on one side by themselves. Here he pursued his double labours, seated on his stool with his last or lapstone on his knee, and mending shoes, while his pupils were variously engaged, some reading by his side, writing from his dictation, or showing him their performances in accounts. Others were seated on forms, on boxes, and on a little staircase. We give the following interesting account of his modes of tuition in the words of his biographer :- Without having ever heard of Pestalozzi, necessity led him into the interrogatory system he taught the children to read from handbills, and such remains of old school-books as he could procure. Slates and pencils were the only implements for writing, yet a creditable degree of skill was acquired; and in ciphering, the Rule of Three and Practice were performed with accuracy. With the very young, especially, his manner was particularly pleasant and facetious; he would ask them the names of different parts of their body, make them spell the words, and tell their uses. Taking a child's hand, he would say," What is

this? Spell it." Then slapping it, he would say,-" What do I do? Spell that." So with the ear, and the act of pulling it; and in like manner with other things. He found it necessary to adopt a more strict discipline with them as they grew bigger, and might have become turbulent, but he invariably preserved the attachment of all.' He took an enlarged view of the objects which education should comprise, and endeavoured to impart valuable practical knowledge to his scholars, teaching them how to cook their own plain food, and to mend shoes. He was their doctor and nurse when they had any ailments; and when they were in health, he was not only the master of their sports, but the good old man made playthings for the younger children. He encouraged his pupils to attend Sunday-schools, exerting himself to procure clothing for them, in order that they might make a creditable appearance. On Sunday morning they put on their dress at his house, and in the evening it was again restored to him. Some hundreds of persons in all have been indebted to him for all the education which they had ever received at school; and, as a necessary consequence, many are now filling stations of credit and respectability, whose elevation poverty and ignorance combined would have prevented, even if these misfortunes had not consigned them to the goals, the hulks, or the penal settlements. It is said, he never sought compensation for these labours; nor did he obtain any, besides the pleasure attending the pursuit, the satisfaction of doing good, and the gratification felt, when occasionally some manly soldier or sailor, grown up out of all remembrance, would call to shake hands, and return thanks for what he had done for him in infancy. Indeed some of the most destitute of his scholars have often been saved from starvation only by obtaining a portion of his own homely meal.'

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Mr. Pounds died suddenly on the first of January, 1839. His biographer touchingly says, The children were overwhelmed with consternation and sorrow; some of them came to the door next day, and cried because they could not be admitted; and for several succeeding days, the younger ones came, two or three together, looked about the room, and not finding their friend, went away disconsolate.' Nor was he unlamented by his fellow-townsmen. The services which he rendered to the ignorant and neglected children of the poor entitle him to a place among those humble benefactors of mankind, whose deeds of goodness have been, like his, performed in a spirit of rare benevolence. Few indeed will refuse their admiration of that active zeal which acquired for him, a poor man himself, the title of 'the gratuitous instructor of poor children.'

I am afraid of adding much to this, my fellow-Christians, for in truth I scarcely know what I can add, to make it more impressive,— beyond that brief comment, with which Jesus Christ might have dismissed the subject, had he taken it for the basis of one of his own parables,— Go ye, and do likewise.' ”

SKETCHES DRAWN FROM THE NEW TESTAMENT.

THE BIRTH OF THE SAVIOUR.

THE months rolled on, and Mary's faith strengthened with the hour. Oh! who shall paint the visions of her heart, as she pondered in the night-watches upon the destiny of her promised son? Who shall comprehend the communings of her soul with the realities of Heaven? Who shall understand the sympathy, the love of the Almighty for this single-hearted child, whom he had deemed worthy to be the instrument of salvation to the world? Truly, "it hath not entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him."

The decree went forth,-and who should dare resist the decree of Cæsar?" Every man to his own city to be taxed for the treasury of Rome!" is proclaimed through town and village, and obedient to the call, all Israel pours along the high roads and the by-paths, submitting as best they may to the galling yoke of foreign power. But there were two hearts among the throng that gladly obeyed the call, for to them had been revealed, that in the native city of David must be born the being whose decrees should overpower those of Cæsar; and cheerfully and gratefully did they prepare for the wearisome journey. Many a proud and glittering company swept by them as they toiled along the road, little dreaming that those two beings upon whom they scarcely deigned to cast a passing glance were linked with the future destinies of the world. No room was granted to them in the crowded caravansary, when late at night they reached the city of their ancestors, and, wearied and oppressed, they were driven to seek their shelter with the beast that had borne them on their way. Yet peacefully they laid themselves down to rest, sustained by a calm trustfulness that the Lord had them in his keeping, even amid the seeming inconsistencies of their present lot.

In the mid hour of night, when all the world had sunk to rest, a few faithful shepherds were watching over their sleeping flocks. The moon and stars shone softly out, while nature like a slumbering child

reposed beneath her shaded light. The shepherds talked of home, of their country's wrongs, of their promised Messiah; when lo! their sight was dazzled by a brightness which eclipsed the moon and stars, nay even the sun at mid-day. Bewildered and amazed, their unfinished sentence died upon their lips; terrified, they drew nigh to one another with silent but hasty steps, when a voice broke upon the solemn stillness, filling the air with sweet music, and their startled hearts with wonder and adoration.

"Fear not," it said, " for behold, I announce to you great joy, which shall be to all people, for this day is born to you in the city of David a Saviour, who is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign to you; you shall find the babe in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger." Scarcely had the voice ceased, when, as if impatient for utterance of their joy, there burst forth a chorus of angel voices, from above, around, from far and near, proclaiming "Glory to God in the highest, peace and good will to men on earth!" The kneeling shepherds waited but to catch the last faint echoes of the pealing anthem, as with earnest gaze they watched the homeward flight of those celestial harbingers of peace and love. Then, starting to their feet, with one accord they pointed towards Bethlehem; and hastening thither, they sought amidst the crowded halls the confirmation of the vision of the night.

Nor sought they long, for there, as had been told them, lay the infant Saviour upon his mother's breast, while she, her hour of suffering forgotten in the holy excitement which had sustained throughout her unwavering faith, was gazing with all the tenderness of a mother's love upon his sleeping face. Hushed in adoration, the shepherds knelt before the holy child, while they disclosed the revelations of the night, and asked, if these things were so. With humble joy Mary satisfied their lingering doubts; and leaving the lowly birth place of the Messiah, they proclaimed as they went the "glad tidings" of the coming age.

THE SACRIFICE AT THE TEMPLE.

In the outer courts of the temple of Jerusalem, apart from the throng of worshippers, knelt a young woman at her humble sacrifice. Two turtle doves nestled in her bosom, which with a slight caress she

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