its last leaf to the merciless wind, left to endure the wintry storm without the shelter of the Parent Stem!

To the blackest night, however, the brightest morn may sucAs the sun may carry pestilence in his beams, the night may scatter healing from its sable wings!

Seldom does misfortune visit the world, abstracted from every quality of good! When all is most dark and threatening around, the Father of the fatherless, the God of all comfort, in order to bring them closer to himself, graciously permits the weak and perishing creatures of his power to experience his goodness to see some Star shining in the darkness, to cheer their drooping spirits-to hear some kind voice telling of a home, where the wretched may fly for comfort, and the weary for repose!

Here, with choking utterance, I turn to you, my generous benefactors, and ask, but for your timely sympathy and support, where should I have been now-where my little innocent associates? Alas! you may as well ask, where the scattered leaves of Autumn lie; the yellow leaves, that for a moment flutter in the wind, and then settle down amongst their withered companions on the cold, cold ground; the last sad refuge "of the fallen, the faded, and forlorn!" Ah! well may it be asked, where should we have been now, but for this blessed institution? In some hovel of poverty and crime, perhaps, uttering blasphemy and lies instead of the Morning and Evening prayer you have taught us to pronounce! Oh! it is awful to think, into what an abyss of misery, here and hereafter, we might have been plunged, unless, like the wearied dove, we had found from the destroying deluge of sin, a shelter in this holy ark!

I am told the age in which we live, is one of unexampled benevolence that Angels have assumed the forms of humanity -that the Sick are visited in their affliction-the Poor have the gospel preached to them! We can bear blessed testimony, I am sure, that God has put it especially into the hearts of the humane, to provide for the destitute and fatherless!

What is it that prompts you to bestow a thought upon the Orphan? What is it that makes the heart melt with tenderness at the cry of the poor and the needy? What is it that gives to pity, its sweetest tear-to love, its most delicious smile -to feeling, its most generous impulse? What is it that pleads for all these little ones so strongly in the bosom of the virtuous? It is thy voice, O Nature! Queen of a sunny sky, waking up the affections in the coldest bosom, until they bloom and blossom as the Rose!

I feel, we can look to you, generous friends, with confidence, for the means of a temporal education, and for an eternal hope. In the temple where we worship, it is written "Suffer little

children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of Heaven." It is the mandate of Jehovah. Who shall gainsay it? And oh! what a harvest of merit and of consolation, is thus given you to gather! Without your mediation, it is easy for our heavenly parent to provide for those whom he has promised "to preserve alive," but he has chosen rather to associate you with Himself, in the beauty of his own holiness; putting you as Clouds in the midst, to pour down on others, parched by the burning drought of the world, the dews and fertilizing rains you may receive from Him.

Every encouragement is afforded you to continue your alms and your prayers in our behalf. Already has the Almighty blessed our Institution, by sending forth into the world from among our humble band, characters conspicuous for their talents and their worth, and who knows what future Statesmen may exist even now within our walls, to be formed or lost according to the increase or want of your generosity? Let us hope that many signal distinctions are in store for us, and is it expecting too much, that the instruments of good to society will not be confined to one sex alone, but that even from among the more helpless objects of your bounty, there may, also, go forth with the blessing of God, many a modest Rebecca-many a devout Hannah-many an humble and pious Mary-many an affectionate Rachel, that beloved and loving wife, that beautiful mother of Israel!

Love, then, these little Orphans for your own sake. Regard them as your brethren. Cherish them as your offspring. Consider them, as our blessed Saviour himself did, in order that when he shall appear again in his glory, and all the Angels of Heaven with him, he may say unto you on the great day:

"Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the Kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: naked, and ye clothed me!"

You will wondering say, "Lord, when saw we thee an hungered, and fed thee; or thirsty and gave thee drink; naked and clothed thee?"

But the King upon the throne of his glory will answer and say, "Verily, verily, I say unto you, inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these my little ones, you have done it unto Me!"

ORPHAN'S HYMN.

BY MRS. C. GILMAN.

OH! Thou, who hear'st our orphan sighs,
When lowly at thy throne we bend,

Let this our happier hymn arise,
And to thy mercy seat ascend.

Our infant hours began in gloom,
No ray of worldly joy was near;
Cold want destroyed our early bloom,
Pale sorrow called our early tear.

But, Charity, thy genial light

Burst thro' the shade and cheered our way, And kindlier still, revealed to sight

The glories of the Gospel day.

Great God, for those whose fostering love
Has gently nurtured our young powers,

We pray, that blessings from above

May lightly wing their earthly hours.

And when the solemn day draws near,

That calls our rescued souls to thee, Together may we all appear,

And mingle in eternity.