worship of heathens. The name of God is too awfully sacred to be repeated without veneration, and the very frequent occurrence of oh! Lord! takes away much of that powerful impression which it should make, by giving it the appearance of an expletive. Barrenness of sentiment, and of feeling, will produce this; but a prayer had much better be exceedingly brief, or break off abruptly, than not close when ideas cease to flow; we shall not be sooner heard for our "much speaking." Where repetition does not visibly prevail, a prayer may be uninteresting, consequently unedifying, through its unreasonable length. The ancient pharisees, for a show, made "long prayers." It would be unIt would be unwise, if not impossible, rigorously to limit the holy current of true religious feeling; but in social meetings, where three or four engage in singing and prayer, addresses to the Deity, each of half an hour or more, however excellent in other respects, are not suited for the age in which we live, nor to the general purposes of religion; when attention wearies, devotion ends, and overlong prayers warrant suspicion that the person praying wishes to show how much he can say more than others. Mullum in parvo should be our motto on all such occasions. The opposite extreme should also be carefully avoided, as it seems to treat the Almighty with indifference, and our hearers with neglect, when this holy employment is carelessly hurried over as a task. It seems to say, "What a weariness it is!" excluding that importunity which should always prevail. Suitable brevity, allowing several to exercise their gifts without fatiguing their hearers, seems desirable to keep up the spirit and life of such meetings.

A proper selection of matter should be made in hese exercises, CONG. MAG. No. 73.

that nothing may be unseasonable, nothing omitted which should be mentioned. Many, without design, neglect, on such occasions, petitions for their minister, their church and congregation, public societies, and the spread of the Gospel. Sometimes a missionary prayer-meeting has differed little from regular family or closet devotion, where personal things occupy a chief place. Things should not be so mistimed, or misplaced, as to introduce public concerns on every private occasion, (for instance, praying with the sick,) or very private affairs in public assemblies. Reflection for a few moments before prayer would often rectify every impropriety here; and, when practicable, time should be given by previously settling who are to pray, so as to avoid the perturbation often arising from an unexpected request.

Social prayer should never be made the vehicle of reproof. To pray for a man so as pointedly to rebuke him at "the throne of grace" is not only weak and absurd, but exhibits a mean, dastardly spirit unworthy of Christianity. It is rather praying at him than for him, and very contrary to the apostolic injunction to "restore such an one in the spirit of meekness." Should the person be present nothing would sooner harden him in wickedness than such conduct; every thing which could create pain or uneasiness, or give just offence to Christians in general, should be most anxiously avoided. A preaching manner in prayer seems unadvisable, except cautiously in the pulpit, on very extraordinary solemnities. Sermons are not petitions, nor does Jehovah need our teaching, for Who can instruct him?" A copious use of Scripture language and phrases is not only allowable, but very beautiful and edifying; yet here is great danger of extremes, and without proper cau

D

tion much formality is likely to result: a suitable intermixture of such expressions with our own sentiments and language seems preferable. To conduct the whole business well is a matter of some difficulty, requiring "wisdom profitable to direct;" but by constantly shunning whatever is ob jectionable, we gradually attain to excellence. Envy, fastidious nicety, refusing to be satisfied, and especially censoriousness, should for ever be banished; for many, conscious of inferior qualifications, are backward to engage through fear of being criticised. But when a friendly, charitable feeling prevails, the most timid will be encouraged to cultivate their gifts by frequent practice, and our societies will exhibit a lovely scene of union, peace, and prosperity.

W. M.

THE OLD YEAR IMPROVED.

The stint of Nineveh was forty days, To change the bias of her crooked ways: To some the time is large, to others small;

To some 'tis many years; and not at all To others; some an hour have, and some

Now scarca a minute of their time to

come :

Thy span of life (Malfido) is thy space, To call for mercy and to cry for grace." QUARLE.

THE year is completed! How considerable a portion of human life! How replete to many of your readers in painful and instructive events! How full of admonition, generally, on the vicissitudes of the world, the brevity of our existence, and the various occupations in which the years of men are passing away! Perhaps it may not be unseasonable to attempt some improvement of time past, by calling upon different classes of characters to retrace the course they have thus far run.

The review of the expired year

reminds us, first, of the course of man from the cradle to the grave. He comes into the world a feeble, helpless being; and commences as soon as he enters it, a course of dependence and affliction-of change and sorrow. His life is a race which is soon and hastily run, which has its commencement and its goal. It is swifter than a weaver's shuttle, and knows no pause or rest. The first step he takes in this course of human life, is a step forward and downward-forward to the boundary, and downward to the grave. It is a course always in progression, and made up of those brief, and hasty, and inconsiderable moments which are thrown away by many as worthless, and as if they formed no part of the whole sum of life. But brief as it is, it is chiefly occupied with vanity or sin. It presents only a succession of toils and sorrows which make the unhappy subject wish, that his course were finished ere it is half run-or else it is so sinned away, that the thought of its termination inflicts unutterable anguish. Numerous circumstances may vary the course of men through the gloomy valley of this mortal life; some of them affording a momentary gleam of pleasure, like flashes of sunshine through a stormy sky, but others heightening the gloom, and increasing the poignancy of his fears, like lightning in a tempestuous night, which only awakens the vision of the mariner to the destruction which waits before or pursues him behind. Yet all these contribute to fill up the measure of his mortal existence to wear away and consume his being, and to bring him onward to the termination of his brief career. We are all borne forward as on the current. of a vast and rapid stream;

and though some are careering in glory, others struggling with adverse winds and currents, some amused with the landscapes or busied with their companions, and

others with infinite difficulty steering their perilous course clear of shoals and rocks, and hardly preserving themselves and their frail bark from being engulfed in the treacherous billows; yet are all carried away as with a flood, and there is none abiding. The most observant and vigilant, as well as the thoughtless and the slumberer -all are embarked on a course in which there is no delay, no return. Onward, and still onward all are borne to the awful close; and whether we are mindful or not of the fact, we are going in the path which has been trodden by innumerable generations before us, who have finished the course of their mortal life and passed from the scenes of vanity, and toil, and affiction, which we are now for a little space occupying, but from which we are all hastily retiring.

Then there is the course of the sinner, and surely this calls for a review. Another year of a sinful life expired! Another year added to a sinful course! It is said in the volume of inspired truth, that men go astray from God even from the womb. So early do they begin a course of transgression. "All we like sleep have gone astray, we have turned every one to his own way." Sometimes the course of the sinner is but a short

one.

He is "driven away in his wickedness." In other instances it appears to be prosperous and protracted. Judgment lingers, and vengeance slumbers: he proceeds from step to step, from one degree to another, and " after his hardness, treasures up to himself wrath against the day of wrath." It is a deceitful course, treacherously leading on those who have entered it like a ball down a declivitydescending by its own weight, and increasing its velocity as it goes. From one sin the course of transgressors leads them to another, from small sins to greater: from Sabbath breaking to blasphemy-from lying to stealing

from gluttony to drunkennessfrom looking-on to concurrencefrom concurrence to co-operation

from co-operation to prime agency, until at length their conscience is seared as with a hot iron, and they are involved in that tremendous woe which the Almighty has pronounced on those that call light darkness, and darkness lightgood evil, and evil good. And though the course of the sinner should not be so rapidly and so obviously onward to destruction, and to himself may appear plain, natural, and straight forward, yet let every one be assured-this course is always and clearly downward-to deeper shades of degradation and iniquity here-and to darkness, torment, and death hereafter. God has said, "there is a way that seemeth right unto a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death." Our course through this world may be reputable and pleasant-smooth and natural, and yet it may be the way of estrangement from God, and its issue overwhelm the soul with the reality of that Scripture" the way of transgressors is hard."

Again, let us turn to view the course of the Christian. Another year spent in that course, which will be finished with joy, however its intermediate portions may have been beclouded with sorrow! And another year nearer to the sublime consummation! Let us review the career of the holy follower of Jesus. . What sort of a course is his? Sometimes a rugged and thorny, always a varied and difficult, one. It is the course of a pilgrim through inconveniences and privationsthrough fatigues of the way, and anxious thoughts of rest. It is the course of the traveller through lands remote and inhospitable, over deserts fierce and wastehowling, across rivers deep and dangerous, up mountains steep and rugged, and all these among beasts that are ravening for their

prey, and among men more savage than the wild beasts of the forest. Or it is the course of the mariner, bound indeed for a heaven of sweet and unbroken rest, but across a troubled ocean, amidst whirlwinds and gulfs, rocks and shoals, lightning and tempest. But the Christian's course is one which God has marked out for him, one into which divine grace introduces him, through which divine power supports him, and in the whole length of which the divine presence cheers and consoles him. It is a course of selfdenial, of active duty, of vigilant self-inspection, of holy warfare against spiritual enemies, of progress in knowledge, of growth in grace, and of education for the joys and occupations of another course to which it is introductory, but which shall have no end. The Christian's is a course of hope alternately struggling with fear, and rising into fruition, of faith sup pressing unbelief, and giving reality to things unseen, of the Spirit's influence in the heart, striving against the flesh, and bringing his thoughts, affections, and desires into the obedience of Christ. And of this course, we may say as the exiled David did of the sojourners towards Jerusalem, "they go from strength to strength, every one of them in Zion appeareth before God."

We may now advert to the course of the Christian minister; one which includes all the ordinary trials and vicissitudes of that we have just described, and adds many that are peculiar and much greater. I speak not of the course of hirelings, who rest at ease, or riot in luxury-of those shepherds who slumber on the lap of idleness, or walk the flowery paths of literature-who gather the fleece, but are alike regardless of the flock, and of the wolf, which catcheth and scattereth them; but of the painful, anxious, and laborious servant of Christ, who foregoes ease, and undergoes wearisome

toil, pours out earnest prayers, and studies fervent expostulations, sustains the contempt of the scoffing world, the ill-natured misrepresentations of the envious, the scorn of the conceited, the critical censures of those who are wise above what is wrritten, and the ingratitude of a large proportion, who neither know the value of their own souls, nor the worth of his faithful and affectionate services. A minister of Christ is running a public race; he holds a conspicuous station, and attracts many keen and observant eyes. Though he has all the common infirmities of human nature, he is expected to have many more virtues and graces than the private Christian. His failings meet with less pity, his infirmities find less sympathy, his errors excite more severity, and his falls are treated with more malice and censoriousness. Besides this, he is a more conspicuous mark for temptation. The power and subtilty of the enemy are more particularly directed against him, as against a leader and captain, and when he can be brought into sin, a pillar is shaken, a foundation is out of course. Yet the course of the Christian minister, though attended with unparalleled and constant trials, and performed through difficulties and obstacles unknown to the private Christian, is one of honour and glory. He is immediately engaged in the service of the highest and the best of masters. When he has done his work, he shall receive his reward. He is not labouring, like other men, in works that, however durable, will inevitably decay, and be forgotten, nor for purposes that are vain and transient, nor to furnish amusement for the destructive hand of time, nor to supply fuel for the conflagration of the last day; but he is watching for souls, for souls immortal, as one that must give account. How large a portion, not only of the last year, but of all the years of