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spiritual things interests them. No wonder , he will do his; if he does not, then he that when you, and others of the same ought to leave.'” spirit, are doing so much to engage their interest, he should find it difficult to fasten their thoughts upon the subject of religion.” “But he does not visit as much as we
CAUSE OF BARRENNESS. wish our minister to do.”
“İ DON'T see why there are no conver« This, again, is bad. It may be that 1 sions in our Sabbath school,” said Mr. you are right--that he ought to go, but I Mills to his wife, as they sat with their have known a minister refrain from visiting | little family around the tea-table one Sabsome places as often as he otherwise would, bath evening. because when there he seldom heard any “I am sure the school has never been thing but corn, cattle, and hogs, and not more prosperous than since you took the being in sympathy with these, he preferred charge of it,” she replied ; "it has nearly their society but seldom. But as this is doubled its numbers, and you have secured
not your habit, we will pass on to another a very capable set of teachers; and have E point."
given them the example of great punctuality “He does not pray with us when he in attendance.” comes."
“Yes, I have not been absent from my “Does not ? Strange! Who is priest post one Sabbath during the year. The in your house? Whose duty is it to offer teachers and scholars are faithful and - up the morning and evening sacrifice ? It prompt in their attendance; the lessons E certainly is not his. He has just as much are well studied; and, to a stranger, the
right to take the direction of your family school would appear all that could be meal, as your devotions. He will pray when wished. But I cannot feel that we are you ask him, or he will sit quietly while realizing the results of our labour, unless
you pray, and never utter one word of com we see the dear children and youth coming F: plaint, because it is in your house; and it to Christ. Good seed has been sown;
is both your right and your duty to rule but it does not spring up and bear fruit as there."
I expected. I am puzzled to account for “But he often fails to visit the sick of his it.” congregation."
« Papa," said little Charlie, who had "Is it possible? The càse grows worse | listened only to the last sentence of the ; and worse. We may as well have the law, conversation, “basn't your seed come : and condemn him at once. Here it is : 'Is
any sick among you ? let him call for the ** No, my child." elders of the church, and let them pray “ Was the seed good, papa ? " over him.' This is the scripture, and the “Yes, Charlie, the very best.” very best you can find upon this subject. “Was it sowed in the spring, when the Supposing the elders here spoken of are ground was tender, papa ?” ministers, where rests the first duty ? Is it "It certainly was, my son.” 'not with the sick, or their friends? And Charlie paused a moment, and thought. did you call for him ? Did you take any He had a tiny garden which he called his means to let him know that there was a own. His father had prepared the ground, demand for his services as a minister in and given him a few choice seeds, and your family? If not, what right have you told him how to take care of them. The to grumble? The fault is on your part. little boy had followed his father's direcYou did not do your duty; and till yours tions, and was now rejoicing in the success was done he had none to do. Upon the of his labour. Hence his earnest question doing of yours 'rests the obligation on his and his thoughtful brow. But he was part, and because you neglected your duty not long in solving the puzzle to his own She ought to leave. Strange logic, this ! | satisfaction. Why don't you tell your physician that he *0, papa," et lergth he said, "you ought to leave,' if, perchance, your child have not watered enough. When I planted falls and hurts his nose, and he is not my garden you told me my seed was good, there in a moment, uncalled? You might, and if I sowed it when the ground was with just as much propriety, blame him for tender, and watered it well, it would not coming when not called, as your minis come up. And when we had that dry ter. Do your duty, and if he is a good man time last June, you said I must water it
every day, and I did. It must be, papa, l wakeful with terror, now urging his mother that you haven't watered yours enough.” | to leave him to his fate, now dreading lest
“ Charlie is right,” said his father, to she should take him at his word, and leave whom the artless words of his little boy him behind. had brought a needed reproof; “I have “The neighbours are just going away ;I sown good seed in my moral garden, it is hear them no longer,” he said. “I am so true ; but I have relied too much upon selfish, I have kept you here. Take the the quality of the seed, and the favourable little girls with you; it is not too late. circumstances of the planting, and have And I am safe ; who will hurt a poor, sadly neglected to water it with tears of helpless boy ?" earnest supplication. Even the precious "We are all safe,” answered the mother; seed of Divine truth, though sown in the “God will not leave us, though all else for spring-time of life in the tender heart of sake us." childhood and youth, will not spring up “But what can help us ?" persisted the unless watered by the Spirit in answer to boy. “Who can defend us from their fervent prayer. Henceforth, God helping cruelty ? Such stories as I have heard of me, I will not labour less, but I will pray the ravages of these men! They are not
men, they are wild beasts. O, why was 1 Is not here a lesson for the parent, the made so weak,- so weak as to be utterly Sabbath school teacher, the minister of useless ? No strength to defend, no strength the Gospel, and every worker in the vine even to fly.” yard of the Lord ?
“There is a sure wall for the defenceless, answered his mother ; “God will build us up a sure wall."
“ You are my strength now," said the GOD IS A SURE DEFENCE.
boy; “I thank God that you did not
desert me. I am so weak, I cling to you. In the campaign of Napoleon in Russia,
Do not leave me, indeed! I fancy I cam while the French army was retreating from see the cruel soldiers hurrying in. We are Moscow, there lay in a poor low cottage, too poor to satisfy them, and they will pour in a little village, an invalid boy. This
their vengeance upon us! And yet you village was exactly in the course of the re- ought to leave me! What right have I to treating army, and already the reports of
keep you here? And I shall suffer more if its approach had reached and excited the I see you suffer." terrified inhabitants. In their turn, they “God will be our refuge and defence, began to make preparations for retreat ; still said the mother; and at length, wat for they knew there was no hope for them
low, quieting words, she stilled the anxious from the hands of the soldiery, seeking boy, till he too slept, like his sisters. ? their own preservation, and who gave no morning came of the day that was to bring quarter. Every one who had the strength
the dreaded enemy. The mother to fly, fled; some trying to take with them
children opened their eyes to find that their worldly goods, some to conceal them. “sure wall” had indeed been built The little village was fast growing deserted. their defence. The snow had begun to Some burnt their houses, or dismantled
the evening before. Through the nigolo them. The old were placed in waggons, had collected rapidly. A high wina and the young hurried their families away blown the snow in drifts against th with them.
house, so that it had entirely covered! But in the little cottage there was none low shed behind protected the way of this bustle. The poor crippled boy could outhouse where the animals were, and not move from his bed. The widowed few days the mother and her childre mother had no friends near enough to spare themselves alive within their cottage: a thought for her in this time of trouble, in and concealed by the heavy bart when every one thought only of those near of snow. est to him, and of himself. What chance It was during that time that the op in flight was there for her and her young children, among whom one was the poor
scourge passed over the village.. crippled boy?
house was ransacked: all the weal.com It was evening, and the sound of distant
deprived of their lúxuries, and t. voices had died away. The poor boy was | low-roofed cottage lay shelterou
ones robbed of their necessaries.
all the wealthier one xuries, and the poorer becessaries. But the
its wall of snow which in the silent night from the moment that I first broached the had gathered around it. God had pro forbidden topic. “O, sir," said she, “ you tected the defenceless with a “sure wall!”. must be very careful what you speak about
to my husband!” I told her I was not careful. I intended to do him no harm, and I was not afraid he would do me any.
After a few minutes' absence, he reTHE LION AND THE LAMB. turned, and said to me, “I have concluded
to hear what you have to say. I don't let OLD Ralph Isham was the leading busi C-, people talk to me; I know them too ness-man of the village of C
well. Perhaps if you were one of my He had an imperious temper, two hun- | neighbours, I should not let you do it. dred-weight of bone and muscle, and an | But as you are comparatively a stranger, overbearing manner that usually carried I'll hear you." everything before it. Few men cared to I preached the Gospel as well to him cross his path or dispute with him. Reli as I could. In the midst of my effort, gion, which he hated, seemed to cower in in came Dr. M--, an old steady-going his presence like the rest, and left his professor of religion, who aimed to do haughty fortress of self-will unassailed. nothing that was out of the way, or, as Young Mr. Trumbull, of that place, who some one remarked, that would be particuwas about departing as a missionary, feeling larly in the way. He sat right down anxious that something should be done for between us. And now, I thought, my work the proud sinner, but hardly knowing what is frustrated. Still, one chance was leftto do, asked me if I would venture to I would try to bring the doctor himself approach him. Three times, he said, he had into the field. I addressed myself to him, undertaken it, and had gone as far as his repeating the substance of what I had adgate, yet never found courage to enter. vanced, and appealed to him whether such
I readily undertook the service, and re was not his belief. paired at once to his house. He opened “ Certainly,” he replied, “I believe that the door in person, at my knock, and most heartily." seemed to await my request.
Turning short upon him, said the master "Do you know me, Mr. Isham ?"
of the house, “You-you believe that ?" “No, sir, I have no recollection of you." “ Certainly,” repeated the doctor.
I had done business with him, so I “How long have you believed that?" merely added, “ M-, of B—.” “O yes!” "Twenty-five years, at least," was the was the reply; “I remember--walk in."
reply. I walked in, took the offered chair, and " Then why did you never come here and told him what I had come for. His face tell me so, like a man?” thundered the im. darkened with anger, as he answered : perious host. "You have your opinion on that subject Dr.
h ad very little answer to -I have mine. I am willing to let other make, and I seized the opportunity to promen enjoy their opinion, and I mean to ceed, with the marked attention of both, apenjoy mine ; I allow no man to interfere | pealing to the doctor for the truth of my with it."
positions, and thereby bringing down upon Said I, “ Mr. Isham, I know something him repeated explosions of surprise and about you that is not consistent with this reproof from the irascible old man. But declaration. You are not a man who likes his mood softened as we conversed. to let others enjoy their own opinion. No The interview lasted an hour and a half, man in C—- interferes with the opinion and before we parted, Ralph Isham asked and action of others, in politics, so boldly me to pray with him! From that hour he and effectually as yourself. You like to was another man. have men think and vote as you think | I was obliged to return to my own village, right, and you make them do it, by every | but the next I heard of him was, that the means in your power. Now I have my | man to whom none dared speak of religion, opinion, as you say, about the claims of had thrown open his house for religious religion, and I am anxious to urge it upon meetings, confessed his past guilt and his you.” He rose abruptly and strode out of present repentance to his pastor, and soli
cited him to appoint prayer-meetings at his His wife sat by, trembling like a leaf house as often as he thought proper. Never,
as he affirmed, till that evening, had he felt | imparted to his Christian friends a good there was a power and a reality in the reli. hope through grace that he had indeed gion which we profess. He lived but a surrendered soul and spirit humbly to the short time after this, giving evidence which Lord.
Gems from Golden Mines.
| night, how sweet would their anscolding HE KNOWS IT ALL.
forgiveness have been to him! It woui WHEN a child has been away all day I have been all the sweeter because all të: long, playing truant, and the afternoon time they knew his guilt. comes, and with it hunger and the necessity Now the apostle says, “ With your guilt. of shelter, he must go home ; and he goes with your trouble, go before God." H. towards his father's house, thinking to him. knows all. What nobody else knows, b: self what plausible lie to tell ; how he can knows. He knows what even the wife o make tattered truth seem like an unrent your bosom does not know. He know: garment. And so, with an ill-feigned ap what has never been divulged to any living pearance of innocence, and perhaps with a soul. Wicked thoughts and intentions forced smile on his face, he enters the door, connection with your business, which trying to look as if he were not a guilty | perhaps no man knows except yourself, bt child. He runs with alacrity to perform knows. And when you feel an impulse ti every errand imposed upon him. His con- | go before God, do not say, “I would go ; duct, however, is suspicious; for he is too but for that crime.” He knew of that crime good for an innocent child. He thinks before he invited you to go to him. Do not nothing is known of his disobedience. But say, “I would go; but for that unwashed while he sits with the family at tea, the lust.” He has known that last from the burden on his mind grows heavier and
beginning. “All things are saked and heavier; and he says to himself, “ They open unto the eye of Him with whom we are very kind to me, and if I thought that have to do.” “Let us therefore," says the they knew it all, and they were so kind, apostle, “come boldly to the throne of how happy I should be!” He expects grace, that we may obtain mercy, and tos that they will find it out, and that then grace to help.” Grace to help that is it. there will be a time. Now his father and grace to help you out of your sin. Let mother are pleasant toward him, but he one, then, who has a sense of his sinful. thinks that by-and-by it will come out, and ness, who is truly repentant, and who that then will follow chastisement and striving to do better, hesitate to go to God, trouble. And that great undisclosed guilt saying, “ Have mercy upon me, and help in the soul, that account yet to be settled, me.”-H. W. Beecher. takes away all the joys of his home, and makes the evening a torment. But if, when he came in, his mother had stolen behind him, and said to him in a gentle tone, “We know it all, my child; we are
MY DARLINGS' SHOES. sorry; but we shall say nothing about it ; | God bless the little feet that can never es! we shall let it pase," the child, as soon as astray, he found that it was all known and for. For the little shoes are empty in the closes given, and that he was the recipient of so laid away! much love, not because they did not kuow Sometimes I take one in my hand, for it, but because knowing it they caw suffi ting till I see cient reasons why it should be passed by, | It is a little half-worn shoe, not legat and not laid to his account, how sweet to enough for me; him would have been his father's and mo. And all at once I feel a sense of bitter ! ther's kindness! It would have brought and pain, tear s to his eyes as it had never done be As sharp as when two years ago it cuts: fore. And when he went to his couch at heart in twain.
O little feet that wearied not, I wait for all cases, be in what is more deliberate, viz., them no more,
in the want of any downright, honest For I am drifting with the tide, but they casting of the family in the type of religion, have reached the shore;
as if that were truly accepted as the first And while the blinding tear-drop wets these thing. little shoes so old,
See just what is wanted, by what is so I try to think my darlings' feet are treading very commonly not found. First of all, the streets of gold.
mere observance kind of piety, that which And so I lay them down again, but always prays in the family to keep up a reverent turn to say
show, or acknowledgment of religion, is not "God bless the little feet that now so surely enough. It leaves everything else in the cannot stray.”
life to be an open space for covetousness,
and all the gay lustings of worldly vanity. And while I thus am standing, I almost
It even leaves out prayer; for the saying Ś seem to see
prayers is, in no sense, really the same Two little forms beside me, just as they
thing as to pray. Contrary to this, there used to be!
should be some real prayer, for the meanTwo little faces lifted with their sweet and
ing's sake, and for the shell of religious tender eyes
decency, in which the semblance may be ? Ah me! I might have known that look was
kept. This latter kind looks, indeed, for E born of Paradise.
no return of blessing from God, but only E I reach my arms out fondly, but they clasp
for a certain religious effect, accomplished the empty air,
by the drill of repetitional observance. There is nothing of my darlings, but the
There is also another kind of drill someE shoes they used to wear..
times attempted in the prayers of families, O, the bitterness of parting cannot be done
which is much worse, viz., when the prayer
is made every morning, to hit this or that Till I see my darlings walking where their
child in some matter of disobedience, or feet can never stray ;
some mere peccadillo into which he has When I no more am drifted upon the
fallen. Nothing can be more irreverent to surging tide,
God, than to make the hour of prayer a · But with them safely landed upon the
time of prison discipline for the subjects of river side ;
it, and nothing could more certainly set Be patient, heart! while waiting to see
them in a fixed aversion to religion, and to their shining way,
everything sacred.-Dr. Bushnell. For the little feet in the golden street can never go astray.
It is the bubbling spring which flows. FAMILY PRAYER.
gently, the little rivulet which runs along THE grand infirmity of family prayers, day and night by the farm-house that is or of what is sometimes called family re useful, rather than the swollen flood or ligion, is that it stands alone in the house, warring cataract. Niagara excites our
and has nothing put in agreement with it. wonder, and we stand amazed at the power, Whereas, if it is to have any honest the greatness of God there, as he “pours
aty, as many things as possible should it from the hollow of his hand.” But one be soberly and deliberately put in agree | Niagara is enough for the Continent or the
with it; for, indeed, it is a first point world; while the same world requires eligion itself, that by its very nature it thousands and tens of thousands of silver ales presidingly over everything desired, fountains, and gently flowing rivulets, that tone, thought, planned for, and prayed for water every farm and meadow, and every in the life. It is never to finish itself up
garden, and that shall flow on every day by words, or supplications, or even by and night, with their quiet, gentle beauty. sacraments, but the whole custom of life and
So with the acts of our lives. It is not haracter must be in it by a total consent by great deeds, like those of the martyrs, of the man. And more depends on this a.
that good is to be done; it is by the daily cimes, than upon any occasional | quiet virtues of life, the Christian temper,
or passionate flights, or agon- | the good qualities of relatives and friends, The grand defect will, in almost 1 and all, that good is to be done.
hundred times, than up fervours, or pas izings. The grand der