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father looked hard at him; the question came unexpectedly. "What are you doing up here, John?" said he; "go to bed ; it's late."
John was silent, but went sorrowfully to bed. He got up the next morning still more sorrowful; he seemed quite mother child from what he generally was. He sat silently md sadly at the breakfast-table, with folded hands and bead down, without touching his milk. "What is the matter, John? why don't you eat ?" asked his mother.
John was silent.
After a little while, she asked again, " What is it, then, child?" He looked up at his mother for a moment with an expression of sorrow, and let his head sink again. His father and mother had finished, and were just going to clear away the breakfast, when his mother asked a third time, " Child, tell me what is the matter?"
Then the little boy answered, " I want so much to pray, mother; and if no one will pray with me, then I must pray alone."
This was too much for Anna. Tears filled her eyes. She hastened into the next room to tell her husband what the child had said. He had heard, however, what had passed, for the door was left open; and his conscience was touched. "John is right," said he, "and we are wrong." Then they fell on their knees together,—it was the first time in their lives, and they prayed a prayer, with few words but with many tears. It was the publican's prayer—" Ood be merciful to us, sinners.'" And He who haspromised that "if two of you shall agree on earth as touching any thing that they shall ask, it shall be done for them of my Father whicli is in heaven," was in the midst of them. He heard their petition, and He helped them.
The happy day had arrived when the little boy would no longer have to pray ulone, or the grandfather have to grieve. Father and mother now began to bend their knees together h-fore the Lord, and to beseech his mercy and forgiveness to ask for a new heart, and for grace to dedicate themselves and their child entirely to Him.
Churchman's Penny Magazine,
EXORDIUM TO PRAYER.
Let us not dream like the sluggard, nor mase like the worldling; nor gaze about like the idle, nor talk like the impertinent, nor laugh like the insolent; bat let us seriously mind what we are about: Let us pray.—Dr. Bis*.
Some men's hearts are narrow upwards and wide downwards; narrow as for God, but wide as for the world. They gape for the one, but shut themselves up against the other. The heart of a wicked man is widest downward. But the desires of the righteous, like the temple in Ezekiel's vision, are widest upward, and spread towards heaven.
Unprofitable discourse robbeth us of much time. Some simply employ their tongues in telling fabulous and filthy stories; others in discoursing of parties and opinions, and in talking of the faults and miscarriages of other men; some about the times, and inquiring after news. Bat let Christians, when they converse, imitate their Lord: the words that proceeded out of his mouth were gracious words.
Discontent is a sin that is its owti punishment, and makes men torment themselves; it makes the spirit sad, the body sick, and all enjoyments sour ; it arises not from the condition, but the mind. Paul was contented in a prison; Ahab was discontented in a palace: he had all the delights of Canaan, that pleasant land, the wealth of a kingdom, ths pleasures of a court, the honours and powers of a throne; yet all this avails him nothing without Naboth's vineyard.. Inordinate desires expose men to continual vexations; ar.d being disposed to fret, they will always find something to fret about. Matthew Henry. .
In the meditation of Divine mysteries, keep thy heart humble and thy thoughts holy; let philosophy not ha ashamed to be confuted, nor logic blush to be confounded.! What thou canst not prove, approve; what thou canst not' comprehend, believe; and what thou canst believe, admire: '•
I so shall thy ignorance he satisfied in thy faith, and thy doubts swallowed up with wonders. The best way to see daylight is to put out the candle. Quartet.
The devil, tempting Bonaventure, suggested to him that he was a reprobate, and persuaded him to drink in the pleasures of this life, because he was excluded from the future joys with God in heaven. Bonaventure, however, at' once answered, "No, not so, Satan; if I must not enjoy God after this life, let me enjoy Him as much as I can in this life." Sev. Thomas Brooks.
"HE CALLS HIS OWN SHEEP BY NAME."
O that your ears were anointed, and open to hear His voice! He calls you by your name, speaking to you by those Scriptures that are applicable to your character, experience, and need. Do you not often wonder at the marvellous appropriateness of some promise to your state,—at the richness, and fulness, and blessedness of the Gospel, which the opening of some word, like the opening of a door in heaven, unfolds before jour delighted soul? Ah, that is the good Shepherd calling you by your name, and leading you out of the desert into green pastures; out of the dry land, where no water is, to the side of the still waters.
ADVANTAGES OF IIUSHLIGHTS.
"I was bred," says Cobbett, "and brought up mostly by rushlight, and I do not find that I see less clearly than other people. My grandmother who lived to be pretty nearly ninety, never I believe burnt a candle in her house in her life. I know that I never saw one there; and she, in a great measure, brought me up. She used to get the meadow-rushes, such as they used to tie the hop shoots to the poles with. She cut them when they had attained their full substance, but when still green. The rush at this age consists of a body of pith with a green skin on it. You cut off both ends of the rush, and leave the prime part, which, on an average, may be a foot and a half long. Then you take off all the green skin except for about a filth part of the way round the pith. Thus it is a piece of pith, all but a little strip of skin on one part all the way up, which observe is necessary to hold the pith together all the way alongt
"The rushes being thus prepared, the grease is melted, and put in a melted state into something that is as long as the rushes are. The rushes are put into the grease, soaked in it sufficiently, then taken out and laid in a bit of bark taken from a young tree, so as not to be too large. This bark is fixed up against the wall by a couple of straps placed round it, and there it hangs for the purpose of holding the rashes.
"The rushes are carried about in the hand; but to sit by or to go to bed by, they are fixed on stands made for the purpose, some of which are high to stand on the ground, and some low to stand on the table. These stands have an iron contrivance, something like a pair of pliers, to hold the rush in, and the rush is shifted forward from time to time, as it burns down to the thing which holds it. Now these rushes give a better light than a common dip candle, and thus cost next to nothing, though the labourer may, with them, have as much light as he pleases, and though, without them, he must sit the far greater part of the winter's evenings in the dark, even if he expend fifteen shillings a year in candles. You may do any sort of work by this light."
A WONDERFUL CURE.
There was once an astonishing cure effected in the most singular manner. The patient was suffering from wounds and bruises, produced by the attack of an enemy. From head to foot there was not a sound and healthful inch of surface. All was like putrifying sores. Many attempts had been made to heal him. Medicine had been procured at much expense; physicians, far and near, had been consulted ; but the wounds showed no signs of healing. All said he must die.
At length a most lovely stranger came that way. In appearance he was of humble birth. He did not look like » physician; yet there was something so amiable, so modest, so trustworthy in his person, that he won attention and respect. He proposed to undertake for the poor sufferer. He confidently affirmed that he could cure him. He asked no pay. He would do it for the love he bore the patient. The wounded man consented. All things being arranged, a third person presented himself, and stood beside the physician. His look was stern and inflexible, and he held in his hand a heavy scourge. He cast a piercing eye upon the physieian, and the physician turned with a look of pity on the patient. The healing process commenced. The scourge was applied to the lovely form of the physician. Long "furrows" were made on his back. I looked, and lo! the wounds on the patient were healing. Every stripe on the lovely stranger healed a wound on the patient. I stood amazed, and, behold! the stranger was all wounded, and the patient was all healed! My feelings were moTed with wonder and gratitude.
I looked again. My eyes met those of my physician, for i" was that wounded man; and O, I beheld before me one whom I had abused ; towards whom I had been a most bitter enemy! There he was, all wounded for me, and I all healed. He cast on me a look of pity, of love, of forgiveness. I was about to speak, but he bowed his head, and said, "It is finished!" and died—died for his enemy—died for me! and as he fell, I saw on his "vesture" a name written—"King of kings." It was Jesus. By his stripes I was healed, Isa. iii. 5; 1 Pet. ii. 24. My heart broke; scalding tears of penitence coursed down my cheeks; and I vowed to be his to love him for ever!
FIVE CONSCIENCES. There are five kinds of consciences on foot in the world; first, an ignorant conscience, which neither sees or says anything, neither beholds the sins in the soul, nor reproves them; secondly, the flattering conscience, whose speech is worse than silence itself, which, though seeing sin, soothes men in the committing thereof; thirdly, the seared conscience, which has neither sight, speech, nor sense, in "men