work now engages the attention of the Father, Son and Spirit! Surely, then, it is ours to follow the gracious footstepsours to "work out our own salvation with fear," and ours, the blessed privilege to take our children also with us. They are to be taught no less diligently than ourselves. If we are to study His holy Word, so are they. If we are to frequent his house of prayer, so must they. All that is our duty to God is theirs also. In vain do we look for the Divine image in their hearts which was lost in our own! In vain to expect, the uplifted eye will turn naturally and lovingly to its source, but it is our work to direct it. We are not to "teach our children to say that which they do not feel." We are to teach them to feel! "Glow," say you? Simply by having our hearts in it, and by relying on that great Helper who has promised to restore the lost image, and open a channel through which the affections may flow back again to himself.

Let us go to India and sit down by that young Hindoo mother, with no Divine Helper and no Bible. See her embrace her beautiful boy as she takes him to the temple. Then she folds his little hands and gently presses them to the cold hard bosom of the idol of her soul's consecration, and in the fulness of her love she utters in sweet and tender accents the name "Shaumce, Shaumee!" With what rapture does she fold the young lisper to her bosom, as again the infant pronounces "Shaumee!" See! she lingers once more for the charmed name. There is no haste: nothing is pressing, so urgent as this-her idol worship! Verily, her heart is in it. But this is only the first step in a train of loving, attracting, binding influences, employed with ceaseless industry, till at length the smiling prattler becomes the darksouled pagan, bound with iron-spell to rites and superstitions which no earthly power can dissolve.

There are mothers who teach their children diligently God's holy Word, who take them to the house of God, who even pray for them, but amazing truth, lead them to no closet of their own, and never hear from their infant lips the name of Jesus! Equally well might we blot out the first of Sinai's

laws. Have we a right to select for ourselves the duties most convenient to teach our children? "Thou shalt," extinguishes all choice in the matter. It is imperative.

A young man, blessed with a mother Eunice, who diligently taught him all Christian duty save this one, grew to manhood without prayer-he was actually afraid to pray. God was a terror to his soul through all the years of childhood, and never did he lift a prayer but once. In a solitary place one night he was seized with a feeling of uncommon apprehension. Fears laid hold upon him, and in anguish of spirit he cried, "Oh God, have mercy on me!" He trembled at the strange words he had uttered. It was the first, and last prayer of childhood! In a subsequent revival of religion, he was arrested and convicted of sin, but he dared not pray. Driven almost to distraction, and talking with ministers and Christians, he found no relief until wellnigh exhausted with mental suffering; in extremity of distress he fell upon his knees and prayed to the terrible Being he had never been taught to approach. The uplifted eye saw Him arrayed in love! "Hearing the voice of the child," He hastened to his aid. A river was opened in the desert; he drank and thirsted no more. Pity that he had not before known the Great Name of eternal, unchangeable, illimitable love! Pity that in the nineteenth century there are yet ❝ disciples who forbid" them to come!

A young lady of my acquaintance gave me the following incident:

"From my earliest childhood I was taught to pray. My little closet, my Bible, and the daily verse, are among my first pleasant memories. I cannot, indeed, remember when my mother first retired with me at a certain hour, and spoke affectionately to me of that Father in heaven whom I should love and obey, and of the Saviour who died to redeem me; and when she pointed out my failures in duty and taught me how dreadful and fatal was the evil of sin: but when the habit was fully established I went close to my little closet, and I loved it well. I always went from it to my mother to

repeat my verse and receive her kiss, which always seemed more kind and tender than usual. But one sad morning-it was a Sabbath morning-my closet was forgotten. A new and beautiful dress, the gift of a friend, had filled my vain and busy heart with longing expectations. I was soon dressed, and not once did it enter my mind that my God was forgotten, till I entered the solemn house of prayer!. I took my seat and attempted to look up at the minister, but my heart was full and I burst into a flood of tears. My mother gently asked, 'What was the matter?' I could not speak. The rapid thought rushed through my mind, should die! What if He should forget me!

What if I

When the

services were closed I hastened home to my dear neglected spot, and never was the bitter lesson forgotten.

Rochester, Mass.

CHILDREN BROUGHT TO JESUS.

SEE then the King of kings take up, in succession, these Children in his arms, and lay his hands upon them-the ancient and solemn manner of blessing among the Jews. Surely this was no vain show, nor did the Messiah pour forth his prayer into the air, or pronounce his blessing in vain. And what should he request for them, but that they might be receiv ed among the number of the sons of God? For let us hear it again-What were the precise terms in which he had invited their approach? "Suffer the little children to come unto me and forbid them not; for of such is the kingdom of God." Who then would, or who dare, shut the gate upon those, or even neglect them, whom the Saviour will not permit to be forbidden? As Parents, oh! what could you desire more than this? Millions of infant souls, it seems, compose the family above; and assuredly, in point of number, such souls must form no insignificant proportion of the celestial millions. Book for Parents.