The hard of heart and far from righteousness were convicted, and a cry was heard, "Men and brethren, what shall we do?" Christians were startled and confounded. The Lord was amongst them, " and they knew it not;" and he had come at a time "when they looked not for him." It was not known that any special prayer had been made, or means used to insure this great blessing. Now, however, Christians wept, and confessed, and prayed, and the work went on. Within a few weeks there were born into the kingdom many happy souls.

Years rolled by. Another awakening occurred in the same place, but it was in answer to agonizing prayer in the closet, in the social circle, and in the house of God. One day the pastor, in conversation with an aged widow, a member of that church, alluded to the contrast between the two awakenings in regard to the manner in which they were developed. The one commenced apparently without prayer, and the other in answer to it. The widow's countenance glowed with animation, and her heart seemed full when she told of her uncommon exercises previous to, and about the time of the beginning of the first revival.

Her room was situated so as to overlook the whole scene of worldliness and wickedness that for a time triumphed in that. place, and she was stirred to take hold on God in an uncommon degree. She wept and prayed, and besought the Lord for the people, until the assurance came that he would for his name's sake, revive his work.

Here then was one who had asked for the blessing, but where was the other?

Not long after this conversation, while the pastor paused on a journey, and was conversing about the things of the kingdom, he heard of a pious woman in the neighbourhood whose husband was by others, as also by herself, supposed to be given up of God. She could not pray for him with any hope. But she prayed for others, and once in a special manner, a few years before, she had been led to pray with peculiar fervour for the wicked inhabitants of a certain place where she had never been, and probably had few if any acquaintances. On a comparison of circumstances and dates, the delighted pastor found that this woman, and the widow above named, had been agreed in asking at the same time for the same thing-an outpouring of the Spirit in -; and the Saviour's promise," Where two of you shall agree as touching anything ye shall ask, it shall be done unto you,"-had been most beautifully illustrated.

THE GOOD COUNSEL.

A TARTAR-CHIEF once rode with his court on a hunt. A Dervish met them on the road, and at once exclaimed successively with a loud voice— "Whoever gives me a hundred gold pieces, I will give him excellent advice." The Chief was inquisitive, and asked the Dervish wherein his good counsel consisted. "Thou shalt hear it, Sir," answered the Dervish, "when thou promisest that the hundred pieces shall be delivered to me." The Chief gave him the sum, and the Dervish said with a warning voice,—" attempt nothing until you have reflected maturely on the consequences." Then he proceeded on his way.

The attendants of the Chief laughed, and ridiculed the advice of the

Dervish, for which he had paid so dearly. Meanwhile the Chief pronounced a different opinion. "The good advice," said he, "which the Dervish has given me, is indeed a most ordinary rule of prudence; but although it is so universal, it is the least obeyed; and probably on this account, the Dervish imparted it to me so dearly. In future, it shall never escape my memory. It shall be intelligibly inscribed over all the doors of the palace-on all the walls of my apartments—and on all my furniture."

After this period, an ambitious Stadtholder resolved to remove the Chief and possess himself of the throne. He bribed a court Physician at a great sum; and he promised to bleed the Chief, as occasion might permit, with a poisoned lancet.

Such an occasion soon offered. But as the Physician was about to raise the silver bowl, which was to be the receptacle of the blood, the words "attempt nothing, until you have reflected maturely on the consequences," struck his eyes; he was startled, and with visible anxiety, laid aside the poisoned lancet, and took one of another kind.

The Chief perceived it, and asked why he laid aside the lancet. Receiving the answer, that it had a blunt point, he desired to examine it, while the agitation of the Physician seemed remarkable. When the Physician delayed to present it to him, the Chief sprung on his feet and exclaimed,—“ A candid confession only can rescue your life. This apparent anxiety renders you suspicious."

The Physician fell at the feet of the Chief, and confessed the conspiracy against his life, which the warning inscription on the silver bowl had deprived him of the power to execute.

"Have I paid the Dervish," said he, "too dearly for his advice?"

He granted the life of the Physician, and commanded the Stadtholder to be strangled. All sought the Dervish everywhere, that he might reward him yet more.

I MUST PRAY MORE.

I HABITUALLY feel this necessity; but the other day the conviction came to my mind with strange power, and I said with greater emphasis than ever, I must pray more. It struck me with indescribable wonder that so little time should be employed, and so little energy expended in prayer, even by those who are prompt to acknowledge its dignity as a privilege, and its efficacy as a means of obtaining good. It is not now as it was in patriarchal times. We do not pray as Jacob did. He wrestled until the breaking of the day. Yes, his praying was wrestling, and it lasted all night. We put forth no such power in prayer, and we do not allow the repose of our nights to be interrupted by it. It is not because our wants are all supplied that we are so feeble and brief in prayer-nor is it that God's bounty is exhausted. We are as poor as creatures ever were, and He as rich and munificent as ever. His hand is not shortened, neither is his ear heavy.

Only think how small a portion of each successive day is spent in prayer. I wonder if any Christian ever thought of it without being so

dissatisfied as to resolve that he would spend more time in praying the next day. Just add together the minutes you daily occupy in supplication, and in kindred exercises of devotion, scriptural reading, and meditation, and see to what it will amount. Will the sum total be one hour? What! less than one hour a day in devotion! not one twenty-fourth part of time! And is this all which can be afforded? Let us see. How much time has business? Could not a little be saved from business for prayer? Do you not give an hour or two more to business every day than it absolutely requires? Then how much time has sleep for the refreshment of the body? Might not some little time be redeemed from sleep and spent in prayer, with more profit to the whole man than if it were given to repose ? Would not the soul thereby obtain a rest, which would most favourably react on the body? I do not believe that the Psalmist suffered anything in the day for the hours of night he spent in communing on his bed with his own heart and with God. I do not believe that even "tired nature" had any reason to complain of that interruption of the repose due to her. I suspect he enjoyed as good health, and was as vigorous through the day as we, though he rose at midnight to give thanks unto God, and prevented the dawning of the morning with his prayer. Such interruptions of sleep are no loss even to the body. I am sure, and I think no one can doubt, that considerably more time might be afforded to prayer than is actually given to it. If we take none from business and none from sleep, yet could not some be spared from the table, or conversation, which is not always the most profitable? Perhaps some of us spend more time in barely receiving the body's nourishment, than we do in the entire care of the soul! But not to dwell to tediousness on this topic, you have only to look back on a day, to perceive how much of it might have been spent in prayer and devotion, without interfering with any thing which ought not to be interfered with.

Seeing then that we can pray more- -that time can be afforded for it -I am amazed that we do not pray more. If prayer were nothing but a duty, we ought to pray more. We do not pray enough to discharge the mere obligation of prayer. We are commanded to pray more than we do-aye, to pray "without ceasing." But prayer, while it is a duty, is rather to be viewed by us as a privilege. And oh! it is such a privilege. What a favour that we may petition God, and ask of him eternal life, with the confidence that we shall not ask in vain! How strange it is that we no more value and exercise this privilege of prayer! It is astonishing that the sense of want, or the desire of happiness, does not carry us oftener to the throne of grace, and that we should ever require to be incited to prayer by the stimulus of conscience. Oh! I wonder that we do not oftener go in unto the King, whose gracious sceptre is ever extended towards us. I wonder we have not more frequent and longer interviews with our heavenly Father. It is strange we do not pray more, when prayer is the easiest way of obtaining good. What is so easy as to ask for what we want? How could we receive blesings on cheaper terms? Surely it is easier than to labour, and less expensive than to buy. It may be hard to the spirit to ask of men. To beg of them you may be ashamed. But no such feeling should keep you aloof from God. He giveth and upbraideth not.

But prayer is not merely the easiest way of obtaining good, it is the only way of obtaining the greatest of all good. The subordinate neces

saries of life we get by labour or purchase; but the things we most need are given in answer to prayer. The " one thing needful" is a divine donation. We ask, and we receive it. Now we labour much. Why do not we pray more? Do we seek a profitable employment? None is so profitable as prayer. No labour makes so large a return. If you have an unoccupied hour-and you have many, or might have, by redeeming time you cannot employ it in any way that shall tell so favourably on your interests as by filling it up with petitions to God. Yet, when we have such an hour, how apt we are to spend it in unprofitable intercourse with our fellows, rather than in communion with God. It is wonderful that we talk so much, when "the talk of the lips tendeth only to penury;" and pray so little, when " prayer brings a quick return of blessings in variety."

Is there anything attended by a purer pleasure than prayer? One who knew, said, "It is good for me to draw near to God: "—and again, "It is good to sing praises unto our God: for it is pleasant, and praise is comely." All the exercises of devotion are as full of pleasure as they are abundant in profit.

But prayer is not only a means of getting good: it is such a means of doing good, that I wonder our benevolence does not lead us to pray more. We are commanded " as we have opportunity," to do good unto all men. Now prayer affords us the opportunity of being universal benefactors. Through God we can reach all men. We can make ourselves felt by all the world, by moving the hand that moves it. In no other way can we reach all. Prayer makes us, in a sense, omnipresent and omnipotent. It prevails with Him who is both.

The world needs your intercessions. It lies in wickedness. Zion needs them. She languishes because few pray for her peace; few come to her solemn assemblies. Whose family needs not the prayers of its every member? Who has not kindred that are out of Christ? With such a call upon us for prayer, so urgent, and from so many quarters, I wonder

we pray no more.

I must pray more, then I shall do more- -more for God, and more for myself; for I find that when I pray most, I accomplish more in the briefer intervals between my devotions, than when I give all my time to labour or study. I am convinced there is nothing lost by prayer. I am sure nothing helps a student like prayer. His most felicitous hourshis hours of most successful application to study-are those which immediately follow his seasons of most fervent devotion. And no wonder. Shall the collision of created minds with each other, produce in them a salutary excitement, and shall not the communion of those minds with the infinite Intelligence much more excite them, and make them capable of wider thought and loftier conceptions?

I must pray more, because other Christians, whose biography I have read, have prayed more than I do.

God is disposed to hear more prayers from me than I offer; and Jesus, the Mediator, stands ready to present more for me.

If I pray more, I shall sin less.

I will pray more. The Lord help me to fulfil this resolution!

CHRISTIAN MEEKNESS REWARDED.

A DISSENTING minister was, some years ago, engaged in delivering a charge at an ordination in Northamptonshire. With a view to encourage the minister ordained to persevere in his work, whatever discouragements he might meet with, he said he should relate a few facts he had lately learned from a friend, though he had not been told the names of the parties to whom they related.

A minister, having to travel, was pressed to convey a note to a pious farmer on his road, and entreated by the friend who sent the note to spend a night at the farmer's house. When, however, he arrived there, he found the farmer in a surly, morose temper; he treated him as though he were an impostor, and more than once the minister almost resolved to take his horse, and ride on: but was prevented, partly by feeling he was called to exemplify a spirit of Christian meekness, and partly because he was at a considerable distance from any town. At length, after his host had manifested very strange conduct, the minister was asked to close the duties of the day with prayer. He did this in a manner so devout, fervent, and affectionate, as entirely to overwhelm the farmer in grief that he had treated him with so much coldness. The farmer, before his whole family, entreated the minister to forgive his conduct; this was very readily done-but the good man could not forgive himself. He was desirous to have an opportunity of showing the sincerity of his sorrow, and urged the minister to stay another day, and to preach the next night in his house. This was to the minister very inconvenient, but the other would take no denial. He stayed, he preached, and the following morning departed, "And what," said this minister, when relating the circumstance at the ordination, "my brother, think you was the result? No less than three branches of the farmer's family were brought to a knowledge of themselves and the Saviour, under the sermon delivered in consequence of this mysterious unkindness.”

The congregation, who heard all this, were forcibly impressed; but the effect on the mind of the newly-ordained minister was overpowering. He blushed, turned pale, fainted, and was carried out into the air. When he recovered, it was found that he was the very minister of whom his friend had been speaking; that he had never till then known the effect of his sermon; and that his heart had been overcome by a sense of joy and gratitude.

To the Editor of the Methodist New Connexion Magazine.

I BEG leave to send you the following Query:

Ought an unconverted person to be allowed to labour as a Teacher in a Sabbath-school?"

If any of your Correspondents will discuss this Question in the pages of your valuable Magazine, they will confer a favour upon

Yours truly,

ALIQUIS.