can reach a heart but a heart. The Spirit never indites a heartless prayer. One Sabbath evening a father knelt down with his household in familyprayer, and, touched with the sight of two dear little ones by his side, his prayer became unusually tender and fervent; soon was heard a sobbing; it was a little heart deeply affected by the father's earnestness. 2. The language used is often unsuitable. We remember having read a book for the young, in which the writer went out of his way to find hard words, and put at the bottom of the pages foot-notes explanatory of them! Very recently a friend heard a villagepreacher state that "the Jews stoned, that is, lapidated our Lord." The wrong word conceals the idea, and misrepresents it. "The preacher sought to find out acceptable words ;" and so will the pious, educated teacher. What a model of simplicity is the Lord's Prayer. Get the right word, and put it in the right place, if you wish the children to follow in your prayer. 3. Some prayers are tedious because of their length. "The long prayer in the pulpit is not so trying to the patience, as the long prayer in the school. Without saying how many minutes should be allowed, we would say to the teacher, "Let thy words be few." Often a short prayer contains more than a long one. If you would say all that is necessary in a few minutes, learn to leave out all that is irrelevant, all fine words, all personalities, all mannerisms, all bits of sermonizing, all explanations, all conclusions but one, all vain repetitions of God's name, as, for example, the distressingly frequent utterance of the words, "O God!" Use the pruninghook, and cut off redundances-those deadening excrescences. Let the words be simple, the sen tences short, and separated by slight pauses, that others may not only listen, but follow in the prayer. As there are several prayers on the Sabbath, the topics may be distributed rather than repeated. 4. The matter of the prayer is sometimes unsuitable. In praying with children, only as we express their wants will they join in the supplication. Proper allusions to children's sorrows will touch a chord. We should make a confession of sin, but take care not to charge children with particular sins of which they are not guilty. To some confessions there can be no response, and often will there be awakened the feeling of false accusation. The writer was once in a court of justice, when a person wishing to help a prisoner at the bar, made the following slip :“Possibly he may occasionally be the worse for drink, of which sin we are all guilty!" and a voice was soon heard in the court, "Please to speak for yourself." So allude to children's faults as to awaken the response, "Remember not the sins of my youth." How many errors in public prayer would be avoided if the leader of prayer rose, not to say something, but because he had something to say. And how can this something be known and felt so well as by rehearsing his prayer, so to speak, first in his own closet? Such a preparation would make him feel his solemn responsibility, and deepen his humility. The subject of this paper might well be made the topic of conversation at a teachers' meeting. What a time of refreshing to the Sunday-school will it be when the opening prayer shall be so valued that every teacher and every child shall strive to be in time to join in it.-The Sunday-School Teacher, SCHOOL SKETCHES. PROCRASTINATION. ONE fine Sunday afternoon, in October, 1860, the teachers and children of a Sunday-school in the southern district of the Metropolis were waiting for the gates to be opened, when the attention of the teacher of the senior girls' class was directed to a gaily dressed young person, who was passing along the end of the street. She had at one time belonged to the class, but had not been to the school for some months. The lady who formerly had charge of the class, on leaving for India, had specially committed her to the care of this teacher; but, as yet, all efforts to persuade her to return to the school had been unsuccessful. Whenever the subject was named, she put it off till another time. With the hope that this might be a turning-point for good, the teacher went to speak to her, and gave her another invitation to come and hear of Jesus. She made several frivolous excuses, and at length said she was going to a pleasure-party on the river with some companions, so she could not come that day. With the feeling that it might be " never," the writer affectionately warned her of the consequences of Sabbathbreaking, and pleaded with her to give up those companions, and to change her course; telling her of the love of Jesus, and warning her of the consequences of sin. now or Alas! remonstrance and entreaty were alike of no avail; her only answer was, "Perhaps I will next Sunday." The conversation closed, with an appeal to give herself to the Saviour, whether she came again to the school or not. She passed on her way. The teacher and her class went into school, but her thoughts and prayers followed the poor girl. Nothing is known of the occurrences of the afternoon. Fanny re turned home in the evening apparently well; she spent the night with her sister, and went to her work at a dressmaker's, on Monday. While there, it was noticed that she appeared to be in low spirits, and in the afternoon she was seized with what seemed to be a fainting fit. When she recovered, her mistress and one of the work-people accompanied her home. They had not proceeded far, when an epileptic attack came on. With great difficulty she was conveyed home, and every means of recovery tried, but without success, each approach to it being followed by a relapse; so that her mother, when, in response to a hasty message, she hurried to her child, could not recognise her. Attack succeeded attack till about midnight, when she died without the slightest sign of intelligent consciousness. From the nature of the seizure she could not have been aware of her danger, and it was impossible to address any word of advice then, or to ask her any questions. The writer learned from Fanny's mother, that her daughter had gone on the excursion against her wishes, and in defiance of warning. The poor woman, herself a Christian, lamented deeply that, while she had tried to teach her children rightly, she had neglected to curb their will in early childhood; for after they grew up, and she wished to restrain them, her efforts were only met by scorn. Her daughter's last words, when parting from her on the Saturday, had been most unkind and rude. READER! We would ask you to ponder this sad narrative. Are you a parent? we would urge you not to be content with telling your children what is right, but resolutely insist that in childhood their will shall yield to yours. Could you have seen the agony of that mother while speaking of her child, you would, we think, have resolved to do all in your power to restrain your children. The danger of trifling with the command, "Be not unequally yoked together with unbelievers," is also illustrated in the history of this family. Fanny's mother had married, as a second husband, one who was a stranger to God, and whose bad conduct reduced them from comparative competence to poverty. To his influence she ascribed the first open deviation of her daughter from the right path. But it is chiefly to those who, like the subject of this narrative, are young, and bright, with life before them,-the senior scholars in our schools, who know the right path, and intend some time to walk in it, that we would especially address a few words of warning. We would say, "Do not put off. 'To-day, if ye will hear His voice, harden not your hearts.'" Fanny intended to do better on the following Sabbath; but, like many more, she resolved to have her own way first. Little did she think that before another Sabbath she would be in eternity; and that a week later, at the same hour as that when she rejected the offered warning and tripped off to join her thoughtless companions, a few sad mourners would be following her remains to the cemetery. What an illustration of God's word, "He that, being often reproved, hardeneth his neck, shall suddenly be destroyed, and that without remedy." You have now another warning, another invitation addressed to you. Perhaps it may be the last. Do not reject it. We would say, "Come at NARRATIVES "IN SEASON, OUT OF SEASON." An earnest Christian, travelling in a steamboat on one of our large rivers, distributed among the passengers a quantity of tracts. Among those to once to the Saviour; come to Him with the simple, prevailing prayer, 'Lord, if Thou wilt, Thou canst make me clean.' 'My Father, Thou art the Guide of my youth.' .." So shall you be guided by Him here; and, whether life or death, joy or sorrow, be your portion, you will have an unchanging Friend. Perhaps this account may fall into the hands of some who, like Fanny, are tempted to break God's holy day, and to forsake the society of those who would lead them to Jesus. Satan has many ways of setting evil before us as good, and good as evil. Sayings such as these he freely suggests and sanctions: "I need a little fresh air; I am so closely confined during the week, there can be no harm in a little stroll, just for once;" or, "I am too old to come to school; or, "Next Sunday I will go, for I do not mean always to neglect God's house;" or, "Some time I will think seriously." Thus he seeks to entrap the unwary. O do not listen to his suggestions. This may be the turning-point of your history, for good or evil. Much rather would we tell you only of the love of Jesus; but truth, and love to your soul, forbid it. "There is a way which seemeth right unto a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death." This sad, but true, account is written with the hope that some may be induced to take warning, and resolve to give up their own evil way, not tomorrow, but Now. "Behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation. AND INCIDENTS. B. whom this good man offered his tracts was a bold infidel; who, taking the tract from the hand of his fellowtraveller, folded it, and, cutting it into scraps, scattered them about the deck, uttering, as he did so, an expression of contempt for such things. One little scrap lodged upon his coat; and, putting out his hand to brush it aside, his eye fell upon the words "God" and "eternity." He started, for the words had pierced his heart. He tried, by resorting to intoxication, and by mingling in gay scenes, to shut out the terrible thoughts which those words brought to his soul; but go where he might, engage in business, or mingle in what society he would, still "God" and "eternity" rang in his ears, and he found no peace for his troubled spirit until he found it in Jesus. Then, with a zeal like that of the Apostle Paul, he went forth, preaching the faith which once he destroyed. A stranger, stopping for the night in one of our cities, found his way to the house of prayer. He was not a Christian, and scarcely knew what impulse moved him to seek such a place. It was early, and he found only the sexton present. Soon a plain man entered and took a seat by the stranger, to whom, after addressing a few commonplace remarks, he said, "I trust you love the Saviour." The stranger was deeply moved. Never before had any one manifested so much interest in his spiritual welfare; and he thought, "If this man, who knows nothing of me, cares for my soul, shall not I be interested? If Jesus loved me with a love so great that He was willing to die for me, shall I not love Him in return? If He gave His life for me, shall I not give Him my heart?" He did give himself to Jesus, and could soon say, "I do love the Saviour." A lady engaged in a benevolent work met a young soldier, who was living far from God. As one that cared very for his soul, she warned him to "flee from the wrath to come," and pointed him to Jesus as the sinner's only Refuge; at the same time giving him a Bible, and urging him to give heed to its counsels and its warnings. God blessed the words thus spoken to the conversion of that young man. A mother was dying. She loved the Saviour, and was willing to go to Him; but it was hard to leave her little son. She had taught his infant lips to lisp "Our Father." Many times she had told him that "sweet story of old." From her lips he had learned hymns of praise; but she feared that, with no one to impress upon his mind the truths she had so carefully taught, they would soon fade away, and he would grow up unmindful of his mother's God. To calm her fears, sweet promises from God's Word came to her mind; and, resting in the assurance that "He is faithful that promised," she sweetly "fell asleep in Jesus." Years passed, and the boy grew to manhood "having no hope, and without God in the world," and he "cared for none of these things." Passing a church, one Sabbath morning, sweet strains of music floated out to him on the still air. He paused a moment to listen, and the lines of a hymn, which he had learned at his mother's knee, and which had been for years forgotten, came to his ears. was strangely moved. Thoughts of his mother came to him, of her prayers for him, her blameless life, and her triumphant death. His own trusting childhood passed before him, and, in fearful contrast, the sins of his later years; and he shuddered at the review. He was miserable, but he could not, dared not, leave the place. Something impelled him to enter the sanctuary; and there, for the first time in a long course of years, he listened to the Word of Life, and it was to the saving of his soul. He THE LITTLE GIRL IN COURT. THE following fact forcibly illustrates the simplicity and power of truth, and the importance of early training in Bible principles: A little girl, nine years of age, was offered as a witness against a prisoner who was on trial for a felony committed in her father's house. "Now, Emily," said the counsel for the prisoner, upon her being offered as a witness, "I desire to know if you understand the nature of an oath ?" "I don't know what you mean," was the simple answer. "There, your honour," said the counsel, addressing the court; "is anything necessary to demonstrate the validity of my objection? This witness should be rejected. She does not comprehend the nature of an oath." "Let us see," said the judge. "Come here, my daughter." Assured by the kind tone and manner of the judge, the child stepped toward him, with a calm, clear eye, and in a manner so artless and frank, that it went straight to the heart. "Did you ever take an oath ?" inquired the judge. The little girl stepped back, with a look of horror, and the red blood mantled in a blush all over her face and neck, as she answered, "No, Sir." She thought he intended to inquire if she had ever blasphemed. "I do not mean that," said the judge, who saw her mistake; "I mean, were you ever a witness before?" "No, Sir; I never was in court before," was the answer. He handed her the Bible open. "Do you know that Book, my daughter?" She looked at it, and answered, "Yes, Sir; it is the Bible." "Do you ever read it?" he asked. "Can you tell me what the Bible is?" inquired the judge. "Yes, Sir;' she replied. "My mother heard they wanted me to be a witness; and last night she called me to her room, and asked me to tell her the Ten Commandments; and then we kneeled down together, and she prayed that I might understand how wicked it was to bear false witness against my 'neighbour,' and that God would help me a little child-to tell the truth as it was before Him. And when I came up here with father, she kissed me, and told me to remember the Ninth Commandment, and that God would hear every word that I said." "Do you believe this?" asked the judge, while a tear glistened in his eye, and his lip quivered with emotion. "Yes, Sir;" said the child, with a voice and manner that showed her conviction of its truth was perfect. "God bless you, my child," said the "It is the Word of the Great God," judge; "you have a good mother. she answered. This witness is competent," he con |