^ PRINCETON, N. J. *# Presented by V<<2/\£ .(3V\ C\ S>~?F? . £>Vt*0 T\ a' Division Section Sc RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED, BY THEIR AFFECTIONATI FRIEND AND PASTOR. CONTENTS. PAGB The Pleasant Way 7 The Spider's Example 26 The Marks of a Ben-oni 44 The Crooked Things Straightened 71 The Great Man in God's Sight 85 The Lily's Lessons 103 The Gift for God 121 The Wonderful Lamp 135 The Child's Fortune told 151 The Millennial Menagerie 170 The Best Merchandise 189 The Lessons Jesus Teaches 205 PEBFACB. The following sermons have been published at the request Df the teachers of the Sunday-schools of St. Paul's Church. For the «ist two years, there has been a service for the chil- dren of i is congregation, on the afternoon of the first Sun- day in tl . month. On these occasions, the children occupy the bod- of the church. The usual service is performed, and a S( rnion preached, designed especially for the benefit of the children. It is called, "The Children's Church." It was begun, at first, with much doubt and fear, as a matter of experiment. The result has proved, in the highest degree, satisfactory and encouraging. The children have manifested the liveliest interest in these services. In reply to questions asked, they always give an intelligent account of the outlines of the last sermon preached. The adult attendance, on these occasions, is larger than at any other afternoon service in this church. While the preacher has found the effort at arrangement, and simplification, necessary in order to secure the attention of so youthful an auditory, of great profit to himself, in sermon izing for "children of a larger growth." This little volume contains a portion of the sermons de< 1* 5 D PREFACE. livered on these occasions. They were preached extempora- neously, and written out, from the original notes, during the last summer vacation. It was the opinion of the teachers who heard them, that, as they had interested the children of one school, they might be useful to others. And, in com- pliance with their earnest and united request, this unpretend- ing little offering is laid upon the altar of the Sunday-school cause, with the fervent prayer, that, that glorious Saviour who hath " chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things that are mighty j" and whose sacred, standing, injunc- tion to his ministers is, "Feed my lambs," may graciously crown it with his blessing, and make it an humble instrument of good to some of his " little ones." Silte ftm i\t f uutttaitt of §ift. THE PLEASANT WAY. Prov. iii. 7 : Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace. The question any one feels tempted to ask on reading these words is, Whose ways are here spoken of? Now, if we look at the thirteenth verse of this chapter, we find that the person intended here is "Wisdom. In the Bible, when Wisdom is spoken of as a person, it always means true Religion. And so we find that it is Religion of which Solomon is speaking when he says, "Her ways are ways of pleasantness," &c. The Bible tells us of two great roads, or ways in which the people of this world are walking. One of these is the world's way, or the way of sin ; the other is Wisdom's way, or the way of Religion. One of these is called the brood way, and multitudes are always thronging it ; the other is called the nar- row way, and but few are found to travel it. In the language of the hymn, — 8 A SAFE GUIDE — A PLEASANT THING. "Broad is the road that leads to death, And thousands walk together there"; But Wisdom shows a narrow path, With here and there a traveller." Now, there are six things which help to make a road pleasant to those w T ho travel it, and all these are found in Wisdom's ways. The first thing which makes a way pleasant is to have a safe guide. If you had to journey through a country in which there were no roads laid out, it would be very un- pleasant; because you would never be able to tell, with any certainty, whether you were going right or not. "When ships are at sea they find no roads laid out over the broad surface of its waters. There are no milestones to mark the distance, and no finger-boards to point out the w T ay. But the sailor takes the compass, with its little trembling needle always pointing to the north, and this becomes his guide. This enables him to tell which way to go. This is just as good to him as roads and finger- boards. The sailor's way at sea would be a very unpleasant one if he had no compass as his guide. But the guidance which this gives him does much to make his way a way of pleasantness. Near the city of Rome, in Italy, there is an exten- sive burial place, called the Catacombs. It is all under ground, and reaches for miles in different ways. The paths, among the tombs, cross each other in every possible direction, so that even in the broad light of day it would be a perfect puzzle to find one's way through them. But no ray of light THE MAN LOST IN THE CATACOMBS. 9 reaches that gloomy place. It is dark as midnight there. Of course, then, you will easily understand that to enter the Catacombs, without a guide, is a very dangerous thing. So many lives have been lost, in consequence, that the entrances have been closed up, and no persons are now permitted to go in. Before this was done, however, there was once a young man who resolved to explore the Cata- combs. He furnished himself with a light, and, in order that he might not lose his way, he took a ball of string, and, fastening one end of it at the en- trance of the dark passage, he carried the ball with him that he might guide his way out by it. Having thus furnished himself, he went in, and trod cau- tiously along, gazing in silence on the different names and memorials inscribed on the tombs in that dark city of the dead. He spent some hours in this manner; and, dark and dismal as the place was, his way was comparatively pleasant, because he had a guide. But when he was about turning to go back his light went out. And in the alarm which this threw him into, he dropped his string, which was all he had to depend on to lead him back to the outside world of light and life. He stooped down at once to pick up his guiding-string, but he could not find it. He got down on his knees, and felt carefully around in every direction for that precious, precious thread, on which hung all his hope of life and deliverance ; but in vain. He turned and groped, and groped and turned, till weary with the effort; but to no purpose. Then he began to de- spair. He felt that he was buried alive. He thought 10 THE MAN LOST IN THE CATACOMBS. of his home, of his friends, and of the bright and beautiful world without, and wept bitter tears of sorrow over his folly in entering that gloomy abode. But he soon felt that weeping would do him no good. So he resolved to make a desperate effort to escape, before giving himself up to die. Then he began in utter darkness to grope his way back. But he had no guide; and, ah! he felt how dreadfully unpleasant his way was made simply by his want of a guide. He walked on in darkness, till com- pelled to stop and rest. Again he walked, and again he rested. He continued his efforts for hours, that seemed like ages to him. But it was for life that he was struggling, and so he toiled on, and on, and on, till at last his energies were exhausted. He felt that it was of no use. He thought that he must die; and, just as he was sinking in utter despair to the earth, he thought he saw a faint glimmer of light. This revived his sinking heart. He struggled on a little farther ; he turned a corner of the way ; and, oh ! joy of joys to him, there was the broad light of day. A merciful Providence had directed his steps in the dark and brought him out in safety. A safe guide is the first thing necessary to make a way pleasant. In Religion's way we have this. The Bible is our guide here. It is a safe guide. It never leads us wrong. It shows us the dangers in our path, and how • we may avoid them. It will go with us all through life, and lead us to heaven at last. Religion's ways are ways of pleasantness, because we have a safe guide in these ways. GOOD COMPANY. ' II But the second thing which makes a way pleasant is good company. If you have a journey to take all alone, with no one to talk to on the way, how long and dreary that journey will seem ! But if you have two or three friends and companions with you, whom you love very much, and they talk with you as you travel on, telling you all about the different houses you pass by, the names and characters of the people who live in them, and all about the different places that come in sight, and the various things that have hap- pened in connection with them, this will keep your mind fully occupied. You would not feel tired; the time would pass without your knowing it, and the way would seem very short, and very pleasant. Now, those who walk in Wisdom's ways have the very best company. All good Christians are their fellow-travellers. You remember how Moses spoke to his father-in-law, when he wanted to persuade him to become an Israelite, and serve God with him and his people. He said, (Numb. x. 29,) " Come thou with us, and we will do thee good ; for we are journeying to the place of which the Lord hath said, I will give you." And so, when Ave begin to serve God, we are tra- velling to the land of promise, the heavenly Ca- naan, the good land which God will give to his peo- ple. And Wisdom's ways are the ways in which we are to travel, to reach that land. And all God's people are our fellow-travellers, in trying to reach that happy land. But we have better company than this, in Wisdom's ways The holy angels are the 12 GOD AND Tn"E ANGELS THE BEST COMPANY. companions of all who walk in these ways. St. Paul says that the angels "are all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister unto those who are heirs of salvation." This means all true Christians, — all who love and serve God. And David says, " The angel of the Lord encampeth round about them that fear him, and delivereth them." Now, these angels are silent companions: they are not allowed to speak to us. They are invisible companions : we cannot see them. But still, they are real companions of all who walk in Wisdom's ways. But, though silent and invisible, they are active and useful companions. God employs them to take care of us, to protect us from harm, and prevent many evils that Satan, and his evil spirits, would inflict upon us. But we have better company even than this, in Wisdom's ways. God, himself, will be the com- panion of all who walk in these ways. Enoch walked in these ways, before the flood; and when the Bible tells us about him, it says, "Enoch walked with God." And if Enoch walked with God, then God must have walked with Enoch. Jesus says, " If a man love me, he will keep my words ; and my Father will love him, and we will come unto him, and, make our abode with him''' And St. Paul says, "Truly our fellowship," — and fellowship, you know, is just the same as companionship, — "our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ." Ah! this is good company indeed; this is the very best company we can have. Only think, my dear children, of having the Lord Jesus THE LORD JESUS A PLEASANT COMPANION. 13 Christ for a companion ! And though he is invisi- ble too, like the angels, yet he is not silent too, like them. Oh,- no ; he speaks to his people, as he walks with them, and what he says makes them very happy. As he walked with his disciples when on earth, and talked with them on one occasion, "their hearts burned within them/' and they were so happy they hardly knew what to do. And just so he talks with his people now. It is not, indeed, by words, spoken to their outward ears, that Jesus talks with his people now, but by thoughts put into their minds by his Holy Spirit. In this way he speaks to them of the precious promises of his word, of what he has done, and suffered for their salvation, and of the glorious home which he has prepared for them above. There is nothing in the world can make us so happy as to have Jesus for our companion. A good man, who loved Jesus very much, once wrote a beautiful hymn about the happiness he found in the companionship of Jesus ; and in that hymn he says, — "While blest with a sense of his love, A palace a toy would appear; And prisons would palaces prove, If Jesus would dwell with me there." The good company found in Wisdom's ways ia the second thing which makes them u ways of plea- santness." The third thing which makes a way pleasant is sure protection. If you were walking along a road in which steel- traps were hidden, and you were in danger, at every 14 THE DANGEROUS WAY. step, of being caught in them, there would be no pleasantness in that way. The danger would take away all pleasure. You remember our Saviour told a story once about a man who went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, who robbed, and stripped, and wounded him, and left him half dead. The road from Jerusalem to Jericho was a very dangerous road then. It was a narrow road that ran winding round between high moun- tains. There were dark caverns in the sides of the mountains. These caverns were infested with rob- bers, who watched for the passing travellers, and sprang out to rob and murder them. That road is just as dangerous now, as it w r as then. So many murders have been committed there, that it is called "the bloody way." There would be no pleasant- ness in travelling that way. There would be no safety even, unless you had a company of armed men to protect you. Protection, in travelling, is necessary if we would have pleasure in it. Now, the way of life through which we are travel- ling is a way full of dangers. Like the road from Je- rusalem to Jericho, it is beset with robbers. Satan, with his evil spirits, is there, like the captain of a band of robbers. His object is to rob our souls of all right feelings, and principles, and drag us down to his own dark den, forever. He is the worst rob- ber that ever was. There is nothing we should dread so much,, as falling into his hands, and being left there. Yet this must happen to all, who do not walk in Wisdom's ways. We cannot protect our- selves, against this robber. Our best friends and HOW ABRAHAM WAS PROTECTED. 15 dearest relations cannot protect us. Jesus alone, can afford us protection here. We cannot see Satan, but he can. We know not where he lays his traps and snares for us, but Jesus knows. And he can turn away our feet and keep us from falling into those snares. He said to Abraham, once, when he was in danger, "Fear not, Abraham; I am thy shield" Abraham was travelling the same way of life that we are travelling. He was exposed to the same dangers from Satan's power and malice that we are exposed to. Protection, from this danger, was necessary for him, in order that he might find plea- santness in that way. And Jesus promised to be his shield, and assured him of this protection. And this promise belongs to you, and me, if we walk in "Wisdom's ways, as much as it did to Abraham. Jesus will give us sure protection from Satan, the great robber of souls. Do you ask how will Jesus protect us? Let me tell you. In the sixth chapter, of the second book of Kings, we find a very interest- ing story of the prophet Elisha. He was living in a little village on a mountain in Israel. The kins: of S} 7 ria was at war, with the king of Israel, at that time. And whenever the Syrian king held a secret council, with the captains of his army, and laid a plan for making a sudden attack upon the Israel- ites, Elisha knew it, by the spirit of prophecy, and sent word to the king of Israel, who went there, with his army, and prevented the attack of the Syrians. This made the king of Syria very angry; and he sent an army of soldiers to take the prophet prisoner, and put him to death. This army came by 16 elisha's protection. night, and, finding out the place of Elisha's abode, they quite surrounded the mountain, "and filled the lower part of it with their numbers. When the prophet's servant arose in the morning, and saw how they were surrounded by the horses and chariots of their enemies, he was greatly afraid, and cried out, " Alas ! my master, what shall we do ?" But Elisha felt no fear. He knew very well what safe protec- tion they had, and he wanted his servant to know it too. Then he prayed that God would give his ser- vant power to see what he saw; and God opened his eyes to see spiritual beings ; and, oh ! what a sight did he behold ! How it must have amazed him ! He saw the mountain full of horses and cha- riots of fire round his master and himself. These were angels that God had sent to take care of them. What harm could the Syrians do them while they had such a guard ? None at all. No wonder, then, that Elisha was not hurt, but was saved in the sin- gular way described in the chapter which tells this interesting story. This shows us what a wonderful shield God is to his people, and how he can protect them from Satan and his hosts, just as easily as he protected Elisha from the army of the Syriar3. Here we see how true the language of that hymn ia which says, — " That man no guard nor weapon needs, Whose heart the blood of Jesus knows ; But safe may pass, when duty leads, Through burning sands or mountain-snows. "Released from guilt, he feels no fear; Redemption is his shield and tower; PROPER PROVISION — A PLEASANT THING. 17 He sees his Saviour always near To help in every trying hour. " His love possessing, I am blest, Secure, whatever change may come ; Whether I go to east or west, With him I still shall be at home." Yes, yes, dear children, there is sure protection to those who walk in "Wisdom's ways ; and this makes up part of the pleasantness which is found in those ways. But there is a fourth thing which tends to make travel- ling pleasant in any way ; and that is, to have proper provision made for our wants. Every person who has ever had to travel all day, and carry a burden, w 7 ill understand what a very pleasant thing it is to get to a good stopping-place at night. To he able to set down your burden, and wash away the dust and soil of a weary journey; and then to have a good substantial supper pro- vided, and, after satisfying your hunger, to have a nice, clean, comfortable bed to rest in : — these are the things which travellers want, and it is having I vper provision made to supply these wants which i parts pleasantness to their ways. Where this pro- v lion has not been made, or cannot be obtained, ti ire can be no pleasure in travelling. We often h< ar of sailors, far off at sea, who run short of food and water. Their provisions fail ; they have nothing to eat, or drink, and it is impossible for them to get any. Ah! there is very little pleasantness in the sailor's way then. Starvation and suffering stare him in the face, but he cannot help himself. 2* 33 And travellers on land, as well as on the sea, at times, find provisions fail them, and then what ter- rible unpleasantness is felt in their ways! Some time ago a company was fitted out from a United States naval vessel, under the command of Lieu- tenant Strain, to explore the Isthmus of Darien, and see if it would be possible to make a canal across it, so that vessels might get from the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean without having to go all the way round South America and Cape Horn. They ex- pected to get through, and be back again, in a few days, and only took provisions with them accord- ingly. But they found the distance many times greater than it had been represented to them. They had to make their toilsome way through a trackless, tangled wilderness. It took them about as many weeks, as they expected to be days, employed upon it. Their provisions entirely failed. They would toil all day on their painful journey, and then have nothing to eat at night but such roots, or berries, or nuts, as they might gather on their way. Their way was a way of unpleasantness, because they had no proper provision for their wants. Some of them died of starvation, and they were all wasted away to mere skeletons before they got through. The offi- cers and men engaged in that expedition displayed a degree of brave endurance, and nobleness of cha- racter which was perhaps never exceeded, and which reflects the highest honor on themselves, and on their country. And they would understand, much better than we can, how greatly the pleasantness of travellers' ways depends on having a proper provi- THE PROVISION FOUND IN WISDOM'S WAYS. 19 sion for their wants. But those who walk in Wis- dom's ways have a provision for their w r ants that never fails. The Bible says to them, "God will sup- ply all you need, out of the riches of his grace, in Christ Jesus." God's Sabbaths are the resting-days which he has appointed, for the refreshment of those who are travelling in Wisdom's ways. The church is like au inn, which he has fitted, and furnished for their comfort. Here, a constant feast is prepared for them. Here, is the bread which came down from heaven, and of which whosoever eateth shall live forever. Here, are the wells of salvation from which his people draw water with great joy. It is living water which they yield. Those who drink of this water never thirst again, but they carry it with them, — " a well of water, springing up unto everlast- ing life." When David was walking in these ways he said, "The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie dowm in green pas- tures ; he leadeth me beside the still waters." In another place, he says that others "may lack and suffer hunger, but they that wait upon the Lord" — and this means those who walk in Wisdom's ways — "shall want no manner of thing that is good.''' That is a glorious promise indeed ; and it is a precious provision which it makes for all who are walking in Wisdom's ways. Truly, there is a proper provision for them, and this makes the ways in which they are walking "ways of pleasantness." But there is a fifth thing which helps to make a way pleasant, and that is a pleasant prospect. Everybody, I suppose, has heard of the great 20 AFRICAN AND SWISS SCENERY CONTRASTED. desert of Sahara in Africa. It reaches for hundreds of miles, in every direction, like a vast ocean of sand. There are no roads, no shady resting-places or cool fountains, there. No tall dark mountains there lift up their huge forms to the view. No fields of grain, no valleys thick with corn, no murmuring brooks, no flowery gardens, no beautiful groves, are there. Go where you will, turn where you may, wide wastes of barren, burning sands are all the eye can rest upon. Suppose we had to travel, day after day, over those dreary, desert sands: would there be much pleasant- ness in our way? No, indeed. The want of a plea- sant prospect would make it as uncomfortable as it well could be. We should be all the time thinking about some of the beautiful roads we had travelled in our own country, like the shady lanes about Ger- mantown, or that most charming road along the Wissahickon ; and the remembrance of them would make the desert seem gloomier still by contrast. Switzerland, you know, is a country famous, all over the world, for its beautiful scenery. Hundreds, and thousands, of people go there, every year, just for the purpose of admiring its beauties. And those who travel through that country find their ways made ways of pleasantness, simply by the pleasant prospects which are before them there. They see mountains whose tops are covered with snow. Sometimes the clouds gather round them, and then, again, the sunbeams are reflected from them in all the varying colors of the rainbow. Other moun- tains are seen clothed with dark green woods, and streams of water are gushing down their sides like |: ]*if|!« !i i m ft III 1 'I til /flff THE PLEASANT PROSPECTS IN WISDOM'S WAYS. 21 threads of silver, and wild torrents dash themselves into foam and spray. The prospect varies, and changes continually, and affords unceasing plea santness to those whose ways lead them through that land of beauty. But now, you may be ready to ask, What sort of prospects are afforded to those who walk in Wis- dom's ways ? Oh, here are pleasant prospects in- deed ! Nothing in all the world can be compared to these, for interest and beauty. Prospects of hea- ven are to be seen from these ways. Did you ever read Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress? Next to the Bible, it is one of the best books in the world. Everybody ought to read it. It represents the Christian, in one part of his journey, as reaching an elevated region called, " the Delectable Mountains," and looking through a telescope, and getting a view of heaven. Now, there are many of these moun- tains in "Wisdom's ways, and heaven can be clearly seen from the top of them. The promises which God has written in the Bible are what I mean by these mountains. Look, for instance, at the last two chapters of the book of the Revelation : what a beautiful description of heaven we have there ! Why, when we read those chapters we feel as if we were standing on the top of a high mountain, and having a prospect of heaven, in all its glory, spread out before us. That, is the fullest and clearest pros- pect of it that we have. But there are a great many other prospects of heaven, to be met with in Wisdom's ways, less clear and extensive than this, yet all beautiful and pleasant prospects. And the 22 A COMFORTABLE END. writer of that sweet hymn, which we sometimes sing, had been looking at these prospects, or medi- tating on the promises of God's word, when he wrote, — " There is a land of pure delight, Where saints immortal reign ; Eternal day excludes the night, And pleasures banish pain. " There, everlasting spring abides, And never-fading flowers: Death, like a narrow sea, divides This heavenly land from ours. "Bright fields, beyond the swelling flood, Stand dressed in living green ; So, to the Jews, fair Canaan stood, While Jordan rolled between." And these pleasant prospects, found in Wisdom's ways, make them ways of pleasantness. There is only one other thing I would speak of, as making a icay pleasant, and that is, to have a comfort- able end in view. "When we are taking a journey, the question, Where are we going ? must have a great effect upon our feelings. Every hoy, or girl, who has had to go from home to hoarding-school, will understand all about this. You remember how different your feel- ings were, when you were going away from home, from what they were, when you were returning home. Yet it was the same way, that you travelled, in both cases. The chief thins: which made the difference was the end, you had in view. On first taking that journey, you knew that the end of it was, a school among strangers. You were going to GOING FROM HOME OR RETURNING. 23 mingle with persons whom you had never seen, or known before. You were going to engage in du- ties that were new, and trying. You expected to meet with difficulties, and perplexities, in this new situation, and you knew not yet what these would be. But you were afraid of them, and the mere thought of them was enough to make you feel un- comfortable. The end in view made your way un- pleasant. But, ah ! how different it was when vaca- tion-time came, and you were leaving school ! The road you had to travel was the same, but the end in view was different, and that made, oh, what a change in your feelings ! Instead of school, with its strange faces, and hard duties, you had now, no- thing to think of but your dear, sweet, happy home, with the looks of love, and smiles of affection, and all the fond familiar objects, which you knew were awaiting you there. And the thought of these things — the comfortable end you had in view — made your way home a way of unmingled pleasant- ness. And it is just the same in any other journey. Here, for example, is a stage-coach just starting on a journey of a hundred miles. Among the passen- gers are two young men. They are both going to the same place. They are going by the same road; they are in the same conveyance, sitting on the same seat; they eat the same food: they breathe the same air ; they look out on the same beautiful scenery; and yet, while one of them talks, and smiles, and looks bright, and happy as a summer morning, the other looks very differently. He apeaks to no one. He never smiles. He takes no 24 TWO TRAVELLERS IN A STAGE-COACH. notice of the beautiful country; but, with downcast eye, and melancholy looks, he tries to avoid the ob- servation of those about him, and seems like the image of sorrow, and despair. The way they are travelling is a way of pleasantness to one of these young men, but a way of gloom and sadness to the other. And what makes the difference ? It is the end they have in view. One of them has been tra- velling in Europe, for several years, and is now returning to the home of his childhood. His family, and friends are all eagerly expecting him, and ready, with open arms, and warm affectionate hearts, to welcome him back again. His heart is fairly dancing within him, and every nerve in his system is tingling with delight. He has a comfort- able end in view, and that, makes his way all plea- santness. But the other, — poor fellow ! — he has com- mitted a forgery. His crime has been found out. He has been taken up, and is now on his way back to be tried, condemned, and punished. The grief and sorrow of his family, and friends, and a prison with its deep, and enduring disgrace, — this is the end before him : and can you wonder that it makes his way a way of unpleasantness ? And the end we have in view, in the great jour- ney of life, has just the same effect upon our feel- ings. Those who are walking in Wisdom's ways have a very comfortable end in view. They have a, glorious home in heaven, to look forward to. There, in the company of all good people, with the holy angels, and God their Father, and Jesus their blessed Saviour, they shall dwell forever in un- HOW TO ENTER WISDOM'S WAYS. 25 Bpeakable happiness. Oh, this is a comfortable end to have in view ! This cannot fail to make the ways of Wisdom pleasantness, to those w T ho walk in them. And when you think of these six things — the safe guide, the good company, the sure protection, the proper provision, the pleasant prospect, and the comfortable end — which are found in Wisdom's ways, you cannot wonder to hear it said that "her ways are ways of pleasantness." And now I think I hear some of you asking, How can we get into these ways and walk in them? Let me tell you in a few closing words. When Jesus w T as on earth, he said, "I am the way." At another time he said, " I am the door ; by me, if any man enter in, ho shall be saved." Now, we learn from these words that Wisdom's ways are all in Jesus ; and the door of entrance into these ways is found in Jesus. If any one feels that he is a sinner, and wants to get his sins pardoned, he must go and pray to God to pardon his sins for Jesus' sake. If any one feels that his heart is wicked, and he cannot make it any better, he must go and pray to God for Jesus' sake to change his wicked heart, and take away all his wrong feelings, and make him like Jesus. We must read the Bible to find out what Jesus did, and what he has told us to do, and then pray to God to give us grace to do these things; and then we shall be walking in Wisdom's ways, and shall know our- selves how pleasant those ways are. May God guide us all in these pleasant ways, and bring us to his heavenly home at last, for Jesus' sake ! Amen. 9 THE SPIDER'S EXAMPLE. [an anniversary sermon.] ProV. xxx. 28: "The spider taheth hold with Tier hands, and is in kings' palaces." Now, I dare say, my dear children, some of you will be ready to cry out, "What! going to preach about an ugly spider?" Yes, I am going to preach about the spider. I know we dislike spiders very much. Almost everybody dislikes them. Some run away from them, as soon as they see them. Others try to kill them, whenever they can. But, although they are thus disliked, and killed, there is a great deal to admire about the spider, and there is something which we should do well to imitate, too. Why, one of the prettiest things I ever remember to have seen, was a spider's claw, when looked at through a microscope. Now, suppose we had a large microscope here. "We catch a big spider and put him in, so that we may examine him carefully. Oh, there are some rare things for us now to see ! When we put the crawler in, he was about as big as a bean ; but see, now, there he is, almost as big as a bear. See, he is covered all over with rich, soft- looking fur. .There is his huge head; and count how many eyes are in it. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight ! Yes, there are eight eyes in his head, as shining, and bright as diamonds. Look, 26' TIIE WONDERFUL SPINNING-MACHINE. 27 now, at his long legs. Each of them has a sort of hand at the end of it, with two fingers and a thumb. I suppose Solomon never saw a microscope, and never looked at a spider through one. Yet he knew what he was saying when he spoke of it as taking hold with its " hands" and not with its claws. But let us take one more look, through the microscope, at our spider. Right in the middle of his body is a curious spinning-machine. No human mechanic ever invented any thing to compare with it. It weaves threads so delicate, that the finest silk thread, man ever wove, seems almost like a cable in comparison with it. And yet each one of these very fine threads which the spider weaves is made up of five thousand different threads. What a won- derful spinning-machine is this ! How little people think, when they thoughtlessly crush what they call "an ugly spider," how much that is curious, and wonderful, and really beautiful, they are crushing ! But you may ask, Well, what has all this to do with a Sunday-school anniversary sermon ? Why, it has a good deal to do with it, as we shall see, before we get through. Now, there are three ques- tions which I am going to ask, and answer ; and these will be the things about this sermon which I want you especially to remember. The first question is this : — What is there about the spider, which it is worth our while to imitate f The second is this : — What does the spider gain, for itself, by these things f And, third, is this: — What may we gain, to our selves t by imitating these things ? 28 HOW SPIDERS ARE TAUGHT. Now, tell me the first question to be answered, What is there, about the spider, which it is worth our while to imitate ? There are two things, in the spider, that we shall do well to imitate; and these are its industry, and its perseverance. What are they? Industry means a love of work. The spider loves to work. It is born with a love of work. As soon as it begins to live, it begins to work. Every spider is a weaver, and a rigger. And the youngest spider knows how to do these things just as well as the oldest. The spider never has to go to school, or to take any lessons, in order to learn these trades. It knows them by wmat w^e call instinct. Instinct means the knowledge which God gives to animals and living creatures, when he makes them. The little duck knows how to swim, as soon as it is hatched, without any teaching. And so the little bird knows how to build its nest, and the bee to gather honey, and make the honey-comb, wuthout ever receiving a single lesson. God is the teacher of these creatures. He makes them understand how to do their work. And they always do it, in the very best way. Kot all the weavers, and spin- ners, and riggers in the w T orld, can beat the spider, in the work that he does. Look at that broken win- dow-pane, or at the upper corner of that door-way. The spider has been there, weaving his net. How light it is ! It seems as though the least puif of wind would blow it away. But no ; the strongest winds sweep by it, and yet it stands there still. See how regularly, and straightly the threads are drawn, and ?ec too, how neatly the cross-pieces are fastened SPTDERS OF DIFFERENT TRADES. 29 to them ! The spider never does his work hurriedly, and carelessly, as many children do. He always takes time for it, and does it well. His fastenings never come undone. He is really industrious and loves his work. Spiders have many different kinds of work to do, but they are all done in the very best manner. Some are hunting spiders. They spread their nets, just as the hunters set their traps, in the woods or fields, and wait patiently till their prey is caught in it, and then pounce upon them and devour them. Some are ma*, n-spiders. These build little huts or houses, rather bigger than a thimble, to live in. They make doors to them, which they shut to, when they go in, and even have some- thing like bolts, to fasten them with, so that they can keep robbers from entering. And then there is another kind of spider, — the fishing or diving spider. These live beside the water. They make a sort of water-proof house, or diving-bell. In this they sink down to the bottom of the water, where they eat their food, and stay as long as they want to ; and when they get hungry, or tired of staying there, they come up to the top to enjoy a change of scene, and get a fresh supply of provisions. And sometimes the spider seems to act, just as if he had the power to reason, as men do. A gentleman, who was very fond of studying the habits of different animals, and insects, one day, when he was walking in his garden, found a large spider. It was near a pond of water. He took a long stick, and put the spider on one end of it. Then he went to the side of the pon 3, and, stretching out as far as he could, he thrust the other 8* 30 A SPIDER IN PRISON, AND HOW HE GOT OUT. end of the stick down into the bottom of the pond, and left it standing, straight up out of the water, with the spider upon it. He then sat down on the bank, to watch w T hat the spider would do, when he found himself a prisoner there. Presently, the spider began to move. First he went down the stick till he came to the water. He went round, and round the stick, feeling, and looking carefully, till he found there was no getting off there. Then he went to the top, and found there was no way of escape there. Then he went up and down the dif- ferent sides of the stick, till he became satisfied that there was nothing leading from the stick, by means of wdiich he could possibly get away. Then he went once more to the top of the stick, and remained quiet for a while. It seemed to the gentleman as though the spider were saying to himself, "Well, I'm in a nice fix now; what in the w T orld am I to do ?" He seemed to be taking observations from the top of the stick, making up his mind what he was to do next. Then he set the spinning-machine, that he carried with him, in operation. He wove out a long coil of thread, — long enough to reach to the shore from his island-prison. When he had done this, he fastened one end of his thread to the top of the stick and let the rest of it float in the breeze. When he had done this, he went sliding down along the thread which he had spun till he reached the end, where, after floating in the air a little while, he lighted safely on the land, and scampered away to his home. Now, certainly these things show us that the spider, notwithstanding his ugliness, de- PETER THE GREAT LEARNING TO BE A SHIPBUILDER. Rills. p. 31. PETER TIIE GREAT AN EXAMPLE OF INDUSTRY. 31 serves our respect. As an example of industry, he is worthy of our imitation. Industry is a most honor- able quality. It is becoming to those who occupy the humblest position in life, and it is equally be- coming to those who occupy the highest position. When God made Adam and Eve he put them in a garden, that they might have an opportunity of being industrious, by dressing and keeping it, be- cause he knew they could not be happy without industry, even in Paradise. For this same reason the angels are industrious in heaven. They serve God day and night. And they are very happy in serving him. The greatest men have generally been the most industrious. Peter the Great, the Emperor of Eussia, was a very remarkable man. He did more, perhaps, for the honor and welfare of his country, than any other monarch that ever reigned over it. But all the greatness he gained for himself, and all the good he did for his country, was owing to his wonderful industry. He travelled from coun- try to country, and learned, by working with his own hands, the different trades which he wanted to have introduced among his own people. And our own great and good Washington, was as remarkable for his industry, as he was for every excellence that could adorn a man, a general, or a ruler. On one occasion, during the Revolutionary War, he was going round, in disguise, to visit some log-forts, that were being built. In the course of his walk, he met with a company of men, who were hard at work, under the command of a corporal. This petty officer, proud of his elevation above the common 32 WASHINGTON AND TIIE CORPORAL. Boldiers, was walking about, full of the thought of his own importance, and crying out, every now and then, "Come! work away, bo3 T s!" hut he never offered to help them. But "Washington, when he saw that the men had more work than they could well do, took off his coat, at once, and began to help them, saying, " Spring to it, my brave fellows ! we are working for our country; let us do it with a good will." He worked away with them, till they got through ; and then, when he was putting on his coat, he asked the officer, why he did not help the men, when he saw they had more work than they could well do. "I would have you to know, sir," said the little man, " that I am a corporal ; I don't work !" " Oh ! are you, sir ?" said the great man ; " I would have you to know that I am the commander- in-chief, and I do work." "Well, industry, is one thing in the spider, which we should do well to imitate. But per severance y is another thing in the spider, that deserves our imitation. By perseverance we mean, a determination not to be discouraged, in any thing we undertake. Some people will try to do a thing once, or twice, and then, if they meet with difficulties, they give up at once, and try no more. Now, no one will ever get to be either great, or good, in that way. We must expect difficulties, and disappointments, in every thing we attempt to do ; and if we fail the first time, we must begin again, and so the second time, and the third time, and keep on beginning again, until we do it. This is just what the spider does. If you sweep down its web to-day, it will begin right away again and spin TRY AGAIN. 33 another. And so it will go on, day after day, as often as its web may be swept clown. The spider seems to understand, or, at least, to act upon, tho idea contained in those simple lines, — " If at first you don't succeed, Try, try again. Let your courage well appear ; If you only persevere, You will conquer, never fear; Try, try again. " Twice or thrice, though you should fail, Try again. If at last you would prevail, Try again. When you strive, there's no disgrace, Though you fail to win the race ; Bravely then, in such a case, Try, try again. Try again; Time will surely bring reward, Try again. That which other folks can do, Why, with patience, may not you ? Why, with patience, may not you ? Try, try again." This is just what the spider does. And if we only learn to do this well we shall be sure, with God's blessing, to succeed in every right thing we under- take. The old proverb says, "Perseverance con- quers all things." And how many examples might be mentioned to show that this is true ! When Robert Bruce was king of Scotland, the English armies were overrunning the land. Bruce tried 34 BRUCE AND THE SPIDER. hard to drive them out of his country, and to free his people from their yoke. But he was defeated in several battles. After one of these defeats, he sat down to mourn over his own misfortunes, and those of his unhappy country. He began to despair of ever doing any thing, and was concluding to give up the attempt and not try any more, when his eye lighted on a spider, in one corner of the room, try- ing to fasten a thread in a particular direction. As often as he fastened it, it came loose, and as often as it came loose, he fastened it again. The defeated warrior was very much interested in watching the spider's operations. He saw what wonderful per- severance this little creature had. It seemed as though nothing would discourage it. He counted, some say, nineteen or twenty, and some say be- tween sixty and seventy, times that the spider re- newed its efforts to fasten the thread, till finally it succeeded. Then Bruce rose up, and resolved to imitate the example of the spider, and to struggle for the liberty of his country till he succeeded or perished. I remember reading once of a bird, of the bobo- link species, that was confined with some canaries. When it heard the canaries sing, the bobolink tried to imitate them, but found it could not. Then it began a regular series of experiments, and, taking one note at a time, and trying till it mastered that, it went on, till at last it actually learned all their notes, and could join in concert with the canaries, andcsing just as well as they. "We should think that it was quite impossible for THE BLIND SCULPTOR. 35 a blind man ever to become a sculptor, and learn to carve out images of men and animals, from wood and stone, without ever being able to see them. But perseverance has accomplished even this, as it did, in the case of the blind sculptor of Switzerland. This man was attacked with the smallpox, when he /~as only five years old. It left him entirely blind. Letbre losing his sight, he had often played with those little figures which the Swiss people make, and had even tried to handle a knife, and form some himself. When his sight was gone, he often thought about those images. Then he would take them in his hands, and feel them, and try to comfort himself, for the loss of sight, by measuring them with his fingers. He would feel them again, and again, and turn them over in every way, till he was able, by degrees, to tell exactly, by the touch, the size and proportions of the figure. Then he began to think whether he could not succeed in supplying the loss of sight, by the sense of touch. His father and mother were both dead ; and, finding himself alone and destitute, he resolved, rather than beg, to try to support himself by his own exertions. Taking a piece of wood, and a chisel, he began to work. His first attempts were very troublesome, and very trifling. Often would he destroy, by a single notch made too deep, a piece of work to which he had devoted long days of labor. Such difficulties would have discouraged most persons, but the blind man persevered. After many trials, he at length succeeded in usino- his chisel with a steady hand; and so carefully would he examine 36 the spider's gains. each fold of the drapery, one- after another, and the shape of each limb, till he came, as it were, to see by means of his fingers, the figure he was trying to copy. Thus he went on by degrees, till he has reached what seems an almost incredible perfection ; for he is able to engrave from memory, the features of a face, and make one exactly like it. He is now seventy years old, but in good health, and works every day as in his youth. In his lifetime he has sculptured many hundred figures. He is happy, and contented with his lot, and his works remain as so many monuments of the wonderful triumph of per- severance over difficulties. Its industry, and perseverance, then, are the two good things in the spider, which Ave shall do well to imitate. This was the first question we were to consider. We come now to our second question; and that is this : — What does the spider gain by its industry and perseverance ? Solomon says, " The spider taketh hold with her hands, and is in kings' palaces." There are two things, the spider gains by exercising these good qualities. It gains an honorable place, and an honest living. A king's palace is an honorable place, and there the spider's industry brings her. I suppose there never was a king's palace built, so grand and fine, but what the spider took hold with her hands and found her way into it. All the soldiers, and servants, that might be set to guard, and keep it, could not prevent the spider from getting in . You THE SPIDER'S LIVING AN HONEST ONE. 3} know Solomon built a, very magnificent palace for his queen, the daughter of Pharaoh, king of Egypt, and all the fine ladies of his court. And no doubt great pains were taken to keep out spiders, and all such ugly insects. And when, after all his care and pains, Solomon looked up to the window of his palace, or to the corner of the beautiful pavilion, that hung over his throne, and saw an old spider, spreading out his web there, I dare say he felt very much vexed. But there he was, and there he would be. Or, if they swept him down, and killed him, pretty soon there would be another in his place. So that, no doubt, the wise man spoke from his own ex- perience when he said, " The spider taketh hold with her hands, and is in kings' palaces." The industry and perseverance of the spider gain her an honorable place. And, at the same time, they gain for her an honest living. But now, I think, I see some serious, thought- ful child shaking his head, and saying softly to him- self, "Well, I don't know exactly, about that. It seems to me, that this thing of setting traps for poor innocent flies, and catching, and eating them, is not a very honest way of getting a living after all!" It would not be an honest way for us, to get our living in such a way, but it is an honest way for the spider. Now, my dear children, the only correct rule by which to judge whether any thing is right, or wrong, is to ask what the will of God is, concerning it. God cannot will, or order any thing wrong; and whatever God does will, or order, you may be sure, is right. It would not be honest, or right, for you or 4 38 WHAT MAKES ANY TIIINO HONEST OR RIGHT. me to get our living by robbing our fellow-crea- tures, because this is contrary to the will of God. His command to us is, "Thou shalt not steal." "Do violence to no man." But isn't it honest for the fisherman to throw his line, or net, into the river or sea, and get his living by catching the poor inno- cent fish ? Certainly it is. God made the fish for this purpose. It is his will that they should be caught and eaten ; and this makes it honest, and right, for the fisherman to get his living by catching them. Isn't it honest, and right, for the butcher to take the ox, or the sheep, to the slaughter-house and kill him ? Certainly it is. God made them to be eaten. It is the will of God that they should be killed, for our food ; and this makes it honest, and right, for the butcher to get his living by killing them. And, just so, God made the flies for the spider to eat. It is the will of God that he should eat them. And, therefore, when he employs his industry and perseverance in spreading his web, and catching flies, he is gaining an honest living by it. An honorable place, and an honest living are the two things which the spider gains, by these qualities so worthy of our imitation. But there is a third question, we were to ask; and we are ready for it now. The third question is this : — What may we gain, by industry, and perseverance, in the use of the means in our power f We may gain a more honorable place, and a better life, than that of the spider, and we may gain these for others, as well as ourselves. "We may gain a more honorable place than the spider. And what is this? It is a place in the A BETTER PLACE THAN THE SPIDER'S. 39 great palace of the King of heaven. That, is worth more than all the world — yes, more than ten thou- sand worlds — can give. It is spoken of, in the Bible, as a place which God has been preparing from the foundation of the world. Solomon's temple was very splendid, and yet it only took him seven years to build it. This world that we live in is a very beautiful world, and yet it only took God six days to make it. But it is almost six thousand years since the world was made. And all this time God has been preparing that heavenly temple in which his people are to dwell forever. How very glorious it must be ! Oh, what an honor to gain a place there ! All the most splendid palaces of earthly kings are only like toys, and baby-houses, in comparison with it. But you must not think, my dear children, because we speak of gaining a place there, that any thing we can do — any works or goodness of ours — will secure this blessing to us. Oh, no. God gives it, of his own free grace, to poor sinners, such as we are, for the sake of what Jesus did, and suffered for us. But we must repent of our sins, and believe in Jesus, and then be industrious and persevering in try- ing to learn, and do his will, and we shall certainly gain this honorable place. In this way we may, like the spider, take hold with our hands, and be in the palace of the Great King. That, will be indeed a more honorable place than ever the spider can gain. And how different our position will be there, from that of the spider, in an earthly palace ! The spider is only in his place for a little while, but we shall be in God's palace forever and ever. The spider, when 40 A PLACE IN GOD'S PALACE. he gets into a king's palace, has to keep out of sight, in some dark corner, or immediately he is swept down, and turned out, or killed. But, if we enter God's palace, Jesus will take us everywhere about, and show us all the beautiful things there, and no- body will dare to hurt us, or send us away, or ask what business we have there. The spider's nature is not changed, because he gets into a king's palace. He is none the better, or prettier, for being there. But it will be different w T ith us, if we gain a place in God's palace. Our nature will be changed, before we enter there. Every thing sinful will be taken away from us. Jesus, the King of that palace, will make us as good, and as beautiful as he is himself. He will make us look like him, and he will make us be like him. Can any thing be thought of so de- lightful as this ? Is it not truly a more honorable place than the spider's, that w T e may gain for our- selves, by industry and perseverance, in serving God ? But then we may gain a better life too, as well as a more honorable place, than the spider gains in this way. No doubt the spider finds a good deal of en- joyment, such as it is, in its own mode of living. It would not suit us, indeed. We should find no pleasure in it. But God is so good, so full of love and happiness himself, that every living thing he has made, even down to the very tiniest insect that moves, finds pleasure in the way of life appointed for it. With most of these, as with the spider, the enjoyment of life is of a very low kind. It is chiefly, if not entire^, enjoyment connected merely with eating and drinking. Now, it is true, that this A BETTER LIFE THAN THE SPIDER'S. 41 is a great deal better than no life or enjoyment at all. But, ah ! how very different, from this, will the life and enjoyment be of those who "take hold with their hands," and gain a place in the palace of the King of kings. Their life will not be for a few days only, but for everlasting days. It will be eternal life. Nobody will know what this means till they come to find it out by experience. And their enjoyment will not be in eating and drinking, but in something far, far better. When St. Paul was speaking about this once, he said, " The kingdom of God" (and by this he meant the happi- ness of heaven) " is not meat and drink, but right- eousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost." The happiness of heaven will be found, in knowing and loving God, in studying his wonderful works, in growing more and more like him, and in serving him, according to his will. This is the kind of life the angels live. How noble, how glorious, how happy it must be ! Oh, may we not well say, that industry, and perseverance, in trying to serve God, will gain for us a better life than they gam for the spider ? And then, by imitating the spider, in this way, we may help others to gain these blessings too, as well as gain them ourselves. This is something the spider never can do. It lives for itself alone. The indus- try, and perseverance, with which it weaves its web, and catches flies, is all for itself, and only for itself. But it is different with us. And now we come to that part of the sermon which bears upon our anni- versary. Our missionary offering, we all feel, is on8 4* 42 DOING GOOD TO OTHERS. of the most interesting things connected with these happy anniversaries. In preparing these offerings we have room to exercise industry and perseverance. "We make our offerings for the purpose of sending the gospel to those who are living in "the dark places of the earth, which are full of the habitations of cruelty." And in sending the gospel to these benighted people, like the spider, we are weaving a net ; but of a very different kind from his, and for a very different purpose. He weaves his net to catch flies. "We weave ours to catch immortal souls. He desires to catch flies, that he may plunder them, and torture them, and put them to death. We desire to catch souls, in the net of the gospel, to enrich them, and bless them, and make them happy forever, in the palace of the King of heaven. Our object, in doing this, is beautifully expressed in one of our sweet anniversary hymns, which says, — "We bring our little offering; And, humble though it be, We ask our God to bless it, On low, and bended knee : Perhaps a Bible purchased With this, so freely given, May teach some wandering heathen child The way to God and heaven." We know that this has been the result of our offer- ing in one case, and we hope it may be so, in many cases. You remember, my dear children, that, the very first time we had a missionary offering at our anniversary, we sent part of our collection to Africa, and part of it to China. Four or five years after ENCOURAGEMENT TO WORK. 43 wards, just a few days before the time for holding another anniversary, we received a letter from one of our missionaries in China, giving a very interest- ing account of the conversion, and happy death of a Chinese youth, connected with the mission-school. This youth had been taken into the school to be suj ported, and educated, by means of the money sent out from our first missionary collection. After being there two or three years, he became a Chris- tian. Then he was taken sick, and died. But he died with a hope in Jesus. And it was very plea- sant, and encouraging to us, to hear of such a result following from our first missionary offering. It seemed like a voice from heaven saying to us, " Go on in your good work ; do not be discouraged ; try all you can to send the gospel to the poor souls perishing without it, and you shall reap a rich re- ward at last." Then let us "take hold with our hands" afresh in this blessed work. Let us imitate the industry, and perseverance, of the spider; and may God grant, that we may both gain a place in the palace of the King of heaven for ourselves, and be the means of bringing a great many others there also, lor Jesus' sake. Amen. THE MAKES OF A BEN-OOT. Gen. xxxv. 18 : JShe called his name Ben-oni ; hut his father called him Benjamin. These words were spoken of Rachel, Jacob's wife. Her youngest child had just been born : she was very sick, and was going to die. The little child was lying by her. She called to see it ; she kissed it, and called his name Ben-oni. Ben-oni means, "the son of my sorrow." This child was about to occasion the death of his mother, and therefore she gave him this name. She was sorry to leave her husband, her family, and her friends ; and this feeling of sorrow led her to call his name Ben-oni. "But his father called him Benjamin." Benja- min means, "the son of a right hand." Our right hand is a great comfort and blessing to us. What could we do without a right hand ? Now, every child that is born into this world will be either a Ben-oni, or a Benjamin. There is not much difference between these two names, but there is a great deal of difference between the natures which they represent. All these children, here as- sembled, are either Ben-onies, or Benjamins. These names refer to girls as well as to boys. You will all be children of sorrow, or children of help and comfort to your parents. 44 ILL-TEMPER THE MARK OF A BEN-ONI. 45 Now, the great question, for us to consider is, "What are the marks of a Ben-oni, or of a Ben- jamin ? We shall mention four things which may always be considered as the marks of a Ben-oni ; and the opposite of these, of course, will he the marks of a Benjamin. The first mark of a Ben-oni — "a child of sor- row" — is ill-temper. Suppose you had to walk, four or five miles, with a pebble in your shoe : or suppose you had to wear a coat or dress with a pin sticking in it ; or suppose you had to lie all night in bed with a porcupine by your side, sticking you with his sharp-pointed quills : what an uncomfortable thing it would be ! But none of these things are so uncomfortable as to be connected with an ill-temper. An ill-temper is the most uncomfortable thing in the world. We can protect ourselves against many uncomfortable things. Thus, we put roofs on our houses to keep the rain off, which would be uncomfortable ; we put doors and windows in our houses to keep the cold and wind out, which would be uncomfortable ; but how are we to keep bad tempers out of our houses ? All peevish, cross, ill-natured children are Ben-onies, — children of sorrow to their parents, and the fami- lies where they dwell. There were two little boys, in a Southern city, whose names were Augustus, and Eugene. They were playing top, and had but one between them, which they spun alternately. At first they played very pleasantly, but soon became very angry and 46 A BROTHER KILLED FOR A TOP, began to speak unkindly. Eugene said, "It's my turn to spin the top now." "Eo, it's not; it's mine!" said Augustus. Then they grew very angry about it. Augustus then said to Eugene, — "You lie!" Then Eugene struck him, and Augustus struck him back again. They seized each other in great rage, and, in the scuffle, Eugene took a long sharp knife from his pocket and stabbed Augustus, so that he died in a few moments. Augustus lost his life, and Eugene became a murderer, merely to decide whose turn it was to spin a top. There was ill-temper; and what a Ben-oni that ill-temper made him to his parents, and to the family to which he belonged ! There was a rich nobleman, in England, who had a little daughter, named Anne. They were very fond of her; for she was a fine little creature, very lively, and merry, and affectionate, and exceedingly beautiful. But she had a very ill-temper. When any thing vexed her, she would fly into a rage, and turn and strike any one that provoked her. After every fit of anger she would be ashamed and sorry, and resolve never to do so again. But the next time she was provoked it was all forgotten, and she was as angry as ever. When she was between four and five years of age, her mother had a little son, — a sweet little tender baby. Anne's nurse, who was thoughtless and wicked, loved to tease her, because she was so easily irritated ; and so she told her that her father and mother would not care for her now, because all their love and pleasure would be in this LITTLE ANNE A MURDERER BY ILL-TEMrER. 47 little brother, and they would not mind her. Poor Anne burst into a flood of tears, and cried bitterly, saying, "You are a naughty woman to say so! Mamma will always love me ; I know she will, and I'll go this very moment and ask her." And she ran out of the nursery and hastened to her mo- Iher's room. The servant called after her: — "Come, miss, you needn't go to your mother's room ; she won't see you now." Anne burst open the door, but was instantly caught hold of by a strange wo- man, she had never seen before. "My dear," said this woman, "you cannot see your mother just now;" and she was going on to tell that it was because she was very sick, and could not be dis- turbed. But she was too angry to listen ; and she screamed ancl kicked at the woman, who was obliged to take her by force and carry her back to the nursery. When she put her down she gave the servant a charge not to let her go to her mother's room. This added to her rage. But the thought- less, wicked servant, instead of trying to soothe and quiet her, burst out into a laugh, and said, " I told you that, miss. You see your mamma does not love you now." Then the poor child became mad with fury. She seized a smoothing-iron, and, dart- ing forward, threw it upon the baby's head, as it lay in the cradle. The child gave one struggle, and breathed no more. Anne's mother died that night of grief. Anne grew up in the possession of great riches. She had every outward comfort, about her, that money could procure; but she was a very unhappy and 48 THE LITTLE GIRLS WHO WERE BENJAMINS. miserable woman. She was never known to smile. The thought, of the terrible consequences of that one outburst of passion, pressed upon her, like a heavy burden, all her days; Ah! what a Ben-oni this erirl became ! She was a child of sorrow to her parents. Her ill-temper made her so. If you give way to such tempers, my dear young friends, you will certainly be Ben-onies ; but if you strive, and pray, against such feelings, and try to be gentle, kind, and pleasant to those around you, then you w T ill be Benjamins, — children of the right hand to your parents. See, now, how differently such chil- dren will act. A gentleman was walking on the Battery, in the city of New York, one day, and, as he passed a little girl, who was cheerfully rolling her hoop, he said to her, "You are a nice little girl;" to which she replied, patting her little brother on the head, "And Bobbie is a nice little brother too." Here was good-temper, which would make this dear child "a child of the right hand" to her parents, and cause her to be loved by all who were about her. A mother who was in' the habit of asking her children, before the} T retired at night, what they had done to make others happy, found her young twin- daughters silent, She spoke tenderly of habits and dispositions founded on the Golden Rule, — " Do unto others as you would have them do to you." Still, these bright little faces were bowed in silence. The ques- tion was repeated. "I cannot remember any thing good all this day, dear mother," said one of the IDLENESS THE MARK OF A BEN-ONI. 49 little girls ; " only one of my class-mates was happy, because she had gained the head of the class, and I ramiled on her, and ran to kiss her. She said I was good. That is all, dear mother." The other spoke still more tenderly: — "A little girl, who sat with me on the bench at school, lost a little brother ; and I saw that, while she studied her lesson, she hid her face in the book and wept. I felt sorry, and laid my face on the same book, and wept with her. Then she looked up, and was comforted, and put her arms around my neck; but I do not know why she said I had done her good." These were children of good tempers, — children whose pleasant dispositions would make them chil- dren of the right hand to their parents, — real Benja- mins indeed. Ill-temper, then, is the first mark of a Ben-oni, — a child of sorrow. The second mark of a Ben-oni is idleness. Idle children love to lie in bed in the morning ; they love to do nothing all day, if they can help it, but play. It is a great trouble to get them to study, to read, or to work. Now, idle children always make idle men ; for the habits which children form, while they are children, will surely remain with them, when they grow up to be men and women. John Alsop was about fifteen years old when his father, who had just moved into a new settlement, was clearing land. One day the father and a neigh- bor were engaged in building a log-fence, which was made of the trunks of the trees, that were 50 RUNNING A^TER SQUIRRELS. cleared off the lands. £\rst, they laid tlie fence one log high, with the enOo of each length passing a little way "by each other. Notches were cut in the ends, and a block was laM crosswise, where the ends lapped, and then another i\sr was laid on the cross- pieces, till the fence was hi^h enough. To roll up the top logs, they would lay long poles, called skids, one end on the top of the logs, and the other on the ground, and roll up the logs on these. But, as the logs were very heavy, they were cbUged to stop several times to rest, or to get a new hold ; and it was John's business, when they stopped, to put a block under the log, to keep it from rolling back. Having given a hard lift, and tugging with all his might, the father called out, " There, Johnny! put under your block ! — quick !" Johnny started nimbly, and snatched up his block, when, suddenly, ths chirp of a little squirrel struck his ear. Instantly, down went his block, and away he ran after th« squirrel, leaving his father, and the other man, to hold the log till he came back. This anecdote give, you John's character. He was an idle boy. H« had no fondness for work ; he was not willing tc follow any one object, or pursuit, long enough tc accomplish any thing. Thirty years after this, a gentleman, who had known him in his youthful days, inquired about him, of one of his neighbors, who related this anecdote, and added, "He has been running after squirrels ever since.' " He never was steady and persevering in the pursuit of any thing. When he was a young man, he never could make up his mind decidedly what emplryment to fol.ow, ALL THINGS IN NATURE BUSY. 51 He had no industry; he would try one thing a little while, get tired of it, and then take up another; but followed no business long enough to get well acquainted with it. He has always been hunting the squirrel Now, we are to remember, dear children, that God is busy at all times, and almost every thing that God has made is busy. Look at the sun ; it is always at work, shining and shining and shining from one year's end to the other. In the daytime it is shining in our part of the world, and when it is night to us, it is shining in the opposite part of the world. And so it is with the moon, — always shining, in one part of the world or the other. So it is with the sea ; its waves are rising, and falling, and rolling, and flowing, continually. So it is with the rivers ; they are continually running, from the fountains where they spring, on, on to the ocean. And so it is with the little birds, and little fishes, and the bees, and the ants : none of these are idle. Idleness always leads to ignorance, and poverty, and uselessness, dear children, and idle persons never do any thing good, to themselves, or to others. They never succeed in business; they never get on in life. A gentleman in England had an estate which was worth about a thousand dollars a year. For a while he kept his farm in his own hands, but at length, found himself so much in debt, that he was obliged to sell one-half of his place to pay up. The rest he let out to a farmer, for several years.. Towards the end of that time, the farmer, on coming to pay his 52 EXAMPLES OF INDUSTRY. rent, asked him whether he would sell his farm The gentleman was surprised, that the farmer should be able to make him an offer for his place. " Pray, tell me," said he, "how it happens that, while I could not live upon twice as much land, for which I paid no rent, you are regularly paying me five hun- dred dollars a year for the farm, and able in a few years to purchase it?" "The reason is plain," an- swered the farmer; "it lies in the difference be- tween 'go' and 'come.'" "I do not understand you," said the gentleman. "I mean," said the farmer, "that you sat still and- said, Go ; I get up and say, Come. You lie in bed, and enjoy your ease ; I rise early in the morning, and attend to my busi- ness." In other words, this was an industrious man ; there was no love of idleness about him, and this led to his success in life. I remember another anecdote, which plainly shows the advantages of industry. There was once a young man who was commenc ing life as a clerk. One day his employer said to him, "Now, to-morrow, that cargo of cotton must be got out, and weighed, aud we must have a regu- lar account of it." He was an industrious young man, — a young man of great energy. This was the first time he had been intrusted with the superin- tendence of work like this. He made his arrange- ments the night before, spoke to the men about their carts and horses, and resolved to begin very early the next day. He instructed the laborers to be there at half-past four o'clock in the morning. They set to work, aud the thing was done; and THE PROMPT YOUNG MAN. 53 about tec or eleven o'clock the master came in, and saw the young man sitting in the counting-house, and looked very black at him, supposing his com- mands had not been executed. "I thought," said he, " you were instructed to get out that carp' 3 this morning?" "It is all done, si ," said the young man, "and here is the account of it." This one act made that young man's fortune. It fixed his character. It gave his employer a confidence in him that was never shaken. He found him to be a man of industry, a man of promptness, and he very soon found that he was one that could not be spared; he was necessary to the concerns of that establishment, and became one of the partners. He was a religious man, and went through a life of great benevolence, and at his death-bed was able to leave his children an ample fortune. His industry made him a Benjamin indeed. And, just as idle boys will grow up to be idle men, so will idle girls grow up to be idle women. They will be of no use to themselves, and of no use to anybody else. But those who form early habits of industry will certainly rise to honor, usef alness, and happiness. Miss Rachel Cowe was the daughter of a wealthy man, engaged in an extensive business. He lived in Aberdeen, Scotland. But, in that country, the females of many families in the higher ranks of life, as well as those in middling circumstances, were instructed in some branch of business suited to their strength and capacity. An excellent cus 64 A NOBLE EXAMPLE OF FEMALE INDUSTRY. torn ; for, whatever ma}* be our circumstances to- day, we know not what they may be to-morrow; riches are no sure dependence, for they often "take to themselves wings and fly aw T ay." Rachel Co we was early put to learn a branch of the millinery business. This she industriously ac- quired, though she knew not that she should ever need it. But, after a while, her father's business began to decline, and at length he failed. He gave up to his creditors every thing but their wearing- apparel, and a few books. Both her parents were left with no means of support, in their old age. There was no one now but herself, on whom they could depend. When Rachel saw the decline of her father's business, she obtained his consent to set up her own. She had a small sum of money, and she borrowed a little more, of a friend, to begin with. She began her business, praying that God would prosper it, and keep her from the new temptations to which she would be exposed. She was successful. In a few months she was able to pay what she had borrowed, and to furnish a house for herself. When her father's business completely failed, and her pa- rents were thrown upon the world, destitute of the means of support, she was prepared to receive them into her own house. She supported them by her labors, she nursed them, w T ith the utmost tenderness, iu their illness,, she attended them in their last sick- ness, and saw them die in the hope of glory. What a child of comfort was this industrious girl to hei parents ! And this is not all. While they lived, she would listen to no proposals of marriage ; but, after THE FOLLY OF PRIDE. 55 tlieir death, she became the wife of Rev. Dr. Milne, and accompanied him on his mission to China, where she was a great solace, and comfort to him, and a helper to him in his labors. Thus, the in- dustrious girl became the industrious woman ; and I would have you all, my dear girls, to follow her example. Yes ; idleness is the second mark of a Ben-oni. The third mark of a Ben-oni is pride. Some children are proud of their clothes. This is very silly indeed ; for the butterflies have much more beautifm clothes than we, and yet they are never proud of their dress. Some children are proud of their families. This, also, is very silly, for we have all sprung, at first, from one father. Some children are proud about their houses. This, too, is very silly, for, by-and-by, they will all crumble into the dust, from which they have been taken, while the grave is the one house to which we must all come at last. Proud children feel and think themselves better than others, and are often unwilling to engage in honest and honorable employments. Listen to what I am going to tell you. Chief-Justice Marshall was a great man ; but great men are never proud. He was not too proud to wait upon himself. He was in the habit of going to market himself and carrying home his purchases. Often he would be seen returning, at sunrise, with poultry in one hand, and vegetables in the other. On one of these occasions, a fashionable young man from the E"orth, who had removed to Richmond* 56 JUDGE MARSHALL AND TnE TURKEY. was swearing violently, because lie could find no one to carry home his turkey. Judge Marshall stepped up, and asked him where he lived. When he heard, he said, " That is in my way, and I will take your turkey home for you." When they came to the house, the young man inquired, " What shall I pay you ?" " Oh, nothing," said the Judge ; "you are welcome ; it was all in the way, and it was no trouble to me." "Who is that polite old gentleman who brought home my turkey for me?" asked the young man of a by-stander. "Oh," sp'd he, "that was Judge Marshall, Chief-Justice jf the United States." "Why did he bring home my turkey?" "He did it," uaid the by-stander, "to give you a rebuke, and teach you to attend to your own business." True greatness, never feels above doing any thing that is useful ; but especially the truly great man will never feel above helping himself; his own in- dependence of character depends upon his being able to help himself. The great Dr. Franklin, when he first established himself in business, in Philadel- phia, wheeled home the paper, which he purchased for his printing-office, upon a wheelbarrow with his own hands. Pride, then, bear in mind, children, is the third mark of a Ben-oni. The fourth and only other mark that we shall speak of is disobedience. There is nothing on which the comfort and hap- piness of parents, and families depend more, than on the obedience of children. A BOY GOING TO SEA TO SPITE HIS PARENTS. 57 My dear children, if you want to plant thorns on the pillows of your parents, and plunge daggers into their bosoms, be disobedient. If you want to make them as uncomfortable as they possibly can be, in this world, then be disobedient. This is the chief mark of a Ben-oni. I remember reading, not long ago, of a gentleman in England who had two sons. He was a kind, ex- cellent, pious man, and did every thing for the com- fort of his children, that he thought it right to do. But sometimes the boys were anxious to do things which their parents were not willing that they should do. One Sunday, the oldest boy went to his father, and asked permission to take the carriage, and go riding, in the afternoon, instead of going to church. His father told him he could not, because it would be breaking the Sabbath. The boy was very much displeased, because his lather would not let him go riding, as some of the boys in the neighborhood had been allowed by their parents to do. He was so wicked about this, that he determined no longer to stay at home, because his father would not let him do just what he wanted. So, the next day, he persuaded his brother to go with him, and they went down to Portsmouth, a town by the sea-side, intending to go to sea. Before going, however, they called on the Rev. Mr. Griffin, to assist them to get a situation, on board a man-of-war. This good man, perceiving that they were not accustomed to the mode of life in which they were about to enter, inquired of them their 58 THE END OF HIS COURSE. object in going to sea. The eldest boy frankly told him. they were going, in order to spite their parents! Then he told him the story of what had v taken place at home, — of his father's unwillingness to allow him to ride on Sunday, — and said he was going to sea in order to make his father feel sorry for refusing to gratify him. The good clergyman tried to show them the guilt, and folly, of the course they were about to pursue, and to set before them the un- avoidable consequences that would result from it. The younger son was impressed by the counsels, and advice of the clergyman, and went home ; but the older son resolved to go on, in his evil course. Some twelve, or fifteen years after this had taken place, this same clergyman was called to the prison in the town of Portsmouth, to see a sailor, who was condemned to be executed, and, who was going to be hung in a few days. When he entered the cell of the prison, he saw a wretched, miserable, squalid-looking creature, sit- ting by a table in the cell, who looked up to him as he entered, and said, " Do you not remember me, sir?" "No," said the clergyman; "I do not recol- lect that I ever saw you before." Then the poor man recalled to him the story of the boy whe went from home in order to spite his parents. "And are you the miserable man," said the clergyman, "who did this?" "Yes," said the poor culprit; "I fol- lowed out my own plan ; I went on the course which I had chosen, contrary to your advice, and to my own convictions ; I plunged into all sorts of wickedness, and sin, and finally became involved in THE SEA-CAPTAIN'S SON. 59 a robbery, and murder, for which I am now about to suffer the penalty. And all this, in consequence of my disobedience, to my parents!" The clergyman wrote to the father of this unhappy man, who came to visit his son in his last hours, and who had the unspeakable anguish of standing by and seeing him suffer the penalty of the law, and reap the bitter fruits of his disobedience. What a Ben-oni that son was to his father! I have another story to tell you, of a disobedient son, in order to illustrate the point on which we are now speaking. The youth, of whom I am about to speak, was the son of a sea-captain. His father had been absent froi. home, on a long voyage. During his absence, his child had grown, from being an infant, into a rough and careless boy. He was becoming restive, under his mother's control ; her gentle voice no longer restrained him. He was often wilful, and sometimes disobedient. He thought it showed a manly superiority, to be independent of a mother's influence. About this time his fatter came home ; and it was very fortunate that he did return. He soon per- ceived the spirit of disobedience that was stirring in his son. The boy saw that it displeased his father, although, for a few days, he said nothing about it. One afternoon, in October, a bright, golden day, the father told his son to get his hat and take a walk with him. They turned down an open field, a favorite playground for the children in the neigh- borhood. After talking cheerfully on different 60 HOW HE WAS SPOILED. topics for a while, (said the boy, who gives this history of himself,) my father asked me if I ob- served that great shadow, thrown by a huge mass of rock that stood in the middle of the field. I replied that I did. "My father owned that land," said he ; "it was my playground wdien a boy. The rock stood there then ; to me it is a beacon, and, when- ever I look at it, I recall a dark spot in my life, — an event so painful to dwell upon, that, were it not as a warning to you, I should not speak of it. Listen, then, my dear boy, and learn wisdom from your father's experience. " My father died when I was a mere child. I was the only son. My mother w r as a gentle, loving wo- man, devoted to her children, and beloved by ex c;ry- body. "I remember her pale, beautiful face, her sweet, affectionate smile, her kind and gentle voice. In my childhood I loved her sincerely. I was never happy apart from her ; and she, fearing that I was becoming too much of a child, sent me to a high- school in the village. "After associating for a time with rude, rough boys, I lost, in a measure, my fondness for home, and my reverence for my mother ; and it became more and more difficult for her to restrain my impetuous na- ture. I thought it indicated a want of manliness to yield to her control, or to appear penitent, although I knew that my conduct pained her. " The epithet I most feared was girl-boy. I could not bear to hear it said, by my pla} T mates, that I was 'tied to m}- mother's apron-strings.' THE PAINFUL MEMORY. 61 44 From a quiet, home-loving child, I became a wild, boisterous boy. "My mother was very anxious to induce me to seek happiness within the precincts of home. She exerted herself to make our fireside attractive ; and my sister, following her self-sacrificing example, sought to entice me, by planning games, and diver- sions, for my amusement and entertainment. I saw all this, but did not heed it, until it was too late. " It was on an afternoon like this, as I was about leaving the dining-table to spend the intermission between morning and evening school, in the street, as usual, my mother laid her hand on my shoulder and said, mildly, but firmly, ' My son, I wish you to come with me.' "I would have rebelled, but something in her manner awed me. "She put on her bonnet and said to me, '¥e will take a little walk together.' I followed her in silence, and, as I was passing out of the door, I ob- served one of my rude companions, skulking about the house, and I knew he was waiting for me. He sneered as I passed by him. My pride was wounded to the quick. He was a very bad boy, and, being some years older than myself, he exercised a great influence over me. "I followed my mother, sulkily, till we reached the spot where we now stand, beneath the shadow of this huge rock. " Oh, my boy, could that hour be blotted from my memory, which has cast a dark shadow over my wnole life, g'aclly would I exchange all that the 62 REBELLION CHERISHED. world can offer me for the quiet peace of mind I should enjoy! But no! Like this huge, unsightly pile, stands the monument of my guilt forever. " My mother, being in feeble health, sat down, and beckoned me to sit down beside her. Her look, so full of tender sorrow, is present to me now. " I would not sit, but still continued standing be- side her. "* Alfred, my dear son,' she said, 'have you lost all your love for your mother?' " I did not reply. "'I fear you have,' she continued; 'and may God help you to see your own heart, and me to do my duty!' " She then talked to me of my misdeeds, — of the dreadful consequences of the course I was pursuing. By tears, and entreaties, and prayers, she tried to make an impression upon me. She placed before me the lives and examples of great and good men. She sought to stimulate my ambition. " I was moved, but too proud to show it, and re- mained standing in dogged silence beside her. I thought, What will my companions say if, after all my boasting, I should yield at last, and submit to be led by a woman ? " What agony was in my mother's face when she saw that all she had said, and suffered, failed to move me ! " She rose to go home, and I followed at a dis- tance. She spoke no more to me until we reached our own door. '"It is school-time now/ she said; 'go, my son, REBELLION ACTED OUT. 63 and once more let me beseech you to think upon what I have said.' "'I sha'n't go to school/ said I. " She looked astonished at my boldness, but re- plied, firmly, — '"Certainly you will go, Alfred; I command you.' "'I will not,' said I, with a tone of defiance. " ' One of two things you must do, Alfred. Either go to school this moment, or I will lock you up in your room, and keep you there until you are ready to promise obedience to my wishes.' '"I dare you to do it,' said I; 'you can't get me up-stairs.' "'Alfred, choose, now,' said my mother, who laid her hand on my arm. She trembled violently, and was deadly pale. "'If you touch me, I will kick you!' said I, in a terrible rage. " ' Will you go, Alfred ?' "'No,' replied I, but quailed beneath her glance. "'Then follow me,' said she, as she grasped my arm firmly. "I raised my foot — oh, my boy, hear me! — I raised my foot, and kicked her, — my sainted mother ! "Oh, my head reels as the torrent of memory rushes over me ! I kicked my mother, — a feeble woman, — my mother ! "She staggered back a few steps, and leaned against the wall. She did not look at me. I saw aer heart beat against her breast. 64 THE INWARD STRUGGLE. "'Oh, heavenly Father,' she cried, 'forgive him! he knows not what he does !' "The gardener just then passing the door, and seeing my mother pale, and almost unable to sup- port herself, he stopped. She beckoned him in. "'Take this boy up-stairs, and lock him in his own room,' she said, and turned from me. "Looking back as she was entering her own room, she gave me such a look ! — it will forever fol- low me. It was a look of agony, mingled with the deepest love. It was the last unutterable pang from a heart that was broken. "In a moment I found myself a prisoner, in my own room. I thought, for a moment, I would fling myself out of the window and dash my brains out ; but I felt afraid to die. I was not penitent. At times my heart was subdued, but my stubborn pride rose in an instant and bade me not to yield. The pale face of my mother haunted me. I flung my- self on my bed and fell asleep. I awoke at mid- night, suffering with the damp night-air, and terri- fied with frightful dreams. I would have sought my mother at that moment, for I trembled with fear; but my door was fast. "With the daylight my terrors were dissipated, and I became bold in resisting all good impulses. The servant brought my meals, but I did not taste them. I thought the day would never end. "Just at twilight I heard a light" footstep ap- proach the door. It was my sister, who called mo by name " ' What may I tell mother for you ?' she asked. THE STRUGGLE CONTINUED. 65 "Nothing,' I replied. "' Oh, Alfred, for my sake, and for all our sakes, Bay that yon are sorry; she longs to forgive you.' " ' I won't be driven to school against my will,' I replied. "'But you will go if mother wishes it, dear Alfred V my sister said, pleadingly. "'No, I won't,' said I; 'and you needn't say an- other word about it.' " ' Oh, brother, you will kill her ! you will kill her! and then, you can never have a happy mo- ment!' "I made no reply to this. My feelings were touched, but I still resisted their influence. My sister called me, but I would not answer. I heard her footsteps slowly retreating, and again I flung myself upon my bed, and passed another wretched and fearful night. Oh, God, how wretched — how fearful — I did not know ! "Anothei footstep, slower and feebler than my sister's, disturbed me. A voice called my name. It was my mother's. "'Alfred, my son, shall I come in? Are you sorry for what you have done ?' she asked. "I cannot tell what influence, operating at that time, made me speak adverse -to my feelings. "The gentle voice of my mother, that thrilled through me, melted the ice from my obdurate heart, and I longed to throw myself upon her neck ; but I did not. No, my boy, I did not! But my words gave the lie to my heart, when I said I was not sorrv . 66 THE MURDERED MOTHER. "I heard her withdraw. I heard her groan. I longed to call her back, but I did not. " I was awakened, from an uneasy' slumber, by hearing my name called loudly, and my sister stood by my bedside. " i Get up, Alfred ; oh, do not wait a moment ! Get up and come with me ; mother is dying !' "I thought I was dreaming, but I got up me- chanically, and followed my sister. "On the bed, pale and cold as marble, lay my mother. She had not undressed. She had thrown herself on the bed to rest. Rising to go again to me, she was seized with a palpitation of the heart, and borne senseless to her room. " I cannot tell you my agony, as I looked upon her. My remorse was tenfold more bitter from the thought that she would never know it. I believed myself to be a murderer. I fell on the bed beside her. I could not weep. My heart burned in my bosom ; my brain was all on fire. My sister threw her arms around me and wept in silence. Suddenly, we saw a slight motion of mother's hand. Her eyes unclosed. She had recovered consciousness, but not speech. She looked at me, and moved her lips ; I could not understand her vrords. " 'My mother,' I shrieked, 'say only that you for- give me !' " She could not say it with her lips, but her hands pressed mine. She smiled upon me ; and, lifting her thin white hands, clasped my own within them, and cast her eyes upward. She moved her lips in prayer, and thus she died. WHAT THE STORY TEACHES. 61 l * I remained still kneeling before that dear form till my gentle sister removed me. She comforted me, for she knew the heavy load of sorrow at my heart, — heavier than grief at the loss of a mother, for it was a load of sorrow for sin. " The joy of youth had left me forever." My father ceased speaking, and buried his face in his hands. He saw, and felt the bearing of his narrative upon my character and conduct. I have never forgotten it ; and I would say to boys who spurn a mother's control, who are ashamed to own that they are wrong, who think it manly to resist her authority, or to yield to her influence : — " Beware ! Lay not up for yourselves bitter memo- ries for your future years." That was a Ben-oni indeed, — a child of sorrow to his parent, to his sister, and to all around him. His disobedience made him such. Let us look, now, at one or two examples of an opposite character. William Hale was an obedient son. He was spending some time with his mother at the Saratoga Springs, and had become acquainted with a number of boys of his own age there. One clay some half-dozen of the children were playing on the piazza, and one of them was heard exclaiming, — " Oh, yes, that's capital ! So we will ; come on, now! Where's WiMiam Hale? Come on, Will! We are going to have a ride on the circular railroad. Come with us." 68 AN EXAMPLE OF TRUE COURAGE. "Yes, if my mother is willing," said William. "I will run and ask her." "Ah, ah! so you must run and ask your ma! — great bahy-boy ! — run along to your ma ! Ain't you ashamed ?" "I don't ask my mother," said one. "Neither do I," said another. "Neither do I," said a third. "Be a man, "Will, and come along," said the first boy, "if you don't wish to be called a coward as long as you live ; don't you see we are all waiting ?" William was standing, with one foot advanced and his hand firmly clenched, in the midst of the group. His brow was flushed, his eye was flashing, his lip was compressed, his cheek was changing — all showing how the epithet, "coward," rankled in his bosom. It was doubtful for a moment whether he would have the true bravery to be called a coward rather than to do wrong ; but, with a voice trembling with emotion, he replied, — "I will not go without I ask my mother; and I am no coward, either. I promised her I would not go from the house without her permission ; and I should be a base coward if I were to tell my mother a lie." When William returned to his mother, to ask her permission to go, and told her of what had taken place, she threw her arms around his neck and exclaimed, — • "God bless you, my dear child, and give you grace always to act in this way." THE SECRET OF WASHINGTON'S GREATNESS. 69 Ah, my dear children, he was a Benjamin — a child of comfort — to his dear mother; and doubtless he grew up to be her support, and comfort all his days. After the surrender of Cornwallis, and the victory achieved by the American arms, George "Washing- ton, when the war was over, returned in triumph to his mother's home. Everybody was honoring him, and praising him, as the saviour of his country, and the greatest man of the age. When he reached the place of his mother's abode, a large concourse of the people had met, to greet him, and welcome him to his home. In the centre of the assembled crowd stood his mother; and, pushing his way through the crowd around him, he hastened to pay her his respects ; and, as she threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him, she said to some who were congratulating her upon having so noble a son, — "George always was an obedient child." He was indeed a Benjamin — a son of comfort — to his mother, and a blessing to the country, and to the world; and the spirit of obedience, early learned, and early practised, was that which went to make him what he was. And now, in conclusion, my dear children, let me ask you, Which, of these two, do you desire to be ? Will you be Ben-onies — children of sorrow and grief — to your parents ? or, will you be Benjamins — chil- dren of joy, and comfort, and blessing — to them ? If you would be the latter, — Benjamins indeed, — then you must watch, and strive, and pray against all the evils of which we have been speaking 70 FOUR THINGS TO WATCII AGAINST. Watch against these four marks of a Ben-oni: — watch against ill-temper, watch against idleness, watch against pride, watch against disobedience; and pray God to enable you each to overcome all these evils, — to erase these marks of a Ben-oni as they are be- ginning to fasten themselves on your character, and to earn for yourself the character of a Benjamin indeed. T1IE CROOKED THINGS STRAIGHTENED. Ecclesiastes i. 15 : That ichicli is crooked cannot be mad*, straight. This does not mean that no crooked thins: can ever be straightened, for we all know, very well, that this is not true. It is easy enough to straighten some crooked things. Here, for instance, is a piece of paper. I can take it in my hand, and squeeze and crumple it all up, till there is not one straight piece in it, as big as your little-finger nail. And then I can spread it out on the table, and smooth it down, and make it just as straight again as ever it was Or here is a piece of dough, or a bit of clay. I can roll it out, and twist it round, till it is as crooked as a ram's horn. ~Now, if I put it into the oven, and bake it, while it is in this state, why, then our text will apply to it, and "that which is crooked cannot be made straight." But before it gets thus hard- ened, I can take and roll it out, between the palms of my hands, and make it as smooth, and straight as I want it to be. And just so if I take a tender wil- low-twig, I can wind it round my linger like a thread ; then I can unwind it again, and it will come out as straight as ever. But let that willow- twig remain crooked, while it is growing, for five or ten years, and then you may write on it the words of our text; for "that which is crooked cannot be 71 iZ ALL BORN WITH CROOKED HEARTS. made straight." Now, God compares himself, in the Bible, to a potter, and his people to clay. God com- pares himself to a gardener, and his people to plants or trees, which he has planted. And as it is true cf clay and of trees, that if you begin at the right time, and take proper pains, you can straighten what is crooked in them, so it is true of boys and girls. And as it is true of clay, and trees, that if you let the one get baked, or the other grow old, while it is crooked, you cannot straighten it, just so it is true of boys and girls. How very important, then, it is, for us to know what there is crooked about our- selves, and how we may get it straightened ! I have chosen this text on purpose to help us understand this matter. And there are four things which I wish especially to show you, while talking about these words of Solomon. The first thing I wish to shoio is, that ice are all born with crooked hearts. What sort of hearts are we born with ? Crooked hearts. But some of you may be ready to ask, Well, w T hat sort of a heart is a crooked heart ? Why, a crooked heart is a wicked or sinful heart. I say, then, we are all born with sinful or wicked hearts. Now, a great many people don't believe this; but it is just as true as that two and two make four. I can prove this to you, my dear children, in two ways. I can prove it from the Bible, and then I can prove it without the Bible. Now, I might point you to a good many places in the Bible which prove that w T e are born with sinful hearts; but I will only point you to two. In the BIBLE-PROOFS OF CROOKED HEARTS. 73 fifty-first Psalm and fifth verse, David tells us that he was horn a sinner. But David was born just as you and I, and all of us were. His heart or nature, was just the same, at his birth, as ours is. And if some of you think that, perhaps, David was born with a heart more crooked, or sinful than other people, and that, perhaps, some children are born with a heart that is not at all sinful, I can show you, from another passage of Scripture, that this is not the case. The apostle Paul tells us in Ephesians, second chapter, and third verse, that "we are all, by nature, the chil- dren of wrath." Now, when he tells us here, what we are "by nature," he means what we are at the time we are born. And when he says we are " the chil- dren of wrath," he means that we are born children with whom God is angry. But God is never angry with people for any thing but for sin. And if God is angry with us when we are born, then it is very cer- tain that we must be born sinners. This is enough, then, to prove, from the Bible, that we are all born with crooked, sinful hearts. But, then, I said we can prove this without the Bible; and so we can. Now, there are two things, about children, which show that they are born with crooked, sinful hearts, even if the Bible had never said any thing about it. Tlie sufferings, and death of children prove it; and the way in which children grow up proves it. See ; here is a cradle with a clear little infant in it, fast asleep. Look at its little dimpled chin, its rosy, rounded, cheeks, its ruby lips, and golden locks. How sweet, how beautiful, how like a little cherub 74 PROOFS WITHOUT THE BIBLE. it seems ! As we stand and gaze upon it, admiring its loveliness, and feeling tempted to stoop down and kiss the little darling, we are tempted to ask ourselves, Can there be any thing crooked or sinful in this sweet, sleeping child? But see; while we are looking at it, a change passes over the smiling face of the baby. An expression of pain appears upon it. It starts up with a sharp, piercing cry. It rolls about in agony. Its screams fill the house. Convulsions have taken it. Nothing that its anxious mother can do affords it any relief. It struggles, for a few short hours, with the painful disease, and then it dies. But suffering, and death never come where there is no sin. Do the angels in heaven ever get sick ? Oh, no. Did an angel ever die ? No. Are there any graveyards in heaven ? None at all. But why not ? Why is there no sickness, or suffering, or death, among the angels ? Because there is no- thing crooked, nothing sinful, about them. And why do infants sicken, and suffer, and die ? Because they are born with crooked, sinful hearts. Yes, my dear children, every time you hear an infant cry, you hear an argument which proves that we are all born sinners. Every time you see an infant's cof- fin, an infant's funeral, or an infant's grave, you see a certain proof, that we are all born sinners. The sufferings, and death of children prove it, without the Bible. And then the way in which children grow up proves it also. All children grow up to be bad, if they are left to themselves. Since the world began, there never was a child born, and left to grow up as it TREES KNOWN BY THEIR FRUITS. 75 pieced, that grew up to love and serve God. Now, this proves something or other, and it is very easy to tell what it proves. If you go into a garden and see the sweet-smelling mignionette growing around one of the beds, what kind of seed, do you know, must have been sowed there? Mignionette-seed. If you pluck a sweet, juicy apple from a tree, what sort of a tree must it be, from which you plucked it? A sweet apple-tree. If you pluck an apple from another tree, and find it to be a sour, crab-apple, what kind of a tree must that be, on which it grew ? A crab-apple-tree. How do you know this? By its fruit. Do apples, or peaches ever grow on thorn- bushes ? No. If the berries that grow upon a cer- tain bush, or the fruit on a certain tree, are always poisonous, what sort of a bush, or tree must that be? Poisonous. Now, our actions may be com- pared to fruit, and our hearts to the trees, on which they grow. And if we find that, in all countries and in all ages, children, left to themselves, grow up only to bear evil fruit, — the fruit of opposition to God's law, and hatred to God's character, — what must their hearts be, which bring forth these wicked fruits ? They must be wicked hearts. For as the tree is known by its fruit, so is the heart known by the actions which it leads men to perform. And, in this way, we can prove, both from the Bible, and without the Bible, that we are all born with crooked or sinful hearts. This is the first of the four things I wish to show you, while talking about our text. And now we come to the second of these things, 76 DIFFERENT KIND OF SCHOOLS. It is this : — that, like the tree, or the clay, oar hearth are having something done to them, which will make it much harder to straighten what is crooked in them. "With the tree, it is its growth that will make its crookedness hard to straighten. With the clay, it is the baking, or burning of it. With ourselves, it is the exercis- ing or practising of what is sinful, in our hearts, that will make it hard to straighten them. There is a kind of education for our hearts to go through. When we are acquiring learning, of any kind, we call it getting an education. And the places where we learn things we call schools. And there are a great many different kinds of schools. There are the common schools, where we learn the things ne- cessary to make us useful in life. And there are medical schools, where young men go to learn to become doctors; and law schools, where they learn to become law T yers ; and divinity schools, where they learn to become ministers. And then the shops, in which the mechanics learn their trades, are a kind of school. The carpenter's shop is a school to him; and so is the blacksmith's shop, and the tailor's shop, a school. Wherever we learn to think, or say, or do any thing, that is a school to us. Now, a great many children never go to school anywhere but on the playground, and at the corners of the streets. There they learn to do wicked things. All that is crooked in their hearts becomes fixed in their crookedness. There, the crooked parts of their na- ture get educated. There, the little twigs of evil, in them, grow into great, strong limbs, that nobody can bend. There, the clay of their nature gets baked, THE CROOKED TREE. Rills. p. 77. THE CROOKED TREE. 77 and hardened, before it is straightened. The habits we form, and the characters we acquire, while we are young, will remain with us, when we grow up to be men and women. And so the habits, and characters, we form in this world, will remain with us after death, in the world which we must enter then. This world is God's school. All the time spent in it is time spent at school. We are getting educated, here, for eternity. And when we form a wrong habit of thinking, or feeling, or acting, we are hardening a crooked point, and fastening it upon our charac- ters. And when we go out of the school of life, — that is, when we come to die, and go into eternity, — then it will be true that, "that which is crooked cannot be made straight." If the potter is making a pitcher, and finds that the handle, or side of it, has got out of shape, and crooked, he can very easily alter it, and make it straight again, if he only finds it out before it has been put into the oven, and baked. But, if he does not see it till after it comes out of the oven, then, there is no help for it. How- ever strangely out of shape, it may be, it must re- main so. Then, he knows that, "that which is crooked cannot be made straight." And so it is with the gardener, and his trees. While they are young, and tender, it is very easy to straighten them, when they get crooked. But, let them only grow crooked, and then what can he do with them? One of the crookedest trees, I ever saw, stands in Spruce Street, just below Fifth Street, on the north side, opposite the Baptist church. If you have never no- ticed it it is quite worth while to go by that way, on 78 THE GARDENER STRAIGHTENING HIS TWIGS. purpose to take a look at it. Its branches grow east, and west, and north, and south, and up, and down, and in every possible direction. Yet, there was a time when all those crooked-looking branches might have been unbended, and made to grow, almost, as straight as a yardstick. But who can make them so now? All the people in the world could not do it. They might cut the tree down, and break its branches in pieces, but that is all they could do. A tree like that shows us, exactly, what Solomon meant when he said, "That which is crooked cannot be made straight." And now, we come to the third thing, we wish to speak of, in connection with our text ; and that is, the importance of keeping straight, while ice are getting educated. Did you ever know a person wdio had charge of a nursery of young trees ? If you did, you might learn some very useful lessons from his example. The great object, with him, is to keep his trees in proper shape, while they are growing. lie walks about among them, very often, and watches them closely. If he sees one getting crooked, he tries to straighten it. If merely bmding it, with his hands, will not keep it straight, then he puts a stake in the ground, and ties the young tree to it, so as to keep it in a right position, all the time it is growing. And if the gar- dener thinks it worth his while to take so much care, and pains w T ith the education of a mere tree, which, after all, will only last for a few years, how much more careful should we be in educating our souls, which are to live forever and ever ! Did you ever go to a daguerreotype-office, to have THE DAGUERREOTYPE-OFFICE. 79 your likeness taken ? If yon did, you remember how very careful the person, who took your likeness, was to have you seated properly, before he began to take it. He lifted your head up, he set your shoulders back, he altered the position of your hands, three or four times, perhaps, before he could get it to suit. He set a swinging ball in motion, for you to look at, so as to have your eyes right ; and when every thing was arranged just to suit him, he said, ■" There, now; keep just so, for a little while, and we'll get a nice picture." Suppose, now, you had shut one eye, just at that moment, and kept it shut, for two or three minutes : what then ? "Why, you would have had the likeness of a one-eyed boy or girl. Or suppose you had twisted your face, or screwed up your mouth : why, you would have had a picture of yourself with a screwed-up mouth, or a twisted face. Nothing in the world could prevent it. Now, my dear children, this world is God's daguerreotype-onice ; and we are all staying here to have our likeness taken. "While we are young the likeness is being taken, of what we are to be as men and women. And all the time we are living here, the likeness is being taken of what we shall be, hereafter, forever. When we become men and wo- men, we may, by great efforts, alter the picture that was made of ourselves in youth. But, when we come to die, the picture that has been taken of us can never, never be altered. However crooked, or awkward, or ugly, our features may be, they must remain, just as they are. Oh, this is a most import- ant thing to know. And it is a very solemn thing 80 the soul's daguerreotype. to think about. Every day we live, our likeness ie being taken for eternity. Let us try to remember this, every morning, when we rise from onr beds. Let us think to ourselves, " I am having my like- ness taken for eternity to-day, and I must strive to have a good likeness." And when we are tempted to do any thing that is wrong, let us stop and ask ourselves the question, How will this look in that picture of me, which must last forever? And it is not only our words, and actions, but our thoughts, and feelings, which will appear in these likenesses. Almost every feeling we indulge, in our hearts, will have its effect upon the countenance. When a per- son is very angry you can tell it, in a minute, from the look of his face. The cheeks flash up, and grow as red as a coal ; and the eyes glare, and flash like the eyes of a tiger. A face all inflamed with anger would make a very disagreeable picture, to look at. And selfishness, fretfulness, un kindness, and mean- ness, will show themselves, in the face, just as plainly as anger does. And they are just as disagreeable, to look at, too. And if we indulge these, or any other wrong feelings, in our hearts or lives, we shall fix the expression of them in the likeness, now being made, of what we are to be forever. Whenever we are tempted to give way to these wrong feelings, let us say to ourselves, " JSTo ; this will spoil our picture for eternity ; this will make a crooked feature, in it, that will never be made straight. Our likeness is being taken, now, for eternity. Oh, how important, it is, that we should keep straight, till it is done !" There is only one other point, I would speak upon, THE WAY TO GET THE HEART STRAIGHTENED. 81 in connection with our present text, and that is this : — How can we get straight, and keep straight, till. our likeness is finished f Now, how are we to get straight? This is the most important question we can ever have to think ahout. Remember, we are not straight, to begin with. Recollect, that, the first of our four points was, to show that, we are all born with crooked, or sinful hearts. They must be made straight, before they can be kevt straight. How, then, can a crooked, sinful heart be made straight or good ? We must take it to Jesus, and pray for him to take away all that is wicked in it. Jesus is able to do this. But no one else, besides him, can do it for us. "When David, the king of Israel, was mourning over his own heart, because it was so dreadfully crooked and sinful, this was just what he did, to get a new heart. He kneeled down, and prayed most earnestly to his Saviour to do for him this very thing, that we are now speaking of. Would you like to know what he said in his prayer ? You can read it all in the fifty- first Psalm. It is a beautiful prayer, and one which we may use, for ourselves. In the tenth verse of the Psalm, he says, "Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me." That is the way, and the only way in the world, to get a crooked heart made straight. Jesus is just as will- ing to hear such a prayer, from a little child, now, as he was to hear it from King David, three thousand years ago, if it is offered, as earnestly, as David offered it. And he is just as able to answer it now, as he was then. He is called Jesus for this very 82 HOW TO KEEP THE HEART STRAIGHT. reason, because he saves his people frofii their sins. And he does this by making new hearts in them. In one of the hymns, we sometimes sing, is this verse : — "Can aught beneath a power divine, The stubborn will subdue ? 'Tis thine, Almighty Saviour, thine To form the heart anew." This, then, is the way to get a crooked heart made straight. It is to take it to Jesus in prayer, and ask him to do it for you. Every one of us may do this for himself. Every child, who feels his heart to be crooked, may bring it to Jesus to be made new, just as well as the greatest king, or the most learned minister on earth. Jesus said, " Suiter little children to come unto me." And there is nothing for which he so loves to have them come to him, as to bring their crooked hearts, to get them straightened. But when our hearts are made straight, how are we to keep them straight ? Two things are necessary for this : — ice must get Jesus to help us, and ice must help ourselves. We must get Jesus to help us. "With- out his help we can do nothing at all in this matter. In this work of cultivating our hearts, God deals with us, just as he does with the farmer, in cultivat- ing his fields. The farmer must have God's help, and he must help himself, or he will never succeed in raising his crops. He may plough his fields, and sow his seed; but if there were no sun to shine on it, ami no rain to descend, or no dew to distil upon jt, do you suppose that the seed would ever spring TWO KINDS OF HELP. £3 up and grow? Never in the world. Now, this ia the way in which God helps the farmer. But the farmer must help himself, by preparing the ground, and putting iri the seed, at the right time, and in the right way. And if he neglect to do this, the sun may shine ever so brightly, and the rains may pour down ever so plenteously, but will there be any har- vest yielded? Of course not. And just so it is in the work of straightening crooked hearts. We must have God to help us, and we must help our- selves. But how will God help us here ? By giving us his grace, and his Holy Spirit. These are just the kind of help to us, in trying to keep our hearts straight, that the sun and rain are to the farmer, in making his crops grow. But how are we to get this help from God ? By earnest prayer. God promises in his blessed word, to give his grace and his Spirit, and all that his people need, in answer to their prayers. He says, u Ask, and ye shall receive." Jesus tells us that his Father is "more ready to give these good things to them that ask, than parents are to give bread to their children." If you want to keep your hearts straight, then, you must go to Jesus_ whenever you find any thing crooked in them, and beg him to take it away. Yet he will not help us, unless we help ourselves; and all our efforts will do no good unless we have his help. But if we have both, our work will be easy and pleasant, and effec- tual too. You remember the fable of the wagoner whose team was stalled in the mire. He felt that he never could get it out of himself; so he fell down on his knees, and began to call on his God to help 84 THE STALLED WAGONER. him. But he was told to get up, and put his shoulder to the wheel, and whip his horses, and then call for help from heaven, and it should be granted to him. There is a great deal of truth in this fable. God only helps those who help themselves. He does so in reference to the body, and the things of this world, and he does just the same in reference to the soul, and the things of the world to come. Begin at once, then, my dear children, to find out all that is crooked in your hearts ; and as fast as you find these crooked things out, take them to Jesus, and pray him to make them straight. And when they are made straight, seek his help, and help yourselves, to keep them straight. This is the Bible way of straightening crooked hearts. This is the way, the only way, of reaching heaven, — that glorious, happy place, where nothing crooked ever enters. May God help us all to walk in this good way now, and may he bring us safe to that blessed place at last, for Jesus' sake ! Amen. THE GREAT MAN IN GOD'S SIGHT. Luke i. 15 : He shall be great in the sight of the Lord. If you had never heard these words before, my dear children, I suppose you would be ready, as soon as you heard them, to ask, "Who can this mean ? Does it refer to some mighty king, or con- queror ? Is it David, who killed the giant ? or Da- niel, who was thrown into the lion's den ? Or is it some great soldier, like Alexander, or Julius Caesar, or Napoleon, that is intended?" No; it is none of these. It is nobody like them, that is spoken of here. Our text refers to John the Baptist. And who was John the Baptist ? He was the son of a poor priest. He was very poor himself. He was born in a little village among the hills of Judea. He lived in the wilderness, and was never heard of, out of his own family, till he grew to be thirty years old. Then he began to preach, in the neigh- borhood of Jerusalem. He continued his labors, as a preacher, for about twelve months. One day lie preached a sermon which offended Herod, the king of Judea. Herod became very angry with him, and put him in prison. There he was kept for a while, and then he was beheaded. This was the history of John the Baptist. And yet, before his birth, the angel Gabriel was sent from heaven to tell the father 8 85 86 THE GREATNESS OF BIRTH — NAPOLEON'S SON. of John, that he was to be a great man,' in the sight of God. Perhaps some of yon are ready to say, "Why, this seems very strange; we don't see any thing so very great, in the life of John the Baptist." I dare say a good many people have thought so. But we must bear in mind that there are two kinds of great men. Some are great in the sight of men, and others are great in the sight of God. There is a wonderful difference between these two kinds of greatness. Now, let us consider three questions. The first is: — What makes 'people great in the sight of men? The second is : — What makes people great in the sight of God? And the third is : — Why is it better to be great in God's sight, than in man's sight? Our first question is: — What makes people great in the sight of men ? Several things do this ; but birth, or money, or talents, are the chief things which give this kind of greatness. Some people are con- sidered great, simply, on account of their birth. They happen to be born of parents who occupy a distin- guished place in society. We all heard, a great deal of talk, about the son that was born to Louis Napo- leon, the Emperor of France, last spring. For a long time, the newspapers were filled with accounts of the wonderful preparations that were made to celebrate his birth. He was to be called the King of Algiers. He was to be rocked in a silver cradle. When he was born, guns were fired, bonfires w T ere kindled, illuminations were held, bells were rung, flags were waved, and all Paris, if not all France, THE GREATNESS OF MONEY STEPHEN GTRARD. 87 was in a perfect tumult of excitement. One might have supposed that that unconscious baby was really the greatest person ever horn into this world. It was a great baby in the sight of men. And yet there was nothing but his birth, to make him great. No doubt, many a baby was born that same day, in humble life, perhaps in some garret, or hut, that will really be a great deal more useful, to the world, than that emperor's son. Greatness, in the sight of men, belongs to that child of a palace, but it is great- ness which owes its existence to nothing but his birth. But money is another thing on account of which persons are sometimes considered great in the sight of men. Everybody in Philadelphia, I suppose, has heard about Stephen Girard. When he was alive, he was the richest man in this city. He was the richest man in this country. He was one of the richest men in the world. He died without leaving any children. But suppose that Stephen Girard had had one only son. And suppose that, instead of leaving his property to the city of Philadelphia, he had left it all to this son. Fifteen millions of dollars to one man ; what a rich man he would have been ! How much attention would have been paid to that man ! How much he would have been honored, and sought after! He might have been an ignorant, stupid, bad man, and yet many persons would have considered him a great man, simply, on account of his money. It is a poor, mean, contemptible thing when a person's greatness grows out of his gold. Yet it often does so. Plenty of money is ofteii 88 THE GREATNESS OF TALENT. enough to make people be considered great in the sight of men. But, there is another thing on which this kind of greatness rests, the most frequently of all, and that is talent, By this is meant smartness, or power of mind to do things that other people cannot do, or else to do them better, than others can. Here are two little boys, John and William. They both go to the same school, at the same time, and the} 7 are both put into the ABC class. John learns the alphabet in three lessons ; but William has to go over his, again, and again, day after day, and week after week, for three months, before he knows it. We should say that John had a talent for learning, while William had not. Kow, this talent, or power of mind to do things, assumes many different forms, and shows itself in many different ways. Some- times, a man's talent will show itself, in a remark- able power to learn languages, as in the case of Sir William Jones. This man learned to read, and write, twenty-eight different lauguages. He became one of the most learned men of the age, in which he lived. His talents made him a great man, in the sight of men. And so it was with Dr. Carey, the Baptist missionary to India. When a young man, he was a shoemaker. But his heart was full of the love of God, and he resolved to give himself up to the work of preaching the gospel, to the heathen. Some people ridiculed the idea of his becoming a minister. They made sport of him, and called him " the consecrated cobbler." But he paid no attention to their mockery. He gave himself up to the work EXAMPLES OP MEN OP TALENT. 89 he had chosen. He had a remarkable talent for learning languages, and he lived to translate the Scriptures into the language of many of the East- ern nations, and thus became the means, as it were, of opening the kingdom of heaven to thousands, and thousands, of people who would never have heard of Jesus, and his salvation, but for him. Some- times a man's talents will lie in a power for paint- ing, as was the case with Benjamin West, the son of a plain Pennsylvania former, who became one of the most celebrated painters in the world. Some- times it will show itself in a power for writing beautiful poetry, as was the case with John Milton, and Alexander Pope, who acquired a greatness, in the sight of men, that will last as long as the Eng- lish language continues to be read, in the world. Sometimes it will show itself in a power to find out curious things, about the stars, and other heavenly bodies, as in the case of Sir Isaac Newton, who saw an apple fall from a tree one day, and set to study- ing about it, and found out from it how it is that the stars move so regularly, and a great many other wonderful things which nobody else had ever known before, since the world was made. Sometimes this talent will show itself in a power to make curious machinery, as in the case of James Watts, who made the first steam-engine, or of Robert Fulton, who made the first steamboat. These persons will always be considered great, in the sight of men, on account of their talents. And sometimes, though ^ery rarely, a man's talents will show itself in a power to do any thing, better than other people can 90 GREATNESS IN GOD's SIGHT. do it. This was the case with our great Washing- ton. He had a great talent for every thing he was called upon to do. He had a wonderful talent for beating the British, and a wonderful talent for ruling the Americans. He had great talent as a soldier, and great talent as a statesman, and great talent as a farmer, and, better than all, besides, he had great talent as a good citizen, and a good man. He was great in the sight of men, and great in the sight of God too. But these are the three chief things, that make persons great, in the sight of men. And this was the first question, we were to consider. And now we come to our second question, which is this : — What is it which makes i^ople great, in the sight of God? It is not any of the things which leads to greatness in men's sight. A person may be born of the greatest king that ever lived, and be as rich as Girard was, and have the talents of all the different great men that I have mentioned, and yet never be great at all in the sight of God. And then, on the other hand, a person may be born in a garret, or a cellar, and never have any money to call his own, and no talent at all to do any thing that men call great, and yet may be really great in the sight of the Lord. This was very much the case with John the Baptist. He had neither birth, nor money, nor talents, to make him what men would call great ; yet God called him a great man. What made him great ? And what will make others as great as he was? Now, all, that need be said in answer to this question, is included in a single word. What an im- portant word it is, which leads to such an important THE SUN MAKES THE CLOUDS GLORIOUS. 91 result ! This word is obedience. It was simply Ms obedience which led to all John's greatness. He did just what God wanted him to do. He did nothing else; and he did this all the time. God wanted John to stay in the wilderness, till he was thirty years old, and he stayed there. God wanted him to preach repentance, and he did it. God wanted him to tell Herod of his sin. Now, John knew that Herod was a wicked man, and that he would get very angry with him ; yet he went right on and did it. Herod put him in prison, and killed him, for it ; yet John was great in the sight of the Lord. He had nothing but his obedience to make him great. And if we obey God, as John did, it will make us great in his sight too. Jesus said to his disciples, " Ye are my friends if ye do whatsoever I command you;" that is, if ye obey me. But Jesus is the almighty God. He rules, and governs more than ten thousand times ten thousand worlds. All the angels of heaven worship him. It is his smile which makes the happiness of heaven. Jesus is so very great himself, that it must make anybody great who is permitted to become his friend. You know, my dear children, how often, when evening comes, the setting sun will shine upon the clouds that are float- ing in the western sky, and make them look so bright, and beautiful, that you stand and gaze upon them, and feel as if you never should be tired of looking at them. Before the sun shines on them, those clouds look so dark, and black, that you have no pleasure in seeing them. They owe all their brightness and glory to the sun. And yet the glory 92 JESUS MAKES HIS PEOPLE GREAT. which the sun gives them is only in appearance, not in reality. Now, if the sun had the power of making all the clouds he shines on, really be, what they seem to he, — if he could actually turn them into glorious, glittering gold, — he would then he doing for the clouds, just what Jesus does for all who ohey him, and become his friends. He sheds his glory upon them, and makes them like himself. He not only makes them look great and glorious, but he makes them really be so. When David was think- ing about all God's goodness to him, he said, " Thy gentleness has made me great." All the greatness which people get in men's sight is little and empty; but it is vast, wonderful, substantial greatness which they get, who become great in the sight of God. And this is what we have Sunday-schools, and churches for. This is the end of all our teaching, and preaching. The object, we have in view in it all, is to persuade you to love and serve Jesus. It is to induce you to become the friends of Jesus. And if you do this, you will secure true greatness to your- selves. This will make you, like John the Baptist, — "great in the sight of the Lord." And this is a great deal better than being great in the sight of men. And now we come to our third and last question, which is : — Why is it better to be great in the sight of the Lord than in the sight of men ? We may answer this question by saying that it is so for three reasons. Greatness in God's sight is better than greatness in man's sight, because it is more useful. Great men in God's sight are more THE CHRISTIAN USEFUL BY HIS EXAMPLE. 93 useful, than others, by their example. Now, the most useful thing that can be done to anybody is to make him a Christian. And whatever is the best help towards making any one a Christian, that is the most useful thing to him. But there is nothing like the influence of a Christian's example to help to make others Christians. And in this way, a real Christian is doing good to those about him, all the time. A man may be born of a prince, and be very rich, and very talented ; yet there is nothing in any of these things to make his example useful, in the way of which we are now speaking. But when any one is great in the sight of God, as John was, by obedience to his will, he is exerting an influence, all the time, which tends to make others obey him too ; and thus, such a person is more useful by his exam- ple, thau those who are great in the sight of men. And then by his prayers, as well as by his exam- ple, such a person is more useful. Suppose a great king had a treasure-house, filled with all kinds of good things; and suppose he should give the key of this treasure-house to one of his servants, and should tell him that he might open it whenever he pleased, and take out any thing that was necessary for his own happiness, or that of his friends. What a pri- vilege this would be ! How much good this person might do ! How very useful he might make him- self! But this is just what God does to his people. He has a treasury in heaven, which contains every thing necessary to our happiness. Prayer is the key that unlocks this treasury. God puts this key into the hands of his people, and allows them to use if 94 A CHRISTIAN USEFUL BY HIS PRAYER, AND EFFORTS. for themselves or others, as there may be occasion. As the hymn says, — "Prayer makes the darkened cloud withdraw; Prayer climbs the ladder Jacob saw ; Gives exercise to faith and love, Brings every blessing from above." The prayer of Abraham would have saved Sodom and Gomorrah, from being burnt up, if ten good people had been found there. The prayer of Moses saved the whole nation of Israel from destruction. The prayer of Elijah brought rain on the land, when there had been none for three years and six months. And a great many such instances may be found in the Bible. But every Christian loves to pray, and, by his prayers, he will be more useful than those can ever be who have not learned to pray. And then, those who love and serve God, and are great in his sight, are more useful than others by their efforts, as well as by their example and prayers. You remember, my dear children, when Jesus was on earth, as soon as he called some of his disciples and they found out who he was, they went right away to tell their friends and relations, and tried to bring them to Jesus too. And just so it is now. As soon as a person becomes a real Christian, and finds out what a precious Saviour Jesus is, he will try to persuade others to love and serve him too. Hence, you will find such a person becoming a Sunday-school teacher, or a tract-distributer, or a Bible-reader, or a visitor of the sick. And these are among tho most useful things that any one can do. The reason why they are so, is because they are means which THE CHRISTIAN'S GREATNESS MORE LASTING*. 95 God has appointed for saving souls from death ; and to save a soul, is the most useful thing iD the world. If you, or I, could make a world, like this we live in, we should feel that we had done some very great thing. Yet Jesus has told us, that one soul is worth more than a whole world. If we should be the means, therefore, of leading one person to love and serve Jesus, we really do more good than if we could make a world. This is one reason, then, why great- ness in God's sight is better than greatness in the sight of men. It is more useful. But it is so, again, because this greatness is more lasting, than the other. Greatness in man's sight — a greatness that connects itself with birth, or money, or talents merely — will soon pass away ; but greatness in God's sight — a greatness that connects itself with our being made good, and holy — will never pass away. The former, of these, is like having one's name writ- ten on the sand, upon the ocean's shore, where the next wave will wash it all away. The latter, is like hav- ing one's name chiseled in marble, so that it cannot easily be done away. One of these, is like the height which a person reaches who gets on stilts. He may stalk round, for a little while, high up above others; but pretty soon he must lay aside his stilts, and then he comes down, as low as anybody. The other, is like the height of one who rises by actually growing tall. He will remain to-morrow, and next year, and always, just as tall as he may become to-day. One of these kinds of greatness is like a sky-rocket. It shoots up, suddenly, into the sky, with a great rush, and blaze, and then, just as suddenly, it goes out again, in total 96 CHRISTIAN GREATNESS TO BE REACHED E5T ALL. darkness. Its beauty fades, its brightness disap- pears, and the blackened stick, falling to the earth, is all that remains of it. The other, is like the star, which God has set in the heavens. It shines with a clear, calm, beautiful, steady light. It has been shining so, for ages past; it will be shining so, for ages to come And this is just what God himself compares his people to, when he says, " They that be wise, shall shine as the brightness of the firma- ment, and they that turn many to righteousness, as the stars, forever and ever." Greatness in the sight of God is better than greatness in the sight of men, because it is more lasting. And then it is so, again, because it is within the reach of all. This is not true, of greatness in the sight of men, but it is true, of greatness in the sight of God. Can we all be born of kings or princes ? No. Can we all become as rich as Girard was ? 'No. Can we all become great poets like Milton, or great painters like West, or great generals like Wellington, [Napo- leon, or Washington ? ISTo. But may we not all become great, in the sight of the Lord, as John the Baptist was? Yes, we may. For it was the grace of God, which made him what he was, and the same grace will be given to us, if we seek it with all our hearts. It is spoken of as "the grace of God which bringeth salvation to all men." All may seek it. All may secure it, and all may be made great by it. There was a book published several years ago, which almost everybody read. The name of one of the prin- cipal characters described in the book was " Uncle Tom." He is represented as a negro slave in one of UNCLE TOM AND UNCLE BEN. 97 our Southern States. He is described as a good man, and a great man, although but a poor slave. Some people think there never was such a character, among the slaves. But, I dare say, a great many such could be found among them. A clergyman who had spent many years in the West India islands, before slavery was abolished, gave me an account of such a one, whom he knew very well. He assured me it was strictly true. He said there was once an insurrec- tion, in one of those islands ; that is, that some had undertaken to put clown the laws, and the magis- trates, and do just what they pleased. Among other things, they resolved to break up the religious meetings of the slaves, in that neighborhood. These meetings were conducted by an old slave, called Uncle Ben. He was a pious, excellent negro, who was respected, and loved, by all who knew him. He had learned to read, and was a sort of minister among the slaves, in that part of the island. The rioters went to the negroes' meeting-house, at the time of service, for the purpose of breaking it up. It happened that Uncle Ben was not there, that day. He was unwell ; and one of his friends was conducting the meeting. The rioters went in, and seized the leader of the service. They led him out of the meeting-house, and put him to death, without a moment's delay. They struck off the poor fel- low's head, and set it on a pole, and then went round to the different plantations, to terrify the poor ne- groes, by this bloody sight of the head of their pray- ing leader. In the course of their march, they came to Uncle Ben's cabin. They halted at the door, and 9 98 uncle ben's courage. sent some one to fetcli him out. When he appeared, the leader of the mob pointed to the bleeding head on the pole, and asked, "Do you know that head, Uncle Ben?" "Yes, massa," says Ben ; "I knows him." "Well, Ben, that's what he's got for his praying. And if }~ou don't stop praying, that's just what you'll get. The next time we catch you pray- ing, we'll do just the same with your head." While this was going on, a great number of the slaves had gathered round, who looked with intense interest on this scene. They were the fellow-slaves of Uncle Ben, and most of them members of his church. Ben gazed upon the head of his friend. Then he looked the leader of the mob full in the face, and said, "Massa, you mean dat?" "To-be- sure I do," said the man ; "and if you wish to keep your head upon your shoulders, you'll give up pray- ing at once." Ben turned to his fellow-slaves in a moment, and said, "Bredren, let us pray." Then he kneeled down, in the presence of those fierce, law- less men, and poured out his soul in prayer. He prayed that God would pardon their sin, and show them the evil of their ways, and change their hearts, by his grace. He prayed that God would give him, and his fellow-slaves, grace to be faithful to their Christian profession, and never, by any threats, or dangers, to be turned away from their duty to him. When he ceased, he rose up and went into his cabin. God's power was on the hearts of those rioters, so that they went away, without offering to touch him. Uncle Ben was a great man, although he was but a slave. HONEST JOHN MAYNARD. 99 Now, look at another instance. A steamboat is making her way through the sparkling waters of Lake Erie. The pilot, at the wheel, is old John May- nard. He is a bluff, weather-beaten sailor, tanned by man} 7 a burning summer's sun, and many a win- try tempest. From one end of the lake to the other, he is known by the name of "honest John Maynard;" and the secret of his honesty, to his neighbors, is his love to God. The land is about ten miles off, when the captain, coming up from his cabin, cries to a sailor, — " What's all that smoke there, coming out of the hold?" "It's from the engine-room, I guess," said the man. "Down with you, then, and let me know." The sailor disappeared for a moment, beneath, and then returned, much faster than he went, and ex- claimed, "The hold's on fire, sir!" The captain rushed down, and found the account too true. Some sparks had fallen on a bundle of tow. No one had seen the accident; and now, not only much of the baggage, but also the sides of the vessel, were in a smouldering flame. All hands, passengers as well as sailors, were called together, and, two lines being formed, one on each side of the hold, buckets of water were passed, and repassed. Filled from the lake, they flew along the line of ready hands, were dashed hissing on the burning mass, and then passed, on the other side, to be refilled. It seemed, for a few moments, as if the flames were subdued. 100 TtfE BURNING STEAMBOAT. " How's her head?" shouted the captain. " West-sou'west, sir," answered Maynard. "Keep her sou' and by west," cried the captain; "we must go ashore anywhere." It happened that a draught of wind drove hack the flames, which soon began to blaze up more furiously towards the saloon ; and the partition, between it and the hold, was soon on fire. Then long wreaths of smoke began to find their way through the skylight; and seeing this, the captain ordered all the women forward. The engineer put on his utmost steam ; the American flag was run up, with the union down, in token of distress ; and water was thrown on the sails to make them hold the wind. And still John Maynard stood by the wheel, though now he was cut ofF, by a sheet of smoke and flame, from the ship's crew. Greater and greater grew the heat ; the engineers fled from the engine-room, the passengers were clustering round the vessel's bow, the sailors were sawing planks to lash the women on, the boldest passengers were throwing off their coats and waist- coats, and preparing for one long struggle for life. And still the coasts grew plainer; the paddles as yet worked well ; they could not be more then a mile from the shore, and boats were seen starting to their assistance. " John Maynard !" cried the captain. "Ay, ay, sir !" said John. " Can you hold on five minutes longer?" "I'll try, sir." Noble fellow ! And he did try. The flames came JOHN MAYNARD A MODERN MARTYR. 101 nearer and nearer ; a sheet of smoke would some- times almost suffocate him ; his hair was singed, hia blood seemed ready to boil with the intense heat. Crouching as far back as he could, he held the wheel firmly with his left hand, till the flesh shri- velled, and the muscles cracked in the flames. Then he stretched forth his right hand, and bore the same agony, without a scream, or a groan. It was enough for him, that he heard the cheer of the sailors to the approaching boats, and the cry of the captain, " The women and children first, then every man for him- self, and God for us all !" These were the last words he heard. Exactly how he perished was never known. Whether, dizzied by the smoke, he lost his footing in endeavoring to come forward, and fell overboard, or whether he was suffocated and fell into the flames, his comrades could not tell. At the moment the vessel struck, the boats were at her side ; passengers, sailors, and captain, leaped into them, or swam for their lives; and all, save he to whom, under God, they owed every thing, escaped. We see from these cases, my dear children, that the poorest persons, and those in the humblest po- sitions of life, may become great in the sight of the Lord. Who would not rather be great in the sight of God, than in the sight of men ? This greatness we may all attain to, if we only try aright. But there were three things, in John's case, that we must remember, if we want to succeed. John began early. He did not wait till he grew up to be a man, before he loved and served God. He began while he was 9* J 02 THREE THINGS IN JOHN'S EXAMPLE. yet a child. And so must we, if we wish to "be really great in goodness. And, then, John had the Holy Spirit to help him. When the angel Gabriel told John's father, Zacha- rias, that God was going to give him a son, he said lhat he would he "rilled with the Holy Ghost from the time he was horn." John never would have been good, or great in the sight of God, without the help of this blessed Spirit ; and nobody else ever will, either. If you want to be great, as John was, you must get the help of the Holy Spirit, as he did. And then, again, John gave up every thing that teas likely to hinder him from becoming great. We are told that "he drank neither wine, nor strong drink." He was a temperate man, not only in drinking, but in eating, and in every thing. And so must we be, if we would be great in the sight of God. May God help us all to remember these things, my dear children ! May he give us grace " to follow John's doctrine and holy life, that we may truly repent ac- cording to his preaching; and, after his example, constantly speak the truth, boldly rebuke vice, and patiently suffer for the truth's sake, through Jesus Christ our Lord." Amen. THE LILY'S LESSONS. Matt. vi. 28 : Consider the lilies of the field. There was once a man who was a great writer. He had a wonderful power to tell just what people think, and feel ; and he had the power to tell these things in a way that nobody else could, so that those who read what he wrote, or heard what he said, would exclaim, "That is just what I think, and just what I feel." Now, this man, when writing once about the pleasantness of being in the country, said he loved to be there because he could — "Find tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in every thing." And this is all true, my dear children. Perhaps you never thought of it, but it is still true. It is true there are "tongues in trees;" it is true there are "books in the running brooks," as they flow through the fields, and the woods. It is true that there are "sermons in stones;" and every little pebble you pick up by the side of the stream, if you know how to think of it rightly, will preach a sermon to you. It will tell you about the goodness and power of God in a better way than I can do, or any other living preacher. And it is true that there is "good in every thing." And now, dear children, when you go into the country this summer, I hope you will have a right 103 104 THE MISSIONARY AND THE LEAF. nice time of it in wandering through the sweet fields and woods ; but I hope yon will not spend all the time in play. See if yon cannot find out tongues in the trees, or hear words in the brooks, or find thoughts in the flowers. Yes! every leaf has a tongue, and every little flower. They all tell us of God. They are the thoughts of God. Somebody has said they were the smiles of God. But, what- ever we may think of this, we know they all have tongues to tell us something. And, if we only learn to understand what they teach, how many wise, and profitable things may we learn from them ! I remember reading about a missionary, who was stationed in a distant country, far away from all his friends and loved ones at home. He had many trials to bear. At first he bore them cheerfully. He loved his work, and was very happy in attending to it. But, after a while, a change took place in his feelings. He lost his trust, and confidence, in God, and began to think there was no truth in what he had been believing, and teaching. He had doubts about the Bible, and the truth of God's word, and even doubted whether there was a God at all, who made the world and all things ; and in this uncom- fortable state of mind he was not fit to preach nor attend to any of his duties. But once, while going on horseback to preach, and thinking of all these things, — of his unhappy state, and his doubts about the truth of what he was to preach, — his way led him along a thickly- shaded path ; and, as he went on, a little leaf dropped from one of the trees over his head, and came shak- HOW JESUS TAUGHT. 105 ing, trembling down, (you know how the little leaves fall,) and lighted right in front of him, on the saddle. He picked it up, looked at it, turned it over, and, as the sun was shining through the trees, held it up to the sunlight and saw all the beautiful little veins, looking like a delicate piece of lace or network. He thought, " Yes ! that little leaf tells me the Bible is true, — tells me there is a God; for none but a wise, merciful, good, and powerful God could have made a little leaf like that. I am sure it is all true," and he went on his way rejoicing, feeling happy and thankful. Now, dear children, didn't that leaf have a tongue for that missionary? Didn't he find a tongue in the tree from which that little leaf fell down ? Cer- tainly he did ; and if we will only consider the flowers, and leaves, that God has made, we shall find them always telling us about God, and good things. It was in this way, dear children, that our Saviour taught the people wise and good things. Once, when he was walking through the fields, he saw a man sowing, when he began to preach a sermon about sowing the seed. Again, while going along, he saw a shepherd leading the sheep to pasture, when he preached a sermon about the Good Shep- herd. And yet, again, while walking by the lake, he saw some fishermen in their boats, mending their nets, to catch fish, when he preached them a sermon about being fishers of men, or engag- ing in the ministry. One day, being under a shady vine, and seeing the beautiful clusters hanging down from the branches, he compared himself 106 TnE lily's growth. to the vine, and his people to the branches, and preached a sermon about that. At one time he told the people about the little birds ; and here he tells us about the lilies: — "Consider the lilies of the field." Now, we are going to try to learn from the lilies this afternoon. The lessons we are about to con- sider, are those which the lily teaches. There are four lessons, we should all learn from the lily. In the first place, there is the lesson of its growth. The lily, in its beginning, is a very unpromising plant. It starts out of the earth, from an ugly-look- ing bulb or root, in size, and shape, something like an onion, so that, without knowing what the lily is, you would never think that any thing beautiful could come out of that unsightly, and unpromising, little root. Nobody would think so. But, children, put it in the ground, and cover it up, and then we shall see. God will make the rains, and dew, come down upon it ; he will make the sun shine upon it, and warm it, and by-and-by a little sprout will begin to grow, so tender that you could take it with your finger and thumb, and destroy it w T ith the slightest nip ; and yet it has the power to thrust aside the earth, and force its way through the ground, until it comes to the surface. Then, when it'feels the warm sun, and fresh air, it grows faster, sprouts up higher and higher, and by- and-by come the beautiful green leaves, which drink in the dew and rain, and seem to rejoice in the sun- shine, when it falls upon them. Then the pretty little bud comes out from the beautiful leaves, shows OUR OWN GROWTH. 107 its little head, grows larger, and larger, until it bursts into the beautiful white lily. Now, all the people in the world could not make one of these little bulbs grow up into such a beau- tiful flower. No: God alone can do it. Yet, dear children, the growth of the lily is just like our own growth. Suppose we take one of these little girls, ov little boys, seven or eight years old. Their eyes aie bright like diamonds, and their faces rosy with health, and life. God has made them w r ell ; their little faces tell it. Suppose I ask you, " What are you made of?" what would you say ? " Dust." Yes ! dust; you are made of dust ! Suppose one of you should lie, and we should put you into an iron coffin, and bury you in the grave, for four, or five, or ten years, and then take the coffin up and open it: what should we find in it? Dust! — a little heap of dark dust, that you or I might take in the hollow of our hand! These bright eyes are dust; these rosy cheeks are dust ; these active limbs are dust ; these curling ring- lets are all, all dust! ' God has made them grow out of dust. Oh ! what wonderful power, and wisdom, God must have to make these beautiful lilies grow out of this little root, and make these eyes, and cheeks, and hands, and feet, and bodies, all grow out of a handful of dust ! What a lesson the growth of the lily teaches ! Yes, my dear children, the growth of the lily, and our own growth, both teach us a lesson of the power, and wisdom of God. Now, when you look upon the lilies, or roses, or beautiful flowers of any kind, as you wander in the 108 THE LILY'S nUMILITY. woods this summer, when you sit beside the pebbly brook, or under the shade of the trees, and see a little flower peeping up from among the grass around it, stoop down and pluck it, and think of this text, "Consider the lilies." Consider the flow- ers, and think what they teach of the power of God, and the wisdom of God to make all these beautifu; things come out of the dust ! Eemember, then dear children, the first lesson : — the lesson of it? growth. The second lesson, which the lily teaches us, is the lesson of humility. It teaches us the lesson of humility in two things about it : — the position in which it grows, and the attitude which it assumes. The lily loves to grow in lonely and retired places. It loves to stay in the background, — to be in the shade. It is the "lily of the valley." You do not find it on the mountain-top, or growing in the streets, or garden-walks, but you must go into the retired and shady places; and when you want to look for its flowers, you won't find them the first thing you see in the garden, but you must go into the corners, and, when you get there, push aside the leaves, and there you will see the beautiful flower, all alone, in the seclusion of a shady corner. It is an humble flower, and it teaches a lesson of humility in the place in which it grows. And then, its attitude shows its humility, as well as its position ; for, when the lily grows up, it hangs its head down as though it wanted to hide itself. It does not spread itself out like the proud dahlia, or 109 tulip, as much as to saj T , " Ain't I a beautiful flower ?" Oh, no ; when the lily gets its full growth, and its beautiful white flowers are formed, it hangs down its head, as though it wished to hide its beauty, and felt that it had nothing to be proud of at all, — ■ as though God meant the very form, and attitude of this flower, should teach us humility. Now, dear children, humility is one of the sweetest things for anybody to have, and especially for boys and girls. Nothing is more lovely in young persons, than to be humble, — to cultivate humility. I will tell you what I mean by humility. There was Mice a noolcman, who lived in a fine country-plnvO. who was the behest, and greatest, man in all that country. There were also some poor farmers, who lived around him, w no used to hold a prayer-meeting once a week. This uooieuutL. was a very pious man, and he thougat he would iiise ro go to their prayer-meeting. The first time he went, as soon as he ?per.ed ino door and stepped inside, they all got up, as sn.MiJfM they could not go on with their meeting, because :ne nohleman was there. Then they wanted him to go up and take the best seat. He said, " No, my friends ; sit down where you are, and I will sit here by the door. I came here, a poor sinner, like the rest of you ; we are all on a level, when we come before God. When we go into the world, God has been pleased to give me more riches than you. It is right that some respect should be shown to this; but when we meet here, we all meet on a level, as sin- 10 110 a missionary's humility. ners to pray for God's blessing." This, dear chil- dren; is one example of humility. ~No\v let mo give you another. You have all heard about Dr. Morrison, a mis- sionary to China. As his labor was great, and almost too much for one to accomplish, he wanted some one to help him; and he wrote home to the Mis- sionary Society, in England, to send out another missionary. When they got his letter, they set to work to in- quire among their friends for a suitable young man, to go out to China, as a missionary to help Dr. Mor- rison. After a while a young man from the country — a pious young man, who loved Jesus Christ — came and offered himself. He was poor, had poor clothes on, and looked like a countryman, — rough and un- polished. He went to these gentlemen, was intro- duced to them, and had a talk with them. They then said he might go out of the room, till they con- sulted, with each other, about him. When he was gone, they said they were afraid the young man would never do, to help Dr. Morrison ; that it would not do to send him as a missionary, as he was but a rough countryman. Finally, they said to one of their number, Dr. Phillips, "Doctor, you go out and tell the vounff man that the gentlemen do not think him fit to be a missionary, but if he would like to go out as servant to a missionary, we will send him." The doctor did not much like to do it; but he told the young man that they did not think he had edu- cation enough, and a great many other things neces- sary for a missionary, but if he would go as a ser THE HUMILITY OF A CniEF- JUSTICE. Ill vant they would send him out. Now, a great many would have said, "ISTo, you don't do any such thing; if I can't go as a missionary, I won't go at all ; you don't catch me going as anybody's servant!" But no, children; he did not say so. He calmly said, "Very well, sir; if they do not think me lit to be a missionary, I will go as a servant; I am willing to be a hewer of wood, or drawer of water, or to do any thing to advance the cause of my heavenly Master." He was then sent out as a servant, but he soon got to be a missionary; and turned out to be the Rev. Dr. Milne, one of the best, and greatest missionaries that ever went out to any country. All this, my dear children, sprang out of his humility. One time, in the reign of George III., King of England, there was a learned and a good- man who had been appointed Chief-Justice of the country, — one of the highest, and most honorable offices in England. This gentleman had a son about sixteen years of age, and one evening, as he was about re- tiring, he called him to his room, and said, " My son, I want to tell you the secret of my success in life. I can give it to you in one word, — humility. This is the secret of it all ; because I never tried to push myself forward, and was always willing to take the place assigned to me, and do the best I could in it. And, my son, if you want to be successful, learn humility." And humility is a very lovely trait, and beneficial not only to ourselves, as in the case of this justice, but to others, as I will now show you. A young preacher, once, of the Methodist church, 112 THE YOUNG MINISTER'S HUMILITY. was sent out on a circuit to preach the gospel. Ho was sent, not in the city, but in the country. One evening, as he was going upon his journey to preach, he stopped at the house of a farmer, who was also a Methodist. This farmer, though a good man, was sometimes very cross. He had met with some peo- ple who deceived him, and professed to be what they were not. When the minister, therefore, came to his house, — as he was rather rou°;h-lookin2: and un- educated, though the love of God was in his heart, and he desired to preach the gospel, — he told the farmer what he came for. The farmer was very cold to him, and even said something about being often deceived by people, who were not what they seemed to be. "There's my barn," said he; "put up your horse in the barn." He had plenty of servants, and might have sent one of them, the young minister thought; and he was about to mount his horse and go on his way, although it was going to rain. Then he thought he would not: "That is not the way Jesus would have done," he said to himself; so he took his horse to the barn, and went to the house. When he came to the front-door, the farmer sent one of his servants to take him round to the kitchen ; and when there, he found some very coarse provi- sion spread out for him on a rough, solitary table. He thought it very strange, and the servants in the kitchen thought it strange too, that their master should send the minister to the kitchen. The young man felt much hurt, and thought he could not stand it, and would get his horse and go on again : but THE GOOD EFFECT OF HUMILITY. 113 he said to himself, " Jesus would not have done so ; I will try to be humble, like Jesus." He sat down to eat the bread, and did not com- plain. After a while, he heard the bell ring for prayers, and he went in with the servants to the room, and took his place. The farmer read a chap- ter; and, on getting through, it was very clear he had not made up his mind whether he would pray himself, or call upon the minister. At last he called on the young man, and asked him to pray. The minister felt glad to have an opportunity of praying ; and when he began, he forgot every thing but the presence of God, and he poured out his feelings in prayer before him. His heart was full, and his feel- ings, which had been wounded by what he had just borne, were relieved by tears. He wept ; the ser- vants wept; the people of the family wept; and even the farmer himself wept, and they had a weeping time of it, — all kneeling down, and all melted to tears. "When they got up, the farmer came to the young minister, the tears running down his cheeks, and took him by the hand, and said, " Oh, forgive me, my dear friend and brother, forgive me ; and I will pray God to forgive me, too, for treating you so un- kindly. I do not know what is the matter with me. Satan has been tempting me to do every thing that is wrong. I am ashamed of myself for treating you so. I wonder you said nothing cross, and was will- ing to stay when I sent you to the kitchen." The mi- nister said, " I was trying to do like Jesus, and as he would have done; and I hope you will try to do so too." The farmer took him into his parlor and gave 10* 114 JESUS THE GREAT EXAMPLE OF HUMILITY him the best heel, and the best room in the house to occupy that night, and pressed him to stay two or three days. He consented to stay the next day, when they had a meeting, got the people together, and the minister preached. That sermon was blessed in the conversion of two or three souls. Two or three of the farmer's family were converted to God, and became useful Christians. Oh, what a blessed thing it was for that farmer's family, and for that neighborhood, that this minister understood hu- mility! — that be was an humble-minded man, and had learned the lesson of humility that the lily teaches, and that Jesus teaches ! Jesus is the great lesson of humility. He came on earth to teach us to be humble. He came, not as a full-grown man, but as a little child, to teach us hu- mility. He was born, not in a splendid mansion, or a costly palace, but in a stable, and his cradle was a manger. And when he grew up to be a man, and went about preaching, he was so poor that he had not where to lay his head, — so dependent that wo- men ministered unto him. He was a servant, and not a master. On one occasion, when his disciples w T ere all in a room together, he took a towel, and girded himself. Then he took a basin of water, and washed their feet and wiped them with the towel. He did all this to teach us the lesson of humility. Now, my dear children, I want you all to learn the lesson of humility which Jesus teaches, and which the lily teaches. The third lesson the lily teaches us, is the lesson of contentment. THE LILY'S CONTENTMENT. 115 The lily is satisfied with the place in which God has put it. It grows there, and likes it better than any other; and, although the roses are out in the middle of the garden, the lily does not fret nor envy them; and, though the rose-bushes are much larger, the lily is satisfied with being a little plant that can just grow up in the shade, and lets the other plants grow up above it. The lily is contented with its position, and size, and color; and, although the rose has its beautiful red, and the lilacs and dahlias have their different colors, the lily has only the one beau- tiful white. Indeed, it is satisfied with its color, its place, its size, and all that God has made it to be, and have. Ah, my dear children, if we would only learn this lesson, how happy should we be ! Take it to your homes, and when you get up in the morning to be dressed, remember the lilies, and if you do not find your bonnet just what you like, be content with it. And if you do not find your coat, your collar, or something else you have to put on, exactly what you would wish it, be content with it, and remember the lily. How happy you would make your home, and how much unhappiness you would save yourself! There was once a good bishop who had a great many things to vex him ; but he never murmured ; he was always pleasant. Some one said to him, " "Well, bishop, I should like to know what is your secret of always being so happy. You have a great many troubles, trials, and difficulties, but I never see vou worried, nor hear you complain about them. What is the secret?" " Oh, the secret is, I look upj 116 A SHORT RULE ABOUT FRETTING. my object is to get to heaven, which is above. I look around, and I see a great many people having worse trials than I have, and I am satisfied with my lot. I look to the graveyard, and see that when I die, I am only to occupy a space six feet long and eighteen inches wide, and I am satisfied with what I now have." That was the secret: — looking up to heaven, hoping to get there at last, looking around at others who are worse off, and then to the grave, in which we must all soon rest. Now, children, I have a capital rule to give you about fretting and grumbling, — a very short rule, which it is worth your while to recollect, if you want to cultivate contentment. Now, listen, while I tell you this rule, and try to practise it. " Never fret about what you can't help" because it won't do any good. u Never fret about what you can help," because, if you can help it, do so. When you are tempted to grumble about any thing, ask yourself, " Can I help this?" and if you can't, don't fret; but if you can, do so, and see how much better you will feel. Oh, remember this little rule ! I want all these dear children to begin while they are young to prac- tise it. Before you go to bed to-night think about it: — "Never fret about what you can't help, nor what you can help," — and fret not at all. I will tell yon one more story about contentment. I remember reading a fable (you know, in fables, we make things talk that don't know how to talk) about a toad and a plantain-leaf. The toad used to live under a stone beside the brook. He was a pretty, fat toad, and got along in the world about as well as THE DISCONTENTED TOAD. 117 toads generally do. One day he went out to find something to eat, and, hopping about among tho green leaves by the creek's side, he heard a rustle among the leaves. He said to himself, " There's a beetle ! I like beetles. I'll be quiet and catch him." So he crept along till he got to it, and stuck out his tongue to get him, but it happened to be an humble- bee! He dropped it like a hot coal, and had to cry out (in the way toads cry) and hop back to his hole under the stone. He suffered with the pain, and his tongue swelled up, and he was obliged to lie by for two or three days. Hopping back to his home, he plucked a leaf of the plantain, and took it home for his medicine, and put it in his mouth, to cure the sting of the bee. He stayed at home for two or three days, and began to get hungry, and poor, and lean. So he thought he would go out, and find something to eat. As he hopped along, he came under the leaf of a plantain, — (now, this plant has very broad and large leaves, and they make quite a shade,) — and, being very tired and hungry, he stopped under the leaf, and, looking up, said, " Oh, what a nice time you plantains have ! I should like to change places with you. Toads have a very hard life." The plantain said, "Friend toad, I should like to change too. I don't see what toads can com- plain of; I think they must have a fine time of it." "Let me tell you," said the toad: — "In the first place, we have to work for our living, and find all we get to eat ; and sometimes, when we think we are going to get a beetle, we get an humble-bee. Then, again, in winter-time, we get frozen up, and, 118 THE TOAD NOT STICKING TO HIS BARGAIN. when we come out, the boys come along and stone us, the crows pick us up, and we have a great many troubles of this kind; while you plantains just have to sit by the river, and don't have to work. When the rain comes upon you it makes you grow and feeds you. I should like very much to change places with you." "But stop! let me tell you my side too. We plantains cannot hop about as you can, but have to stand just where we are placed ; and, if we want a drink of water, we can't go to the creek and get it. We can't move an inch to see the world, or visit our next neighbor. Then, the sun shines hot upon us all da} r , and we have to bear it, and can't hop under a nice cool leaf as you do. Then, by-and-by, comes along a cow and nips off our head, or a little worm and eats into our heart, and we have not power to shake him off. I should like to change places with you. You take mine and I will take yours ; for I am so anxious to hop down to the creek and get a drink. I have not had a sip for months." " Stay ! stay !" said the toad ; " I hear a cricket ; let me get it !" and off he went for the cricket, but never came back. The plantain said he thought the toad was "a very shabby sort of fellow." Thus, my dear children, it appears that everybody has trials ; and the only way to get along is, not to be wishing for what we cannot get, but to learn the lily's lesson of contentment, and be satisfied with what God has given us. The last lesson the lily teaches is, the lesson of its beauty. Oh, if I only had one here, you could see for yourselves, how beautiful it is ! There are three THE LILY'S BEAUTY. 119 things in which its beauty consists : — its form, its color, and its fragrance. It grows into a beautiful rounded flower, and has no sharp edges or corners. Then, its color shows its beauty. It is a beautiful pure white. It is satisfied with one shade, and don't want red, or yellow, or purple, or blue, or pink, but is contented to be a beautiful white lily. Then, its fragrance forms a part of its beauty. It perfumes the air, and, before you see it, you say, " There's a lily about here." You search for it, and trace it by its scent, until you find its little head, in all its beauty, hidden among the leaves. There is also another thing in which I may say its beauty lies. It is a type of Christ our Saviour. He calls himself the "Lily of the Valley" and the "Kose of Sharon." The form, and color, and fragrance, of the lily are all emblems to us of the beauty of Jesus Christ, and of what Jesus will make us, if we are his children. May God give us all grace to be humble and con- tented ! May he help us to learn and practise these lessons ! for in so doing we shall find greater happi- ness and comfort than in any thing else. Now, children, during the summer, when you go into the fields and woods, oh, remember this text, — "Consider the lilies of the field," — and learn the lessons of their growth, their humility, their con- tentment, and their beauty. My dear children, remember them ; don't be satis- fied with having them in your heads, but try to get them in your hearts, and keep them there. Don't be satisfied with talking about them, but try and ^>ractise them, especially these two, — humility and content- 120 THE USE OP THESE LESSONS. ment, — which the lily so beautifully teaches. Again, you must begin to practise them now, while }r children to be found in our language. We commend it to all mothers who are seeking for aids in the discharge of that noblest of mother's duties — the instilling of sentiments of virtue, generosity, benevo- lence, and piety into the minds of children. 11 — Examiner. England's Yeomen. A Tale 1 75 CharnocJc on the Attri- butes of God. 8vo 3 50 "Perspicuity and depth, metaphysical sub- tlety, and evangelical simplicity, immense learning, and plain but invfragible reasoning, conspire to render this work one of the most inestimable productions that ever did honor to the sanctified judgment and genius of a human being." — Toplady. Christian Retirement. . $1 25 Christian Experience., l 25 Cripple of Antioch (The). By the Author of the " Schon- berg-Cotta Family." 1 25 These sketches present vivid pictures of life among the early Christians in the genera- tion immediately following the apostolic days. By the same Author. 1. 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Exposition *of the Old and New Testa- ments. 5 vols., quarto. Sheep 25 00 "For some particular purposes, and in some particular respects, other Commentaries may be preferable ; but taken as a whole, and as adapted to every class of readers, this Com- mentary may be said to combine more excel- lences than any work of the kind which was ever written in any language." — From Be v. Dr. Alexander. " Of the great work itself, we shall not under- take to gild refined gold by praising it. In all its great qualities it has never been surpassed by any subsequent labor, and is the most like the Bible, in its inexhaustable fulness, its gen- erous wealth, its wisdom and spirituality, of any uninspired work." — Evangelist. Hetherhu/ton 's History of the Church of Scotland. Svo 2 50 It contains the history of one of the most interesting portions of the Christian Church, and is distinguished as well by its neat and graceful style, as by the fullness, perspicuity, and, so far as we "can judge, fidelity of its statements. History of Westminster As- sembly of Divines 1 25 The Minister's Family. A Tale 1 25 Hill's Lectures on Divin- ity. Svo 3 50 "The candor and fairness of this author are remarkable. In stating the opinions of op- ponents he is singularly impartial, and states their arguments in their full strength — an un- failing indication of real greatness, and assured confidence in the soundness of his own. His notices, or history of varying opinions in the- ology, are very valuable."— Christian Mirror. Historic Doubts liegard- ing Napoleon Bonaparte 90 CARTERS' CATALOGUE. i Hodge, (Rev. Charles A.,D.D.) On EphesiaDS $2 50 Exposition of l.-t Corinth.. 1 75 Exposition of 2d Corhnli.. 1 75 Essay's and Revi jws 3 00 "It is an occasion of thankfulness when a man so qualified to expound the Word of God as Dr. Hodge, gives another of his volumes to the generation in which he lives. Trained in a school of severe mental discipline, furnished with all learning needful for his work, and, above all, having a profound reverence for the Word itself, so that his great desire is to know what is the mind of the Spirit, this great ex- positor addresses himself to the task with no disposition to torture texts into proofs of his theories, but to draw from them the sincere milk of the Word, that his readers may grow thereby." Hodge, (Rev. A. A.) Out- iines of Theology 3 00 " The style of the author is clear, compact, and nervous, c 'ndensing the greatest amount of matter into the smallest amount of words ; and his (the author's) knowledge of the whole subject is so accurate that he is able to give this condensation in the best form." — Central Presbyterian. Hooker's Philosophy of Unbelief 1 00 * Ho rue 's Ii itroductio n to the Critical Study and Knowledge of Holy Scrip- tures. 2 vols., royal 8vo. Half cloth, $4.50;' cloth, $5.00; library style, $0.00 ; in 1 vol., sheep 5 00 " Hornets Introduction has Jong been re- garded as an indispensable work for a theologi- cal library, and has acquired among Biblical scholars— at least English scholars — a deserv- edly high repute. It is a work of gigantic labor. The results of the research and erudi- tion of Biblical scholars of all countries, and in all time, are faithfully garnered, and, on the whole, well digested." — 2T. Y. Evangelist. Home on the Psalms. . . 2 50 Howard's Prison World of Europe. By iiepworth Dixon 125 Howie's Scots Worthies. 2 50 Huntington 's Human Society. 8vo 2 25 Hymns of the Church Militant. By Miss Anna Warner. New edition, red edges. 18mo $1 50 "The choicest Lyrics in the English lan- guage, and the most devout aspirations of the pious heart may be found in this volume." — Christian Times. Jacobus's (M. W..D.D.) Notes On Matthew. 12mo 1 25 On Mark and Luke 1 25 On John. 12mo 1 25 On the Acts of the Apostles, 175 On Genesis. Vol. I. Crea- tion to the Covenant. ... 1 25 Do. Vol. II 1 25 "Dr. Jacobus possesses many qualifications for a successful commentator on the Sacred Scriptures. 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Books 1 75 Vol. 6. Isaiah and Prophets 1 75 Vol. 7. Life of our Lord. . . 175 Vol 8. Apostles and E. Ch. 1 75 "■ We are free to say tbat as a whole, these volumes are unequalled as compact and porta- ble expositions of the historical Scriptures."- - Watch, and Eeflec. U I cannot lose this opportunity of recom- mending in the strongest and most emphatic manner I can command, this invaluable series of books. I believe, for the elucidation of the historic parts of Scripture, there is noth ing comparable with them in the English, or any other language."— From liev. John Angel James. LandelVs hood. True Man- 1 25 Barge's Evenings tvith Bunyan $1 25 Eeivis's Divine Human in the Scriptures. 12mo. ... 1 50 *Bee on the Inspiration of the Scripture • 3 50 ' We consider Lee on Inspiration as beyond all comparison superior to any work on the subject yet issued in our language." — Church Journal. 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Sunsets on Hebrew Mount. 1 50 "Here grouped together are well-drawn de- scriptions of the death-scenes of many of the loved of God under the old dispensation, toge- ther with some of those who died amid the new wonders of the Christian age; these are the ''Sunsets on the Hebrew Mountains," whose quiet loveliness, beauty and glury. the author paints with a skillful hand. From Abraham "the Father of the Faithful." who died and was buried near Mainre, to Stephen who "fell asleep" beneath the shadows of Olivet, the list of dying worthies is full and instructive." — Christian Churchman. The Thoughts of God 75 The Prophet of Fire 1 50 "The theme is well suited to Dr. Macduff's bold style of discourse, and to his warm-hearted Christian glow. Elijah was a hero as well as a righteous man, and his history is full of dram- atic action and tire." Altar Incense. Red edges. 1 00 Shepherd and his Flock. . . 1 50 "The subject is a beautiful one — the Great Shepherd's interest in his flock, providing their pasture, carefully protecting them, re- storing them when astray, jeoparding his life for them. The good shepherd giveth his life for the sheep, and he provides, when he is smitten, for their future safety. — Presbyterian 10 CARTERS' CATALOGUE. 3IcLeod (Mrs. Georgia A). Sea Drifts $1 25 Marsh, (Miss) Memoir of Capt. Vicar's 1o "The life of this '-Christian Soldier" was a daily worship— its missionary field was found wherever there were hearts to love, or souls for whom to labor." — Inquirer. English Hearts and Hands. 1 25 "The navvies, as they are called, or that class of day laborers in* England who do work on railroads, and who figured so con- spicuously in the siege of Sevastopol, are the subject of this book. The story of what is doing for their salvation, and of the- blessed influence on their char cter and condition, is told with a beautiful simplicity. 11 — Qhrouiele. Life of Arthur Vandeleur, 1 25 Thie is an opportune book. It depicts the life of a model soldier. It shows how a man may be in the service of his Country, and at the same time in the service of God." A Light for the Line 45 The Victory Won 45 Mc Cosh's Methotl of the Divine Government, Physical and Moral 2 50 "We regard this book as the great work of the age. It will have its place on the shelf of the scholar and thinker, by the side of But- ler's Analogy, as long as there shall be scholars and thinkers."— Presbyterian of the West. Typical Forms and Special Ends in Creation, 2 50 " It unfolds two great schemes in the divine proceeding; First, the Law of Older, adhering to an ideal type or pattern through a wide range of organized nature ; and, on the other hand, the Law of Adaptation, still more rich in its illustrations of a designing goodness, in specially modifying the ruling type to serve special ends and uses." — Detroit Tribune. Defence of Fundamental Truth and Review of Mill 3 00 The Intuitions of 'the Mind, Inductively Investigated, 00 w Dr. McCosh's work on 'The Intuitions of the Mind" -eems tons the noblest contribu- tion made to the speculative philosophy of Scotland since the days of HAd." 1 -Peter Bay ne in the Edinburgh Witness. * Mason, Memoir of. By Dr. Van Veehten $2 00 McFarUme's Mountains of the Bible 1 25 Mc Cheyn e?s 1 forks. 2 vols. 8vo 5 00 Life, Letters and Lectures. . 2 50 Sermons 2 50 "The tenderness of his conscience — the truthfulness of his character — his deadness to the world — his deep humility and exalted de- votion, rendered him altogether one of the loveliest specimens <>f the >pirit's workman- ship." — From the Rev. James Hamilton,of I.oui'on. Me Ghee's Expository Lectures on Ephesians 3 00 "These Lectures form a delightful and profitable running commentary upon this Epistle, so rich in experimental truth." — ZioiCs lie raid. Mcllraine's Truth and Life. A Series of Discourses. Svo 2 50 McClelland 9 s Canon and Interpretation of Scripture. 12mo 1 25 "This is a clear and comprehensive hand- book for all who would understand the grounds on which the Scriptures are received as authentic, and the general rules for their in- terpretation." — Presbyter. *Meadc's Bible and the Classics 2 50 "The object of this volume is to make tho heathen mythologies and the ancient classics witness for the Bible. . . . The materials have been drawn from a wide range of authorities, some of them difficult of access even to edu- cated readers." — Evangelist. Meikle's Solitude Siveet- ened. 12mo 1 25 Missing Link ; or, The Bible in the Homes of the London Poor 1 25 "This is an exceedingly interestin? account of what a ladies' mission has done for the poor ii the lanes and alleys of London, among the London heathen." CARTERS' CATALOGUE. 11 Monod's Lacilla and the Abbe $0 90 Farewell to bis Friends and the Church 90 Move's Private Devotion, 18mo, 90c. 82mo, gilt, 60c Red edges 50 Spirit of Prayer. Gilt, 60; red edges 50 JMTorell's Historical and Critical View of Speculative Philosophy 4 50 "Ilia History of Speculative Philosophy is well known to be the most comprehensive and complete book of reference on this subject that English authorship has yet produced." — Am. 1'bn. and Theol. Heview, April, 1864. Newton's (Rev. Richard, D. D.) Biliie Blessings. 16mo. Illustrated 125 Parents are always glad to give, and chil- dren to receive, a new juvenile from the pen of Dr. Newton. He is their old and well-tried friend. As a speaker and writer for youth, he has no equal. The present volume contains discourses on some of the many "blessings" with which the Bible abounds, as " Blessed are the people that know the joyful sound," &c. The Safe Compass. 16mo. 1 25 This book, like " Rills from the Fountain of Life," will prove a welcome volume in every home. The author has illustrated by his charming style of narrative that the Safe Com- pass is the Bible, and the way it points is heavenward. Rills from the Fountain of Life 1 25 "Every page is adapted to rivet attention, both by the freshness of its matter, and the simple, yet graphic character of the illustra- tive anecdotes. Christian mammas will find ample material here for a dozen pleasant Sun- day afternoons with their children, and. teach- ers a store of instructive and interesting mat- ter." The Jewish Tabernacle. 12mo 1 75 The Best Things. Illus. . . 90 Giants and How to Fight them 75 The King's Highway 90 Nellie's Stumbling Block. By the Author of "Katy and Jolly Jim," $1 25 Nellie of Truro. Author of " Vara,". By the 1 50 Mu r flock 's 3Iosheim's * Ecclesiastical History. Y> vols. Svo 7 50 " Mosheim'a Ecclesiastical History has an established reputation. It is an invaluable book of reference, on the subjects of which it treats. It has been before the public more than a century, and will probably not be obso- lete at the expiration of another hundred. years."— Zioifs Herald. Syriac Testament Trans- lated 2 50 Neivton, The Works of the Rev. John New ton. 8vo 3 00 " If there is any name of modern times consecrated in the grateful remembrances and affections of the Christian, it is that of John Newton. His conversiou to Christianity was scarcely less remarkable than that of Saul of Tarsus; and his subsequent course through a long and laborious life was, in many re- spects, quite analogous to the course of the great Apostle to the Gentiles." Newton, (Adelaide L.) Life of. By Dr. Baiilie. 1 25 " This is certainly a rare specimen of female biography. The subject of it was among the most gifted and cultivated of her sex. 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