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purely natural disposition which can fit the soul to stand in the presence of a holy God, and to enjoy the happiness of a holy heaven. But even where we have scriptural ground to believe that the heart is under the quickening influence of the Holy Spirit, we may easily understand that the peculiar natural temperament and constitution of the mind may disqualify it for usefulness among elements utterly uncongenial to its taste, and among persons incapable of making allowance for its weakness or singularities.
Undcubtedly, it is the duty of all persons subject to such infirmities or singularities, to contend against them, and to endeavour to overcome them; and much may often be done to modify and subdue them. But this is not the point of our present paper. We are supposing the case of those to whom the opportunity of such resistance is scarcely, if at all granted. They perish, like a lovely garden flower, beneath the first tempest which sweeps along the sky. And we ask, “Why is the world deprived of so much that is attractive in person, manner, and disposition ?” Shall we say, “They were too good for this world ;” as if we thought our heavenly Father begrudged the world which he has made, the treasure which he has lent it for a moment, and then taken it away before it could become of any real use ? Ought we not to view such dispensations of His providence as mercies rather than as judgments—as mercies to the individual removed, rather than as judgments on those who remain ? Nay more ; they are mercies even to the survivors. A father weeps over a lovely daughter, whom he sees with cheeks flushed by hectic fever, and eyes sparkling with the brilliancy peculiar to pulmonary disease, and wonders why he is so soon and so certainly to lose the earthly solace of bis declining years. Is she taken away because she is too good for him ? Perhaps be will be tempted to think so; but there are other reasons of a far weightier kind. Perhaps she was drawing insensibly his own heart down to earth ; she was retarding instead of furthering his progress towards heaven ; she kept his spirit from soaring towards
his eternal home; and it was needful to break the tie. Or she might have grown up to be a source of trouble and anxiety to his mind; her increasing age might not have brought forth fruit corresponding with the promise of her opening spring; and therefore, for her sake, her removal had become necessary. We may believe that our heavenly Father will take his children at their best, not because they are then too good to live, but because a longer stay would but render them less fit to die. This we would regard as a rule, without denying that exceptions to it may exist.-Christian Observer.
EVANGELICAL PREACHING. In the department of Christian morality, I think many of those who are distinguished as evangelical preachers greatly and culpably deficient. They rarely, if ever, take some one topic of moral duty,-as honesty, veracity, impartiality, Christian temper, forgiveness of injuries, temperance (in any of its branches), the improvement of time, -and investigate specially its principle, rules, discriminations, adaptations. There is none of the casuistry found in many of the old divines. Such discussions would have cost far more labour of thought, than dwelling and expatiating on the general evangelical doctrines, but would have been eminently useful ; and it is very necessary, order to set people's judgments and consciences to rights. It is partly in consequence of this neglect (very general, I believe), that many religious kinds of people have unfixed and ill-defined apprehensions of moral discriminations. Robert Hall told Anderson, that in former years he had oftener insisted on subjects of this order : I know not whence the ill-judged alteration, during his residence at Bristol ; to judge from so much as I heard. He could hardly have fallen in with the common notion ; "Lead them to the true evangelical principles of doctrine, and the morals will follow of themselves.” I would answer
HO, how superfluous is a large portion of the New Testament, as being specifically, and often minutely preceptice!"-John Foster's Life and Correspondence,
FEEL WHAT YOU SAY! However highly gifted he may otherwise be, it is a valid objection to a preacher, that he does not feel what he says; that spoils more than his oratory. An obscure man rose up to address the French Convention. At the close of his oration, Mirabeau, the giant genius of the Revolution, turned round to his neighbour and eagerly asked, “Who is that?" The other, who had been in no way interested by the address, wondered at Mirabeau's curiosity. Whereupon the latter gaid, “ That man will yet act a great part;" and, when asked to explain himself, added, “ He speaks as one who believes every word he says.” Much of pulpit power under God depends on that,-admits of that explanation, or one closely allied to it. They make others feel who feel themselves. How can he plead for souls who does not know the value of his own? How can he recommend a Saviour to others who himself personally despises and rejects him? Unhappy, indeed, and doubly blind, those whose leader is as blind as they are, and unhappiest of all the blind preacher, for while leader and led shall fall into the ditch, he falls undermost,--his will be the heaviest condemnation, the deepest and most damned perdition. In possession of such a man,--of one who has adopted the church as other men the law, or army, or navy, as a mere profession, and goes through the routine of the duties with the coldness of an official,--the pulpit seems filled with the ghastly form of a skeleton, which in its cold and bony fingers holds a burning lamp.
THE DUTIES OF A MOTHER. She must be firm, gentle, kind ; always ready to attend to her children. She should never laugh at what they do
that is cunning; teach them to be neat and orderly always ; she should teach them to obey a look; to respect those older than themselves. She should never give a command without seeing it is performed in the right manner. She should try to inspire love, not dread ; respect, not fear. She should teach her children to wait upon themselves ; to put everything in its place. She must sympathise with them in their little troubles—they are great for them; the griefs of little ones are too often neglected. She must bear patiently with them, and never arouse their anger if it can be avoided. She must teach them to be useful and kind to all, and try not to forget that she was once a child. She must remember ever that she is training and educating souls for Eternity!
Unhappily, a great portion of our species are not very wise, and a good many of them not very honest. The former, if they hear of a person who does not admit the grounds on which they believe something, take for granted that he does not beliere it at all ; and the latter think it meritorious to take advantage of the silliness of the others, to garble and misrepresent their opponent's expressions, in order to expose him to odium, thus acting like those tyrannical emperors who used to dress up their victims in the skins of wild beasts, and tben set dogs at them to worry them to death.
Archbishop Whately. MAKING A NEEDLE; OR, HOW PEOPLE HELP EACH OTHER.
It is curious to think how many people are at work for you. “Me!" cries a little girl, looking up from her hemming; “nobody is at work for me; I am working for myself." Let us see.
In order to furnish you with the small pocket-handkerchief which you are now hemming, the planter sowed and gathered his cotton, the sailor carried it to the manufacturer, the spinner and weaver made it up into cloth, the shopkeeper kept it in his store : so many, rate, helped you to it. Then, the needle you are hemming with came hundreds of miles, besides employing a great many people to make it in the first place. The child looked
at her needle, so small, so slim, so simple. “It's only a needle," she said. But it takes a great while and many workmen to make a needle.
Let us go where our best needles come from, and take a peep into the workshops. In going over the premises, we must
pass hither and thither, and walk into the next street and back again, and take a drive to a mill, in order to see the whole process. We find one chamber of the shops is hung round with coils of bright wire, of all thicknesses, from the stout kinds used for cod-fish hooks, to that for the finest cambric needles. In a room below, bits of wire, the length of two needles, are cut by a vast pair of shears fixed in the wall. A bundle has been cut off : the bits need straightening, for they came off from coils. The bundle is thrown into a red-hot furnace, then taken out and rolled backwards and forwards on a table until the wires are straight. This process is called “rubbing straight."
We now ride over to a mill. There is a miller peeping out at us. One end of his mill is for grinding flour, the other for grinding needles. We go down into the basement, and find a needle-pointer seated on his bench. He takes up two dozen or so of the wires, and rolls them between his thumb and fingers, with their ends on the grindstone, first one end and then the other. We have now the wires straight, and pointed at both ends. Back to the workshop. Here is a machine which flattens and gutters the heads of ten thousand needles an hour. Observe the little gutter at the head of your needle. Next comes the punching of the eyes, and the boy who does it, punches eight thousand in an hour; and he does it so fast, your eye can hardly keep pace with him. The spitting follows, which is running a fine wire through a dozen perhaps of these twin needles; a woman with a little anvil before her, files between the heads and separates them.
They are now complete, but rough and rusty, and, what is worse, they are so limber as to bend with a touch. A pretty poor needle, you will say. But the hardening comes next. They are heated in batches in a furnace, and when red-hot are soused in a pan of cold water. Next, they