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it will cost the theological instructors some painstaking and much additional labor; but they can do it if they will, and they ought to be willing to do it.

All this is on the supposition that we had our choice between schools of the two classes. As a matter of fact, however, we have no schools especially for men of limited preparation, and nobody is willing to endow any. We can keep men of this class out of the ministry, we can let them in with a mere picked-up training, or we can give them such advantages as they are capable of using in the seminaries that have been founded for training college graduates. Practically, only these three courses are open. It can hardly be doubtful which course is best.

It should be added that no class of people needs so much sifting as that now under consideration. There are legions of untrained men who imagine themselves called to the ministry, and it is not always easy to distinguish between those who are really called and those who are merely cranky. This part of the work can ordinarily be better done by the presbyters, who have known the candidate for years, than by the professors, to whom he comes as a stranger. We need better co-operation between the presbyteries and the faculties, both for discouraging unworthy candidates and for encouraging worthy ones.

The question suggested in our April number (p. 374), "How shall young men and boys be interested in mission work?" seems to have found an answer in the Princeton Church, Philadelphia, Rev. J. A. Henry, D.D., pastor. At their missionary anniversary, when reports were presented from eight or nine bands connected with the church, a noticeable feature were the bands of young men and boys who took part in the exercises of the evening. The boys who

course.

The question of adapting the studies of imperfectly prepared men to their needs can here be only touched upon. Emphatically, it should never be a question of adjusting the seminary course itself to their lack of preparation. The course is designed neither for the men who desire advanced university training in some branches of theology nor for the men who are deficient in preparation. Its purpose is to prepare the average college graduate for practical work in the ministry. The course itself should not be changed for the purpose of adapting it to individuals; rather, the studies needed by individuals should be provided for and adjusted to the There should be optional and postgraduate studies for those who seek special scholarship. For the relatively unprepared men a course of selected studies may sometimes be best-a short-cut course, even, in a few instances. In a much larger number of instances the best adjustment may probably be reached by dividing the work of the junior year, arranging for a part of it to be brought up by vacation study or by an additional year at the beginning of the course. In no case should a man be admitted to the regular course unless he belongs there, and in no case should a Christian seminary resort to the heathenish practice of admitting a man with conditions, to be worked off in term time by work additional to that of the course

exhibited their map of Mexico moulded in clay, with lighted tapers to mark the mission stations, were just as eager and enthusiastic in their interest as the little girls who told us their reasons for joining the mission band, and we could not see that there was any less interest on the part of the young men who gave the opening Scripture reading. Certainly somebody, a good many somebodies, must have worked hard to accomplish the results that were exhibited

that evening. The printed programme that was put into our hands showed that these bands were under the guidance and care of ladies of the congregation; but we noticed in the report of the young men that they had appointed an executive committee of their own number, who were expected to relieve their president of much of the care that has

rested upon her in previous years. Besides its actual mission work this band has secured a room in the neighborhood of the church where the young men and boys of the congregation are welcome, where they can pass their evenings safely and pleasantly, and where the different bands and committees find a convenient place of meeting.

SOME LITTLE NEW PRESBYTERIANS.

I was lately at a Sabbath service in a Presbyterian church, and noticed that there were two ministers in the pulpit-the pastor, and a minister from another city. I guess the two men are intimate friends. They seemed to be quite in sympathy with each other, and fully to understand each other. The whole service went along as smoothly and evenly as if one man had conducted it. I like that word of Paul, "true yoke-fellow." When I was a boy I lived on a farm, and used to yoke and drive oxen. I remember nothing more pleasant to see than a good yoke of oxen, taking the yoke upon them so meekly, bowing their strong necks to it obedient to the word of a boy whom they could have tossed on their horns; and then, when hitched to the load or the plough, pulling together so evenly. It was this pull ing together of which the two ministers reminded me, and I am sure they will not take offence at my comparing them to oxen, if they learned, as I did, in boyhood, what a noble creature the ox is, and especially if they remember how many interesting things are said in the Bible about oxen. you noticed that, my little Presbyterians? Will not you look up all the places, and send them to me? I shall probably have more to say to you about them in THE CHURCH AT HOME AND ABROAD, if you will do that.

Have

new Presbyterians. On that Sabbath morning, when I saw the two ministers in the pulpit, the pastor said that if there were any little children to be baptized they might be brought forward. The congregation was very still for a minute, and several men and women came before the pulpit, holding babes in their arms. The pastor stepped right down and placed himself among them, taking one of the babes and holding it in his arms, and facing the minister in the pulpit as the other fathers and mothers did. You. have guessed rightly that that was the pastor's own baby. He looked as if it was a great and sweet joy to him to be for a few minutes just one of the flock to which he usually ministers; to be ministered to, and to know that all the people would pray for his child, as his friend sealed it a child of the covenant. He stepped forward first, holding up his child, while the other minister spoke its name, and baptized it into the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Then he stepped aside, and the pastor took his own place, and set the holy mark of the good Shepherd on the other little lambs.

When I call them little new Presbyterians, I do not mean that the baptism made them Presbyterians. I call them new because God has so lately given them being and life; and I call them little Presbyterians because they are born into Presbyterian

But I started to tell you of some little households, in a Presbyterian church, and

are to be taught and trained in the Presbyterian way. Do you think that there is any better way to bring them up for God? If their fathers and mothers teach them and train them as they have promised, and if God's Spirit makes them obedient to that

teaching, will not they become happy and good and useful men and women?

Are any of you sorry that you were born into Presbyterian homes? Do you not like to be called little Presbyterians?

H. A. N.

THE BEACON CHURCH.

Does that seem a strange name for a church? Perhaps the word suggests some rocky coast, with the waves dashing wildly along the shore, where a tall tower has been erected, from whose summit a beacon light shines to guide the bewildered mariner through the dangers of storm and night.

Well, with such a picture in your mind, perhaps the name will not seem so inappropriate if you make your way through the streets of Philadelphia to the quarter where, in the midst of the factories, this beautiful church is located. For where can there be greater need of steadily-shining beacon lights than in our great cities with their daily and nightly dangers of temptation?

A few of us took that long journey one Sabbath evening this spring, rather more than a Sabbath day's journey, perhaps, from West Philadelphia, and sat with that great congregation at the Lord's table. It was a precious opportunity. The house was full, and a solemn hush prevailed as the pastor read the names of the thirty-three who were to make their first public profession of their faith in Christ, with a number who came from other churches, making, I believe, one hundred and twenty-eight who have been added to the roll since the opening of the year, of whom we were told that more than seventy were from the Sabbath-school. Surely that beacon light has not shone in vain if it has guided so many barks into a safe harbor. Very tender were the words of exhortation and counsel that were uttered at that sacramental feast. In connection with the petition of the Lord's prayer, "Lead us not into temptation," we were assured that the

temptations will come, and that there is no safety, no deliverance from the evil one save in the loving, constant care and guidance of the Great Pilot. "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends," brought the sacrifice of Christ very close to our hearts, and we were reminded that there can be no adequate proof of our responding love save as we keep his commandments. We were not permitted to separate without a few words of earnest, affectionate invitation to those who were only lookers-on at this feast to come with us and share in all that it represents.

After the service we had an opportunity to go through the building. The large audience-room is octagonal, and rises into a lofty dome. Its acoustic properties are said to be perfect. The gallery consists of a series of recesses which can be divided off into Bibleclass rooms. There is also a commodious reading-room, where we noticed a supply of papers and magazines, with other means of entertainment. On the same floor with the audience-room we were shown the chapel where the primary class meets on the Sabbath, and where, during the week, a free dispensary is held, at which we were told that during the past three months one thousand cases had been treated by skillful physicians.

Those engaged in the work have large plans for further development as time and means shall permit, and we cannot but be thankful that it has been put into the hearts of some of God's stewards to provide such a beacon for the people of that part of the great city.

F.

MY FIRST SERMON.

Not the first sermon I ever preached, for I am not a minister. Not the first sermon I ever heard, for my father was a minister, and of course I had heard sermons-or they had been preached in my hearing-ever since I was old enough to be carried to church in my parents' arms. But I do not

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believe I had ever heard a sermon-at least not all of one before. It was not a sermonette," as it was not prepared specially for children, though I believe one child was specially prepared for it.

Yes, it was prepared specially for children, as well as for older people; for the one who preached it could not love children as he did and not think of them as he prepared it.

One Sabbath morning there was a strange gentleman with Mr. and Mrs. C. A stranger could be easily seen, for the congregation was not very large, and I knew all the people who usually attended, and nearly all the people in the town who occasionally came or might possibly come. When church was out, Mrs. C introduced her friend to my father and mother, and sure enough they all went home with us to dinner; and as the older folks walked on before, and Martha C— and I followed, she proudly told me that the handsome and kind-looking gentleman was her uncle, her mother's brother, her uncle John McE; that he was a minister, was only lately through with his studies, and that he was here to pay them a visit before he would take charge of a church.

When we reached home, my sisters and I were introduced, and soon understood that Mr. McE― was to preach in the afternoon, by my father's invitation. I must hurry, then, to help mother get the dinner on the table; there was no time to lose, for the afternoon service was at three o'clock, as the church members nearly all lived in the country.

The children had to wait for the second table; and when Martha's uncle John left the table, he came directly to us and began talking with us. Pretty soon he asked me

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if I was a Christian. My stereotyped answer since I was five years old came more faintly than when father and mother asked me I hope so." "Why do you not know? Do you love the Saviour?" "I try to." Then he asked me, "Do you know whether you love your mother? Do you have to try to love her?" Whatever followed is forgotten, for I was much embarrassed; but I was very much pleased that he had spoken to me, and felt strangely stirred that he talked with me about my Christian life in that natural way, just as people talked with each other and with me (a few of them) about other things which they and I could both enjoy,—with a voice and manner and happy smile that said so plainly that talking with children about the Saviour and his love for them and their love to him was a part of his daily life, just as much as eating his dinner.

Then he told me I was to call him "Uncle John," just as Martha did. He left us at that, and we went and ate our dinner.

But this little talk was not my sermon. It was, perhaps, my preparation; but I was permitted to go in the afternoon and hear that sermon that interested and edified and pleased not me only, but Uncle David L———— and Mr. B- whom I so much feared, and

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Mr. G- -L —, whom I loved (these were the elders), and my father the minister, and my mother-and all the rest, I think. The announcement of the text arrested my attention: "The name of the Lord is a strong tower: the righteous runneth into it, and is safe" (Prov. 18:10). The minister explained to us how a tower or fortress is a place made so strong that those inside fear nothing from the enemy outside. He drew the picture of that strong tower so that I understood that the enemy cannot enter,that dreadful enemy who brings every weapon to try to break down the tower, and who will try to enter by fraud; but those within are safe, are safe.

But while this protection was such a wonderful thing to have, I felt a misgiving, a fear, for what was to come. "The righteous

runneth into it, and is safe." But I was not righteous; I was full of sinful thoughts. Once I told a lie, or nearly did; and I had read some books that I knew mother did not want me to read. But those sinful thoughts distressed me most of all. I could not hope to have the protection of the strong tower.

But now the minister held up the right eousness of Christ. He showed us plainly how well pleased the Father is with that perfect life, that full atonement for sin, and how, by accepting the righteousness of Christ as our own, we thus run into the

strong tower and are safe. Now indeed there was hope for me, for I could trust in Jesus the Saviour, and believed that I was one of his.

All the years since, when I see occasionally the name of Rev. John McE(a home missionary in Iowa the last I knew of him), I have no doubt he is going on with his winning voice and manner, speaking the message that confirms the feeble ones, clearing away difficulties and making impressions that will not be effaced in time or in eternity. EMMA C. C.

PEW AND PULPIT.

A communication entitled "A Comment from the Pew" was published in our April number on page 331. The writer expressed regret that the pastor and elders of the church in which he is a member "had not had collections taken up for scarcely any of the boards for several years, except for the Foreign and Home." He thought that this did not "relieve him of the responsibility nor take from him the privilege of giving." So he sent $- to the treasurer of the Board of Aid for Colleges and Academies.

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This has brought us a comment from the pulpit on a comment from the pew." The writer, a synodical superintendent of home missions, states that he has been "thrown into direct and personal relationship with a great number of churches," covering "a wide range of numerical and financial strength and weakness." He avows the conviction that the scarcity of funds in the treasuries of our church's boards is largely owing to the refusal or neglect of sessions to give their people instruction concerning the work and wants of the boards, and opportunity to make contributions for them. He affirms that no church has been found which has refused to contribute when the opportunity

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has been given." "The session is in official relations with our boards, and unless the session sees fit to have the people instructed, the large majority of the members know nothing about the work or the needs of the church at large. Benevolent men and women of large means are often found who do not know where our boards are located, who are the officers and how to reach them." From this, he thinks, it comes to pass that liberal gifts of such persons often go to objects outside of our church, when they would prefer to entrust them to our church's responsible agencies, if they knew about them It probably will be generally acknowledged that there is truth and force in these suggestions. THE CHURCH AT HOME AND ABROAD has been instituted and is conducted for the purpose of making our people acquainted with the whole work of the church, and especially with the boards, which are the prominent agencies for conducting it. Our theory is that information is what the church needs-its people and its officers. We are almost daily receiving evidences that our labor herein is kindly appreciated, and are encouraged to hope that it "shall not be in vain."

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