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VOLUME IT.
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY AT ONE DOLLAR A YEAR-PHILADELPHIA, AUGUST 23, 1862.
NUMBER 34.
THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL TIMES,
A WEEKLY RELIGIOUS PAPER,
PRICE ONE DOLLAR A YEAR,
PAYABLE IN ADVANCE.
Please address all communications to
THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL TIMES,
148 South Fourth Street,
Philadelphia, Pa.
Subscriptions are also received by
A.  D.  P.  RANDOLPH,
,683 Broadway, New York.
HENRY HOYT,
9 CornhiU, Boston, Mass.
J. W. McINTYRE,
9 South Fifth Street, St. Louis, Mo.
49T Por farther particularsjsee Notices on fourth page.
Por the Sunday-School Times.
TRUSTING IN GOD IN DARK TIMES.
WHEN outward circumstances with us are
pleasant, and every thing goes on
smoothly, we think it easy to trust in God;
we feel sure that we shall never distrust God
again; and we wonder that all Christians do
not at all times exercise implicit trust in their
heavenly Father. But when dark days come
again, and clouds roll over our heads, how
soon we begin again to borrow trouble, and
forbode evil of the future 1 In the midst of
present trial, we forget God's goodness in the
past, and his sure promises for time to come.
Night is the time for the stars to shine:
and times of darkness are the times when the
Christian's trust ought to be brightest. Dark
days are the very times to try our trust. We
cannot with truth say that we trust in God, if
our faith has never been tried. Faith is
called in the Bible "precious faith." The
preciousness of faith is evidenced by the
severity of the trials through which Christians
are called to pass. Manifold temptations are
sometimes the portion of God's children, that
the trial of their faith, being much more
precious than of gold that perisheth, though
it be tried with fire, might be found unto
praise and honor and glory at the appearing
of Jesus Christ. 1 Peter 1: 6, 7. And why
should the Christian doubt the goodness and
faithfulness of God, and fear and dread the
future, when the time comes in which he is to
be tried ? He ought rather to be glad at such
a time because of God's merciful visitation.
He ought then rather to rejoice in God who
intends the trial only for his good. The
apostle James begins his epistle with some
words on this very subject, " My brethren,
count it all joy when ye fall into divers
temptations. Knowing this, that the trying
of your faith worketh patience. But let
patience have her perfect work, that ye may
be perfect and entire, wanting nothing." God
tries the faith of all his people. Temptations
are the common lot of all his children.
"There hath no temptation taken you but
such as is common to man." Chastisement is
the portion of all. " If ye be without chas¬
tisement, whereof all are partakers, then are
ye bastards, and not sons."
Why should we not trust in God at all
times, when it is dark as well as when it is
light around us ? Why should not our trust
be steady, and like an anchor to our souls ?
Our God is the same in dark and bright days.
He brings light out of darkness, and turns
day into night. He is the sovereign dis¬
penser of good. All outward circumstances,
whether regarded by us as prosperous or
adverse, depend solely on his overruling pro¬
vidence. He makes rich, and he makes poor.
He lifts up, and he casts down. He directs,
and he controls. God knows the end from
the beginning with regard to every thing. He
knows always what is best. He promises
good to those who trust in him. Why ever
distrust him ? When we look back over the
years that are gone, and remember how God
has been with us in the pilgrimage of life
hitherto, we are constrained to say, He hath
done all thiDgs well. How wicked then to
distrust him for the future ! How guilty the
Christian is who does not at all times take
God at his word I With the Bible which we
know to be true, how guilty before heaven we
are, in not resting upon it! Why stagger at
the promises of God just because they are so
great ? Why not be " strong in faith, giving
glory to God," like Abraham ? Oh, doubting,
fearing Christian, remember this, Unbelief
makes God, " the faithful God," a liar !
How foolish too for the Christian to distrust
God when the darkness begins to gather
around him ! Then it is that he needs moBt
the full consolation of the divine Word.
On one dark day, not long past, of the
writer's Christian life, he sat down with his
Bible to search out and collect together those
Scriptures which speak of God's care of his
people. He began to write them down on
paper, and those which- from memory he could
at once refer to, he found too many for his
pen. Very many promises there were just
suited to his case. And now before closing
this article, (by which he hopes to do good to
some child of God of whom it cannot yet be
said, "His heart is fixed, trusting in the
Lord") he would refer the reader to a few
passages of the Word, in order that by pon¬
dering them his faith may be increased, as the
writer's has been. See Prov. 3 : 6. Read the
whole of Ps. 37. See Ps. 40: 1.7; Ps. 55 : 22 ;
Rom. 8: 28; Heb. 13: 5. Read Matt. 6: 25-34.
How sweet and precious is God's plain, un¬
changing Word 1 How wicked it is to distrust
God at all, at any time, and under any cir¬
cumstances 1 No one who trusts in God is
ever disappointed. "He is faithful that
promised."
How good, my God and Father, thou hast
ever been to me, and how unmindful of thy
goodness I have often been, how unfaithful
and unthankful sometimes even in the midst
of the greatest mercies 1 I do truBt in thee.
"Lord, I believe; help thou my unbelief."
Oh that my trust in thee may henceforth be
implicit, like that of a loving, dutiful child in
a parent good and kind 1 J. F. h.
For the Sunday-School Times.
SATAN AND A CHILD.
DEAR TIMES:—Whenever a little boy or
girl yields to the temptation of spend¬
ing for candy, on the Sabbath, the penny
which was entrusted to him to be given to
the Sabbath-school, or to be put upon the
church plate, he commits a four-fold sin;—
he breaks the Sabbath, he steals, he lies, and
he dishonors or disobeys his parents I How
serious a matter, and yet how frequent an
occurrence! Who can measure the baneful
influence of this practice upon the whole
subsequent life and character of those who
are the victims of it ? It has often seemed
strange to me that so little notice is taken of
it by Sunday-school teachers, talkers and
writers.
The other Sabbath as I saw a group of
children, just from afternoon school, with
their library books in their hands, pause
before the show window of a confectioner,
and then all go into the store, I mentally ex¬
claimed, "Alas! poor little flies, you could
not have seen the ugly spider in that web?"
As I walked along, my thoughts began to
follow the rhythm of that well-known alle¬
gorical song, " The Spider and the Fly;" and
here is the result:
" Oh! see what pretty candies!"
Whispered Satan to a ohild ;
As innocent a little one,
As ever he beguiled.
" How sweet they look!  how sweet they'll taste!
Now just step in and try!
Oh, dear! if I were you / would,
I'd just step in and buy.
Will you, will you, will you, will you just step in
and buy ?
Will you, will you, will you, just step in and try?"
"Oh, no! I dare not!" said the ohild,
" For this is God's own day,
Whioh I must 'holy keep,' or his
Commandment disobey.
Besides, I've not a cent to spend ;
The penny in my hand,
Pa gave me for the Sunday-sohool,
To send to heathen-land.
Oh, no! no! no!   Oh, no! no! no! for this  is
God's own day.
Oh, no! I dare not steal from God this penny on
the way."
" Oh, no! I must not spend this oent,
For then I'd tell a lie,
I'm sure that God would think I had,
If I should oandy buy.
' Children obey your parents,' too,
Is written in his Word,
And I should disobedient be,
And thus offend the Lord.
Oh, no! I will not!   No! I will not!   Will not
tell a lie!
Oh ! I'll be good !   Ob, yes, I will!   Oh, yes!   Oh,
yes!   I'll try!" M.
New York, July 22, 1862.
;■•,
Por the Sunday-School Times.
BELIEVING WITH THE HEART.
' * TXTH AT is believing ?" said James to his
VY   father.
" It is not easy to define an act so simple
as believing. You know when you believe a
statement, don't you ?
" Yes, sir."
"No definition can make it plainer to you.
You may call belief the assent of the under¬
standing to a proposition, but you have not
made the matter any clearer."
" Do we believe by the understanding ?"
" It is the mind that believes. The under¬
standing is not something different from the
mind. We call certain acts of the mind acts
of the understanding in order to distinguish
them from other acts."
The Bible says that we believe with the
heart.    "With the heart man believeth."
"Those acts of the mind which relate to
feeling we refer to the heart. Believing or
faith includes confidence in a person as well
as an intellectual belief of truth. It is with
reference to this element of faith, viz.: confi¬
dence, trust, that we are said to believe with
the heart."
WHITHER BOUND ?
A NOBLE ship is fully freighted with a rich
cargo. Her sails are set, the wind is
fair; she is sailing swiftly on the broad ocean,
everything betokening her onward progress
in a prosperous voyage. She is hailed by an¬
other vessel:
"Shipahoy! whither bound?"
"Nowhere."
The question is supposed to be misunder¬
stood, and is repeated.   The answer comes :
" Don't know."
" Have you a captain ?"
" Yes, but we don't mind his orders."
" Have you a chart, a compass, a chrono¬
meter?"
" Yes, bnt we never use nor look at them."
Young man, outward bound on the ocean
of life, how does this compare with your ex¬
perience, your prospects, your destination as
an immortal being?—N. Y. Observer.
Set not the heart on this world.
BEAUTIFUL IN DEATH.
ONE morning I paid a pastoral visit to a
young lady, a member of my church,
whose family had not long removed from an¬
other part of the country to reside in Birming¬
ham. On my rising to retire, my young friend
informed me that she had an invalid sister,
whom she expected every moment from her
chamber, and who, she said, would be much
gratified to see me. I had scarcely resumed
my seat before there entered the room a most
lovely and interesting young person, whose
features, naturally very pleasing, derived ad¬
ditional beauty from the fatal flush with which
they were marked, and which had been in¬
creased by the exertion of coming down
stairs. As soon as she had recovered her
breath, which had been rendered short and
rather difficult by the exertion of descending
from her chamber, I entered into conversation
with her on the circumstances of her afflic¬
tion; a subject which, though in most cases
gloomy and depressing, checked not for a mo¬
ment the sweet smile which played on her
engaging countenance.: She soon informed
me that she felt she had the sentence of death
in herself, and considered her illness as a voice
from the tomb, and spoke of dying as one that
was familiar with that awful subject. "I
have neither love of life," she said, "nor fear
of death; and although I .am leaving the
world when its prospects were become most
flattering and alluring, I do not regret it. I
have only one desire, aud that is after more
communion with God." There was a tear in
her eyes, but it was not the tear of disap¬
pointed hopes or bitter regret, but only the
tribute of nature refined, but not destroyed,
by grace; and Which, in fact, added a charm
to the beauties of holiness, that so evidently
invested her character. The whole strain of
her conversation was se calm, so collected, so
dignified, evincing such meek submission,'
such longing after immortality, that I gazed
at her with wonder and delight, and left the'
house thinking and saying that I had scarcely
ever witnessed anything so seraphic.
Martha had been declining in health for
Borne time, but on the 11th of May last, on
returning from public worship, she ruptured
a blood-vessel in the lungs.
This attack of disease she received as an
intimation that she must be ready for the
speedy coming of the Son of Man. Among
her private papers she had the following entry
relative to the event:—" This dispensationjof
mercy brought eternity to my view, and in
the evening I had the sweet assurance that
sudden death could have nothing to alarm
me." How strange will it sound to many to
hear a young and beautiful person, with all
the ordinary, and some of the extraordinary
reasons for wishing to live, talk of an event
which would in all probability issue in death,
as a dispensation of mercy. Yet this was
neither unnatural nor irrational. #A11 things
Work together for good to them that love
God; and death is placed by the apostle
among the privileges of the child of God. At
the time of her attack in May, she, was en¬
gaged in the bonds of plighted love to a gen¬
tleman to whom she was tenderly attached,
and to whom at no distant period she was to
have been married. But the conflict was
short, the victory complete; and it was at
once the greatest effort and brightest triumph
of her faith, to be made willing to give up
even this dear object of her heart, and to de¬
part and be with Christ. In reference to this
event, she.sometimes said, " It is mysterious,
but I know it is all right. My heavenly Fa¬
ther knows what is best for me." " I never,"
says her sister, " saw greater firmness in her
than when she adverted to this disappoint¬
ment of her hopes."
As I did not apprehend from my first visit
that her end was near, and as I was much
from home, I did not again see her for some
time; and 0, that all my young friends could
have seen her as I then saw her, lovely in
death, like a moss rose-bud nearly severed
from its stock, and just ready to fall on the
ground, with its opening beauties possessing
still their freshness and fragrance. There
was not the shadow of a shade of impatience,
anxiety, or fear, to becloud her beautiful
countenance, to check the smile which irra¬
diated her features, or to dim the ray of hope
which glittered in her fine expressive eye, as
it turned to that heaven whither her heart
had already ascended. What painter's skill
could pencil the looks which I then saw ? All
was peace, and more than peace; it was a
peace that passeth understanding, rising into
a joy unspeakable and full of glory. Christ,
and Christ alone, was her refuge; and she
confessed her entire dependence on his blood
and righteousness for acceptance with God.
She knew in whom she had believed, and was
persuaded he was able to keep that which she
had committed to him until that day. I pass
over much that was said during that most
solemn and delightful interview; to mention
one remark: " Do you now feel any regret,"
I said to her, " that you are leaving the world
so early, and when its prospects are becoming
so attractive ?" With an ineffable smile she
replied: "Our great business in this world is
to obtain the salvation of our souls; and
having secured that, I have accomplished the
end of my existence 1" Glorious and import¬
ant truth I
A time was fixed for a last sad interview
with her once intended husband. In this
scene her faith shone forth in all its bright¬
ness, and patience had its perfect work.
While all around were filled with grief, she
was calm, serene, composed. Having affec¬
tionately uttered some pious counsels to this
friend of her heart, and pointed him to that
heaven on the verge of which he now saw
he/she took her last farewell, and gave her
last look, with a peaceandfortitude that sur¬
prised every one, and which proved that she
was now enjoying too much of the " excellent
glory" to suffer much from the rending of any
earthly ties whatever. She looked up into
heaven, and saw Jesus waiting to receive her
spirit, and felt that she could leave for him
even that friend with whom it was once her
fondest worldly hope to tread the path of life
in company. The scene scarcely ruffled her
peace, or drew from her soul one longing,
lingering look to earth, for heaven was fully
in i£ar view.
"In the midst of sufferings too painful to
describe," said her sister, in a note, " Martha
could smile, and tell us Jesus was near to
her. Her countenance, at all times animated
and happy,was unusually so now; it beamed
with ineffable brightness, and was a strong
and beautiful evidence that all was perfect
pesSse within. When she could no longer
speak she looked all we could wish her to
say.^ About five minutes before she expired,
her"agonies ceased—she knew all of us—and,
as" though to bid a last farewell, she smiled
and exclaimed, 'Happy! happy!'" Blessed
stafe. of mind! to smile and exclaim Happy,
hajjipy ! even in the cold arms of death 1    •
$o died Martha S .    Her* last farewell
to earth was uttered with the consciousness
and the feeling that she was treading at that
moment upon the very threshold of heavenly
gloty; and Who then need wonder that she
cotfld speak of happiness even in death. As
she1 drew near her everlasting home, she saw
thef lights of her Father's house ; and, uncon¬
scious of the gloom of the dark valley of the
shadow of death, from the midst of which she
behold them, she gave expression to her feel¬
ings in a note of holy rapture, and left the
WOfld with accents which we may easily ima¬
ging were also the first she uttered as she
touched the heavenly shore—"Happy, happy I"
Behold, young people, another convincing
preof and beautiful display of the power and
excellence of religion, in the deep submission,
ihtf solid peace, the joyful content of this
fdtng lady, when called not only to resign
lift in the very morning of her day, but to
turn from the altar to the tomb !—John Angell
Jakes.-
was fond of intoxicating drinks, and kept
tbem privately in his room. This caused
Steel, after remonstrating in vain with his
room-mate, to seek other quarters.
Graham was a fair scholar, and was pos¬
sessed of talents for debate above mediocrity.
He might have made a respectable and useful
man; but the love of rum was with him
stronger than the love of distinction or of use¬
fulness. His habits of intemperance became
confirmed. The Faculty were obliged to dis¬
solve his connection with the college.
His father came for him, and with that
strange obliquity of vision which, caused by
parental fondness, not unfrequently occurs,
he took the part of his son against the go*
vernment of the college. In his excitement
against that government he did not seem to
notice the intoxication of his son, as he with
difficulty climbed to his seat in the vehicle
which was to convey him home.
His course continued to be downward. He
led an idle, intemperate life till his father
died, then he was obliged to shift for himself.
He passed through many changes, and at
length turned up as we have seen, in New
York.
Steel went to his room and sat down to
meditate. He kneeled down and thanked
God, who had made him to differ from his
miserable classmate and early associate.
for the Sunday-School Times.
WRITE TO THE CHILDREN.
M-
ri ALLING at the house of a little friend of
vJ mine the other day, I found her so busily
engaged in reading a letter that she scarcely
noticed my approach. That it was a pleasant
letter I knew from the smile that played
about her mouth, and the light that shone
through the tears in her blue eyes.
" Excuse Annie a few moments," said her
mother softly, as she beckoned me to a seat
by her side. " She,has just received a letter
from her Sunday-school teacher, who is in
the country, and she has eyes and ears for
nothing else for the present. This is the
third one she has received since she went
away, and she thinks so much of them that
she ties them up with a blue ribbon, and lays
them among her choicest treasures."
On the way home, as I walked through the
broad avenues of the city, teeming with little
children—precious children with immortal
souls, I could but reflect on the vast amount
of good that might be done if every teacher
in the country would send to each member of
her little class, a sweet souvenir of love and
piety, in the shape of a confidential letter.
Many little children, summer after summer,
never see the green fields and the shady
groves of the country; never know what it
is to step into the cool dairy and drink milk
fresh from the cow to their heart's content.
They must be satisfied with a run in the
park, and the little patch of grass and clusters
of morning glories in the back yard. To
such children, how welcome a letter from a
beloved teacher in the country! Think of it,
teachers, and see how many little hearts you
can gladden in your brief sojourn among the
mountains and hills. M. A. E.
For the Sunday-School Times.
THE CLASSMATES.
6 * TTAVE a porter?" said a poorly clad man
XI to Mr. Steel, as the steamboat from
Albany reached the wharf. There was some¬
thing in the tones of the man's voice which
caused Mr. Steel to scan his features.
As he repeated the question, Mr. Steel was
satisfied that the person addressing him was
an old acquaintance. Compassion led him to
employ him to take his trunk to a hotel.
As he handed him a sum larger than was
usual for the service performed, he said:
" Graham, you are changed from what you
were at B ."
" Who are you that knows anything about
me ?" was the reply. '
"I am one who am sorry to see you in
your present condition, and would be glad to
help you out of it; but you cannot be helped
so long as you hold on to the habit which
brought you to this condition."
" I mean to hold on to it. If you are a
friend, give me enough to get a gallon of rum,
and that will make me happy for a week:
won't you ?"
Mr. Steel shook his head.
" Then I'll be off," and without waiting to
hear the conclusion of the sentence which
Mr. Steel began to utter, he shuffled off to¬
wards a grog-shop.'
Mr. Steel and the poor intemperate porter
were classmates in college. For a short sea¬
son they occupied the same room.   Graham
For the Sunday-School Times.
A BELIEVER'S TRIUMPH.
"Sweet be my rest, till he bid me arise
To hail him in triumph descending the skies."
THUS sang the gentle but fast fading Amy,
as she lay upon the couch in the bay-
window overlooking the beautiful garden at
Moss-side. The scene was rendered more
lovely by the rays of the setting sun making
golden beads of the sparkling fountain drops
as they danced in the perfumed air. Sweet
as was her earthly home, the pale sufferer yet
longed for a "better country, even an hea¬
venly." At the twilight hour, when all na¬
ture was gently hushing for a calm repose,
Amy had often found it profitable to. contem¬
plate the goodness of God. She had early
sought him, who was readily found of her;
and now in the midst of her affliction, she felt
that her hope was well grounded. Patiently
she awaited the hour when she must put off
the whole armor that she had worn from the
opening of her contest " against the world,
the..flesbf 9&d the devil." She knew that it
must be worn till the close of the war, when
it would give place to a robe of spotless
purity. " The helmet was to be cast aside for
a crown." The sword was to be exchanged
for " a harp," wherewith she would eternally
celebrate the praises of the " Giver of all
victory."
Young friends came oft to see this fading flower,
In whom was wrought the Spirit's mighty power,
To speak of home, the heaven so blest,
Where weary, heavy-laden souls find rest.
And how well she improved those golden
opportunities ! She told of "that heaven so
bright andj/air." She spoke sweetly of a Sa¬
viour's love; of his offers of mercy so boun¬
tiful ; of his invitations so full of tenderness
and compassion ; of the tender Father, whose
arms are ever outstretched to welcome the
prodigal son and sustain the weary child,
whose loving voice calls the wanderer to his
rest.
Thus were the days closing on one Whose
life was "hid with Christ in God." Only
a few remained. Life's sun was fast
waning. The loved ones gather around the
frail form of the happy Amy, " to catch the
bright seraphic glow that in each feature
played." Those closing eyes now beheld, for
the last time, the glorious sun sinking behind
the western hills. Amy's spirit was fast
passing to a land where " is no need of sun
or moon, for the Lamb is the light thereof."
The household is summoned to behold the
triumphant death of the dearly loved. Soon
the silver cord will be broken. Soen the im¬
mortal soul will enter into the full enjoyment
of its longing desires. The friends are in
tears. The mother hears a sweet voice
whisper—
« Why do you weep ? .
I am falling asleep,
And Jesus my Shepherd is nigh;
His arm is beneath me,
His eye is above,
His Spirit, within me,
Says,' Rest in my love.'"
Thus fell asleep in Jesus one who took up
the cross of the meek and lowly Saviour at
an early age. She ran the race with patience,
gained the prize, and is now enjoying the
" fulness of pleasure at God's right hand for¬
ever more." " O death where is thy sting ?
O grave where is thy victory? Thanks be
unto God, who giveth us the victory through
our Lord Jesus Christ." E. T. S. L.
Rosedale, W. P.
for the Sunday-School Times.
WORK FOR JESUS.
To the vineyards hasten early,
While the fields are wet with dew;
Gather sheaves, all white and pearly,
It is Jesus oalleth you.
When the heat of noon-tide nearetb,
Draw not yet thy hand away—
Urgent work, and needful, presseth;
Work for Jesus—all the day.
When the shades of evening thicken,
Precious moments to him give—
Let each weary foot-step quicken,
Work for Jesus—work and live.
Thsta.
Pastoral Work in the Sabbath-School.
THE following extract touching the mutual
duties and relations of paster and people
to the Sunday-school is from the inaugural
sermon of the Rev. Alfred Taylor, newly in¬
stalled pastor of the Presbyterian church at
Bristol, Pa.:
" Our Sunday-school claims our prayerful
attention, our earnest work and toil. We must
not overlook it, or thinkit beneath our notice.
The children of to-day are the men and wo¬
men of to-morrow. The babe in arms escapes
our observation for a while, and lo! heis almost
a man. He is worth attending to, and training
in the way in which he should go. The duty
is a duty which rests upon the whole church.
Our prosperity depends much on how we bring
up our children. We can train them for a
useful Christianity—we can let them run
loose till they become very vagabonds.
"We have now a pleasant Sunday-school,
well officered, efficiently managed.    But we
can do more than we are doing.   Our rooms
are but half full.   We can fill them.   Let us
have a live Sunday-school.    Let us compel
the little ones to come to the feast spread for
them.   Let us add to its efficiency by adding
to the number of its co-workers, and engaging
in all   those   modern   improvements which
make the Sunday-school such a fruitful nur¬
sery of Zion.    I deprecate the idea, however,
of turning our Sunday-school into a menage¬
rie, or an exhibition, as is too frequently the
custom.    We can interest our children in va¬
rious ways, and interest our friends in their
behalf, without departing from the great ob¬
ject for which wc gather them together.   The
great obj-ect is to teach them the truth as it is
in Jesus.    It must be presented to them in the
most interesting way possible, or they will
not listen to a word of it.   No long-winded
droning to them ; no tedious harangues ; no
cross and impatient scoldings; no bitter sar¬
casm mingled with  the teaching of God's
truth.    The truth must be spoken in love to
them.   And, as we look for good and able
officers for our army, so we want more good,
really good, really able, teachers for our Sun¬
day-school.    There is no call for the irregular
teacher, who comes only when it is not con¬
venient to stay at home; no call for the slo¬
venly one who is always late ; no call for the
heedless one who has not his heart in his
work.    No call for the stupid one, who can
neither take an idea himself, nor impart one
to his scholars.   No call for the stubborn one,
who is always finding fault with the arrange¬
ments of the school.    But there is a call for
one   dozen   faithful,   competent,   punctual,
cheerful-faced teachers.   We want them now.
I believe they are here, and are willing to en¬
list in the work.
" I want to do my share in this work. I want
to know every teacher and every child, and I
want them to know me. I want to go among
them and encourage and instruct them, and I
want them to encourage and instruct me.
And that we may the better work together, I
propose to preach a sermon to the children on
the last Sunday afternoon in each month.
Although this is for the children, I will try
to make myself understood to the grown per¬
sons who may be present, and I hope to see
you all here, to show your interest in the
lambs of the flock, if nothing more."
For the Sunday-School Times.
ENJOYING RELIGION.
" T DON'T see how you can enjoy religion
A in your business," said one to the
cashier of a bank, whose business was very
extensive.
" I enjoy religion in counting and taking
care of money," was the reply.
The brother to whom the reply was ad¬
dressed thought it was a profane one, but it
was not. The cashier spoke the truth. He
did enjoy religion in the bank, and while his
thoughts were occupied with money. It was
his duty to be a banker. It was his duty to
be diligent in business. It was his duty to
have his thoughts occupied for many hours
in the day with money. He found enjoyment
in the performance of duty, as is always the
case.
THE WATCHWORD.
IN one of the great rock-galleries of Gibral¬
tar, two British soldiers had mounted
guard; one at each end of the vast tunnel.
One waB a believing man, whose soul had
found rest upon the Rock of Ages ; the other
was seeking rest, but had not found it.
It was midnight, and these soldiers were
going their rounds, the one meditating on the
blood which had brought peace to his soul,
the other darkly brooding over his own dis¬
quietudes  and doubts.    Suddenly an officer
passes, challenges the former, and demands
the   watchword.    "The   precious   blood of
Christ!" called out the startled veteran, for¬
getting for a moment  the password of the
night, and uttering unconsciously the thought
which was at that moment filling his soul.
Next moment he corrected himself, and the
officer, no doubt amazed, passed on.    But the
words he spoke had rung through the gallery
and entered the ears of his fellow-soldier at
the other end, like a message from heaven. It
seemed as if an angel, had spoken, or rather
as if God himself had proclaimed the good
news in that still hour.    " The precious blood
of  Christ 1"   Yes;   that   was   peace!    His
troubled soul was now at rest.    That midnight
voice had spoken the good news to him, and
God had carried home the message.    " The
precious blood of Christ!"—Strangebutblessed
watchword; never to be forgotten. For many
a day and year, no doubt, it would be the joy
and rejoicing of his heart.