redemption-money, every person brought a shekel. The poor shall bring no less, and the rich shall bring no more than just a shekel. The same price was paid for the one as the other. Now then, little child of God, take that thought to thy soul. You see some men very prominent in Christ's cause-and it is very good that they should be-but they did not cost Jesus a farthing more than you did; He paid the same price for you that He paid for them. Recollect again: You are just as much a child of God as the greatest saint. Some of you have five or six children. There is one child of yours, perhaps, who is very tall and handsome, and has, moreover, gifts of mind; and you have another child, who is the smallest of the family, perhaps has but little intellect and understanding. But which is the most your child? "The most!" you say; "both alike are my children, certainly, one as much as the other." And so, dear friends, you may have very little learning, you may be very dark about Divine things, you may see men as trees walking," but you are as much the children of God as those who have grown to the stature of men in Christ Jesus. Then remember, poor tried saint, that you are just as much justified as any other child of God. I know that I am completely justified.

but

"His blood and righteousness

My beauty are, my glorious dress."

I want no other garments save Jesus' doings, and His imputed righteousness. The boldest child of God wants no more; and I, who am "less than the least of all saints," can be content with no less, and I shall have no less. O Ready-to-Halt, thou art as much justified as Paul, Peter, John the Baptist, or the loftiest saint in heaven. There is no difference in that matter. Oh, take courage and rejoice!

Then one thing more: If you were lost, God's honour would be as much tarnished as if the greatest one were lost. If Christ lose one of His people, He would not be a whole Christ any longer. If the meanest of His children could be cast away, Christ would lack a part of His fulness; yea, Christ would be incomplete without His Church. If one of His children must be lost, it would be better that it should be a great one, than a little one. If a little one were lost, Satan would say, "Ah! you save the great ones, because they had strength and could help themselves; but the little one that has no strength, you could not save him." You know what Satan would say; but God would shut Satan's mouth, by proclaiming, "They are all here, Satan; in spite of thy malice, they are all here; every one is safe; now lie down in thy den for ever, and be bound eternally in chains, and smoke in fire!" So shall he suffer eternal torment, but not one child of God ever shall.

One thought more and I shall have done with this head: The salvation of great saints often depends upon the salvation of little ones.

Do you understand that? You know that my salvation, or the salvation of any child of God, looking at second causes, very much depends upon the conversion of some one else. Suppose your mother is the means of your conversion, you would, speaking after the manner of men, say that your conversion depended upon hers; for her being converted made her the instrument of bringing you in. Suppose such-and-such a minister to be the means of your calling; then your conversion, in some sense, though not absolutely, depends upon his. So it often happens, that the salvation of God's mightiest servants depends upon the conversion of little ones. There is a poor mother; no one ever knows anything about her; she goes to the house of God; her name is not in the newspapers, or anywhere else; she teaches her child, and brings him up in the fear of God; she prays for that boy; she wrestles with God, and her tears and prayers mingle together. The boy grows up. What is he? A missionary--a William Knibb-a Moffat-a Williams. But you do not hear anything about the mother. Ah! but if the mother had not been saved, where would the boy have been? Let this cheer the little ones; and may you rejoice that He will nourish and cherish you, though you are like bruised reeds and smoking flax.—Rev. C. H. Spurgeon.

SCRIPTURE ILLUSTRATIONS.

THE MUSTARD-SEED PLANT.

IN the parable of the mustard-seed, it is said that this seed, although the smallest of all seeds when cast into the earth, becomes, when grown up, a great tree (in a comparative sense, of course), and puts forth branches, so that the fowls of heaven come and lodge among them. I was beginning to fear that I should leave the country without having an opportunity to see any example of this plant answering to the description of it in the parable. Of the various persons of whom I had made inquiry at Jerusalem, no one was able to give me any certain information. One said that probably this species of the plant was now extinct. Another said that it was reputed to grow very large in Galilee, but could not vouch for it from personal observation. I had observed, indeed, in crossing the plain of Esdraelon, just before coming to Nazareth, that the mustard-plant was by no means uncommon there; but yet, though some of the stalks which I took pains to measure were quite large, they were still not so large as I had expected to find them, and not large enough, as it appeared to me, to suggest naturally the illustration of the parable. I was, therefore, disappointed.

Some days after this, as I was riding across the plain of Akka, on the way to Carmel, I perceived, at some distance from the path,

Then the desolate sprits vanished like the pale vapour which the cold condenses; when, instantly, the children left their coffins, and clustering in terror about the altar, prostrated themselves before the majestic form of Him who was upon it, and cried, "Jesus, have we no Father?" But to them He answered, with a flood of tears, "We are all orphans, you and I, we have no Father."

It has been profoundly said, that atheism could not shield one from the fear of eternal suffering. This dream may serve to illustrate that thought. It paints, in vivid colours, the utterly helpless, desolate, and wretched condition of even departed spirits, which must continue in existence, but without the presence of a God and Father.

But if, on the one side of that narrow passage which lies between the island of time and the main land of eternity, there is the fearful whirlpool of speculative atheism, on the other we behold the equally perilous crag of practical unbelief. There are those who abjure the creed of the atheist, yet practically imbibe its spirit, living “without God in the world." They know God, but do not glorify Him. They do not stand in awe of Him. They do not bow before Him in humble, penitent, believing prayer. They are unaffected by His goodness, unmoved by His compassion, unconstrained by His love. The language of their lives is, "Who is lord over us?" To these, no less than to the others, living and dying in impenitency, futurity must be shrouded in the most fearful uncertainty, the same rayless, hopeless gloom.

"END THERE IS NONE.”

LIGHT traverses space at the rate of a million miles a minute, yet the light from the nearest star requires ten years to reach the earth, and Herschel's telescope revealed stars two thousand three hundred times further distant. The great telescope of Lord Rosse pursued these creations of God still deeper into space, and having resolved the nebula of the Milky Way into stars, discovered other systems of stars-beautiful diamond points, glittering through the black darkness beyond. When he beheld this amazing abyss-when he saw these systems scattered profusely throughout space when he reflected upon their immense distance, their immense magnitude, and the countless millions of worlds that belonged to them, it seemed to him as though the wild dream of the German poet was more than realised.

"God called man in dreams into the vestibule of heaven, saying, 'Come up hither and I will shew thee the glory of my house.' And to His angels who stood about His throne He said, "Take him, strip him of his robes of flesh; cleanse his affections; put a new breath into his nostrils; but touch not his human heart —the heart that fears and hopes and trembles.'

A moment, and it was done, and the man stood ready for his unknown voyage. Under the guidance of a mighty angel, with sounds of flying pinions, they sped away from the battlements of heaven. Some time on the mighty angel's wings they fled through Saharas of darkness, wildernesses of death. At length, from a distance not counted, save in the arithmetic of heaven, light beamed upon them-a sleepy flame, as seen through a hazy cloud. They sped on in their terrible speed to meet the light; the light with lesser speed came to meet them. In a moment the blazing of suns around them—a moment the wheeling of planets; then came long eternities of twilight; then again, on the right hand and on the left appeared more constellations. last the man sank down, crying, 'Angel, I can go no further, let me lie down in the grave, and hide myself from the infinitude of the universe, for end there is none.' 'End is there none?' demanded the angel. And from the glittering stars that shone around, there came a choral shout, 'End there is none!' 'End there is none?' demanded the angel again, 'And is it this that awes thy soul? I answer end there is none to the universe of God! Lo, also, there is no beginning!' Professor Mitchell.

LEAVING HOME.

At

THERE is hardly a time in the life of a youth, which seems to gather together so many tokens of a mother's affection and care, as when he is leaving the roof that has sheltered him from infancy, and going forth to prepare for, or to enter upon, the duties and scenes of life. That trunk, which no one but a mother can arrange and pack, is filled with the work of her own hands-work which she has done while he was, perhaps, asleep, or at play-on which her tears have fallen, as she has anticipated the moment of separation; and over which her prayers have often been silently offered for blessings on her child. Piece after piece is carefully put away, while the children look on, and talk cheerfully of the morrow, and know not the anxiety and care that is passing in the mother's heart. All is at length arranged, and on the last layer is placed a Bible, on the fly-leaf of which is written the mother's earnest wish, that her child may take that blessed volume as his guide through life. And when he is far away, amid scenes that are strange and new, if there is one motive next to the desire to obey God, that should, above all others, induce him to abstain from evil, and to act wisely and virtuously, it should be the wish to please his mother, and to repay her kindness and care. Nothing will so surely do this, as the knowledge that her son remembers her instructions, obeys her commands, even while absent, and is growing up in wisdom and virtue.

If these lines should be read by any who are even now recalling the hour of parting from home, and who are looking daily upon some token of a love that has never faltered, nor lost its power and tenderness, let me ask you to cherish that affection, as one of strong motives that should bind you to a life of usefulness and virtue. You are away from the scenes of your childhood, yet you know that in the dear home that you have left, prayer is daily offered for you, both at the family altar and in the closet; and that, although others claim your mother's attention and care, she never forgets her absent son. She walks through the house and misses you everywhere. Your place is vacant at the table; but your name is often spoken there, and when at evening your brothers and sisters gather around her, she thinks of you, and her eyes often fill with tears to think that you are not among them. You would not, I trust, make her unhappy by any act of ingratitude, or by any course that would tend to bring evil and disgrace upon yourself. If, then, you would be safe from the evils that are around you; if you would make happy the hearts you have left at home; if you would repay that mother for the tender interest and care she has for you, observe these few brief rules:

1st, Daily read a portion of that mother's Bible.

2d, Morning and evening commit yourself to God in prayer.

3d, Make a full surrender of your heart to Christ, as your Saviour.

4th, Never do or say anything which you are not willing to tell your mother.

5th, Be regular in sending home a full account of all that is of any interest to your self.

I think that no son will ever bring his mother to shame who will observe and practise these directions.

Read them over, and see if I am not right. So far as this life is concerned, a youth is in perfect safety who makes a confidant of a pious mother, and who always asks, when tempted to do wrong, Am I willing that she should know it?

But, above all, remember that the eye of God is upon you that whether at home or abroad, whether amid the scenes of your happy childhood, or amid strangers, God is with you, and will notice and remember every thought and act of life. Live, then, as under His Omniscient eye; commit yourself wholly to Him, and He will guide and bless you. Oh should you, while absent from those that you love, find an interest in Christ, what joy will there be in the household when you return home, and meet those who, in all your absence, have without ceasing remembered you in their prayers, and who, as they see you rejoicing in the Saviour, can cherish for you the hope of a useful and a happy life!

TEACHINGS FOR THE CHILDREN. No VI.

THE TRINITY.

131

"LITTLE girls," said Miss Bell, to her Sabbath-school class, "what do you understand by the Trinity?" "Three persons in one God; the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost," answered the children.

"Do you understand how there can be three persons in one God, and all equal?" asked Miss Bell.

"I

"No, ma'am ; do you think any one does?" suppose you do, ma'am," said Sophie. "No," said Miss Bell, "I do not understand how the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit are one; and perhaps I never shall if I get to heaven, and after I have been there 'ten thousand years. This may be one of the mysteries into which the angels desire to look, and are not able. But do we not constantly believe a great many things we do not undersand?

"You don't understand how the flowers grow; or how one kind of seed always produces one kind of flower. You know the sun and the rain make the grain grow, but how you cannot tell."

An old lady in one of our quiet villages saw the telegraph posts, and the wires passing through the village. And she said, "They tell me that thing carries a message from London to Edinburgh in no time at all; but I don't believe it, and I never will believe it. It is not possible."

One day a letter came to the old lady, and on opening it she found it was a message by telegraph, saying, "Your son Robert is very ill; come immediately." She asked a great many questions as to how the message came, and when she heard that the "wires "brought it, and when she saw the date only an hour before the time she was reading it, she said, "It is a hoax. It isn't possible a message could come to me that way."

So she stayed at home. The following day she got a letter saying, "Robert has just breathed his last. Oh, how he longed to see his mother! We telegraphed you to come, and if you received it, and had started immediately, you might have seen him before he died."

Oh, how the old lady reproached herself! After that, she believed a thing she could not understand.

Now, we have the Word of God telling us of many things which our poor weak minds can no more understand than the old lady could the telegraph, or the little fly who crawls on my book can understand the words printed there; but we know they are true, because the God of all truth tells us they are. have only to believe, and in many cases we must be contented not to understand; saying with the Psalmist, "Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, I cannot attain unto it."

We

TRUTHFULNESS.

Two country lads came at an early hour to a market town, and arranging their little stands, sat down to wait for customers. One was furnished with fruits and vegetables, of the boy's own raising, and the other supplied with clams and fish. The market hours passed along, and each little merchant saw with pleasure his stores steadily decreasing, and an equivalent in silver bits shining in his little money cup. The last melon lay on Harry's stand, when a gentleman came by, and placing his hand upon it, said, "What a fine large melon. What do you ask for it, my boy?" "The melon is the last I have, sir; and though it looks very fair, there is an unsound spot in it," said the boy, turning it over.

"So there is," said the man; "I think I will not take it. But," he added, looking into the boy's fine open countenance, "is it very business-like to point out the defects of your fruits to customers?"

"It is better than being dishonest, sir," said the boy modestly.

"You are right, little fellow; always remember that principle, and you will find favour with God, and man also. I shall remember your little stand in future. Are those clams fresh?" he continued, turning to Ben Wilson's stand.

"Yes, sir; fresh this morning. I caught them myself," was the reply, and a purchase being made, the gentleman went away.

"Harry, what a fool you was to shew the gentleman that spot in the melon. Now, you can take it home for your pains, or throw it away. How much wiser is he about these clams I caught yesterday? Sold them for the same price I did the fresh ones. He would never have looked at the melon until he had gone away.”

"Ben, I would not tell a lie, or act one either, for twice what I have earned this morning. Besides, I shall be better off in the end, for I have gained a customer, and you have lost one."

NEVER DENY A FAVOUR.

ON a Christmas morning, an aged man went into the street to beg. Soliciting alms of a group of lads at play, they all began to search their pockets for something to bestow upon one whose benign countenance and tender expressions had won their confidence. At this moment, a bright, intelligent little fellow, whose parents had instilled other principles than benevolence, turned the scale against the suit of the poor old man.

"My father," said he, "has told me never to give anything to street beggars; 'it encourages idleness;' so, boys, you may do as you please about giving; I shall keep my money." This appeal, coming as it did from one who was a leader of the band, and appealing as it did to each boy's selfishness, had the desired effect; every hand was withdrawn from the pocket more readily than it had been thrust in, and a general shout of "Look out for street beggars!" was raised, in which all joined save one. This was a poor orphan boy, who had three halfpennies given him by his employer, to spend for Christmas; he lingered by the old man until his comrades had fled, and then offered him his little store. "But you look," said the beggar, "as though you needed it yourself; keep it."

"No," said the noble boy, "my mother told me 'never to deny any one that asked a favour of me, if it was in my power to grant it,' and she is dead, sir; please take it; you may be an angel; she said such people were sometimes."

And an angel to him it proved. The beggar was not poor, but an eccentric aged man, who wished to find some worthy object on which to bestow his fortune. He had now found one with the principle instilled into his mind in his earliest years, to do good. And now that boy goes forth to bless the world.

WHO says, "I am the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the valley?"

Where are the fruits of righteousness com

Where are we told that the dark winter is past, because the flowers appear?

Which flower does Jesus tell us is more gloriously arrayed than the richest monarch? What beautiful lesson does He mean us to learn from this?

Where are we taught the brevity of human life, by comparison with a flower?

Where are children compared to olive plants?

Where is our blessed Saviour spoken of as the plant of renown?

Where is He called a tender plant?