you, to pardon you, and to give you His Holy Spirit to help you, if you do but sincerely and penitently pray for that great mercy and blessing. That is the way to begin a new and better life. Then keep out of the way of temptation; never go to the public-house again. Go with your wife and children to the house of God every Sunday, and pray God to give you grace to resist all evil, and to be His faithful servant. I've good hopes about you that this will

be the turning-point of your life."

So it proved. The very next Sunday morning, Tom. walked with his wife to her customary place of public worship; and the children, who had gone before to the Sunday-school, joined them there. His wife shed tears of joy as she looked up at his still pallid face, and saw how interested he was in the service. It was the first time they had been at church together for years. Thank God, it was not the last. His old companions soon found what a change had passed over him; George paid him all the kindly attention he could, and introduced him to a circle of kind Christian friends; and in the whole town there is not now a happier home than Tom Hanson's.

Shall I be one of them?

ow divinely full of glory and pleasure will that hour be, when all the millions of mankind, that have been redeemed by the blood of the Lamb of God, shall meet together and stand around Him, with every tongue and every heart full of joy and praise! How astonishing will be the glory and the joy of that day, when all the saints shall join together in one common song of gratitude and love, and of everlasting thankfulness to this Redeemer? With what unknown delight, and inexpressible satisfaction, shall all that are saved from the ruins of sin and hell adore the Lamb that was slain, and rejoice in His presence !

Watts.

Passing under the Rod.

THE following lines are from the pen of Mrs. M. S. B. Dana, and were founded on the following passage in Jewish history :-"It was the custom of the Jews to select the tenth of their sheep after this manner. The lambs were separated from their dams, and inclosed in a sheep-cote with only one narrow way out: the lambs hastened to join the dams, and a man placed at the entrance, with a rod dipped in ochre, touched every tenth lamb, and so marked it with his rod, saying, "LET THIS BE HOLY."

Hence God says, by His prophet, "I will cause you to pass under the rod."

I

SAW the young bride, in her beauty and pride,

Bedecked in her snowy array;

And the bright flush of joy mantled high on her cheek,
And the future looked blooming and gay:

And with woman's devotion she laid her fond heart
At the shrine of idolatrous love,

And she anchored her hopes to this perishing earth

By the chain which her tenderness wove.

But I saw when those heart-strings were bleeding and torn,
And the chain had been severed in two,

She had changed her white robes for the sables of grief,
And her bloom to the paleness of woe;

But the Healer was there, pouring balm on the heart,

And wiping the tears from her eyes,

And He strengthened the chain He had broken in twain,
And fastened it firm to the skies.

There had whispered a voice-'twas the voice of her God

"I love thee, I love thee! Pass under the rod."

I saw the young mother in tenderness bend

O'er the couch of her slumbering boy,

And she kissed the soft lips as they murmured her name,
While the dreamer lay smiling in joy.

Oh, sweet as the rose-bud encircled with dew,
When its fragrance is flung on the air,

So fresh and so sweet to the mother he seemed,

As he lay in his innocence there!

But I saw, when she gazed on the same lovely form,
Pale as marble, and silent, and cold,

But paler and colder her beautiful boy,

And the tale of her sorrow was told.

But the Healer was there, who had smitten her heart,
And taken her treasure away;

To allure her to heaven He had placed it on high,

And the mourner will sweetly obey!

There had whispered a voice-'twas the voice of her God"I love thee, I love thee! Pass under the rod."

I saw when a father and mother had leaned

On the arms of a dear cherished son,

And the star in the future grew bright in their gaze
As they saw the proud place he had won;
And the fast coming evening of life promised fair,
And its pathway grew smooth to their feet,

And the star-light of love glimmered bright at the end,
And the whispers of fancy were sweet:

But I saw when they stood bending low o'er the grave
Where their heart's dearest hope had been laid,
And the star had gone down in the darkness of night,
And joy from their bosoms had fled.

But the Healer was there, and His arms were around,

And He led them with tenderest care,

And He showed them a star in the bright upper world—

'Twas their star shining brilliantly there!

They had each heard a voice-'twas the voice of their God

"I love thee, I love thee. Pass under the rod."

HE influence of our mothers cannot be estimated. It is incessantly at work, moulding the thoughts and habits of coming generations. Mothers pass away; but while their bodies slowly return to dust, they live on in their posterity. For weal or woe, they have impressed themselves upon the inner life of their children.

The memories of childhood's home are ineffaceable. If that home has been joyous, a halo of glory encircles it—if sad, then the remembrance of those dark days becomes painful. Among all the persons and things connected with the "long ago," the mother necessarily occupies the chief place. It was her sweet voice that sung the lullaby of infancy —it was her soft hand that smoothed the brow, wiped away the tear, or supplied the wants of boyhood; it was upon her breast our head reclined to unbosom the sorrows of youth; and if, in the riper years of manhood, tribulation met us in the cold world, our dear mother's ear was the most sympathetic we could find.

Well do I remember how my mother taught me of God and heaven. How, as my young mind expanded, she told me the "old, old story," and answered the many questions that perplexed my youthful brain. How, with a reverence that was unmistakable, she kneeled by my side to commit her boy to the care of her Father in heaven, and then taught me to repeat the sweet prayer of childhood.

Since then I have heard infidels ridicule religion, have seen sinners transgressing, have myself wandered far from the path of duty; but in the darkest and hardest moments of my life I have never ceased to feel my mother's influence. It is many years since she went to heaven, and grey hairs are here and there gathering upon my head, yet even now I am not ashamed to acknowledge that the known will of my pious mother is still as law to me. My long-cherished anticipation is to meet her in heaven.

Mothers, Christian mothers, your every movement, word, look, and action; your preferences and objections; your

labours and recreations, your reverence or irreverence, your every-day piety, or spasmodic devotion; your elevation of thought and habit, or the opposite, are all felt in the hearts and lives of your children.

Their eyes, ears, and minds are quick as the lightning flash to discern, and in an unguarded moment you may undo the labour of years. If you would have your children (especially your boys) brought to "know the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge," then be earnest and sincere in your attachment and devotion to Him. Above all, let your children never be in doubt concerning the highest wish of your soul concerning them. Let them know, let them feel that you would rather see them Christians than millionaires, -humble followers of Jesus, than filling the high places of power and emolument. Let a mother's prayers follow them consciously wherever they go, and through all time; and your "labour shall not be in vain in the Lord." When life's record is complete, and the account demanded, you will be able to say, 66 Here am I, and the children Thou hast given me." The brightest stars that can shine in a mother's crown of glory will be her own children, led by her hand to Jesus. Mothers, may your crowns sparkle with these "jewels."

The Miner and the Sunlight.

"Oh the delights, the heavenly joys,
The glories of the place

Where Jesus sheds the brightest beams

Of His o'erflowing grace!"

J. T.

IN the far north of Europe there are found salt mines
so extensive that they form little worlds of them-
selves underground which may be explored for
many miles.
In these immense caverns the in-

habitants not only live and die; in many instances they are born and reared in their subterranean home without ever