call the person anything else than a small disciple. We looked about for a better name, but could not find one. The Scriptures speak of growing in grace, and of rising "unto the measure of the, stature of the fulness of Christ." But it has not been so in this case. We have to tax charity heavily to hope he ever began to grow at all. We trust there is some life in what so nearly resembles a dead body. But all the indications are so small, that we cannot but have anxiety.

We should like to make a personal address to all the small disciples who read this article. But we have misgivings about its being of any use, because the really small disciple is the last person to suspect his own diminutiveness. He would not dream this article had any relation to him. Hence the shot would fly harmless over his head. We will leave him, therefore, hoping that to some of our readers, this account of the small disciple shall be at least of some advantage.

TEACH THE CHILDREN HYMNS.

THERE is a chord in every human soul which is touched by poetry; hence the magical power of ballads, national songs, and religious hymns. Listen to the snatches of popular ditties which you hear in the streets from passers-by, after you have gone to bed, and you will own that metre and music have avenues to human souls, and consequently that they should be largely employed in religion. There is reason to believe, that versified truth has peculiar force upon the common mind; as it is certain that it affords aid to the memory. Luther and the other reformers felt this, and hence arose the wonderfully rich collection of hymns in the German language, to which there is perhaps nothing comparable on earth. To this stock, Luther himself contributed much. He was aided by Hans Sachs, the poetical shoemaker. In a later period came Paul Gerhardt, the greatest hymn-writer of Germany, if not of the world. Wherever there are pious Germans, you find them with their beloved hymnbooks; and from frequent use, they generally know great numbers of these hymns by heart.

It is an error to confine children to the learning of children's hymns, because, when they become older, these will have lost much of their fitness. Why should we not fill our children's minds with the choicest evangelical hymns in the language? These they will remember after we are dead and gone. They should not merely be learned once, and then left for others, but repeated again and again, and sung over, in order to fix them in the memory, and to lay a basis for the most lasting associations. The old words, and the old tune, come back on us with indescribable tenderness. Let the pious mother, when causing her boy to learn some sacred song, say to herself," Perhaps, years hence, my son will remember the saving truth of this hymn, as having been taught him by his mother."

THE CHRISTIAN CAPTIVE.

DURING the war at the beginning of the present century, as a British vessel of the Navy was one night running close to the coast of Barbary, the officers on deck heard some one singing the Old Hundredth psalm tune. They immediately conjectured that the singer was a Christian captive, and determined to attempt his rescue. Twenty stout sailors, armed with pistols and cutlasses, manned the ship's boat and approached the shore. Directed by the voice of a singing prayer, they reached the abode of the Christian captive. It was a little hut at the bottom of his master's garden on the mouth of a small river. They burst open the door and took him from his knees,—and in a few minutes he was on the ship's deck frantic with joy.

The account that he gave of himself was that his name was M'Donald; that he was a native of Scotland, and had been a captive eighteen years. He had obtained the confidence of his master, was chief gardener, and had the privilege of living by himself. He said he was not at all surprised when they burst open his door, for the Turks had often done so, and whipped him while on his knees.

NO INFLUENCE.

"I HAVE no influence." Ah, my brother, I was sorry to hear you say that. "No influence!" Are you sure? Has the dew an influence in promoting vegetation? And if the whole dew together does this, may an individual particle say, I am such a tiny affair that I am not of the least consequence? What if all the dew of a night waters the earth less than one five minutes' shower, and your influence is only one particle among millions, is it, therefore, nothing? Be it, if you will, that your influence can no more be perceived than the smallest dew-drop can be measured in a cup; what then? God can comprehend that which is too great for your mind to grasp; and may he not be able to perceive that which is too small for your perception? Indeed, so far is it from being true that you have no influence, that others are even now receiving impressions from you, durable as their immortal being. I pretend not to name all, or indeed any of the ways in which you are making your influence felt, imperceptibly it may be to yourself, in the community where your lot is cast. But it cannot be, but that every professed disciple of Christ is doing something for good or evil by the general tenor of his life, by his words, by the manner in which he speaks, and by his silence itself-by his presence in the house of God, and by his absence-by the humble and reverential, or by the selfindulgent and cross-shunning manner in which he there comes before God-and in innumerable other ways. Let me affectionately ask you to pause before you again say, "I have no influence."

BENEFIT OF EARLY RELIGIOUS TRAINING. AN American missionary having returned to his country, on a visit to his friends, after a long absence in the field of his labours, found one of his brothers possessed of a princely fortune, but living without God. He thus describes his visit to him: "Day after day passed, and I began to fear lest I should be constrained to return to my foreign field without having any religious interview with him. But on the evening previous to my departure from his dwelling, after his family had retired, and when we were alone, I spoke to him of our dear departed mother, sang some of the hymns which she taught us, and repeated passage after passage from the Shorter Catechism.' The tears streaming from his eyes assured me that I had at last found an open door to his heart. He inquired, Where is that old primer? I would give more for it than for any book in my library.' I drew it from my pocket-the only one in my possession; and while we both wept together, I presented it to him, saying, Take that, and God grant it may revive our mother's faith in your heart.' We bade each other good-night, and retired. Early in the morning I left his abode, expecting to see his face no more in this world. It was not many days before I received a letter from him, informing me of his hopeful conversion, which he ascribed instrumentally to the recollecting his mother's instructions, awakened by that little book, the Shorter Catechism.""

THE TWILIGHT OF GLORY.

THE twilight of glory we have here on earth. "I am not alone," can each sorrowful and banished soul exclaim, "because the Father is with me.” Yes, beloved, your own Father. "Thou shalt call Me my Father." In Jesus, He is your Father, your reconciled, pacified Father, all whose thoughts that He thinks of you are peace; and all whose ways that he takes with you are love. The presence, the voice, the smile of a parent, how precious and soothing! especially when that presence is realized, and that voice is heard, that smile is seen in the dark desolate hour of adversity. God is our heavenly parent. His presence, his care, his smiles, are ever with his children. And if there be a solitary child of the one family that shares the richer in the blessing of the Father's presence than another, it is the sick, the suffering, the lone, the chastened child. Yes, your Father is with you ever. He is with you to cheer your loneliness-to sweeten your solitude-to sanctify your sorrow-to strengthen your weakness—to shield your person-to pardon your sins—and to heal all your diseases. Hearken in your deep solitude to his own touching words: "Fear thou not, for I am with thee; be not dismayed, for I am thy God." Enough, my Father; if thus Thou art with me, I am not, I cannot be alone; and if such the bliss with which Thou dost sweeten, and such the glory with which Thou dost irradiate the solitude of thy hidden ones, Lord, let me ever be a hidden one, shut out from all others, shut in alone with Thee!

THREE SICK-BEDS.

I WAS called to stand by the first several weeks since. Upon it lay a wife and mother, in the prime of life, surrounded by a group of young children. She was a comparative stranger among us, and no ministers had before visited her. She had been a member of church, but had fearfully backslidden for many years. She was wasting rapidly away with consumption, and drawing nigh to the gates of death. She felt unprepared to enter, and was filled with fear and distress. When I approached, she was tossing to and fro, crying aloud, and struggling hard, as she said, to get religion. I told her that religion, though spiritual, was rational, and was to be obtained in a rational way, and not by striving to lash herself into excitement.

She became calmer; and I pointed her to the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sins of the world; and when she told me how great a sinner she was, I showed her how great a Saviour is Jesus, who I came to seek and to save that which was lost "-" whose blood cleanseth from all sin"-"who is able to save to the uttermost, even the chief of sinners." She seemed encouraged, and I prayed with her, and departed.

On the next day I called again. It was Sunday evening. She had been calm during the day, but towards its close became excited, and exhausted with strong cryings and tears. Again the exhibition of the cross and gospel promises allayed her agitation, and after prayer she seemed tranquil, but not satisfied.

The next morning I repeated my visits, and found her in her chair, and in a frame of body and mind that favoured fuller conversation. I sat down by her side, and attempted, in as brief and simple terms as possible, to explain to her the plan of salvation. I spoke of the covenant of works-the holy and blessed law of Godthe fall of man, and his universal depravity and ruin-the impracticability of his being justified by any obedience or satisfaction he can render-his helplessness, wretchedness, and entire dependence on grace. Then I unfolded that rich, sovereign free grace—the righte ousness of Christ, our glorious Redeemer and Surety, meeting and magnifying the law, satisfying and glorifying both its precept and penalty, making it consistent for God to be just, and yet justify the believer in Jesus. She eagerly drank in every word. Point after point she seemed to grasp by faith, and so to lay hold on Christ. From step to step, as I passed along, she said, "I see it, I see it!" and when the grand, complete, blessed whole was before her mind, she seemed filled with wonder, love, and joy. "Oh," said she, "what a poor fool I have been, to think I must work myself up into religion! But now I see it is only to receive Christ-to fall into his arms!"

From that day her mind was subdued, peaceful, joyful. She failed fast. The last time I saw her she was almost gone, panting for breath. To my inquiry after her state, she replied, in a stam

nering, struggling whisper, "Oh, I have had great enjoyment to-day!" What a testimony, thought I, to the power and value of the gospel! Come to that bedside, ye careless and doubting!come and receive it. A dying mother, giving up her husband and children, and even that little prattler, calmly and cheerfullygasping for breath, and whispering of enjoyment! "Oh, death! where is thy sting Thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory!" Then, taking my hand and pressing it, she said, "I love you very much. Others have been very kind to visit and pray for me; but you seem nearest and dearest, for you showed me the way of life." Verily I had my reward. Christian brethren, was it not worth the labour? "Lift up your eyes, and look on the fields, for they are white already to the harvest." And he that reapeth, receiveth wages, and gathereth fruit unto life eternal. I saw her no more. In a few days after her change came; but there was no change in her confidence. She knew whom she had believed, and He was with her, even unto the end.

Yesterday I stood by another sick-bed. On it lay a lovely young man, stricken down amidst lucrative labours and bright prospects, at a post of honour and trust, by a fearful hæmorrhage. The day was bright and beautiful; but a light more beautiful than that of the sun beamed in that youthful face. For years he had maintained a good profession in the midst of all the temptations of the city. Those wealthy bankers placed their vast treasures in his hands with perfect confidence. He was proverbially pure, faithful, generous, disinterested, pious. For years, he said, he had endeavoured so to keep his business and his heart, every day, as though it might be his last. And now he was ready-nay, having a desire to depart and be with Christ, yet willing to remain, if such were the will of God, and he might so glorify Him, and do good to any. But what was the foundation of his confidence? Only," said he, of his own accord, "only the righteousness of Christ!" How precious did that Saviour appear! I cannot venture to repeat those terms of fond endearment in which he spoke of Him as a present Friend. It seemed to be his privilege, like the beloved disciple, to lean his head on Jesus' bosom. Things spiritual were evidently to him felt familiar realities. Oh, how freely did he seem to unbosom to me his whole soul, entreating me to prove, and probe, and search him!-and there I must leave him smiling, joyous, trusting. Surely Jesus, who loved that young ruler, loves thee, my dear young friend! Shall I say I fear respecting thee, but in a different sense, "Thou art not far from the kingdom of God?"

Thence I hastened to another bed of sickness. There lay an aged pilgrim, of nearly fourscore-the mother of a numerous race, descending through three generations. She had been for a long time a member of the visible church. "I fly," she said, "to Jesus above. He is my only refuge. There is none other name given under heaven whereby we must be saved. I want no other. I trust my soul with Him. I wait His time, and have no other will but that