Watchwords for March.

First Week.-Our Father which art in heaven, hallowed be

thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.-Matt. vi. 9, 10.

creatures, O God, destroy the infidels and polytheists, Thine enemies, the enemies of the religion. O God, make their children orphans, and defile their abodes; cause their feet to slip; give them and their families, their households and their women, their children and their relatives by marriage, their brothers and their friends, their possessions and race, their wealth and their lands, as booty to the Moslems, O, Lord of all creatures!"

The young men who are taught to offer this fearful prayer, go forth, throughout and beyond the Mahomedan world, as teachers and interpreters of the Koran. Dr. Jessup, an American missionary,, writing in the Christian Monthly, adds, that these graduates of Azhar, are a real power in Asia and Africa, and that Christian missionaries find in them their ablest and most formidable adversaries in those great dark continents.

Such a prayer we Christians cannot offer. "Our Father, which art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name, Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven," is the prayer taught by our Master and Saviour when sending His servants forth into all the world to proclaim to every creature the good news of God's redeeming love.

Which will reach the ear of God, the Mahomedan curse or the Christian prayer? The answer is not doubtful.

What of the Night.-If any motive be needed to quicken

Second Week.-Go ye into all the world and preach the Gospel the enquiry, What of the Night? and to stir up Christians to

to every creature.-Mark xvi. 15.

Third Week.-God be merciful unto us, and bless us; and cause His face to shine upon us; that Thy way be upon earth, Thy saving health among all nations.-Psalm

lxvii. 1, 2.

Fourth Week.-He shall not fail nor be discouraged, till he have set judgment in the earth: and the isles shall wait for his law.-Isa. xlii. 4.

The Curse and the Prayer.

In Cairo, the capital of Egypt, within the Mosque of Azhar, is the great Mahomedan University. There 10,000 students are assembled from all parts of the Mahomedan world, studying the Koran, and preparing to teach it throughout Asia and Africa. Every evening the whole 10,000 unite in offering a missionary prayer. What is it? The following is a literal translation of it: "I seek refuge with God from Satan the accursed! In the name of God, the compassionate, the merciful! O, Lord of all

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prayer and effort for the coming of Christ's kingdom, it would surely be found in such appalling disasters as we have recently heard of. The fall of the Tay Bridge, though the most striking, is by no means the only one of these. What is it that so solemnises thoughtful persons, in hearing of these sudden losses of human life? We never feel so at the loss of however many lives of the lower animals. A vast shoal of porpoises may be stranded, a bee-hive may be smoked, a nest of ants may be crushed, but we are never troubled at so many deaths. Why? Because we regard these creatures as made for this world alone; it is enough that other lives will succeed theirs, and there will be no diminution in the sum of animated existence, nor in the amount of animal enjoyment. But we think of these human beings as having been all made for God, and of their death as the beginning of "the travel of eternity." Therefore it is that the event has such overawing interest; and that it is to us as a knock of appalling loudness at our door, given by Him who has a right to enter, and who offers in grace to do so. It repeats in our ears the old, old lesson of the uncertainty of life, saying to every man that this night his soul may be required of him. It enforces the lesson that the world is vanity, and that one thing alone is needful. It bids us choose and lay hold of that good part which not even death can take away. It makes Christ's offer of present grace unspeakably precious. To-night our soul may be required of us; how utterly terrible were this, but for the counterweighing announcement of grace, that "now is the day of salvation."

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Rev. W. Crosbie,

THE HAPPY PARALYTIC.

NE day, when lamenting my frequent
indispositions, Monsieur H--- said to
me, "Are you acquainted with Eugène
Habermehl?”

"No," I answered, "I do not even
know of whom you speak."

"Well," replied my friend, with a smile, "When you are inclined to grumble about your ailments, just go and see Eugène; it will do you good."

"But who is Eugène Habermehl?” Monsieur H

took off his spectacles, and again looked at me with that meaning smile. "How old are you?" he asked.

"Thirty."

I entered. On a small pine-wood bed was stretched the motionless form of a man, still young: his head laid back upon the pillow; his great blue eyes, that shone with wondrous lustre from out the white, worn face, turned with difficulty towards me. Between the first and middle fingers of the left hand he held a wand of hazel, with which he moved the pages of a book, suspended by a clever little contrivance from the ceiling above. My first impulse was to extend my hand; my next to draw it back again, as I remembered that the poor fellow was unable to respond to this form of greeting.

He saw my embarrassment, and smiled. "Forgive me, Monsieur," he said, "if I cannot receive as I would the friends who are kind enough to visit me. But please to sit down."

I had placed my chair at his bed's head; but soon observing that he had some difficulty in seeing me

"Then you were but sixteen when Eugène was first there, I rose, and stood at the foot. confined to his bed, and he is there still."

"Really! Is he paralysed ?"

"Yes; when last I saw him, about two years ago, he was stretched helplessly upon his bed; and were I to see him now I am sure I should just find him in the same position."

"Then he is totally paralysed?" I said. "Not altogether; he can still move his eyes, and two fingers of his left hand."

"Why, he is a very chrysalis, poor man! I hope, at least, he does not suffer."

"On the contrary, he suffers acutely. He is covered with sores, and though he has lost the power of motion, he retains perfectly the sense of feeling. He is subject to colds, and oftentimes pain causes him to scream aloud." "And yet you say he does not complain." "He? never."

"Then I must see him."

"You suffer much," I said.

"Ah, Monsieur, my sufferings are not more than I can bear, especially since Madame N- sent me that good plaister, which keeps this poor body together." "You are very patient," I remarked again.

"Oh, God is so good to me. He sends me so many friends; I am richer than a prince. See," he continued, pointing with his hand to the wall, which was covered with photographs, "See how many visitors I have. When I look at these, I see once more the friends who gave them; I hear their voices and remember their kind words. There in the middle is Mons. Charpentier, my patron as long as he lived. I owe to him all the education I received, and it was not his fault if I did not become a learned man. How many have gone before me who, humanly speaking, should have remained after me! I am sometimes amazed when I see death, that messenger of good tidings, Some days after I arrived at Bex; and an old woman gathering an ear of corn on my right and on my left, having showed me the way, I started for Bevieux, the while I am still here notwithstanding all my bodily home of the Habermehls. It was a small house, built sufferings. Some look upon death with indifference, upon the edge of a pine wood, at some distance from some with dread; but to the Christian it is the voice the carriage road to Gryon, and not very easy to find. that warns him to be ready; for he is like the child whom After half-an-hour's fruitless searching I was about to a good father keeps under wholesome discipline, till the give up in despair, when the stroke of a hammer, ring-time comes for him to depart and enter into the joy of ing through the stillness of the forest, put me upon the invisible realities." track. I had heard that the father of this poor paralytic was a cooper, and I judged rightly that from him proceeded the sounds which attracted me. A little path among the bushes, which I had not before noticed, led me to a hovel, in front of which an old man was putting together the staves of a barrel. He left his work and came forward to receive me.

"My good man, are you not father to Eugène Habermehl?" He was well accustomed to this question; so without answering he walked toward the hut, signing to me to follow him. The old mother sat in the kitchen making lint. She rose at my approach, curtsied, and, opening an inner door, said, "Eugène,

here is a visitor."

In fancy I can still see that neat little chamber perfumed by the mignonette upon the small pine table, near which lay a large open Bible; the tiny chest of drawers of polished walnut wood, the two shelves laden with old books and papers of all sorts, and, by the open window, a canary looking curiously at me through the bars of his cage. I still see them all, and hear the low voice from the further end of the room, "You are very kind, sir: please to sit down."

Looking again at the portraits, he went on with his enumeration of them. "There on the left, that lady is a Russian Countess; she had my room papered with these bright colours. Are they not pretty ?" "Extremely."

"Kind lady! she came every week to read to me; now she is in Russia, and my thoughts are with her. The young man there, who looks at me smiling-do you see him?”

"Yes, quite well."

"He is a great traveller. He writes to me from Rome or Naples; and I can fancy myself there with him by the sea-side, or under the flowering orange trees. I was more lonely when I could go in and out at will. Yes, sir, it is true. More than that, I was less happy; because I knew not the grace of God as I now know it. Ah, sir, if I were offered back ny health, and twenty years of life, without the knowledge of this gracious Saviour, do you think I would accept it?"

I looked at the poor, worn face, the sunken eyes, the motionless form, and found it hard to answer. "No, sir, no," he went on, waving his little hazel

It would indeed have been difficult to retain any impression of sadness in Habermehl's presence. There was such a serenity in his look, such brightness in his smile, that I found myself somewhat in the position of one who, believing himself invited to a funeral, steps in instead upon a party of pleasure. As comforter in that room, I was quite out of place: so I fell in with the invalid's humour, and gave myself up to the charm of his conversation. He had read much, and in great But, my dear Sir, we must first give ourselves to measure remembered even the detalls of what he read-Christ, before He will accept anything from us. I history, geography, travels, mission-work. To none of trust you have done so: if not, do it without delay; these subjects was he a stranger, and so wonderfully if you have, do it more fully. had he identified himself with the persons described in his books, that he talked about them as old friends. One might have thought he had gone with them in their various wanderings-he entered into each detail with such life and reality.