again, left the woman to think over what he had said. God greatly blessed that visit. Before the evening had closed she read the `fifteenth chapter of Luke, which had been pointed out to her, and offered her first heart-felt prayer to Heaven; and, for the remainder of her life, she thanked God that her child had been lost, and was found by one who had directed her to Jesus Christ, who came to seek and to save that which was lost."

NCE, in the absence of the Master, a certain man brought his son to the disciples, beseeching them to cast out the evil spirit that tormented him. The disciples tried to do it, but could not. Jesus, coming to them, said to the father, "Bring him to Me." And does not this command come fresh from the Master's lips to every parent to-day? Should not every parent bring his child to Christ? The importance of bringing the children to Christ every one will admit. The interest of the Church in the Sunday-school proves that God's people are alive to the importance of early Christian education. But I have nowhere read that God has transferred parental responsibility to the Sunday-school. To the father and mother, first of all, comes the Saviour's command: "Bring him to Me."

Homes are God's first Churches. Parents are God's first and holiest ministers. And, however well a man perform God's work in the Church or Sunday-school, however many souls of others he may lead to Christ, if he does not bring his own children to Him, he has failed in his holiest and most sacred trust. And, however faithful a mother may be in the Dorcas or missionary society, or on visiting committees, if she does not bring her own children to Jesus, her work is not well done. God entrusts the children to their parents to be kept and trained for Him, and He will ask for them again.

Does any solicitous parent ask: "How shall I bring my child to Christ?" There is nothing like pure, Christ-like example. There are no sermons preached in the pulpits like those which Christian mothers can preach in their daily life. But the child can be actually brought to Christ, and held up before Him continually, by earnest, importunate prayer. What a beautiful model for mothers is the Syrophenician woman, pleading with Christ for her child! And how can that parent meet the dread judgment day who never takes his child to God in prayer?

But it is to Christ that children must be brought. The disciples could not cast out the evil spirit. "Bring him to Me," said the Master; and He says it now. Some parents who read this may have a child that has resisted every holy influence, every

appeal, every pleading of love, every tender persuasion. There seems nothing more that can be done. "Bring him to Me," says the Master.

Do we not often fail in our most earnest efforts to save the lost because we expect to do it ourselves? We think they must yield to our eloquent and tearful appeals, our tender and persuasive exhortations. They listen and seem touched, but go away unsaved. Have we not all the time been repeating the mistake of these disciples, trying in our own name to cast out Satan? Is it any wonder that we fail?

The disciples were humiliated, but they learned one of the best lessons of life-to take everything to JESUS. In our humiliation over our failures we may learn the same lesson. Instead of trying by our eloquence, our arguments, our persuasions, to convert souls, let this word of our Master be ever before us: "Bring him to Me."

TRUSTING GOD IN THE STORM.

N the exhibition of the Royal Academy, I was greatly impressed by a painting of Daniel in the den of lions. It was an actual den-dim, gloomy, and full of terrors. The lions, too, were beasts of prey-not sham lions. In the Sunday-school pictures of our childhood we had been accustomed to see a group of very decorous animals lying very quietly, with the Hebrew prophet patting their manes as if they were pet spaniels. It required no courage to encounter such amiable beasts. But in this masterly painting there was a group of ferocious lions with glaring eyes and ravening mouths, who were in the very attitude of springing upon the unarmed man who stood before

The Hebrew prophet, clad in long mantle, stood calmly before the blood-thirsty brutes, and his serene face seemed to say, "I will trust the Lord, and will not be afraid."

There was a good sermon in that powerful picture. It represented the sublime faith which meets real danger with real composure-the faith which can trust God as completely in the storm as in the sunshine. It is very easy to be brave when there is no actual danger. It is very easy to trust the Lord when everything goes smoothly, and to our entire satisfaction. When the health of our families is perfect-and our children are all gathered in a happy, healthy, hungry group around our table, who of us thinks of the Heavenly Physician? Our faith in God is complete. We are in no temper of distrust. We are quite delighted with God and all His dealings. A prosperous Christian -sailing the life-voyage over smooth seas, with a pleasant breeze" right aft"-never has any quarrel with the Author of the winds and the weather. The danger of such a man is not

from unbelief; it is from presumption and self-sufficiency. But if a sudden storm breaks loose in its fury, blackening the heavens, whipping the sea into froth, and opening great green caverns in the deep which threaten to become our graves, can we trust God then? Will the confidence of the calm hold through the hurricane? That is the question. And right here lies the difference between a real faith and a sham faith.

Many a time had the disciples sailed over Galilee with the Master when the fishing-boat swam like a swan on the glassy sea; then they felt no distrust. But when the storm sent its angry waves into the shivering skiff, they arouse the slumbering Saviour with the pitiful cry, "Carest Thou not, Lord, that we perish?" His rebuke is most significant-"Why are ye so fearful, oh! ye of little faith?" It was evident that the disciples had only a fair-weather faith. It was in the boat that they trusted mainly, after all. They did not trust the unseen power which could speak winds and waves into calm.

Fear said to Daniel, those lions' teeth are terrible. Faith said, I will trust Him who can close their mouths. Unbelief whispered to Elijah, "the brook is dried up, and the fields are empty." Faith replies, "Trust!" and the ravens come to him morning and evening with bread. Fear says to Paul, "The ship is foundering!" But faith exclaims, "I will trust,"-and they all escape safely to land. Happy the Christian-and he alone is happy, and cheerful, and strong-who can say,

"Lord! not my will, but Thine be done!

My soul, from fear set free,

Shall cast her anchor 'neath Thy throne,
And trust alone in Thee!"

T. L. Cuyler.

THE MINISTRY OF A MOTHER'S FACE.

S stars look through a placid
lake,

And see their faces fair,

So looks a mother on her
child,
And leaves her image there.

Long ere a child can use its lips,
It reads its mother's face,
Catches the play of love's own thought,
And lives upon its grace.

As falls the dew, and silent waits
Its virtues to impart,

So gently steals a mother's love
Into an infant's heart.

Each look, each gesture is a book
Which baby learns to read,

And on love's silent scrutiny,
Most skilful is indeed.

As flowers in bloom once dwelt in
buds,

By secret influence formed,
So little minds are shaped most fair,
Or otherwise deformed.

The subtle forces of the eye,

The movements of the face,
Are monitors of mystery;

Their teaching who can trace?

Mother, beware! your looks have
speech!

Your face is the child's sky;
Let stars of truth and love then shine
In strength and purity!

W.P. Balfern.

THE BITTER AND THE SWEET.

OME, darling Effie,

Come, take the cup:
Effie must drink it all-
Drink it all up.
Darling, I know it is

Bitter and bad;

But 'twill make Effie dear
Rosy and glad.

Mother would take it all

For her wee elf

But who would suffer then ?
Effie herself.

If Effie drinks it,

Then, I can tell,

She will go out to play,
Merry and well.

Drink, and then, darling,
You shall have this,—
Sweet after bitter :
Now, first, a kiss.
Ah, darling Effie,
God also knows,
When cups of bitterness
His hand bestows,

How His poor children need
Urging to take

Merciful draughts of pain,
Mixed for their sake.

He, too, gives tenderly
Joy after pain,

Sweet after bitterness,
After loss gain.

I. C.

THE CHRISTIAN." The Christian, wherever he is seen-in the street, in the drawing-room, at table, in prison, or at the height of greatness-should always inspire others with the opinion that he is a man seeking God, intent upon advancing the great interests of humanity, and who thinks it is not worth living for anything but to glorify God, and make all his successes, and all his reverses, contribute to that end; who is ready to leave this world as soon as his work in this respect is accomplished; and, like his Master, goes about doing good. Oh, how holy, how happy, would such a Christian be, free from covetousness, from envy, from anxiety, and all that can disturb the soul! Walking always with God, how would he make the gospel honoured! How victoriously would he put to silence gainsayers! And how many more souls would he bring to his Saviour, by the humble influence of a holy life, than by the most powerful language!"—A Monod.

THE ENGINE DRIVER. It is now several years since he became a Christian, and he is one all over, all through, and all the time, and in everything. You can't be with him five minutes without feeling that the purpose of his whole life is to honour the Saviour. He is a man without any literary culture, but it pleased God to give him a big heart when he was born, and it pleased Him when He gave him a new birth, not to diminish that organ. I noticed that he was a man of incessant prayer.

There is no end of what men may do if they have the inspiration which comes through the medium of prayer. This man is as homely and as plain a speaker as you can find, but with it all he does a great amount of good. I noticed in all my trip that he was the one happy man that I met. A man that has such overflowing joy in life I have not met for a long time.-H. W. Beecher.