her daughter to Christ? Nay, does she not most effectually "forbid" her coming to Him? You may be in danger of cultivating in them a vain and ungodly spirit, in other ways. Beware! Do not give them reason to think that you desire anything else for them a thousandth part so much as that they should be followers of Christ.

4. Worst of all, you may "forbid" them by your own example. Whatever your profession may be, unless your home-life shows that you love to go to Christ, and that you are much with Him, you are not doing what you could to lead them to Him. Nay, you are doing the most that you can to prevent their coming.

Then let all your maternal affection persuade you for your children's sake to keep near the Saviour. Commune with Him much in prayer, study His character and example in the New Testament, and strive continually to be like Him. Try to be by His grace of such a spirit that your children will be made Christlike by becoming like their mothers.

REST.

BY THE LATE SIR J. Y. SIMPSON, BARONET.

FT 'mid this world's ceaseless strife,
When flesh and spirit fail me,

I stop and think of another life,
Where ills can ne'er assail me;

Where my wearied arm shall cease its fight,
My heart shall cease its sorrow,

And this dark night change for the light
Of an everlasting morrow.

On earth below there's nought but woe,

E'en mirth is gilded sadness;

But in heaven above there's nought but love,

With all its raptured gladness.

There, till I come, waits me a home,

All human dreams excelling,

In which at last, when life is past,

I'll find a regal dwelling.

Then shall be mine, through grace Divine,
A rest that knows no ending,

Which my soul's eye would fain descry,
Though still with clay 'tis blending.
And, Saviour dear, while I tarry here,
Where a Father's love has found me,
O let me feel through woe and weal,
Thy guardian arm around me.

Written at Geneva, 1867.

WO hundred years ago there stood outside the walls of Bedford jail a man of ruddy countenance and of tall stature, selling tagged laces. He was well known the country round, and in many a village had plied his craft as a tinker. Once he was foremost in rural sports, a bold and jovial companion, without fear of man or God; but there had come a day when all his boldness forsook him,

and he was made to tremble as a guilty sinner before His Maker. Then he entered on another course; and with changed heart, beginning to lead a new life, had become a preacher of the gospel. His name was JOHN BUNYAN.

It was his preaching that had brought him into trouble. By the grace of God he had been lifted from the depths of wickedness, and saved from sore temptations; and in rough and homely words he had sought to tell his neighbours of this great salvation. God, who bestows His gifts without regard to rank or sect, made him useful; and he had many to hear him. But in those days people were not allowed the same liberty to preach as now, and he was soon taken before the magistrates to answer for his offence. was put into prison, but several times offered his freedom on condition that he would remain silent; yet, so full was his heart of love to the Saviour, that he could only reply, "If you let me go to-day, I shall preach again to-morrow." He had several little

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children, and among them a daughter who was blind, and whom he tenderly loved. He could not, he said, bear even to let the wind blow on her, and now she must suffer cold and hunger; she must beg; she must be beaten ; yet," he added, "I must, I must do it." While he lay in prison he could do nothing to help his family by his old trade: so he learned to make long tagged thread laces, and sold many thousands of them to the hawkers.

Years passed away, and still John Bunyan was kept in prison. But, great as was the trial, he was not unhappy. While his hands were busy, he found opportunity to teach his fellow-prisoners, and formed from among them a little flock, of which he was the pastor. He had also other work, for it was in jail that he began to write the "Pilgrim's Progress," which has made his name famous throughout the world. His gloomy cell was brightened by glorious visions; it was to him no dungeon of Doubting Castle; he had the key of the promises, and walked forth on to the Delectable Mountains, and caught glimpses of the Shining Gate afar off, through which he knew he should pass into immortal liberty. "I was had home to prison," we find him writing, " and there have lain now for twelve years complete, waiting to see what God would suffer these men to do with me; in which condition I have continued with much contentment, through grace."

"The oppressor holds

His body bound, but knows not what a range
His spirit takes, unconscious of a chain;

And that to bind him is a vain attempt

Whom God delights in and in whom He dwells."

When at last Bunyan was set free it was only to pursue his labours with fresh zeal. He died at the age of sixty, beloved and honoured by the Churches he served. He left behind not only works full of wisdom, but the example of a life which shows how godliness may glorify the meanest lot, and make the lowliest hut, or even the prison cell, a Palace Beautiful.

SUBMISSION UNDER SORROW.

T the funeral of President Davies, just as the people were about to take up the coffin, his mother, an aged widow, came to take the last look of her son. She gazed intently upon him; the tears fell upon the face of the corpse as she bent over it; and then, retiring a single step as she still gazed upon him, she exclaimed, "There lies my only son, my only earthly comfort and earthly support. But there lies the will of God, and I am satisfied." This was Christian submission. Afflictions are sent as a test of this great trait of the Christian character. Rightly employed, they serve not only to bring out that character, but to produce and cultivate a submissive state of mind. It does not eonsist in a stoical insensibility to trials; far from it. Natural affections were given us that we might weep ourselves, and weep with them that weep. Jesus wept at the grave of Lazarus. It does not consist in having no will of our own; but in that chastened and subdued spirit which consents that the will of God should be done rather than our own will. There is no greater conquest over a supremely, selfish heart than this. Many a man submits to God's will because he cannot help it; but forced submission is a contradiction. There is no acquiescence when he rebels as long as he can, and yields only because he must yield, and because God is stronger than he.

There are those also who flatter themselves that they have a submissive spirit, when they have nothing to submit to. They are satisfied with the dispensations of Providence, because everything smiles about them, and all their wishes are gratified. There is no submission in this, and no subjugation of our will to the will of God, but rather a self-complacency, and a proud gratification of our own desires. Who ever thought of submitting to a good? There may be thankfulness for it-there ought to be; but there is no place for submission. It is only when Divine Providence countervails our own desires, arrangements, and hopes, and the bitter cup is put into our hands, that we can say, "Not my will, but Thine, be done." This was the spirit of our adorable and ever blessed Master, in view of such an aggregate and combination of suffering as the world never before saw and will never see again ; and it furnishes the highest exemplification of a submissive spirit.

The only difficulty in exercising a submissive spirit is, that men naturally love themselves more than God. When the carnal mind that is enmity against God is subdued, and they love God more than themselves and more than all others, this very love to Him, if in due exercise, will give the preference to His will above their own. If our wishes and our will are not so dear to us as God's, we shall have no desire to oppose His will in anything. "What pleases

Him pleases us." If, on the other hand, we love ourselves better than God; if we love our treasures, our fame, our power, our children, our friends, more than God, we cannot say, when He smites our idols, "It is well," because we have no such attachment to the Divine will as leads us to subject our will to His.

When there is no submission to God's will, afflictions give rise to morbid insensibility, discontent, murmuring, rebellion. Where it does exist, they prove its reality and its value. When the rod

of God is upon our habitation, and we can say, "It is the Lord; let Him do what seemeth Him good;" when the bitter cup passes round, and we can say, "The cup which my Father giveth me,

shall I not drink it?" when the burdened and afflicted soul "delights more in the will of God than in anything that will can take away," who will say that afflictions are appointed in vain? One such thought, one such holy emotion, one such act of sweet submission to the Divine will, called into exercise and cultivated by trials, is worth all the bereavements it costs. It will live and grow and be perpetuated when this world and its idols and idolatrous attachments have passed away. David, when Shimei cursed him, could say, "Let him curse, for the Lord hath bidden him." When the enemy fell upon the family of Job, and slew his children and servants; when the fire burned up his possessions, and a great wind from the wilderness smote the four corners of the house, and it fell upon the young men, "Job arose and rent his mantle, and shaved his head, and fell down upon the ground and worshipped, and said, The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." When the two sons of Aaron were suddenly made the victims of God's displeasure, "Aaron held his peace." Amid all the bitterness of their bereavements, they were happy men. They had no distrust of God. Unlike the troubled sea, their minds were tranquil. It was enough to be able to say, "The Lord reigneth; let the earth rejoice." The Holy One of Israel delights in such a state of mind as this. It is of itself bright evidence of the reality of spiritual character. It is a prelibation of the river of life which flows from the throne of God and of the Lamb. It is a blessed state of mind, and tinges with "its silver lining" the dark cloud of adversity.

Why then should the children of sorrow inwardly murmur or outwardly complain? God has taken your beloved one. And will you quarrel with God? Do you well to be angry? Oh, bid this tumultuous heart be still.

"Peace all our angry passions then ;

Let each rebellious sigh

Be silent at His sovereign will,
And every murmur die."

Has the "God only wise" acted hastily in this matter? Is it difficult for you to believe that perfect rectitude cannot do wrong, that infinite wisdom cannot err, and that infinite goodness never