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Well, surely, may Dr. Crosby ask women who are parties to such iniquity,“ Can you be a Christian ? Are you bound to Jesus, the Lord, by the blood-bought ties of a renewed affection ? Have you received the Holy Spirit, the sweet earnest of heavenly glory? How can I believe it? How can you believe it, when you acknowledge that the world's glittering vanities are your fascinations ?”

THE DEAF AND DUMB BOY. 'HE most powerful influence of love towards a mother, I heard lately recorded of a poor deaf and dumb boy. The father unhappily was given to drinking, and often under the influence of drink would vent on this child his anger.

The mother always came to his help. The most unhappy scenes were often arising in the family on his account. At last it was decided to remove him to an asylum, and there to have him taught to read and write. The day came that he should leave, and when he understood that he was to be removed from his mother, the poor little fellow clung to her, and made a most desperate fight. But he was overpowered and removed. Advantage was taken of this strong attachment to his mother, and used as the means of leading the unruly boy to better habits. When he did that which was right, he was told, “That is like your mother,” when wrong, “That is unlike your mother.” Once only did the poor mother come to see her child, for disease soon carried her to her grave. On that occasion, the other boys made their dumb signs to show that they knew it was his mother, the likeness being so very great. Well, when he learned that his mother was dead, he manifested the most intense grief; became quite an altered character, loved to be alone, and seemed always lost in thought. Shortly, disease began to manifest itself in his lungs, the disease of which the poor mother died. He was taken home. His arrival there was dreaded by his brothers and sisters, especially as his poor mother was now gone. But to their astonishment, he was entirely changed in his character, there was a gentleness and kindness in his look which showed that his heart had been affected. His disease rapidly increased. One day he asked for a looking-glass, and after fixing his eyes on it for some time, he kissed his own image most passionately, and burst into tears. When his friends asked him what made him cry, he made answer, by his signs, “ They tell me I am so like her ; it was not my own image, but hers that I kissed.” On the morning of the day on which he died, he again asked for the glass, and at this time he kept it so long that it was at length taken from him. He called for his slate, and wrote, “I have been taking this long look at her image that I may know her in heaven."

Remember, mothers, your influence. Let it be a sanctified influence. Be zealous servants of God. Let the image and likeness of Christ be stamped on your hearts. Be acquainted really and deeply with your own evil hearts. Be not satisfied until you have felt in your own hearts the power of redeeming grace. Keep holy God's day. Keep regularly your children at their day, their night, and, above all, their Sunday School. Keep your children in subjection. Carry out and carry on the education begun at the school. Let not your children see any difference in what they are taught at school, and what they see practised at home. From an Address at a Mothers? Meeting.

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A MOTHER'S POWER, MOMENT’S work on clay tells more than an hour's labour on brick. So work on hearts should be done before they harden. During the first six or eight

years of child-life, mothers have chief sway; and

this is the time to make the deepest and most enduring impressions on the human mind.

The examples of maternal influence are countless. Solomon himself records the words of wisdom that fell

from a mother's lips, and Timothy was taught the Scriptures from a child by his grandmother and his mother.

John Randolph used to say, “I should have been a French atheist were it not for the recollection of the time when

my

departed mother used to take my little hand in hers and make me say, on my bended knees, 'Our Father who art in heaven'

'!" I have found out what made you the man you are, gentleman one morning to President Adams; “I have been reading your mother's letters to her son."

Washington's mother trained her boy to truthfulness and virtue; and when the messenger called to tell her that her son was raised to the highest station in the nation's gift, she could say, “George always was a good boy."

A mother's tears dropped on the head of her little boy one evening as he sat in the door-way and listened, while she spoke of Christ and of His salvation.

“ Those tears made me a missionary,” said he, when he had given his manhood's prime to the service of the Lord.

Some one asked Napoleon what was the great need of the French nation. Mothers ! ” was the significant answer.

Woman, has God given you the privileges and responsibilities of motherhood ? Be faithful, then, to the little ones; you hold the key of their hearts now. If you once lose it you would give the world to win it back; use your opportunities before they pass.

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THE DRUNKARD'S WIFE. a neat but humble cottage, not far from the metropolis, lived a poor Christian woman whose sole inheritance was in heaven. Her husband was an artisan of some skill in his trade, able to earn good

wages, but greatly addicted to drinking; in consequence of which his wife and children were habitually almost starved. At the best of times he never took home more

than ten shillings a week; though he could with ease earn thirty; and even that small sum was oftener expended in the skittle ground, and in the ale-house. On such occasions he would go home in a state of intoxication, very ill-tempered at having lost his money, scold his wife and children, and frequently beat them; and then, perhaps, go to bed with his clothes on, from sheer inability to take them off. Such is the service of Satan, and such the wages he gives to his poor deluded votaries in this life; and in the next, death eternal ! Yet thousands prefer such a life as this, to that service which is perfect freedom; even the service of God.

What could be more hopeless than the state of this family? Had not the poor heart-broken wife had faith in God, she must have sunk under the burden, as thousands do. But her trust was in the Lord. He had converted her, and He could convert her husband. She had herself been once dead in trespasses and sin; and now she had life, and light, and joy in conscious forgiveness. She knew by experience that the blood of Jesus Christ is sufficient to blot out every sin; and that the Holy Spirit has power to conquer every evil habit; therefore she did not despair. Though her trials lasted year after year, still she persevered in prayer for her husband, and strove by meekness and all other means, to reclaim him; while at the same time, she exerted herself to earn a scanty supply of food for her children, who must otherwise have starved.

The sorrows and privations of this drunkard's home are well known. One Saturday night he had lost all his money in gambling : he was not intoxicated, but, ashamed of his conduct, and fearing to be asked for his money, he feigned drunkenness, beat his wife, and staggered up to bed ; she, almost broken-hearted, and weeping from pain and sorrow, had recourse to her usual source of comfort: she took down her well-worn Bible, and on her knees prayed over its precious promises, until they were applied with power to her soul, and she felt relieved and comforted. She then went to her bed-room : there lay her husband feigning sleep, but in reality kept awake by remorse for having so ill-treated his faithful, gentle wife. Before retiring to rest, the poor woman, according to her invariable custom on such occasions, knelt down by his side, and prayed for that husband who was so unable to pray for himself. In the agony of her mind she prayed aloud : he heard the petition

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which burst from her lips, “O Lord ! forgive my husband for all his transgressions against Thee; and especially incline his heart to hate this sin of drunkenness, and to love Thee.” This sentence pierced him to the heart. He was convinced, by the tremulous tone of her voice, of the sincerity and earnestness of her prayer. He did not let her know that he was awake; but his mind was filled with painful reflections: the fact that she whom he had cruelly beaten could so soon have forgiven him, and have lost the sense of her own sorrows in the overwhelming anxiety she had expressed for his pardon with God, was what he could not understand ; but it convinced him of his guilt, and fixed in his mind a deep conviction of her worth.

The day that dawned upon that night of sorrow, was a blessed one for her. In the morning the husband rose with an altered

With silent wonder the poor wife and children noticed the quiet gravity and kindly tones of the husband and father, as things to which they had long been unaccustomed. At length he said, “Wife, I think I'll go to meeting with you this morning!” She threw herself on his neck in uncontrollable emotion; and he too wept unwonted tears.

That day the Spirit riveted the "nail” already “ fastened in a sure place”; the word was blessed to his soul. He heard and believed that there was pardon for the chief of sinners; that there was pardon for him. He cast himself on the grace of God in Christ Jesus; and washing himself in the fountain of His precious blood, he proved, as myriads of happy souls now before the throne have proved, that all sin and uncleanness are purged away there.

manner.

THE CHRISTIAN MOURNER. THANK Thee for this heavy | Death hides, but he cannot divide : cross,

Thou art but on Christ's other side ; I thank Thee for this bitter Thou art with Christ, and Christ with loss,

me; Because it hath seemed good to Thee And thus united still are we. To send this cross and loss to me. I know this cross is hard to bear I know that Christ will never chide 'Tis hard my well-loved one to spare; | My sorrow–He hath wept and sighed; And yet to Him who gave His Son, I feel the pressure of His hand; I meekly say, 'Thy will be done.'.

I know that He doth understand.
I know it was no random blow
Which laid thee, my sweet darling, And oh! what blessedness, relief,
low-

To tell the Christ of God my grief! Not death, but Christ, who said to thee,

Dear Man of sorrows, Thou art still • Come hither, O my friend, to me.'

The refuge for all human ill.
And Thou wilt still be more to me
For that dear one who is with Thee ;
Thus Thou wilt fill his vacant place
In Thy deep tenderness and grace.

THE BAR REMOVED. HE sinner is like a sailor who is exposed to danger from the storm, and yet afraid to enter the port of safety, simply from the knowledge that there is a fearful bar at the entrance. But what is this to the bar which

sin has placed between us and God ? Law and Justice stood in the way of our approach to Jehovah. But Jesus has removed every barrier. He hath put away sin by the sacrifice of Himself. The old channel of works is closed for ever, but the new channel of grace is open, free and inviting; yet many refuse, and others dread to enter this refuge of love, from the false idea that the bar is still there, knowing not that every obstacle to their peace with God has been removed by the death of Christ.

In a small burgh in Scotland, one of the magistrates passing along observed a drunk person obstructing the street, at which he called the only official in the place, who served the authorities as jailer and policeman; and without waiting for warrant or trial, ordered him to put the man in the lock-up. Just as Hector was about to seize the culprit, the bailie whispered in his ear, " Don't lock him up, but just make a noise with the lock; and when he gets sober he will find the door open and go home." The jailer did as he was told, and Donald concluded that he was fairly locked up for the night. There he spent a long cold dark winter night, without fire or food, in real misery and bondage.

In the morning, a little boy full of pity came to his grated window and cried, “Donald, what keeps you there, man the door is not locked.” At this the poor man became enraged, and threatened what he would do to the boy, when he got out of prison, for attempting to make sport of him. The boy then ran away, and the prisoner continued to pace his cell to keep himself warm, refusing even to examine the door, or believe it possible for him to be so stupid as to remain in an open prison. But as he continued to pace the dungeon, he could not resist the temptation to cast a side glance at the door as the light was streaming in round its edges, to see if anything like a lock intercepted his escape; and observing no such thing, he put his hand to the door, when to his astonishment and mortification, he found he had really been in bondage and misery in an open prison.

Now, what kept that man in there all night? There was no magisterial bolt or bar between him and liberty. Nothing kept him there but his own wilful ignorance and unbelief.

So is it with you who are unpardoned, unsaved. There is no sovereign or legal barrier between you and liberty. If the door is bolted it is on your side. The refuge is open ; the bar is removed. Believe, and enter into rest! Hear what the Spirit saith,—"By the blood of Thy covenant I have sent forth Thy prisoners out of

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