the globe to-day! Suppose that Lord Byron had been reared by such & mother as the Wesleys had; the world might have escaped the moral leprosy that has tainted nearly every brilliant page ho scattered. Like mother, like man.

We pastors often wonder why our sermons and pastoral efforts produce so little fruit in certain families. There are few or no conversions there. The reason is that the home-preaching is diametrically opposed to ours. · For one or two hours on Sunday we strive to win the sons and daughters to Christ. But all through the whole week the home influence is steadily wearing away whatever of good impressions may have been produced in the church or Sunday-school. Perhaps the parents are professors of religion, but with a sadly scanty possession thereof. They manage, by ill-temper and sour talk, to set the children's teeth on edge. Or they are so absorbed in moneygetting and vain show and utter worldliness of every kind, that the atmosphere of the house is about as favourable to the growth of piety 28 was that of Bunyan's “ Vanity Fair." The impressions of the most solemn or arousing sermon, or of the most faithful Sunday-school effort, are as soon εmothered in that home as a coal of fire would be under a pailful of ice. Sach parents do not deliberately desire to destroy their children's souls; yet they are as surely hindering their salvation. And for the chief direction and trend of the home influence the mother is most of all responsible. If she is prayerless, or frivolous, or unbelieving, or careless of the spiritual welfare of her children, the whole bome atmosphere catches the taint. The downward pull of her home-preaching is quite too strong for the upward poll of the best preaching in God's sanctuary. On the other hand, if she does her utmost to make the religion of Jesus attractive to her family, if she is watchful of every opportunity to lead them Christward, if she follows up the effect of Sabbath gospel by the more powerful influence of home-gospel, then there is almost a moral certainty that God will send His converting grace into that household. Try it, and see.

That noble servant of God, Richard Cecil, tells us that when he was a youth he tried his atmost to be an infidel; but his mother's beautiful and eloquent piety was too much for him. He never could answer that. Sometimes she used to “talk to him, and weep as she talked." He says, "I flung out of the house with an oath-but I wept too when I had got into the street. Sympathy is the powerful engine of a mother.” Yes; there is a power in a mother's love, when it is reinforced by the omnipotent grace of God, to reach and bring down the most stubborn heart; it is a power which goes miles deeper than pulpit appeals, for it links itself with the primal instincts of our nature. Oh ! if all the mothers were but faithfal in prayer and in guiding example, we should behold what Dr. Bushnell calls the "outpopulating power of the Christian stock.” The family would be the nursery of piety. The “Church in the house" would feed the Church

at the sacramental table. The home of natural birth would become the place of the new birth, and children-instead of running loose on the common of sin to be pursued with revival efforts in after years would be brought early under Christ's " yoke" and into His gracious fold.

It is not merely by gospel work in the pulpit like Frances Willard's or Sarah Smiley's, or by mission work like Mrs. Judson's or Fidelia Fisk's, that woman is to serve her Lord. Her mightiest, richest, holiest service is to be AT HOME. In these times revivals are becoming fewer, and conversions to Christ are falling off. I make no apologies for unfaithful pulpits or indolent Churches. But the revival that would send a fresh tide of blessings through all society and beautify the whole Church of God would be a revival of old-fashioned fireside religion-a religion that would make a warm atmosphere in which unbelief would melt, and Christian lives would grow. Oh, mothers, mothers ! Would to God that you all would consecrate yourselves anew to your Lord, as the living preachers of His gospel to the flock of young immortals entrusted to you! You are the soul's first preacher, first pastor, and most powerful guide towards heaven. We ministers can accomplish but little without your aid ; but with your preaching all the week, we can expect glorious results from our preaching on the Lord's day.

SONGS OF THE SOUL. The height of our devoutest am-ing fragments of this mournful, bition would be to produce a perfect matchless melody. Dr. Johnson, hymn. Religious poetry is abun- stern old bear as he was, could never dant; to produce it is as easy as to repeat one of its stanzas without write sermons; very often it is bursting into a flood of tears. It merely a sermon done into rhyme. is the verse beginning withBut a consummate hymn-winged

| “Quærens me sedisti lassus." with fire and instinct with celestial, inspiration—a hymn like the “Rock

This is the most exquisite verse of

the hymn. In one of the best of Ages ”—is a direct gift from God, from the God who inspired Isaiah,

English versions the stanza runs

thus:and the hearse-like melodies of the Book of Job. He who has com “Wearily for me thou soughtest; posed such a hymn is more certain

On the cross my soul thou boughtest;

Lose not all for which thou wroughtof immortality thatif he had written histories like Robertson's, or spoken orations as “perfervid" as Chat- Tholuck tells us that tho effect of ham's or Bolingbroke's.

post-Reformation period is the one Greenland's icy mountains," which commencing with the lines

he threw off in a single afternoon ; "Jerusalem, my happy home,

and Ray Palmer must rest his main When shall I come to thee?" hope of poetio immortality on that Its author is unknown. The oldest exquisite soul-songcopy of it is in an ancient volume "My faith looks up to thee, in the British Museum, which bears

Thou Lamb of Calvary.” the date of 1616. The hymn itself A striking illustration of this truth is was written about the era of Shak- found in that songstress of a single speare, and is entitled " A song by strain, Charlotte Elliott. She has F. B. P. to the tune of Diana.” written many religious rhymes, This is the source of the scores of but only one hymn. It is that exNew Jerusalem hymns in Scotch and quisite one, sung by so many true English. The concluding stanzas penitents through gushing and will give us a delightful taste of the blinding tears :whole; they are steeped in ,the “Just as I am -without one plea, heavenly flavours of John's vision. But that thy blood was shed for me, “Quite through thy streets, with silver

And that thou bid'st me come to thee, sound,

O Lamb of God, I come.” The flood of life doth flow,

Of the authoress herself I know no Upon whose banks on every side

more than that she is an English The wood of life doth grow.

lady, the sister of the Rev. H. V. “There trees for evermore bear fruit,

Elliott, of Brighton. If this hymn And evermore do spring;

of Miss Elliott has any rival, it There evermore the angels sit, And evermore do sing.

must be another single strain by a “Jerusalem. my happy home,

Miss Sarah Flower Adams, who is Would God I were in thee!

said to have left England for Would God my woes were at an end, America. Where and who she is

Thy joys that I might see!” I cannot tell; but we owe her the Of all modern hymns, the most thanks of the Church universal for incomparable is Toplady's “ Rock having given us that exquisite outof Ages.” It was permitted to a

bitted to a flow of a broken heartretired English clergyman to pro “Nearer, my God, to thee!" duce this soul-song which alone can! We might cite several other rival the Dies Iræ. Toplady ori- striking examples—such as the Rev. ginally built his immortal hymn in Hugh Stowell'sfour verses. In our ordinary books some wretched hymn-butcher has

"From every stormy wind that blows ;"! abbreviated it into three ; but, but our space is exhausted. It rethank God! he has not killed the mains to say that a true song of hymn. It will live till the day of the soul, inspired by God's Spirit, judgment. Toplady wrote several has led many a soul to Jesus. In sacred lyrics, but the consummate an inquiry meeting no address can flower of his devout genius is the move or melt like singing “ Rock of “Rock of Ages.” It is a striking Ages,” orfact that many of the grandest,

“Come, humble sinner, in whose breast, hymns in Christendom are the

A thousand thoughts revolve." single great productions of their author. De Celano is only remem. In a certain revival meeting the bered by the Dies Iræ; Toplady, by pastor read that bymn of Isaac “Rock of Ages; ” Bishop Heber, Watts, “There is a voice of sovereign by his Missionary Hymn, “ From grace.": A convicted person in the audience , when giving the narrative I sat all the evening just looking at of her conversion to her pastor, that bymn. I did not hear your said, “ All is light to me now. I prayer. I did not hear your see my way clear. When you were sermon. I do not know your text. reading that hymn last night, I I have thought of nothing but that saw the whole way of salvation for hymn ever since. It makes me so sinners perfectly plain, and won contented.” The good woman was dered that I never had seen it before. right. She needed no more sermon You read those words

than those blessed lines—the voice " A guilty, weak. and helpless worm. of God's Spirit to the seeking sout. On Tby kind arms I fall,

They contain the marrow of all Be Thou my strength and righteous

nd righteous- gospel preaching. Who could ask ness, My Saviour and my all!'

for more?

CHRIST'S RESURRECTION.
SUNG BY JEROME OF PRAGUE AT THE STAKE.
WELCOME, happy morning! age to age shall say:
Hell to-day is vanquished, heaven is won to-day !
Lo, the dead is living, God for evermore !
Him their true Creator, all His works adore.

Earth with joy confesses, clothing her for spring,
All good gifts returned with her returning King:
Bloom in every meadow, leaves on every bough,
Speak His sorrows ended, hail His triumph now.

Maker and Redeemer, life and health of all,
Thou, from heaven beholding human nature's fall,
Of the Father's Godhead true and only Son,
Manhood to deliver, manhood didst put on.

Thou, of life the Author, death didst undergo,
Tread the path of darkuess, saving strength to show;
Come, then, true and faithful, now fulfil Thy word,
'Tis Thine own third morning-rise, my buried Lord !

Loose the souls long-prisoned, bound with Satan's chain;
All that now is fallen raise to life again ;
Show Thy face in brightness, bid the nations see,
Bring again pur daylight 3 day returns with Thee !

Latin of Venantius Fortunatus,

CHE LILIES AND THE EARTHEN VESSEL.

The Master stood in His garden,

Among the lilies fair,
Which His own right hand hath planted,

And trained with tenderest care.

He looked at the snowy blossoms,

And marked with observant eye, That His flowers were sadly drooping, And their leaves were parched and dry.

“ My lilies need to be watered,"

The heavenly Master said ; • Wherein shall I draw it for them,

And raise each drooping head ?”

Close to His feet, on the pathway,

Empty, and frail, and small, An earthen vessel was lying,

Which seemed of no use at all.

But the Master saw, and raised it

From the dust in which it lay, And smiled as He gently whispered,

“ This shall do my work to-day.

“ It is but an earthen vessel,

But it lies so close to me; It is small, but it is empty,

And that is all it needs to be.” So to the fountain He took it,

And filled it full to the brim ; How glad was the earthen vessel

To be of use to Him !

He poured forth the living water

Over His lilies fair,
Until the vessel was empty,

And again He filled it there.

He watered the drooping lilies,

Until they revived again,
And the Master saw with pleasure

That His labour had not been in vain.

His own hand had drawn the water

Which refreshed the thirsty flowers But He used the earthen vessel

To convey the living showers. But to itself it whispered,

As He laid it aside once more, “ Still will I lie in His pathway,

Just where I did before.

“ Close would I keep to the Master,

Empty would I remain ;
And perhaps some day He may use me

To water His flowers again."