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THE CLOUDS IN THE SKY.

(8.) Consider the dignity of thy soul; it is more worth than a world. Lose it not then for any sin. (9.) Consider the preciousness of a good conscience, which is a continual feast. This thou losest by sin. (10.) Consider, thou sinnest against a world of mercies which God hath sent to thee, as to soul, body, good name, estate, and others, that belong to thee.

(11.) Consider, nothing can wash away any sin but .he blood of Christ. And wilt thou now pollute thyelf again, as it were, to have him killed afresh to wash away thy sin?

(12.) Consider, the ancient martyrs and worthies chose rather to burn at a stake than they would sin; and wilt thou so easily be drawn to it, or rather run to it? Anselm said, If the flames of hell were on the one side, and sin on the other side, I would rather lie in those flames than sin; and others would rather be torn in pieces with wild horses. We have as precious means as they; and, if our hearts were as good, we should have the like affections.-Bolton.

A SMALL PRAYER-MEETING.

The effectual, fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much."

A FEW years ago some good Christians belonging to a little church on the shore of New Jersey, formed a resolution to meet upon every Sabbath morning at the church, for the express purpose of praying God for an outpouring of the Holy Spirit upon the church, and, at the same time, a baptism upon their own souls. A number entered into this arrangement at first with commendable zeal, and for a few Sabbath 'mornings the voices of many were heard rolling up from that lonely little chapel, burdened with petitions to the throne of God. While the weather continued pleasant and mild they continued to attend, and in their hearts felt the benefits of the social interview; but at length the cold winds began to howl the requiem of departed summer, and winter's frown to sterilize the earth; and then the days were so short, and the hour came so early, especially on Sunday, that the love and zeal of many, with the weather, waxed cold; and in consequence the only prayermeeting was composed of fewer individuals. Every Sabbath the number diminished, until at length, out of the many who had formed the compact, but for assembled at the usual time. These, with full hearts, received many a blessing and had many a good time together; but by and bye one of these forsook the praying circle, and soon another, and but two were left-but these, for several weeks, were true to the appointment-and many times realized the truth of the promise in Matt. xviii. 20; but the courage of one of these failed; and good old sister T was left alone. She was a faithful follower of Jesus, and had a soul resting upon the divine promise. She was beyond discouragement.

For many long years she had been one of the lights of the church; and though now that church was cold ¡ and lifeless-though the dark clouds had gathered, and they seemed almost impenetrable-though they had prayed, and prayed again for a season of reviving, and yet had felt none, yet she was trusty and believ ing, and like Simeon of old was "waiting for the consolation of Israel."

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unanswered. A concern was manifested among some upon the subject of salvation, some came forward for prayers, two or three were hopefully converted, the church began to awake, the brethren to work, the sinners to cry for mercy; and ere long a work of God broke out in the neighbourhood that swept every thing before it; hundreds were converted to God. It spread like a fire in a dry stubble all round; the influence extended to the adjoining charges, and they began to witness the great outpouring of the Spirit. It was a long and blessed revival, and many were gathered into the fold of Christ, saved with an eternal salvation. Many since have joined the church triumphant, and others are yet "holding fast their profession of faith without wavering."

I attended a meeting far down in the Pines of West Jersey, in the summer of 1847, and sister Twas present.

But she has passed away. A good and faithful servant, her work was "well done." A few weeks since she went home to behold the glory of God, and to enter the mansions prepared for the righteous in heaven!-Zion's Herald.

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A plant has a great many mouths, dear; but you' cannot see them because they are so small. They drink in the rain through their leaves, and still more through their roots, which are made on purpose to suck up the moisture. Go to the kitchen and get a tumbler of water, and I will show you this plant, which is hanging its head from thirst. You shall see how it will drink and be refreshed."

Frank went to the kitchen, and soon came back with a tumblerful of water; and his mother poured it over the plant, that had been half dried up in the hot sunshine.

In a few hours Frank saw that the plant had raised its head again, and looked quiet fresh and bright, as if it were happy. This pleased him very much, and his mother said, "You see, my little boy, that the plant can drink as well as you. God, who is wise and kind, will not let his earth, and creatures that he made to live on it, faint. He has made the clouds to bring rain, to give the fields drink. It will not be unpleasant to you now to see them in the sky sometimes, though they do cover the beautiful blue."

"Oh no! I will rather thank God for making the

clouds; for the earth would not look so beautiful if deemer, my Head and Husband, whom my soul loved, all the plants were to fade and die."

"And where should we get our food if there were

no corn, nor fruit, nor any grass for our sheep and cows, and the creatures that are food for us?" asked his mother.

Frank now saw the clouds with quite different thoughts; and when the days were hot and the earth dry, he would pray that God would send some clouds, that all the plants might not wither and die with thirst. It is well for children and youth to learn that the trials and afflictions of life are to the soul vhat clouds are to the earth. Uninterrupted sunhine is no more to be desired than perpetual clouds.

"OLD REY."

AMONG the anecdotes illustrative of the good done by the circulation of the Scriptures, is one which I heard in Florence, in reference to a French soldier named Rey, who was captured during the Russian campaign of Napoleon, and sent into Siberia. He was one day bout to light his pipe with a scrap of paper, when observing that it was printed, it occurred to him chat possibly he might find in it some intelligence to relieve for a moment the tedium of a captivity in which nothing was furnished for the mind. To his surprise it was French; he read it, and knew it as a leaf from the gospel of John. He kept it, and God blessed it to his conversion; and for long dreary vears of Siberian exile did the light thus suddenly kindled burn steadily in his heart.

Among the objects of interest to artists in Florence, is an old man with a magnificent head. He is very verse to being a subject for the pencil, but loves the ellowship of Christians, and has several times for heir sake let in the artist. We find him now con

ined to his bed in a very humble apartment in the centre of the city. He sits upright, however, and is quickly animated by company. With his long silvery beard; his flowing grey locks; most striking features; bright black eye; large, flexible, and still ruddy cheeks; with his black velvet cap set carelessly upon his head, its red lining slightly turned out along the arch of his forehead, and with his ornamented pipe in his hand; this venerable man, listening with a pleasant look to all you say, and occasion ally giving you a mild reply with a quotation from the Bible, fills your eye and imagination with the image of such a patriarch as looks not down upon us from the canvass. This is "Old Rey," as they call him here. The light kindled in his heart by that leaf from God's word wafted to him over the wastes of Siberia, has never grown dim. Long has it cheered himself and others in the dark places in Italy; many have seen it and glorified God.

THE HAPPINESS OF A GLORIFIED SPIRIT. WOULD you know where I am? I am at home in my Father's house, in the mansion prepared for me there. I am where I would be, where I have long and often desired to be; no longer on a stormy sea, but in a safe and quiet harbour. My working time is done, I am resting: my sowing time is done, I am reaping; my joy is at the time of harvest. Would you know how it is with me? I am made perfect in holiness; grace is swallowed up in glory; the topstone of the building is brought forth. Would you know what I am doing? I see God; I see him as he is, not as through a glass darkly, but face to face; and the sight is transforming, it makes me like him. I am in the sweet employment of my blessed Re

and for whose sake I was willing to part with it all. I am here bathing myself at the spring-head of heavenly pleasures and joys unutterable, and, therefore, weep not for me. I am here keeping a perpetual Sabbath; what that is, judge by your short Sabbaths. I am here singing hallelujahs incessantly to Him who sits upon the throne, and rest not day or night from praising him. Would you know what company I have? Blessed company, better than the best on earth-here are holy angels, and the spirits of just men made perfect. I am set down with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, in the kingdom of God, with blessed Paul and Peter, and James and John, and all the saints; and here I meet with many of my old acquaintance that I fasted and prayed with, who got before me hither. And lastly, would you consider how long this is to continue? It is a garland that never withers; a crown of glory that fades not away; after millions of millions of ages it will be as fresh as it is now; and, therefore, weep not for me.-Matthew Henry.

FAMILY RELIGION.

READER, I beg of you, as from Christ, for his sake, of the church and kingdom, that you will conscienfor your soul's sake, your children's sake, for the sake tiously and seriously set up family religion; calling upon God, singing his praises, and instructing your children and servants in the Scriptures and Catechism, and in a wise and diligent education of youth. knees. Alas, what doth the world suffer by the neHear me, as if I begged it of you with tears, on my glect of this? It is out of ungodly families that the world hath ungodly rulers, ungodly ministers, and a swarm of serpentine enemies of holiness and peace, and their own salvation. What country groaneth not under the confusion, miseries, and horrid wickedness, which are all the fruits of family neglects, and the careless and ill education of youth? It is a work of great skill and constant care to instruct and edu company and snares. To cry out of dumb and uncate your children, and to keep them from tempting faithful ministers, while you are worse at home yourselves, is but self-condemnation. Are ministers more obliged to care for your children's souls, by nature. or by vow and covenant, than you are? Can they do that for whole parishes which you will not do for one household, or your children? The first charge and part is yours: if families treacherously neglect their parts, and then look that all should be done in the church, you may as wisely send boys to the universities before they are taught to read and write in lower schools. If there be any hope of the amendment of the wicked, miserable, and distracted world, it must education of youth. be mostly done by family religion and the Christian "Godliness is profitable to all things;" but the curse of God is in the house of the wicked, and the ungodly betrayers of souls, of them selves, children, and servants, will very quickly be summoned to a terrible account; especially those that should, as rulers, be exemplary to the vulgar, and are ashamed to own serious family religion, as if all beyond some formal and lip-labour were a dishonour to their houses, or a needless thing.-Baxter.

MISERY.

WERE we called upon to name the object under the sun which excites the deepest commiseration in the heart of Christian sensibility, which includes in itself the most affecting incongruities, which contains the sum and substance of human misery, we would not

hesitate to say, "An irreligious old age."-Hannah More.

THE CHRISTIAN TREASURY.

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UNCONSCIOUS INFLUENCE;

A Sermo:.

BY THE REV. HORACE BUSHNELL, D.D., OF THE UNITED STATES.*

"Then went in also that other disciple."-JOHN xx. 8.

In this slight touch or turn of history, is opened up to us, if we scan it closely, one of the most serious and fruitful chapters of Christian doctrine. Thus it is that men are ever touching unconsciously the springs of motion in each other; thus it is that one man, without thought or intention, or even a consciousness of the fact, is ever leading some other after him. Little does Peter think, as he comes up, where his doubting brother is looking into the sepulchre, and goes straight in, after his peculiar manner, that he is drawing in his brother apostle after him. As little does John think, when he loses his misgivings, and goes into the sepulchre after Peter, that he is following his brother. And just so, unawares to himself, is every man, the whole race through, laying hold of his fellow man, to lead him where otherwise he would not go. We overrun the boundaries of our personality—we flow together. A Peter leads a John, a John goes after a Peter, both of them unconscious of any influence exerted or received. And thus our life and conduct are ever propagating themselves, by a law of social contagion, throughout the circles and times in which we live.

There are, then, you will perceive, two sorts of influence belonging to man; that which is active or voluntary, and that which is unconscious; that which we exert purposely, or in the endeavour to sway another, as by teaching, by argument, by persuasion, by threatenings, by offers and promises, and that which flows out from us unawares to ourselves, the same which Peter had over John when he led him into the sepulchre. The importance of our efforts to do good, that is, of our voluntary influence, and the sacred obligation we are under to exert ourselves in this way, are often and seriously insisted on. It is thus that Christianity has become, in the present age, a principle of so much greater activity than it has been for many centuries before; and we fer

* Preached at Fetter Lane Chapel, on Sunday, March 29, 1846. Noted down as preached from the pulpit.

vently hope, that it will yet become far more active than it now is, nor cease to multiply its industry till it is seen by all mankind to embody the beneficence and the living energy of Christ himself.

But there needs to be produced at the same time, and partly for this object, a more thorough appreciation of the relative importance of that kind of influence or beneficence which is insensibly exerted. The tremendous weight and efficacy of this, compared with the other, and the sacred responsibility laid upon us in regard to this, are felt in no such degree or proportion as they should be; and the consequent loss we suffer in character, as well as that which the Church suffers in beauty and strength, is incalculable. The more stress, too, needs to be laid on this subject of insensible influence, because it is insensible; because it is out of mind, and, when we seek to trace it, beyond a full discovery.

If the doubt occur to any of you, in the announcement of this subject, whether we are properly responsible for an influence which we exert insensibly; we are not, I reply, except so far as this influence flows directly from our character and conduct. And this it does, even much more uniformly than our active influence. In the latter we may fail of our end by a want of wisdom or skill; in which case we may be as guiltless, in God's sight, as if we succeeded. So, again, we may really succeed, and do great good by our active endeavours, from motives altogether base and hypocritical, in which case we are as evil in God's sight as if we had failed. But the influences we exert unconsciously will almost never disagree with our real character. They are honest influences, following our character as the shadow follows the sun. And, therefore, we are much more certainly responsible for them, and their effects on the world. They go streaming from us in all directions, though in channels that we do not see, poisoning or healing around the roots of society, and among the hidden wells of character. If good ourselves, they are good; if bad, they are bad. And, since they reflect so exactly our charac

ter, it is impossible to doubt our responsibility for their effects on the world. We must answer not only for what we do with a purpose, but for the influence we exert insensibly. To give you any just impressions of the breadth and seriousness of such a reckoning I know to be impossible. No mind can trace it. But it will be something gained, if I am able to awaken only a suspicion of the vast extent and moment of those influences, which are ever flowing out unbidden upon society, from your life and character.

and it is the nature of light to flow out spontaneously in all directions, and fill the world unconsciously with its beams. So the Christian shines, it would say, not so much because he will, as because he is a luminous object. Not that the active influence of Christians is made of no account in the figure, but only that this symbol of light has its propriety, in the fact that their unconscious influence is the chief influence, and has the precedence in its power over the world. And yet there are many who will be ready to think that light is a very tame and feeble instrument, because it is noiseless. An earth

vigorous and effective agency. Hear how it comes thundering through the solid foundations of nature! It rocks a whole continent. The noblest works of man, cities, monuments, and temples, are in a moment levelled to the ground, or swallowed down the opening gulfs of fire. Little do they think that the light of every morning, the soft and genial and silent light, is an agent many times more powerful. But let the light of the morning cease, and return no more-let the hour of morning come and bring with it no dawn-the outcries of a horror-stricken world fill the air, and make, as it were, the darkness audible. The beasts go wild and frantic at the loss of the sun. The

In the prosecution of my design, let me ask of you, first of all, to expel the common pre-quake, for example, is to them a much more iudice that there can be nothing of consequence in unconscious influences, because they make no report, and fall on the world unobserved. Histories and biographies make little account of the power men exert insensibly over each other. They tell how men have led armies, established empires, enacted laws, gained causes, sung, reasoned, and taught; always occupied in setting forth what they do with a purpose. But what they do without a purpose, the streams of influence that flow out from their persons unbidden on the world, they cannot trace or compute, and seldom even mention. So also the public laws make men responsible only for what they do with a positive purpose, and take no account of the mischiefs or bene-vegetable growths turn pale and die. A chill fits that are communicated by their noxious or healthful example. The same is true in the discipline of families, churches, and schools; they make no account of the things we do, except we will them. What we do insensibly passes for nothing, because no human govern'ment can trace such influences with sufficient certainty to make their authors responsible.

But you must not conclude that influences of this kind are insignificant, because they are unnoticed or noiseless. How is it in the natural world? Behind the mere show, the outward noise and stir of the world, nature always conceals her hand of control, and the laws by which she rules. Who ever saw with the eye, for example, or heard with the ear, the exertions of that tremendous astronomic force, which every moment holds the compact of the physical universe together? The lightning is, in fact, but a mere fire-fly spark in comparison; but because it glares on the cloud, and thunders so terribly in the ear, and rives the tree or the rock where it falls, many will be ready to think that it is a vastly more potent agent than gravity.

The Bible calls the good man's life a light,

creeps on, and frosty winds begin to howl across the freezing earth. Colder and yet colder is the night. The vital blood, at length, of all creatures stops congealed. Down goes the frost towards the earth's centre. The heart of the sea is frozen; nay, the earthquakes are themselves frozen in under their fiery caverns. The very globe itself, too, and all the fellow-planets that have lost their sun, are become mere balls of ice, swinging silent in the darkness. Such is the light which revisits us in the silence of the morning. It makes no shock or scar. It would not wake an infant in his cradle. And yet it perpetually new creates the world, rescuing it each morning as a prey from night and chaos. So the Christian is a light, even "the light of the world;" and we must not think that because he shines insensibly or silently, as a mere luminous object, he is therefore powerless. The greatest powers are ever those which lie back of the little stirs and commotions of nature; and I verily believe, that the insensible influences of good men are as much more potent than what I have called their voluntary or active, as the great silent powers of nature are of greater

UNCONSCIOUS INFLUENCE; A SERMON.

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speech, and the sympathetic powers, the sensibilities or affections, for tinder to those sparks of emotion revealed by looks, tones, manners, and general conduct. And these sympathetic powers, though not immediately rational, are yet inlets, open on all sides, to the understanding and character. They have a certain wonderful capacity to receive impres

consequence than their little disturbances and tumults. The law of human influence is deeper than many suspect, and they lose sight of it altogether. The outward endeavours made by good men or bad to sway others, they call their influence; whereas it is, in fact, but a fraction, and in most cases but a very small fraction, of the good or evil that flows out of their lives. Nay, I will even go further. Howsions, and catch the meaning of signs, and promany persons do you meet, the insensible induence of whose manners and character is so decided as often to thwart their voluntary in fluence, so that whatever they attempt to do in the way of controlling others, they are sure to carry the exact opposite of what they in tend! And it will generally be found, that, where men undertake by argument or persuasion to exert a power, in the face of quali- | ties that make them odious or detestable, or only not entitled to respect, their insensible influence will be too strong for them. In all such cases, the voluntary influence of men will not even compose a fraction, however sinall, of what they do.

I call your attention next to the twofold powers of effect and expression by which man connects with his fellow man. If we distinguish man as a creature of language, and thus qualified to communicate himself to others, there are in him two sets or kinds of language, one which is voluntary in the use, and one that is involuntary-that of speech in the literal sense, and that expression of the eye, the face, the look, the gait, the motion, the tone or cadence, which is sometimes called the natural language of the sentiments. This natural language, too, is greatly enlarged by the conduct of life, that which in business and society reveals the principles and spirit of men. Speech, or voluntary language, is a door to the soul that we may open or shut at will; the other is a door that stands open evermore, and reveals to others constantly, and often very clearly, the tempers, tastes, and wishes of their hearts. Within, as we may represent, is character, charging the common reservoir of influence, and through these twofold gates of the soul, pouring itself out on the world. Out of one it flows at choice, and whensoever we pur pose to do good or evil to men. Out of the other it flows each moment, as light from the sun, and propagates itself in all beholders.

Then if we go over to others, that is, to the subjects of influence, we find every man endowed with two inlets of impression; the ear and the understanding for the reception of

pagate in us whatsoever falls into their passive moulds from others. The impressions they receive do not come through verbal propositions, and are never received into verbal proposition, it may be, in the mind, and therefore many think nothing of them. But precisely on this account are they the more powerful, because it is as if one heart were thus going directly into another, and carrying in its feelings with it. Beholding, as in a glass, the feelings of our neighbour, we are changed into the same image by the assimilating power of sensibility and fellow feeling. Many have gone so far, and not without show, at least of reason, as to maintain that the look or expression, and even the very features of children, are often changed, by exclusive intercourse with nurses and attendants. Furthermore, if we carefully consider, we shall find it scarcely possible to doubt, that simply to look on bad and malig nant faces, or those whose expression has be come infected by vice, to be with them and become familiarized to them, is enough permanently to affect the character of persons of mature age. I do not say that it must of necessity subvert their character, for the evil looked upon may never be loved or welcomed in practice; but it is something to have these bad images in the soul, giving out their expression there, and diffusing their odour among the thoughts as long as we live. How dangerous a thing is it, for example, for a man to become accustomed to sights of cruelty! What man, valuing the honour of his goul, would not shrink from yielding himself to such an influence? No more is it a thing of indifference to become accustomed to look on the manners, and receive the guilty expression of any kind of sin.

The door of involuntary communication, I have said, is always open. Of course we are communicating ourselves in this way to others, at every moment of our intercourse or presence with them. But how very seldom, in compa rison, do we undertake, by means of speech, to influence others! Even the best Christian, one who most improves his opportunities to do

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