instead of looking at God. Our own duties, our own responsibilities, our own sins, our own virtues, fill our mind. There is nothing in the sight of these things to animate us; all are discouraging and gloomy subjects of thought. They shut us up in a very narrow circle. They produce a morbid anxiety about our condition, a spiritual hypochondria. They produce refined selfishness. We become the centre and pivot of all transactions and events; we are of the greatest consequence in our own eyes; we are perpetually contemplating ourselves. . . .

Again, by aiming exclusively at working for God and earning our own salvation, we accustom ourselves to regard God in one of his attributes exclusively, that of Justice. He becomes to us an inexorable Law; and an inexorable Law is only a little better than a merciless Fate. But what an immense injury is it to the human heart to see God habitually as a Judge and not as a Father!

For these and other reasons we see that the effort to do right does not necessarily lead to the happy, spontaneous, and loving practice of goodness. This is to be found not in the Law, but in the Gospel; not in the sight of Duty but in the sight of Love. It is affectionate, filial gratitude for unbought, unearned mercy. It is the great love of him who has been forgiven much. It is the overflowing affection of the Prodigal, whose Father has received him on his return, not with severity, but with rejoicing. It comes from the sight of the infinite beauty scattered through the world, the blessed face of nature, the

warm and glowing heart of humanity, the infinite adaptations throughout the universe for the comfort, education and blessing of God's creatures. To look out of ourselves and away from ourselves; away from our narrow virtues and our small attainments; away from our dangers, our sinfulness, our follý; to look wholly away from ourselves, and to gaze constantly at the fulness of beauty and goodness in the creation and providence of God; will not this touch the cold heart, and moisten the dry eye with an humble and grateful tear. J. F. Clarke.

It is certain that there are organic and psychological preparations for prayer, which differ in every individual. Over these he has no power, and for the possession or absence of these he is not responsible. It is desirable that this should be understood, for many persons torment themselves needlessly, because they do not find in themselves the same devotional tendencies which they observe in others. On the other hand, those in whom the devotional sentiment is in surplus by natural endowment, may be contented to rest therein, and so make of prayer a purely sentimental exercise and enjoyment. To avoid these errors, we must learn to distinguish between the glow of the organic tendency, the warmth of the sentiment, on one hand, and the earnestness which is given to prayer by conviction, purpose, and the stress of life. The organic tendency is a beautiful one, and if we possess it largely, is one for which we ought to be profoundly grateful. It leads us to look upward toward that which is

above us, leads

us to reverence parents, superiors, heroes, saints, men of genius and greatness, men of virtue, and finally to adore and worship the Most High, and to find happiness therein. This sentiment is the crown of the moral nature; it gives harmony to the whole character, eliminates all that is abrupt, harsh, coarse, and low; by giving humility it gives dignity, for it is a law of nature that those who humble themselves are exalted. This sentiment causes one to take pleasure in prayer, especially in that part of prayer which consists of adoration. As those who have much of this exquisite sentiment enjoy the sight, thought, and presence of venlove to be with the old, the wise, the so they love to be in the presence of God. A tone of fair humility, of beautiful uplooking, pervades their prayers. But this action of this sentiment does not constitute the essence of prayer, nor give its substance; it only makes at most its element and sphere. It is a preparation for prayer, leading us to recognize gladly God's presence, and opening the soul to meet him. But we may be glad to be in a person's presence, when we have nothing to say to him. And if we have nothing to say to him, we cannot have communion with him, there is no real intercourse.

erable men, honorable,

It is necessary to understand this distinction between the prayer of natural sentiment and the prayer of conviction, in order that those who are deficient in this beautiful tendency, may not be discouraged thereby, and those who possess it, not unduly self-satisfied. If we are thus endowed, we

may be thankful for the gift, and find it a preparation for intercourse with the Heavenly Father. But if we are not thus endowed, it does not follow that we cannot pray, nor even that we cannot pray with depth and power. Conviction, purpose, a right direction of heart and life, will make our prayers genuine and joyful; though the natural sensibility we observe in others is wanting. J. F. Clarke.

There is no Christian Virtue to be named which concerns manners, but Complexion will afford a spurious imitation of it. . . Those cold and abject fits of the Melancholist make him very sensibly and willingly Rhetorical, when he speaks of disconsolation, desertion, humility, mortification, and the like, as if he were truly and voluntarily carried through such things; whereas only the fatal necessity of his Complexion has violently dragged him through the mere shadows and resemblances of them.

Henry More.

There are a great many things which are good and lovely, which do not indicate the presence of personal holiness. The creative energies of God flow down and manifest themselves in lower forms than men, even through all forms of animate and inanimate nature. There in lower types are copied out his infinite wisdom and goodness.

Now how do these lovely and beneficent qualities differ as they appear in nature, and as they appear in men. Just here, that in nature they are the unconscious and

passive manifestations of the Divine goodness and reason, while man has the power to discern their quality and receive and manifest them, not in obedience to blind instincts, but in obedience to a Divine command. Then he transmutes them from natural qualities into spiritual. They change their character when passing through the alchemy of a human spirit, and under the action of a human will. So long as these qualities are merely natural, they are not his own. They wait to be appropriated. They may be wrought by him into his character as its essential elements, or they may be choked among the thistles and thorns of hereditary evil. Edmund H. Sears.

Taylor says "there is no goodness in nature but virtue.” "Virtue is always voluntary, vice either voluntary or involuntary."

"There is no temperament," says Dr. Walker, "which may not be formed to a Christian temper."

Sternness and levity were the two constitutional evils, which most severely exercised Mr. Cecil. But so far had grace triumphed over these enemies, that the very opposite features were the most prominent in his character, and no one could approach him without feeling himself with a most tender and serious mind. Cecil.

If Prudence, though practically inseparable from morality, is not to be confounded with the moral principle; still