subjects, fail very much in their method of imparting instruction. It is the practice of some to do it in the most formal and forbidding manner. The child is called for, at the regular hour, to receive his accustomed lecture. If the subject should respect his moral and religious obligations, he is expected to stand and hear, much after the manner of a criminal, without proposing any inquiries, or making any reply. Having received what he considers a most tedious, if not a most unnecessary charge, to be dutiful, industrious, and pious, he trips away with a glad heart to his thoughtless pastimes, until the approaching repetition of good and necessary counsel destroys his spirits. Others again reserve their most serious advice, especially on religious topics, for the season of correction. It is while the rod is held over him in threatening mood, or he is entering the place of confinement, or his spirit is chafed with the thoughts of a disgraceful punishment, that the child is first and principally reminded of his moral obligations. The effect is obvious. He learns to associate

the most interesting and important of all subjects, with indignant looks, with reproaches and chastisement. The remembrance of the well-meant lesson, brings along with it the recollection of what he would gladly forget. And he is likely to banish them both, as much as possible, from his reflections.

We do not, however, by these remarks, condemn entirely the formal lecturing of children; still less do we object to parents founding their government on Christian principles. We think it necessary that chastisement should be administered in the very spirit of the Gospel; and that children should be brought to penitence, and the confession of their faults, through the pressure of its obligations. A moral government, it has been shown in a former paper,* is the only one which promises to effectuate the peace and order of the family circle. But then it does not follow, that parents are wise in restricting their most serious instructions, to such ungrateful opportunities; when the minds of children, at all times sufficiently averse to what is good and useful, are rendered more obstinate by being crossed. The application of religious principle, on such occasions, should rather be founded on former lessons, on those concessions which the culprit himself has made, and the notions he has imbibed under the influence of a more teachable spirit. The time is one which calls rather for the mention of principles already inculcated, and the remembrance of past instructions, than the inculcating of what is new and ungrateful to the child.

We must not expect to carry the heart even of a child by storm. We may frown him into silence, and scare him into almost any concessions. The little trembler may be forced to hear, and perhaps to remember a moiety of his dreary lecture; but he cannot thus be won to the cheerful practice of what is amiable and good. No more can he be laughed into proper feelings and useful habits. The practice of those parents, who continue to correct the faults of their young by ridicule, and to inform their minds, by rendering their instructions merely a source of amusement, is liable to very serious

On Obedience to Mothers:

677

objections. No other method could be devised so calculated to despoil the heart of its finest sensibilities, to blunt the moral sense, and render the unfortunate child, a thoughtless devotee of pleasure.

The manner of the parent may indeed be varied, according to the subject of instruction. But with an aspect always cheerful and inviting, he should never fail to check every disposition in his charge, to trifle with what is momentous and solemn. He should, if possible, excite in them a spirit of inquiry, and a laudable curiosity. But I need not enlarge on this topic. Every sensible parent understands what kind of fireside conversation with his children, is best calcu lated to delight and inform them. It is far more necessary to inculcate assiduity and perseverance in this labour of love. For he who would realize complete success, must diligently study the best means, and be observant of the most favourable opportunities, of performing it. We must consider it an object worthy to employ not only his leisure moments, but some portion of his thoughts, amidst even his most serious avocations. He must be a man of prayer, and look to the Father of all spirits, to succeed his endeavours to form aright the deathless minds intrusted to his care. AMICUS.

ON OBEDIENCE TO MOTHERS.

From Nott's Sermons for Children.

THINK not that there is no harm in disobeying your mother. God requires you to obey both your parents, to honour your mother as well as your father. When you disobey your mother, you are also disobeying and offending God, your Maker and Preserver. He shows how he regards this sin, when he says, 'The eye that mocketh at his father, and scorneth to obey his mother, the raveus of the valley shall pluck it out, and the young eagles shall eat it.'

"There seems even a greater guilt in disobeying your mother than your father. Think of it. You are disobedient to her, who took the kindest care of your helpless infancy, who supplied all your wants, who nursed you in all your sicknesses, and who was thinking, as she took care of you, that if God preserved you, you would presently be her comfort and her helper. Do you think she will now bear it easily, that you show that you have no love to her? Or that you only love her when she is doing something to please you? Do you think she will bear it easily that you have no regard to God-that you show no prospect of a good life and a happy eternity? Oh can your kind and tender-hearted mother bear to see you getting ready so fast for an eternal lying down in misery ?-Oh I remember one companion of my childhood, who not only mocked at his erring father, but scorned to obey his kind and pious mother, and how, even while a child, he broke away once and again from the bosom of his family, and was once and again compelled to return to the roof of her whom he scorned and refused to obey, and how at last he turned a swearing, drunken vagabond, and died not full twenty years old, away from home-away, I fear, from Christ. I would not feel the anguish that mother's heart has felt for worlds.

"If your mother be a widow, hear me yet another word. God pities both you and your mother. He regards the fatherless and widow, and you may wait, and ought to wait with your mother upon the loving kindness of God He is now your Father, and her Husband. Take care, lest by your unkindness and disobedience you displease Him, who has promised to care for her and you. Take care that you do not so displease him that he shall presently leave you to follow your own ruinous way, while he still shows in his holy habitation that he is the God of the widow. And if your mind ever wings itself away when you are alone, to that cold and silent grave where your father's body lies mouldering and mixing with the earth-think if he were with you, how his heart would suffer, and how his voice would chide you, should he see you troublesome and scornful to your mother.

For the Christian Herald.

ISRAEL DELIVERED.

I.

THE morning shone brightly o'er Egypt's rich plains,
When the bondsons of Israel escaped from their chains;
But its beams shed no joy throughout Pharaoh's train,
For an angel bad filled all their houses with slain.

II.

While the hard chains of bondage the Hebrews oppress,
To the God of their fathers they sigh for redress;
Then their foes, like Belshazzar, were struck with dismay
Feared destruction more awful and urged them away.

III.

But when the destroyer withdrew from their land,
Heaven's vengeance defying, an impious band
Far exceeding in number the drops of the dew,
And exulting in bloodshed their captives pursue.
. IV.

But ah! proud oppressor, thy heroes of pride,
The sufferer's avenger shall whelm in the tide ;

And thy captives though compassed, redemption shall sing,
And triumphant exult in Jehovah their King.

V.

They pursue ;-and the bondmen of Israel had fred,

Scarce beyond the wide plains where their cattle were fed;
When behold a fierce army tumultuous appears

Of chariots and horse 'mid the gleaming of spears.

VI.

They gaze for a moment in silent dismay,

And each look asks affrighted, "what means this array?' "O God, our Deliverer!" instinctive they cry,

And instinctive the speed of pursuers defy.

VII.

Their strength was unwasting, their triumph seemed near,
For the bright cloud that led them had banished their fear;
And hope's sweet enchantment their bosoms regained,
Nor a care to annoy for the morrow remained.

VIII.

But ah! how like visions these hopes fled away,

When the east clothed in crimson announced coming day;
For its beams danced before them on Egypt's broad sea,
Whose waves darkly rolling forbade them to flee.

IX.

For a moment they stood,-and then cast a wild glare
Back to see if destruction awaited them there;
And behold, as the morning rose over the land,
A thick cloud rolling on, told the foe was at hand.

X.

Ah! then was a moment of keenest despair;
Wherever they gaze death relentless is there;
Hope's solace no more in their bosoms could dwell,
But on pinions of light'ning she bade them farewell.

Israel Delivered.

"Go forward, my people," JEHOVAH commands,
"Ye billows, roll backward," his servant demands,
The waves clave asunder, and through the dark sea
A high way is opened, and Israel is free.

XII.

As a star to the sailor 'mid ocean's wild roar,

So hope smiled again on this desolate shore ;

And adoring they march through the deep swelling tide,
Till at length they stand safe on the Canaan side.

XIII.

But where is the foe who exultingly cried,

"I'll pursue-overtake-and the plunder divide ?"

Where wave his proud banners,-where gleams the bright spear,
Which but now filled these thousands with death-chilling fear?

XIV.

The floods have returned, and the proud swelling wave

Sweep the horse and his rider anon to the grave;
O'er the head of the tyrant the dark billows flow,
And the crown-pride of Egypt in death is laid low.

XV.

Now silently rolls the blue surge of the deep
Such as rocks the tired sailor securely to sleep;
But each billow heaves out on the surf beaten shore,
The stiff corse of the brave in the armour he wore.

XVI.

No longer he sighs for the battle's wild roar<
The sound of the trumpet shall wake him no more :
But washed on the beach shall his flesh waste away,
And the sea bird shall flap her dark wing o'er her prey.

XVII.

Here lies the proud steed with his nostril spread wide,
And there his bold rider still floats on the tide ;
Here, dashed on the strand, lies the monarch's firm car,
And his coursers that panted so fiercely for war.

XVIII.

All the heroes of Egypt promiscuous lie,
And the winds to their mem'ry still mournfully sigh,
They found none to succour, no arm that could save,
For JEHOVAH had made them the sport of the wave.

XIX.

Then the daughters of Judah, with timbrel and dance,
To behold the slain armies of Egypt advance;
And amid their pursuers strewn thick on the shore,
They mingle their songs and triumphant adore ;—

XX.

"JEHOVAH's right-hand has our victory won,
And here will we sing of the deed he has done,
The horse and his rider are drowned in the sea,
JEHOVAH has triumphed and Israel is free."

679

I. E****

SUNDAY SCHOOL FACTS AND ANECDOTES.

Bishop of Gloucester.-The circumstance of so dignified a personage as the bishop of Gloucester paying a visit to our Sunday school, kindly addressing the teachers and children, accompanying them on foot from their school room to the church, and preaching a sermon. for them, has done much good to the cause of Sunday schools in our neighbourhood. We have had many encouraging circumstances among our dear children. Some of them, upon leaving the school and the town to go to service, have observed, they could willingly leave all but their teachers and the school. One girl being reproved by her teacher for staying away the preceding Sunday, said she had no shoes good enough to come in; another in the class said, "Well, if I had no shoes to my feet, I would not stay away;" at the same time the shoes she had on were not worth two-pence: her teacher immediately gave her a new pair. We have had a very pleasing circumstance in a youth of about sixteen years of age, who joined our school about eighteen months since only knowing his letters, but who has made such progress in learning as to make one of the reading class at our last public examination. What is more satisfactory, he is become the priest of his family, where he conducts family worship with his mother, brothers and sisters, and the neighbours of two adjoining houses on the hill situate on the side of the Forest of Dean, where he lives. His mother, a widow, lately observed to our minister, "He, dear boy, is more than a husband to me." How would your heart be elated, could you.witness the evening sacrifice of prayer and praise from this little group of foresters.

The Obedient Girl.-One of our teachers was lately obliged to reprove a little girl for disobedience. He told her that "wicked children must never hope to go to heaven, and that if she continued to disobey her teacher, and sin against God, she never would go to that happy place." The child appeared much impressed with these thoughts, and during the remainder of the morning was attentive and obedient. When the other children were dismissed from the school, it was observed that the child still kept her place, and when told to go home, she sobbed so violently that the teacher was induced to ask her the reason. "O Sir," she said, "I want you to go with me, and tell my father that naughty people never go to heaven; for he swears so, I'm sure he'll never go there." The child was encouraged to go home, and to tell her father what the teacher had said to her. She did so and we have the happiness of knowing that the reproof of this dear child, has been the means of checking the bad habit, and leading him to supplicate the mercy of that gracious Being, to whom, before this, he was not only a stranger, but an enemy.

The Duty of Prayer.-A teacher lately examining his class on the duty of prayer, one of his boys said, "Before he became a scholar he used to neglect that important duty; but, since he had attended the school, he regularly said his prayers."