which a parent now implores the protection of the eye and arm of God.' Such prayers are often heard. And even while it is fresh breathing from the lips of pious parentage, the serious thought, the painful misgiving of the child in the place of pleasure, may be already an answer to prayer, and the purpose may even then be forming to forsake forever such scenes, and seek peace and joy in the endearments of the fire-side and of home. Let me add, too, that such amusements find their support, with few-few exceptions, from the children of families who never pray; and this devotion in all our habitations, would at once close our theatres, and no small part of the haunts of vice and ruin.

You will pass, also, into scenes of affliction. You will go down into a dark valley, and turbid waters shall roll at your feet, and a sunless sky shall be over your head. A son, a daughter, may die. Calamity may strip away your property; and slander may asperse your name; and the waves of trouble may roll high and mighty over your habitation. Your pillow may give you no rest; and the deep calamity may spread weeping and wo through all your house. In such scenes who is he that is to be calm? Who to stand like Mount Atlas," when storms and tempests thunder on its brow, and oceans break their billows at its feet" unmoved? Who to allay the swelling tide of grief, and be a counsellor and an example there? Who to wipe away the tears from the weeping eyes of children, and pour, under God, consolation there? Who but the father at the family altar-the venerable guide and friend of the little community-he whose heart may bleed like others -for he felt the stroke more keenly than all, when his son or daughter died; but who still can gather the weeping group before God, and calmly say, "not our

will but thine, O God, be done?" And if he cannot do this; if he be first in agony, and a stranger to consolation, and shall murmur at the stroke, and refuse to be comforted, who knows not the effect on the family? Grief will deepen and prolong its reign, and sorrow there shall have no comforter. Yet how shall this be done? Who does not see that the habit of daily seeking God, of acknowledging him in all the ways of the family, is the only mode of meeting this grief, and soothing these bitter pains of life? Family devotion shall change the storm to peace, and open a pathway through all these clouds; and beyond the region of these muttering thunders, in that upper sky, the splendours of an eternal day are still seen, and it shall be felt that there is peace.

I add here, one other remark. There are times when your children think-deeply think, of the subject of religion. They inquire what they must do to be saved. They are pressed with the great truths of eternity, and they desire to know the path that leads to immortality. Every parent knows that such thoughts are right; and that their first days are their best days, to attend to the concerns of the soul. And few are the parents who would not express a desire that these serious thoughts should ripen into the settled peace and purity of the Christian. They are the sweet openings of the buds of spring, the putting forth of lovely flowers, and may be nurtured to produce a rich harvest of piety. How shall this be done? what will be the most effectual deepener and promoter of these feelings? It is clear that if the object of the parent was to secure the ascendency of these feelings, no way could be found so effectual as daily religion in the family. Let the child see that his seriousness has the countenance of a father

and mother-that it falls in with their views, and accords with their most deep desires-that to cherish these feelings would be to pour balm into their bosoms, and to fill their lips with praise-that there is an altar for the morning and evening sacrifice to deepen them, and there is no earthly influence that could be so effectual to ripen these feelings into the love of God. It seems to be a power expressly organized to accomplish this great work on the soul of the child. And on the other hand, let there be no family altar, and no sacrifice of praise in the habitation, and it is easy to see what is to be the result on the mind of a child anxious about his eternal welfare. True, he feels, and deeply feels. He prays, he trembles, he weeps. He lifts the eye to heaven in a state of deep anxiety, and waits for a guide to conduct him to the Saviour of men. The world to him is losing its charms. Temptation is shorn of its power. Fashion, wealth, and splendour, are dimmed of their lustre, and the spirit pants for immortality for brighter peace, more perennial joys than this world can give. What is demanded then to fill the whole soul with peace? What but the family altar -the deep seriousness of religion there-the pleading father, the bending circle, seeking for common salvation? And if there be no such altar, how cold and chill all that influence in a family. If the world be all, and fashion only has its seat there, or wealth is the grand object, or a mother's lips invite to the theatre or the ball-room, and never speak of prayer; and a father's hand guides only to scenes of gain or ambition, who can fail to see the result? How soon all seriousness shall disappear! How soon the Spirit of God shall be grieved! How soon a new current will be given to the affections, and the Son of God be shut from the view, and

the Prince of darkness establish again his broken and enfeebled reign. Stronger fetters shall bind the captive to the chariot of the dark monarch of despair; and all the influence of a family be imparted to prolong his empire over the soul. And if to this we add what may, and does often exist, in a family without prayer, cold and cutting remarks about religion; perversion of its doctrines and duties; derision of the work of God in saving man; apparent respect, but real sarcasm, the work is done, and the enemy of man has gained his object. The most sad narrative, perhaps, that could be penned in this world, would be the history of families who have thus stifled the serious thoughts of children, and driven back by neglect or derision, the Son of God advancing to take possession of the human heart. For the wealth of the Indies I would not come into the secret of such families; nor hazard the loss and ruin which might accrue to my children in days of seriousness, by the neglect of family prayer. There are times when the neglect of this plain and obvious duty, may seal the character of a child, and mark his course forever onward in the ways of sin and of hell.

IV. My fourth argument on this subject will be derived from the fact, that without family prayer, there will be no religious teaching in a family that will be effectual. This proposition I maintain by the following considerations. 1. The duty of family worship is one of the most obvious that strikes a child; and especially if an attempt is made to instruct that child in the principles of religion. Other duties he may not so readily understand; but this is one which is plain and apparent. He sees it; and sees it clearly. There is something so unnatural in constantly receiving benefits without acknowledging them; in being protected, and provided

for, from day to day, and week to week, and year to year, without any recognition of the kind unseen hand that does it, that the mind even of a child cannot but be struck with it. If he who experiences a father's and mother's tenderness from year to year, should by no act express his sense of obligation, he would be conscious of something exceedingly ungrateful, and unamiable in his character. And he cannot but feel that something of the same kind must attach itself to his father and mother. Especially is this the case, if you attempt to teach him religion; to show him the duty of thanksgiving to yourself, or to God; and to set before him the evil of ingratitude. Vile, and mean, and odious, he may easily be made to see ingratitude to be. His natural honesty, and ingenuousness, may easily be excited to indignation and scorn at the base feelings of the recipient of favours, who repays them with thoughtlessness and unconcern. But are you not in doing this, teaching him to frame an argument against yourself? 'If to be ungrateful be a trait of character so unlovely, then why is it that no gratitude is expressed to God, amid the many mercies of my father's house? How are his teachings about the evil of ingratitude in me, to be reconciled with entire amiableness in his deportment toward God? And if he can live from year to year, and exercise no gratitude to his great Benefactor, then why is my character to be esteemed so unlovely if I imitate his example, and receive the kindness of my father with cold reserve; or as entitled to few expressions of thankfulness?' And is not this the same as to teach ingratitude on a large scale, and make it the prominent lesson in the house, that blessings may be received to any amount from a benefactor, and yet no guilt be incurred