never lacked the place and opportunity for the use of this privilege. They come from the lips of a traveller amid many perils, the victim of hunger, thirst, nakedness, and constant persecution, who had no certain dwelling-place, who often worked day and night for his own support, laboured in season and out of season in preaching the Gospel, and beyond these things was burdened with the daily care of all the churches. Yet the midnight scene in the dungeon of Philippi, and the few moments snatched on the seashore of Tyre, are instances which show how watchful was the apostle for a place and time for prayer; while his letters are crowded not only with varied repetitions of this exhortation, but with proofs that his constant practice accorded with them. Such a command may well seem to the formalist to involve an impossibility, and probably appear to many Christians hard to be understood and difficult to obey. But unless the believer is living up to it, he is falling far short of the present happiness to be desired from godliness. We may, therefore, most profitably try to reach what is contained in it. Prayer must be a cultivated habit. The power of habit, either good or bad, is an axiom of everyday life, and needs no argument to prove it. Nor can the ability to form habit be doubted. In the repeated exercise of faculties, either bodily or mental, in any direction, a strong bias in that direction is induced which will be felt in the usual season and circumstances. The mind of man under the influence of religion offers no exception to this law, and regularity in Christian duties is as helpful as in secular pursuits. Where conscience, instructed by God's Word, seeks to rule the life, right habits greatly aid in extending its power and securing obedience. The habit of prayer at a specific season gives facility in drawing away now in this direction, it is more apt and active in the exercise. The thoughts and cares that essentially belong to the world are dispersed, or are considered in relation to the present purpose. As regards the subjects of prayer, there is order of thought, clearness of conception, power of mental expression. Memory tells of mercies enjoyed and wants experienced, for she is used to this service. Humility with unsandaled feet, and Reverence with hidden face, wait on and uphold the suppliant hands of Contrition, as she pours out her confession, for such is their wont ; while Faith, strengthened by each visit to this place of her nurture, urges her well-known plea with yet increasing power. To secure this efficient service, habit requires cultivation, and this cultivation consists in its regular observance. And as it is true that cultivation is required to keep any habit in force, much more is it so with those habits that are opposed to natural inclination. Naturally, secular occupations, amusements, or sheer idleness, are preferred to the exercise of prayer, and when the tempter suggests the disuse of it, he does so to a ready listener, for the innate pride and self-esteem of man's heart prompt him to shun the place of their deepest humiliation. By constant care, therefore, the habit of prayer is formed, and equal care is required to keep it in force. By a gradual growth it is established, and by as gradual a process it may decline. Occasional neglect, caused by some unusual occurrence, may progress to frequent omission for trivial reasons. Hence, certain seasons being assigned to prayer, watchfulness must be observed, and all inclinations to deviate from the usual order be denied unless they coincide with the claims of duty. Let the business or pleasure that has once invaded the hour of prayer again suggest its neglect, and it does so with increased chance of success; it is the mind from its previous employ-becoming a counter-habit, growing by ment, and forcing its attention on the present engagement. By use it yields a better obedience; accustomed to turn the strength it takes from that on which it encroaches. Prayer must be frequent. The habitual use of prayer must be the habitual use of it frequently. The question at once arises, How frequently? Perhaps no rule can be laid down that shall meet the case of every Christian. It is obviously a duty in the light of this injunction to take full advantage of every opportunity of social prayer, but it is rather to the closet we must look for its fulfilment. We read of some in the Old Testament, as David and Samuel, who prayed three times a day; and though the nature of their secular occupation may deprive most of a noon-tide season of prayer, yet some portion of morning and evening can be secured by all. The morning has a peculiar fitness: in that body and mind are then most vigorous, and the thoughts are most free from the cares of daily life. Praise is then due as for a new creation, and temporal mercies as well as grace and guidance are to be sought for the new day. Evening also, as the experience of the day supplies objects of thanksgiving and petition, brings a special call to prayer. But surely we miss the meaning of the words if we are satisfied with fixing certain hours of prayer to be observed by all. Rather let us say, every Christian must secure so many seasons for private prayer as shall preserve in him a prayerful spirit. This seems the very gist of the command; nothing less comes up to the idea of "ceaseless prayer." A devotional feeling must be carried forward from each period of prayer to the next, and they must be so near as to be thus linked together. Distant and isolated they will lack warmth and power, but where the handful of fire can be conveyed from one altar of sacrifice to the next, the flame will always burn brightly. When the labours and anxieties of secular life are great, instead of offering a fair excuse for fewer devotional exercises, they are a reason for greater attention to the only safeguard against a worldly spirit. When in the old war it was expected the French would seek to destroy our dockyards, a celebrated statesman caused to Chatham to be environed with forts, which, to increase their strength, were connected by underground passages for the conveyance of soldiers and the necessaries of defence from one to the other as occasion required. In like manner our prayers are the strong defences of the soul, but there must be cherished a connecting current of secret devotion, or they will be but empty forms devoid of life, and deserted at the first assault of temptation; and where a readiness to pray is thus carried forward from one season another, it works out a compliance with this command still more full and in detail. The times apportioned for retirement are not the only times of conscious communion with God. The flame of devotion finds fuel amid the common things of life. The events of each day, come they as joys or sor rows, suggest frequent thanks and petitions not audible to human ear, but felt to reach Him who is omnipresent; and the various experiences of the heart, its temptations, its aspirations, its hopes and fears, are conveyed at once to the throne of grace. We may rest assured there is no satisfactory proof that our religion is anything more than the formalism so often linked to intense worldliness, unless we are seeking to cultivate this constant prayerfulness. Nor is there any defence against the special danger of our busy age if this be neglected. Why are there so many professors absorbed entirely to all appearance by the things of this world merely, but because they have allowed their busi ness, or their pleasure, or the wants of overtaxed nature, to thrust secret prayer from the season assigned to it? To any Christian asking how far it is lawful to carry the spirit of industrial enterprise, or to indulge in innocent amusement and social recreation, an answer is here ready. These things are all right enough in their place; but it is at your extremest peril you allow them to deprive you of or unfit you for the accustomed use of prayer. Does, then, careful attention to this duty involve self-denial? It may sometimes do so, but it brings with it a rich reward. For the truth of this we have two unimpeachable witnesses -the Word of God and experience. What says the apostle in another place? In everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God. And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds, through Christ Jesus." That peace of God, how rich a boon, how sweet a treasure! It alone supplies the cravings of the soul and hushes its disquietudes, gives something of substance to life's joys, and adds alleviation to its bitterest sorrows. It is a falling ray of the light of God's countenance, which the Psalmist declared gave him more joy than the wicked find in the increase of riches, and a glimpse of that satisfaction he anticipated when he should awake in His likeness. Does this page fall under the eye of one whose faith is hampered by many doubts and fears, and who fails to find in religion that happiness which others appear to realize? Is not the reason here suggested to you? Is it not true that your prayers are dwarfed and life less attempts at a duty you cannot omit, and to which you give attention mainly to satisfy conscience? If you will find happiness in religion, you inust make a far different use of the throne of grace. There you must open your whole heart continually. Your greatest difficulty you may bring to Him who hath found a way to save sinners, and think not anything too trivial for his notice if it concerns one for whom Christ died. Use no concealment before the Searcher of hearts. Beware of attempting to assume the possession of the submissive will and spiritual desire which are so fitting in a suppliant. Probe your heart to its core deeper and yet deeper before the Great Physician; compel it to render up its most loved and hidden secrets to his inspection, ever praying, “Lord, do thou search me and know my thoughts, try me and know my ways, and lead me in the way everlasting." So shall you realize the "full assurance of faith," and often be able joyfully to say, "I know in whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day." "A BASKET OF SUMMER FRUIT." “A WEEK-EVENING LECTURE" FROM AMOS VIII., 2. BY THE REV. T. MICHAEL. The THE title given to this lecture is no mere motto, or "peg" on which the preacher hangs a number of irrelevant thoughts-it is a text," in the legitimate sense of the term; and will, from its connection, be found to justify some such sentiments as in this sermon will be advanced. A vision is presented to the prophet, and while he intently gazes on its beauty and bloom, he is interrogated by the Lord God:"Amos, what seest thou?" The prophet replies: "A basket of summer fruit.” man of God is then instructed that the vision is intended to portray the near approach, to Israel, of judgment and disgrace. Just as the basket of summer fruit must be eaten when gathered, so "the end is come upon my people Israel; I will not again pass by them any more." They are ripe for calamity and captivity. But if we turn to the 24th chapter of Jeremiah's prophecies, we shall find that he had a similar vision, and was instructed that not all the people were ripe for ruin. Two baskets of figs were presented to him; one of which contained "very good figs, like the figs that are first ripe; and the other basket had very naughty figs, which could not be eaten, they were so bad." Jeremiah is then taught that the good figs represented those "carried away captive of Judah," and who were sent into Chaldea "for their good;" while the evil figs described those among the captives sent out "for their hurt," "to be a reproach and a proverb, a taunt and a curse." Among the good, sent out for their profit, would be such as Ezekiel and Daniel; and the evil, sent out for their hurt, would be Zedekiah and his people, whose disobedience and general impiety had brought upon them the displeasure of God. We can therefore understand how the basket of fruit which Amos saw may be either a picture of ripeness for destruction, or for life in heaven. In the latter and more agreeable sense we would now regard it. Human illustrations of "things in heaven and things on earth" very frequently display the marks of genius. Thoughts are produced by thoughtful men, which we are constrained to admire for their simplicity and adaptation, causing us to wonder that we were not able to see them until they were placed immediately before our notice. This is eminently true of the inspired Scriptures, which delight us by their simplicity, beauty, and fitness. We should never have thought of comparing a religious man to a basket of summer fruit; but God has thought of it, and recorded it for our instruction. Observe I. That a good man is distinguished by his fruit. It may be said that bad men also bring forth fruit. It is true the thorn produces berries; but the fruit is comparatively worthless, and the fact by no means nullifies our statement that the good man is distinguished by his fruit. Our Lord Jesus Christ said of false prophets, "Ye shall know them by their fruits. Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles? Even so every good tree bringeth forth good fruit; but a corrupt tree bringeth forth evil fruit." A good man, therefore, is distinguished by his fruit. It was the condemnation of a certain fig tree that no fruit was found on it. The tree was fair to look upon, but spending all its strength in glossy leaves; just as the goodness of some persons is exhausted in an exhibition of the varnish of the outer life. None of us would be content with flower-gardens and shrubberies only; the kitchen-garden and the orchard would be sadly missed. We need fruit in addition to flowers. So with true character. It is not made up of "accomplishments" or "morals," as popularly understood; without depreciating these, we may declare it necessary there should be "fruit unto holiness." It is expected there shall be practice in harmony with profession: as a good man said of a Christian brother-"He is a good talker and a good walker." Talking about religion is the foliage of the Christian life; no one will despise it, if it be judicious and Scriptural talk; but walking in the good old way is the fruit. John Bunyan has a character in the "Pilgrim's Progress," whom he designates "Talkative": his clapper was so well hung that his bell was ringing all the day; but it was only sound that was given out-not the connected, expressive melody of a godly life, such as that which single-hearted unostentatious "Christian" exhibited. But there is a fact of which we may be reminded :-It is not necessary that a fruitful tree should be meagre in its foliage. Some of the most leafy trees produce the richest fruits. The vine which drapes our walls with verdure must be freely pruned more than once during a summer, that the clusters may be exposed to the ripening sun; and a Christian may be able to speak for his Saviour, as well as to live and die for him. The fruit need not grow on bare and leafless trees, which, when stirred by the wind that bloweth where it listeth, make no music in the propitious breeze. It is, therefore, a vital question, to be put in the spirit of the most faithful self-scrutiny-Is my connection with Christianity a fruit-bearing union that, on examination, men may know of what sort it is? or am I a sapless, brittle branch which God will take away, and whose end is to be burned? Observe II. That the good man's fruit should be varied. "A basket of summer fruit." We are thus led to think of many kinds of fruit; the rich plum, the luscious apricot, the sweet pear, the golden or the rosy apple, the purple or amber grape cluster. So would we say it is desirable that Christian fruit should be varied varied in the graces of character and in the usefulness of life. : It is a pernicious sentiment which leads to connection with a Christian church without expectation that the union formed with the people of Christ will be a means for the promotion of fruitfulness. Too many seem to imagine that if they can testify to genuine repentance, true faith, and pure love, all that can be desired is attained. "Join the church," take a pew, buy a hymnbook, and doze away into a sleep in which there shall be sweet and ever-recurring dreams from which they are at last to "awake in His likeness." Such persons never dream of proving more abundantly to themselves, and to observers, the reality and deep vitality of their piety. Variety of fruit! Let us hear what the great apostle says on this question. "The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance." So far from being content with the three graces of faith, hope, and charity, we are not to stop short of three times three. Not only the carefulness of repentance, but also the spirit of long-suffering under "the contradiction of sinners;" not merely a giant faith that shall remove mountains of difficulty, but with this a gentleness that shall make us truly great; not satisfied with hope unless it be a hope that makes us good, purifying ourselves even as He is pure; not content with rich exuberant love to Christ, unless it is united with patience and long-suffering toward His people-in fact, a basket of Christian fruit. Occasionally there may be found in the orchard, a tree on which several sorts of fruit have been engrafted. Perhaps, in nature, this is scarcely. natural, but we may safely say that in grace it is good. There are some professors of religion of whom you have been taught by painful experience to expect no other than the same kind of fruit from year to year just enough faith, hope, and love, to ensure a tolerable appearance. There is no increase, and you are devoutly thankful if none of the wonted crop has failed to make its appearance. This is no desirable state, in the remem |