her give a slow heavy slip on my knee, With this she woke and said, but, auntie, I did hear nearly it all, and then I dreamed that I was walking along looking at the stars, and a kind friend with a shining face took hold of my hand. And sometimes it was stars, and sometimes it was sun, and sometimes it was all dark and cloudy, and then he held my hand all the firmer, and we had always light a little bit round us, just as long as my hand was in his. At last we came to such a lovely place, and there were many, many children, and birds, and music, and flowers, and beautiful things, and all so happy. Ah!' I said to myself, perhaps knowing she was tired, God thought He would shew her the way Himself that I had been trying to tell her about, and so sent Ilis angel of sleep to give her this dream.' 'So He giveth to His beloved in sleep.' You may be sure long after the good-night's kiss, when my darling had been sleeping for hours, I did not forget to ask the One who neither slumbers nor sleeps' to help us both, all through the days and nights of our life, to keep us happy and trustful through the sunshine and the shade, and bring us at last to Winnie's beautiful place, to be with her kind Friend among the singing and the flowers.

ways of expressing itself, whether convenient or not.

When we were children we were taught to say our prayers at our mother's knee.

This night, when I lie down to sleep,
I pray Thee, Lord, my soul to keep;
If I should die before I wake,

I pray Thee, Lord, my soul to take;
And this I ask for Jesus' sake.

This, I remember, with the Lord's Prayer formed my childhood's Liturgy.

When we grow up, we leave off these 'said prayers,' but, unfortunately, we often put no others in their place.

It

I remember the deep lesson I learned in my thoughtless boyhood, when I saw two lads of my own age kneeling down in prayer at the bedside before retiring to rest. seemed so bold and so Christian-like that I could not help blessing them unawares. Let us see that we don't neglect to set a like example ourselves.

Prayer is not merely petition: it is converse with God. It may consist in thanking Him. It may consist in adoring Him. It may consist in confessing our sins to Him. It may consist in entreating Him for ourselves or others.

There is no necessity that Prayer should be formal. It may be a holy talk such as our Saviour's in the 17th chapter of John. Or it may be a brief cry like the Publican's in the Temple. Or it may be an expostulation such as Abraham's on behalf of Sodom. The only thing essential to Prayer is, that it must be directly addressed to God.

The Lord's Prayer is the model of all prayers. It was spoken to teach us how to pray. In it we see what sort of things we ought to pray for, and how we ought to pray for them.

Let your prayers be uttered in simple language. There should be no 'fine' prayers. What are called 'impressive' prayers are more fitted to impress men than God, which is not their true purpose at all. Let your prayers be definite. Make them clear and distinct. Avoid preaching in prayer, Have your mind made up

126

YOUTHFUL CONSECRATION

IN HEATHEN LANDS.

The following letter to the young by the Rev. Oscar Michelson, Missionary on Tongoa, New Hebrides, shows what can be done when the heart is filled with love to the Saviour.

FOUR years ago, when I came to Tongoa, I

commenced a school of eight boys. Most of these have turned out well. Not one of them, however, has done so well as Ngole. When he was a very wee thing he had a sore ancle, and they called him 'Lame' (or Ngole). His right name is Farisongolin. He is now about fourteen years of age. He was one of the first boys to learn to read. In my bachelor days, when I had a sewing class, he soon became so handy with the needle that he was able to help me to teach the others. Two years and a half ago, when we had to flee from the house where I am now writing this letter, he and a few other boys were staying with us. I shall never forget his look of disappointment when he was awakened out of his sleep by some hundreds of natives from another part of the island, who came to help us in our flight. These boys were, however, determined not to let the work of God fall through. They at once took upon themselves the responsibility of keeping up the school; and when Sabbath came and there was no preacher, the boys soon proved what they had in them. Karisi, a boy of about fourteen, who was at that time my right hand supporter, remained with them for a few Sabbaths, but soon left for his own village. At first Ngole used to read and sing and pray. Another boy, who was a few inches taller than himself, gave the sermon. A few weeks soon proved who was the fittest to be the responsible man-i -it was little Ngole (he was then about six inches shorter than he is now). If no one came over from our side, Ngole took the service. A few years ago I lost Karisi and a young man from another island, who also had assisted me on Sabbaths. Ngole was then really my only reliable help. When I found my staff of evangelists so much reduced, I said to

him, Ngole, the Lord has now left us two to do His great work on Tongoa, let us then trust in Him and do it. He said nothing; a serious look and a nod implied that he realised the responsibility. Other help was soon raised up, but Ngole still considered himself responsible for the work at his side of the island. He is often called little Musce. Had I not intended to go back to our old station, I would not have been able to spare him. I sincerely trust that the boys who shall see him, or read this letter about him, may learn from him what may be done if we trust in the Lord and consecrate all our strength to Him. And may all our Sabbath school friends pray that he may be made instrumental in leading many to Jesus, and that the Lord may raise up many more Tongoans to join the band of those who are telling the story of Jesus and His love.

T was a long, large, light, airy room— two rows of windows, two rows of beds. In the first cot lay a tiny little boy of two or three, with a pale, weary face, that lightened up with a faint smile as he took the little bunch of

flowers I gave him. His thin fingers clasped eagerly the fragrant wall-flower and primroses, and he pressed them to his nose and lips as if impatient to draw out all the sweetness from them. He did not answer when I spoke to him, but kept earnestly surveying his new found treasure, unmistakable pleasure shining through his pain-worn little face.

On the next bed lay another little sufferer, whose sad moan and tear-filled eyes would have melted a hard heart to

128

had never known its sweetness. His blue eye looked up quickly, and he too grasped the flowers held out to him, and ceased his moaning and tears. Watching his sad, lonely little face, one could only wish that the kind Shepherd of Israel would come and lay this little lamb in His arms, and bear him away to the green pastures of heaven.

But I cannot tell of each little child who lay alone in its clean little bed-all alike in loneliness-all suffering—and all alike in the glad look with which they greeted the flowers.

'Flowers are lovely,

Love is flower-like.'

And no one can tell how near the Father of our spirits may come to these lonely little souls, through the sweet living beauty of the lilies of the field.' We may be able to speak no words to the children, but He who breathed into them the breath of life can find entrance to their hearts, and may Himself whisper to them through the flowers words which they will understand and respond to, and rest in with the simple joy and trust of childhood.

Round the large fire-place lay perhaps a dozen babies rolling about the floor-all clean-allgood.' One was a deserted child-a fine, dark-eyed handsome boyable to run alone. Little girls of eight or ten were tending these tinier morsels of humanity, and doing it with a look in their eyes that illumined their pale, plain faces, and made one of them, an ill-featured girl, almost beautiful as she fondled the little one on her lap with a smile that might have been a mother's, it was so tender and kind.

Here I felt I would like my girls to come, and bring with them pictures and toys and flowers. Many a laid-aside old nursery toy would to these children give hours of pleasure every day.

To be good is to be happy,' we all know that; but sometimes we have need to put it, to be happy is to be good,' and specially so in thinking of the children

poor. A cheerful occupation given, if it should be but a toy, for one short hourthat repeated often-might create a grateful, loving spirit in many a gloomy, morose, peevish, little child. And how much happiness would flow into the hearts of those who, for this, could willingly forego the gratification of their own personal tastes or pleasures! Perhaps some who read this may be persuaded to try this one way of doing good. Enlist the sympathy of your special friend-the companion of your walks, to whom you tell all your talesand ask her if she will come with you to the children's ward of the nearest workhouse. You will find some way of being introduced-and go every week or fortnight as you may be able. Take with you as many flowers as you can, and in your hearts some of the sympathy and tenderness of the love of Christ. Ask Him to be with you. Remember the words of the simple old hymn,

'A little vessel full of Thee."

That is the measure we should strive after. Earthen vessels we are, but if filled with the spirit of Christ we will bring blessing and good wherever we go.

I know one bright young girl, gifted with a fine and well-trained voice, who goes every week to a 'home for the aged and infirm,' and spends her afternoon there singing her sweetest songs and hymns, or playing on the piano the pieces that give inost pleasure. It is the happiest time in all the week for the poor inmates, who by their infirmities are deprived of almost every enjoyment. But this sweet music lifts them up above their desolate surroundings; and may it not raise many of their hearts to thoughts of the sweeter music of the New Song' in the heavenly Jerusalem? Those of you who can sing, do likewise-perhaps by some cottage hearth or lonely pillow. It is a blessed dower, the gift of song. Use it in the service of your Saviour and King; and as much as possible sing words that may be seeds of life in the hearts of those who hear. A. C. W.

>