Prayer-meetings.

"THE fashion of this world passeth away"-even in the matter of prayer-meetings; for prayer-meetings, at one time everywhere recognised as a valuable and blessed means of grace, are now decidedly out of fashion, and few people are unfashionable enough to attend them. Some congregations, indeed, continue to hold them, perhaps once a week, but among others they are altogether discontinued. Even in places where they are not quite superseded there is a great and, as we think, a lamentable lack of interest manifested. Congregations, numbering at the Sunday services eleven or twelve hundred persons, are content if fifty attend the weekly prayer-meeting. And that this paucity is not compulsory is evident from the increased numbers which gather if a lecture is to be delivered or an entertainment given. That it is "only a prayer-meeting," appears to be quite reason enough for the absence of any.

That this should be the case with those are merely members of the congregation, who only come to the house of God on the Sabbath-day from a sense of duty and because they scarcely know how otherwise to employ their time, is not surprising. But is there not reason for regret that the same spirit of indifference is in those whom Jesus Himself has taught to pray, and who know the importance of prayer?

It would not matter so very much if public prayer were neglected only that private prayer might be more earnestly and frequently offered; but is this really the case? Is it not more than probable that when the prayer-meetings are badly attended it is only a sign that the true spirit of prayer has, for a time at least, departed from us?

And yet, even in those towns and villages where the prayer-meetings are the worst attended, the people can be got to feel an interest in prayer. Any special effort—a watch-night service, a united prayer-meeting-will be attended by large numbers. And perhaps this is only another proof that the common meetings would be more blessed if those who lead the devotions had some special

message to the throne of grace, instead of offering long, lifeless prayers-the same things over and over again in the same unmoved manner. Short, special, earnest petitions, clothed not in grand but in simple words, asking for the things we need, are the prayers that all love to join in. Long dissertations are only wearying.

We must have more prayer, both public and private. "The arm of the Lord is not shortened that it cannot save, nor His ear heavy that it cannot hear." He would still send mighty blessings if His people asked for them. Let all who look hopefully to the work before them resolve that they will pray as well as work. Let those who cannot go and fight the battles of the Lord be earnest in entreating His blessing upon those who do. And let those who are weary and heavy-laden meet as often as possible where Jesus who gives His children rest has promised to meet also. The way to be wise, and strong, and successful is to pray. The way to be quiet and peaceful, and truly happy is to be in frequent communion with God. There are some congregations among which prayermeetings are fully recognised as blessings where many go constantly and where God always comes. Are not these

churches the ones blessed above many? Is it not there that the power of the Holy Spirit is felt, and Christ known in all His glory?

“O, come let us worship and bow down, let us kneel before the Lord our Maker."

Giving.

“Lend, hoping for nothing again.”

Now, who ever heard of doing such an unbusiness-like thing as that? If it were think of such a maxim?

not in the Bible, what should we Who does think of it even now?

What father, starting his son in life, ever gives him this among other directions? It looks like a thing that "wouldn't answer." It has not a bit of worldly wisdom

in it. It is widely different from two other pieces of advice we have heard-one of which is, "Never do anything without asking, Will it pay ?" and the other, "Get money, my son,-get money; honestly if you can-but get money." Now, if we place the Master's injunction by the side of these--"Lend, hoping for nothing again,"-does it not look either impossible or incongruous ?

It is certainly not the kind of lending that we are used to. It is true that even now-a-days we see by newspaper advertisements that there is a class of liberal persons willing, and even anxious, to lend their money on "easy terms "to persons in difficulty," at the "shortest notice,"-" strictest privacy guaranteed." But who believes in such lending as that? Everybody knows that they lend hoping for a great deal more again. But most of our lending is on the same principle. We are a very mercenary set of beings, with a quick eye for profits, and a mind on the look-out for good investments only.

Giving is not an easy thing. We talk, somewhat boastingly, about the liberality of the present age, and the many agencies for good which are in exercise. But what work it is to get the necessary funds! What lectures, and sermons, and appeals have to be directed at us before the money is collected! What begging letters and printed reports and entreaties have to be heaped upon us before we respond! What numbers of collecting cards, and plates held at doors, and boxes placed in conspicuous places, have to win our attention before sufficient cash can be gained for any good purpose! Said a thinker, “When people know how to give, and understand the blessedness of it, there will be no farther need of bazaars." And, though they may have done good in their time, and are pleasant places to go to, there certainly remains the fact that the money might have been given without them. Only, you see, that would be lending, hoping for nothing again; while in this case we can triumphantly carry away a small parcel in exchange for our shilling!

It is true there is a right and a wrong way of giving. There is a proverb,-not a bad one either, which says, "Be just as well as generous." We are expected to feel nothing but admiration for those good men whose biographies we read, who were celebrated for giving away their

last shilling to any ragged person who asked for it, but who were also celebrated for being always in debt, and who died at last leaving wives and children totally unprovided for. Some of us feel a great deal more contempt than admiration for these generous gentlemen. But then, that is the wrong way of giving. We feel inclined to say, Give by all means, but let it be your own money, and not another's, that you subscribe; and then give heartily, neither grudgingly, nor fearfully, nor stintingly.

Perhaps there never was such a want of money as in the present day. Money would buy a stranger's home where Christian people might be masters and matrons, and where wanderers might have a night's lodging free of expense in comfort and decency. We cannot go through the streets without grieving for the little children and singing Mrs. Browning's touching "Song for the Ragged-schools" over again. But money would clothe, and educate, and feed these children, and place them in homes which should be more than mockeries of the sacred name. But indeed money can do so much that really needs doing that it is useless to begin to enumerate what things cry out for it.

We are, to use a homely phrase, stingy. Can we say that we give anything liberally? Whom do we trust with all our heart? Whom do we love, "hoping for nothing again?" Whom do we praise with an open-souled, shadowless praise? Most of us are niggardly in all our givings. And yet, is it not too bad when we have received so much?

Cheerfulness.

“A MERRY heart doeth good like a medicine,” said a very wise man, and no one will dare or care to contradict him. If Solomon made a mistake, who can hope to judge? Such a man as he, with a thousand cares upon him, and a multitude of things to see to, and with a reputation for wisdom to keep up, must have known how to appreciate the blessing of a cheerful companion.

But in that respect he was not more wise than the rest

of us. We all know how valuable a person is he or she who has a merry heart. For we find the world such a serious place, and have so much to do and bear in it, that it is a relief to be made to laugh ourselves, or, failing that, to see some one who can. We suppose that in these earnest times professional jesters are not to be bought at any price; but for the sake of our countenances, and our health of body and mind, it is a pity that there is not a little more real fun in the world. Those who do not care for anything that is light and trifling speak very severely about the growing love of excitement and the rage for amusements which appear to be so prevalent, especially among the young; but who can tell but these things, or something which shall answer their purpose, are really necessary? On the whole, it appears that there is not too much laughter in the world. At least, it seems as if it is all done by a few; it needs to become more general, and it would be well if it could be universal.

The man who has the power to make others laugh is almost sure to be a favourite in society, if his humour be of a harmless and generous kind. He may not be respected as much as he who is wise, but he will at least have done a little good in his life, if for an evening he can make world-weary men forget their cares. For hope follows cheerfulness. If you have a burden upon you, so great that you do not know how to carry it, and one succeeds in diverting your thoughts from it for a time, you will find that when you next think of it, it is with a greater elasticity of spirit. And though a burden is a burden all the world over, it is often great or little according to our way of looking at it.

That household is greatly blessed the members of which have cheerful dispositions. It is a good thing, indeed, when the head sets the example. He has plenty in the outer world to ruffle the serenity of his temper, but he deserves to be held in high esteem, and carefully copied by all young men if he always makes a point of throwing off the disagreeable as soon as he reaches home. There, supposing him to have made the effort on his own account, it soon becomes easy. The mother of the house is not perfect, but still she can bear patiently the little vexations of life, and refuses to allow herself to be worried into