Mamma. Thus you see that it is not enough for the light to shine upon our eyes, it must shine into our hearts; and unless it does so, all our knowledge of Christ and his word will do us no good. A blind man lives in a world full of light, but he is not at all the better for it, because it only shines upon him, but does not shine into him.

Frank. But how can we know whether the light shines upon us, or shines into us? And how can we tell the difference between believing a thing with our heads and our hearts?

Mamma. You have asked me a very important question, and I will try to give you a plain answer. Do you not think there is a wide difference between knowing a great deal about a person's history, so that you could mention every particular of it, and loving that person very much?

Frank. Oh yes, mamma.

Mamma. And is there not a still greater difference between esteeming a person because he is a wise and good man, and loving him because he is your own dear friend, one who has spent his life in doing you every sort of kindness?

Frank. Yes, certainly.

Mamma. Just this, then, is the difference between having light around us, and light within us,—that is, between knowing about Christ, and really being a Christian. We cannot love him till we know about him; but many persons know a great deal about him, and do not love him. I wish you always to remember this; and I pray God daily to put his love into your hearts. There are many ways in which this truth is taught us in the scriptures. In 1 Peter ii. 3. it is called " tasting that the Lord is gracious."

And do you not remember a verse in the Psalms like that?

Emily. Oh yes; I think it is in the 34th, "Oh taste, and see that the Lord is good: blessed is the man that trusteth in him."

Mamma. Sometimes Christ calls himself bread; and then he says, "He that eateth of me shall live for ever." Where is that?

Frank. I think I know it. Mamma. You are right; from 32d to 35th verses.

Yes, it is in John vi. read me the passage

Frank read-" Jesus said unto them, Verily, verily, I say unto you, Moses gave you not that bread from heaven; but my Father giveth you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is he which cometh down from heaven, and giveth life unto the world. Then said they unto him, Lord, evermore give us this bread. And Jesus said unto them, I am the bread of life: he that cometh to me shall never hunger, and he that believeth on me shall never thirst."

Mamma. Now read, Emily, from verse 48 to 58.

Emily read-"I am that bread of life. Your fathers did eat manna in the wilderness, and are dead. This is that bread which cometh down from heaven, that a man may eat thereof, and not die. I am the living bread which came down from heaven: if any man eat of this bread, he shall live for ever; and the bread that I will give is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world. The Jews therefore strove among themselves, saying, How can this man give us his flesh to eat? Then Jesus said unto them, Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except ye eat the flesh of the Son of man, and drink his blood, ye

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have no life in you. Whoso eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood hath eternal life; and I will raise him up at the last day. For my flesh is meat indeed, and my blood is drink indeed. He that eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, dwelleth in me, and I in him. As the living Father hath sent me, and I live by the Father: so he that eateth me, even he shall live by me. This is that bread which came down from heaven: not as your fathers did eat manna, and are dead: he that eateth of this bread shall live for ever."

Mamma. You know that if we were hungry, and the most nourishing food was put before us, and we only looked at it, or took it into our hands, it would give us no support; so if we only hear about Christ, and do not ourselves feed upon him, we shall die in our sins, as he told the Jews. We must therefore constantly beg him to give us his Holy Spirit, that we may not only know what is his will, but believe with our hearts unto righteousness; and he has promised to give this good gift to them that ask him.

M.

[To be Continued.]

HINTS TO MOTHERS.

EVENING WORSHIP.

A SUBJECT has occasionally invited my consideration, which, from time to time, has been laid aside, as other important things too often are, for "a convenient season." I will no longer delay noting a few of the thoughts that have arisen on this point; hoping that maternal readers will fill up the outline, each as may best accord with her own judgment and circumstances. The matter alluded to is, the danger of exacting from children the semblance of what we can very rarely suppose actually exists- attention to protracted expositions, and long prayers, particularly in the evening.

A pious mother, anxious that her child should participate in every spiritual advantage vouchsafed to the rest of the family, is loth to banish it from the domestic altar; and, whether from an awakened relish for such exercises, or from a natural childish love of 'sitting up,' her wishes are generally seconded by the little ones. The late hours that now unhappily prevail, transferring the dinner to what our wiser parents made their tea-time, and of course throwing the latter refreshment by so much farther into the shades of evening, preclude the introduction of family worship until, despite of all temptation to the contrary, young eyes will wax drowsy, and

young minds lose their elasticity. In this state, how painful is the spectacle of a child, withheld by the dread of parental rebuke, or perhaps by genuine fear and love of God, from yielding to that instinotive impulse by which every little bird has long before folded its head beneath its wing; and the young ones of the flock nestled close beside their woolly dams!

Of all physical privations, that of natural rest is most cruel to the young: even a hungry child will cry itself to sleep; but a sleepy child who dares not to close his eye, has no resource. The look of animated attention, that for a while may have followed the speaker, gradually changes into the vacant stare of compulsory wakefulness, betraying a collapsed state of the over-wrought mind. The rosy cheek becomes pale, as the blood recedes to the heart, while the little head, frequently dropped, and as often caught up again, with a stolen glance of alarm at surrounding observers, makes one long to lay it on its snug pillow. But the exposition ends, the party arise, and kneel: our poor little friend endeavours to maintain an upright position, wherein to resist his encroaching enemy, but in vain. The arms are soon folded on the chair, the head drops upon them; and when the company resume their seats, the poor child must either be, with difficulty awakened to a feeling of peevishness, shame, and conscious guilt, or borne off, in profound slumber, to the bed which he ought to have pressed long before.

Supposing, however, that an earlier hour is chosen for evening devotion, when the children are yet awake and alive to all that passes around them, we have great need to watch lest, by the multitude of our