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repentance unto life? and not merely What is repentance?'

That is the reason.

'Because there is another kind of repentance, mamma; Judas repented.' Judas had a true sense of his sin, but no apprehension of the mercy of God in Christ; and so his repentance was not unto life, but unto death.'

'He went and hanged himself, mamma.' 'That was because he had no faith in the Lord Jesus. How different was Peter's repentance.'

Peter went out and wept bitterly.'

'Peter thought of the love of Jesus, and with grief and hatred of his sin, turned from it, and his whole after life was a life of new obedience. True sorrow for sin flows from looking to Jesus. A passage in Zechariah very plainly describes repentance. Read Zech. xii. 10.'

"And I will pour upon the house of David, and upon the inhabitants of Jerusalem, the spirit of grace and of supplications; and they shall look upon me whom they have pierced, and they shall mourn for him, as one mourneth for his only son, and shall be in bitterness for him, as one that is in bitterness for his firstborn."

'That is the godly sorrow which worketh repentance to salvation. Two or three years ago, a Roman Catholic priest was turned from his errors by listening to the text, "The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin." His mother had taught him these words when he was a little boy, and hearing them, recalled her instructions to his memory, and brought him to the feet of Jesus. On his dying bed he often mourned over his departure from his mother's God. His sorrow was very deep. One evening he said to a young friend who was with him, " Ah, Willie, my boy, it's forgiven sin that breaks a fellow down. The sense of unpardoned sin will bruise and torture, and leave scars on one's heart for life; but to see the Lord Jesus look into my face, to feel His blessed eye looking into my heart, and hear him say, 'I have died for thee; I have forgiven all thy sins,

freely and for ever,' Willie, Willie, I think, even in heaven, I must weep, when we sing, 'He was slain for us!'"*

'Whether do you think the prodigal in the parable would be most sorry for his sin, before he arose and came to his father, or after his father had received him?'

'O, mamma, he would be far more sorry after, when he saw how kind and good his father was to him.'

'And how would he shew his father that he was really sorry?'

'He would never leave his father any more.'

And he would always try to do the things that would please his father,' Charlie added.

'That would be the best proof that he was really sorry for the past. Do you think his father would have liked to have seen him always mourning over his sins?'

'No, mamma; his father was glad because he had come back, and he wished him to be glad too.'

'And when we return to our Father in heaven, He wishes us to be glad, and to serve Him joyfully. This is the new obedience which we must with full purpose of

heart follow after.'

WHAT CAN CHILDREN DO FOR THE CAUSE OF CHRIST?

'Dayspring' Prize Essay, by Maggie E. Moody.

MANY and various are the ways in

which children, God's loved and precious little ones, have, in all ages, been permitted to glorify Him in their life and work. God often selects the weak things of the world' to do His will. There could

not have been a feebler instrument than the little maid who was the means of bringing her great and mighty master, Naaman the Syrian, to be cleansed of his leprosy, and become a believer in the true God. God made this little maid His angel of mercy-His missionary amongst the benighted Syrians. And this is not the only child who has been as a 'spring of living water' in a family. The great faith of this little maid led to her usefulness.

How charming to hear a child say to a companion who is tempting him to do wrong, I cannot, for I know that God hears and sees me!' That is faith; and who can tell what result those few simple words may bring forth?

If a child's heart is wholly given to the Lord, then there will be the result to follow. If the eye be given to Jesus, then there will be the looking up to Him for work, and for the strength to do it; if the ear, then there will be the listening to His commands, the doing of His will; if

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the hand, then there will be the work for Him, the trying to do something to make Jesus better known and better loved; and if the foot be given to Jesus, then there will be the doing Christ's errands. Oh, what a happy child, around whose step sunshine falls wherever he goes, because he is running the way of God's commandments!

The heathen spoke of one of their deities, at whose tread flowers sprang up from the sod; and the paths of Christ's little ones are like that fabled walk, full of blossoms of hope, and joy, and love. Then how much the child may do for the cause of Christ, if His lips are given to Jesus. Then there will be the speaking for Him; and the words of praise, lisped by infant lips, are often made a means of blessing to others. Do we not often hear how the song of praise from a child's lips has been blessed to the conversion of some sinner?

The smallest act of loving service is as dear to God's heart as the greatest. Indeed, there are none of our 'littles' and 'greats' in His eye. Love is His measure. It is the childlike spirit that gives rest, the 'even so, Father,' of our Lord, at whatever happens, making us

'Content to fill a little space,

If He be glorified.'

The little one, beaming ever with love to Him, is often the one that He chooses to shew forth His praise;' for has it not been said, and truly said too, A little child shall lead them?'

Will not every dear child, then, try what he can do to help others who are needing help? There is plenty of useful work for willing hands, made willing by God's love in the heart. Let him remember, too, that the least he can do, if really done to please Him, will be 'precious in His sight.' The praying child does much for the cause of Christ; he may not be able to walk about, he may be confined to his sofa all the day long, and yet he can always do something,he can always pray. What a mighty agent is a praying child! He may be poor and

altogether uninfluential in other respects, but as one who prays, he may be able to do more for his house, his neighbourhood, his nation, his race, than if he were in the House of Commons, or the colonel of a regiment.

A praying boy or girl may pray drunkenness out of a father, or Sabbath breaking out of a brother; for

'Satan trembles when he sees

The weakest saint upon his knees.' Why? Because he knows what the 'weakest saint's' prayers have done; what captives they have robbed him of; what stars they have added to the Saviour's crown!

What a solemn and awful thing for a perishing schoolfellow to be able to say to his companion, You would not take the trouble to pray for me, or you might have saved my soul.'

A child's simplicity is of use to him in seeking to glorify Him. He does not stop to think whether what he is about to say is likely to offend, but he says it out at once; and is not a child's faith in that way often blessed to his hearers; and do not his words, simple, and coming straight out of his heart, often do more for the cause of Christ than the most eloquent sermon of a celebrated preacher. Old people, for instance, love to listen to the Word of God read by a little one of His fold; and does it not then very frequently awaken their consciences, and lead those, who have perhaps gone astray, back to the happy scenes of childhood, when they were perhaps happier than now. Who I can tell where the sweet influence of a child's love for Jesus will stop? He does much for Him at school; he finds that there are always a few moments that he can spare in the midst of his work to speak some word for Jesus to his schoolfellow.

The child who can say 'no' in the face of temptation, will not be afraid to speak for his Master. Do we not hear a little one sometimes say, 'I cannot do that, for Johnny or Mary would think it wrong?' and even if led by no higher motive than that, the influence of the one he is afraid

to offend may be the means of leading him to better things.

Let none, then, give this excuse for idleness in the Master's cause, 'I am but a little child!' for though you may be but a little one, yet God notices you. He marks all your ways and doings at home, in the street, at school; and though you are but a little child,' yet He would have you pray. What would the missionary in foreign lands do without the help of the child who collects money at home to send out to help him in his work of bringing sinners to Jesus? Can not children deny themselves, and give up something they like, in order to do something for Him? Do we not hear of the child colporteurs who go about selling Bibles and giving them away, and sometimes speaking a word along with them too? can we call that doing nothing for His cause? No; the work of the child for the cause of his Master will never end until he is summoned before that mighty Throne, there to appear before the 'judgment seat of Christ.'

STORIES OF THE EARLY REFORMERSRICHARD CAMERON.

NON

ONE in all the sorrowful years of suffering has left a name better known than Richard Cameron. He has given it to a small body of Presbyterians who still retain pure traditions of a Covenanted Kirk and King; and a beautiful moorland poem, familiar over all Scotland, has kept his truth and courage and sufferings in a fond remembrance.

'In a dream of the night I was wafted away To the moorlands of mist where the martyrs lay, Where Cameron's sword and his Bible were seen Engraved on the stone where the heather grows

green.

'Twas a dream of those ages of darkness and blood,

When the minister's home was the mountain and wood;

When in Wellwood's dark valley the standard of Zion

All bloody and torn 'mong the heather was lying.

James Hislop, who wrote this poem, had spent his youth, a shepherd boy, among the lonely pastoral hills, which were rich with traditions of the Covenanters. And he gives a true account of the last scene in the life of Richard Cameron. But there are many things to write about it, before this moorland close.

Richard Cameron was born at Falkland, at what date we are not told. His father was a merchant there; and in the fair old palace some forty or fifty years earlier, the bishops had convened in the beginning of 'the troubles,' while Mr Patrick Simpson preached. While a young man, Richard Cameron became acquainted with John Welch, of Irongray, whose influence decided his destiny. He became a Covenanting minister-receiving license from the outed ministers, who were then preaching in the fields.'

His first sermon was preached in Annandale, among that wild border people, who, even at that late date, were famous for their robberies and lawless lives. Many have heard of Annandale thieves,' says John Howie. 'Some of them got a merciful cast that day, and told afterwards that it was the first field-meeting ever they attended; and that they went out of curiosity to see how a minister could preach in a tent, and people sit on the ground.'

Afterwards, Richard Cameron preached at Maybole, Edinburgh, Galloway-many places and always so faithfully, that he displeased the less zealous ministers. They exacted a promise from him that he would forbear for a certain time to preach against the Indulgence. The Indulgence was a permission given the Presbyterian Ministers to preach under some conditions and restrictions, which the Government had named. It was distasteful to Cameron. He would have nothing but freedom to preach, as it seemed God called him, as his own conscience called. And yet he had given a promise. The minister was greatly disquieted.

So he thought of friendly Holland, where so many of his people had gone. And in

the dark days near the end of 1678, he said farewell to his native land, and took ship for the low countries. Here he stayed for more than a year, having much sweet converse with the banished ministers, and teaching and preaching, he was most refreshing unto many souls.' And especially John Howie takes note of a sermon in the Scots Kirk at Rotterdam. This little Kirk was a stranger in the quaint, quiet streets. The rounded doorway, the plain mullioned windows, the tiny little belfry, the high sloping roof-they had grown very dear and sacred to the people who remembered the moorlands, who remembered the preaching in the hollows with the watchers watching on the hills. And the text which Richard Cameron preached from in this pathetic, strange kirk, was one to comfort his listeners, who were exiles, and many of them weary-'Come unto Me all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.'

'About this time Mr M Ward said to him, "Richard, the public standard is now fallen in Scotland; and if I know anything of the mind of the Lord, ye are called to undergo your trials before us, to go home and lift the fallen standard, and display it publicly before the world. But before ye put your hand to it, ye shall go to as many of the field ministers as ye can find, and give them your hearty invitation to go with you; and if they will not go, go alone, and the Lord will go with you.'

And so Richard Cameron did. For he crossed the sea homewards in the dreary winter, in the very dawn of the year.

And he found Scotland sad enough. The battle of Bothwell Bridge had been fought. All the ministers but Donald Cargill and Thomas Douglas were dead or unfaithful to the Covenant.

These three had many meetings, together consulting what they should do; and at last they formed a Declaration, which they agreed to publish to the country. It was fixed on the market-cross of Sanquhar on the 22nd of June.

Then against these bold ministers the persecution grew hotter than ever. Five