THE proper temper for prayer should precede the act; the disposition should be wrought in the mind, before the exercise is begun; to bring a proud temper to an humble prayer, is a positive anomaly. A habit is more powerful than an act, and a previously indulged temper during the day, will not, it is to be feared, be fully counteracted by the exercise of a few minutes' devotion at night.

Prayer is designed for a perpetual renovation of the motives to virtue, if therefore the cause is not followed by its consequence, a consequence inevitable, but for the impediments we bring to it, we rob our nature of its highest privilege, and run the danger of incurring a penalty, were we are looking for a blessing.

H. More.

HANNAH More in her Practical piety says, "There are three requisites to our proper enjoyment of every earthly blessing which God bestows on us: a thankful reflection on the goodness of the Giver,-a deep sense of the unworthiness of the receiver,—and a sober recollection of the precarious tenure by which we hold it. The first would make us grateful, the second humble, the last moderate."

INFANTINE INQUIRIES.

TELL me, O mother, when I grow old,

When my hair, which my sisters say is like gold,
Grows grey as the old man's, weak and poor,

Who asked for alms at our pillar'd door?

Shall I look as sad, shall I speak as slow,

As he, when he told us his tale of woe?

Will my hands then shake, and my eyes be dim,
Tell me, O mother, shall I grow like him?

He said, but I know not what he meant,
That his aged heart with sorrow was rent;
He spoke of the grave as a place of rest,
Where the weary sleep in peace, and are blest;
And he told how his kindred there was laid,
And the friends with whom in his youth he play'd;
And tears from the eyes of the old man fell,
And my sisters wept, as they heard his tale.

He spoke of a home, where in childhood's glee,
He chased from the wild flowers the singing bee,
And followed afar with a heart as light,

As its sparkling wings, the butterfly's flight;

And pull'd young flowers, as they grew 'neath the beams,
Of the sun's fair light by his own blue streams;
Yet he left all these through the earth to roam,
Why, O mother, did he leave his home?

Calm thy young thoughts, my own fair child,
The fancies of youth and age are beguiled:
Tho' pale grow thy cheeks, and thy hair turns grey,
Time cannot steal the soul's youth away;
There's a land, of which thou hast heard me speak,

Where age never wrinkles the dweller's cheek:

But on joy they live, fair boy, like thee,
It was there the old man longed to be.

For he knew that those with whom he had played,
In his heart's young joy, 'neath their cottage shade,
Whose love he shared, when their songs and mirth,
Brightened the gloom of this sinful earth,
Whose names from our world are passed away,
As flowers from the breath of an autumn day :
He knew that they, with all suffering done,
Encircled the throne of the Holy One.

Though ours be a pillar'd and lofty home,
Where want, with his pale train, never may come :
O! scorn not the poor, with the scorner's jest,
Who seek in the shade of our hall to rest;
For he, who hath made them poor, may soon
Darken the sky of our glowing noon,

And leave us with woe, in the world's bleak wild;
Oh, soften the griefs of the poor, my child.

OF WORKS OF CHARITY.

WITHOUT charity, the external work profiteth little, but whatever is done from charity, however trifling and contemptible in the opinion of men, is wholly fruitful in the acceptance of God, who regardeth more the degree of love with which we act, than what, or how much we have performed. He doth much who loveth much, he doth much who doeth well, and he doth much and well, who constantly preferreth the good of the community, to the gratification of his own will.

Thomas a' Kempis.

Y

THERE is a striking analogy between the spiritual life, and the natural; the weakness and helplessness of the Christian, resemble those of the infant: neither of them becomes strong, vigorous, and full grown at once, but through a long and often a painful course; this keeps up a sense of dependence, and accustoms us to lean on the hand which fosters us. There is in both conditions, an imperceptible chain of depending events, by which we are carried on insensibly to the vigour of maturity. The operation, which is not always obvious, is always progressive,-by attempting to walk alone, we discover our weakness, the experience of that weakness humbles us, and every fall drives us back to the sustaining hand, whose assistance we vainly flattered ourselves we no longer needed.

H. More.

IT may safely be relied upon, "That much more imperishable is the greatness of goodness, than the greatness of power, or the greatness of talent."

Sir R. K. Porter.

JONATHAN DYMOND in his essays, speaking on fame, says, "The profligacy of a man of fashion is looked upon with much less contempt and aversion than that of a man of meaner condition; it ought to be looked upon with much more. But men of fashion are not our concern. Our business is with men of talent and genius, with the eminent and the great. The profligacy of these, too, is regarded with much less aversion than

that of less gifted men. To be great, whether intellectually or otherwise, is often like a passport to impunity; and men talk as if we ought to speak leniently of the faults of a man who delights us by his genius or his talent. This precisely is the man whose faults we should be most prompt to mark, because he is the man whose faults are most seducing to the world.

"Intellectual superiority brings no doubt its congenial temptations. Let these affect our judgments of the man, but let them not diminish our reprobation of his offences. So to extenuate the individual, as to apologise for his faults, is to injure the cause of virtue in one of its most vulnerable parts.

"Oh! that I could see in men who oppose tyranny in the state, a disdain of the tyranny of low passions in themselves. I cannot reconcile myself to the idea of an immoral patriot, or to that separation of private from public virtue, which some men think to be possible." Probably it is possible; probably there may be such a thing as an immoral patriot: for public opinion applauds the patriotism without condemning the immorality. If men constantly made a fit deduction from their praises of public virtue, on account of its association with private vice, the union would frequently be severed ; and he who hoped for celebrity from the public, would find it needful to be good as well as great. He who applauds human excellence, and really admires it, should endeavour to make its examples as pure and perfect as he can; he should hold out a motive to consistency of excellence, by evincing that nothing else