CHAPTER IX.

Ir must not be thought that the life of Frank Elliott was without its struggles and its temptations. This could not be supposed of any one in his onward journey to the better land. The heart struggles and weakness of faith, the poisoned arrows of doubt, the temptations from within and without, all must experience—and he was not free from them; indeed, he feared that his case was a peculiar one, and what made it appear so to him, was the life of almost utter isolation he led, and the want of that close and intimate companionship with old and welltried Christians, who might afford him counsel and aid, and help him over those difficult and unexpected passes which a young disciple of Christ fails not

to encounter.

In our Church relationships, it is possible for us

to unite in all the services of the Sanctuary; to attend all the social meetings of the brethren; to engage in their worship, and yet fail to know each other, or be fully known.

Too frequently, in the most intimate fellowship in the house of God, there is an assumed air of piety— a mock solemnity—which hides from the eye the inner life of each other. A tone of voice suited to the conventicle, or thought to be so; a mode of speaking or praying at war with all that is natural and simple, and which in the eye of God must be peculiarly offensive. The more it is assumed, and the greater the effect upon others, the greater the sin against that simplicity which is due to Christ. All mannerism in the eyes of God must be offensive, as indeed it is so in the eyes of all sensible men. Long prayers for effect, studied phrases to catch the ears of the vulgar, all pedantry affecting the true intent of worship, should be avoided, and "truth in the inward parts," should be most carefully observed. How few men truly pray for such things as they really feel that they need. Many pray from

habit-often the mere repetition of a stereotyped petition, to which use and custom have familiarized them, but which give no true idea of the inward feelings and pressing wants of the soul. I could wish that all Christians would first read the Scriptures, meditate on them, carefully look at the state of their own minds, consider their real present wants, carefully survey the field of trial and temptation in which they are placed, and then pray only for such things as they absolutely need; and that their words should always be the true exponents of their thoughts and desires.

The prayer-meeting is often the least edifying and comforting of all meetings we attend; and why? not because they are in themselves unfavorable to our growth in grace, and Christian knowledge and experience: they are eminently so when properly understood and managed. Let me show to the reader a popular prayer-meeting; perhaps this may not be needed, as he has often seen one, and felt how inadequate it is to meet the necessities of our nature.

The evening has arrived for the social prayer

meeting. Fresh from the workshop, the countingroom, or the domestic employments of the daywithout any preparation or thought-without any sense of religious obligations--many leave their homes at the accustomed hour, and carelessly walk to the house of God. The spirit of the world they carry with them; the rust and rime of which are so strong, that no feelings of devotion can break through them, and no ordinary power can penetrate With this benumbed and frigid state of

or remove.

the soul-frosted, iced, and paralyzed-they go to the gathering place of the friends of Christ; perhaps not one, of all present, touched with the fires of devotion, or glowing with the love of God, or the fervors of true Christian worship. They go to pray with and for each other, and expect to kindle the smoldering fires within by a sort of pyrotechnic spirit of devotion" the strange fires" of a false piety. It is as if the soaked and heavy branches from the marsh-moor, would kindle at once into a blaze by being put on the hearth, or that icicles broken from the roof, placed side by side, when the thermometer

was below zero, would melt and run away in streams. If a particle of fire is in any one heart, instead of setting others in a blaze, it is more liable to be extinguished by the frost and cold with which it comes in contact. The pastor reads a portion of Scripture, perhaps not suitable for the occasion; a song is read prosingly, but with due sanctimoniousness—and it is a very long one; the tune is ill-adapted to the words, and sung in a dull, stupid, ignorant, inharmonious, and undevout manner, the influence of which is like a drenching rain on the ashes of devotion, and of course extinguishes every remaining spark within and chills the latent heat which it possessed. A brother is called upon to pray: a part of the brethren kneel, some of them stand up, the greater number sit still, and bend their proud heads; and others look vacantly around, and feel no interest in the services at all. What a mere sham-a miserable caricature of worship. How perfectly shocked and outraged would be the piety of a Moses, or Isaiah, or Daniel-Paul the aged, or Stephen the first martyr, at such an exhibition of piety! How