in the midst of the howling tempest is quietly sleeping. Is not the unconscious sleeper a man, helpless and in peril like the rest? But see, the affrighted mariners arouse him from his peaceful slumbers and tell him of the common danger. He rises, looks calmly out upon the terrific scene, and utters a stern command to the winds and the waves. Why at once hush and retire the winds? Why sink to placid rest the waves? They heard their Maker's voice, and to hear was to obey. Turn your attention now to the little village of Bethany. Observe the group of weeping mourners sadly moving to the grave of a fondly loved brother and friend. It is a case of more than ordinary sorrow, and has awakened deep and wide sympathy in an extensive circle of friends. The stay and solace of dependent, orphaned sisters has been stricken down and laid in the grave. Many have assembled to condole with the bereaved ones, and their tears are falling apace. And He too is there, Jesus the Nazarene. He participates in the general sorrow; still more, he seems a special mourner. The deceased was his personal friend. His bosom heaves with anguished emotions, and, behold, be weeps! Surely this is a man of like passions with us. Here is human sympathy, here human sorrow. They come to the grave,—the putrescent body is hastening to dissolution. He orders the stone to be removed from the place of the dead. A profound stillness pervades the surrounding multitude. He lifts up his eyes to heaven with an expression of gratitude to his Heavenly Father, and then with a loud voice cries, "Lazarus, come forth.” Why at that voice does the putrid dead receive a quickening energy that restores at once every dissolving tissue to soundness and vigor, sets the vital current again at play, and relumes the lamp of conscious life; and come forth from the dark prison of the tomb into the genial light of living day? The eternal Source and Giver of life has spoken, and why should not even dry bones hear? Contemplate the closing scene. See how the innocent victim of fiendish malice writhes in helpless agony, fast nailed to the crimsoned wood. Look upon his marred visage, begrimed with gore from the incisions of the thorny crown; mark how the contorted body in every muscle and vein speaks its intolerable anguish, while all around malignant and triumphant enemies exult and scoff. In truth, this is a man's sorrows, sorely stricken, "smitten of God and afflicted." Where now is the God? No voice comes from the sufferer as wont, to vindicate his deity, but instead, piteous groans and lamentable cries. Heaven, too, is silent,-it gives no testimony. Here, then, is a mere man, in a state of utter and hopeless abandonment, and of extreme and impotent wretchedness. He bows his head and dies! Dumb nature, as if awakened to a momentary consciousness by the catastrophe, shrieks out her testimony to the transcendent dignity of the sufferer, and writes it in characters of awful gloom upon the heavens. The astonished sun gathers up his beams and wraps his face in the mantle of a starless night. The earth shudders as if shrinking in horror from the pollution of the dreadful crime of murdering her Maker. The Gentile world, godless as she was, by her representative at the scene, as if to brand with everlasting infamy the apostate, blinded and murderous people of God, utters aloud her confession that the crucified Jesus" was the Son of God." But on the morn of the third day the crucified one himself demonstrated his eternal deity by an act of self-omnipotence which prostrated in the dust the thrones of death and hell, and proclaimed him to the universe the "Prince of Life,"—" the King of kings, and Lord of lords."

Now, we ask again, and we deem the question not irrelevant even to a Christian audience, are these reported facts concerning Jesus of Nazareth real occur

rences? Was there such a personage? Was he so born, and did he so live and so die, and so rise from the dead and so ascend to heaven? We have said the record proves itself, but there are other proofs in abundance.

(To be continued.)

PRAYER A FRUIT AND FORERUNNER OF THE GOSPEL.

(Concluded from p. 45.)

The thoughts suggested in past numbers, on the nature and influences of prayer, were associated in the mind of the writer with the privilege and necessity of prayer for the spread of the gospel, and specially for an increase of laborers.

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In the fields allotted to the American Baptist Missionary Union, most of the laborers are spent with toil; many of them have nearly filled up their day, and must soon lay themselves down to their long repose. Some have been compelled already to retire; not because their work was done; not because they would not have preferred, sickle in hand, to fall in the field;—but because they could not willfully throw away life; and they may have hoped, too, by personal solicitation to induce others to join the reaping. Even where labor has been most abundant, or divine beneficence has inost largely provided native helpers, the exigency is scarcely less urgent for new supplies of laborers. The Rev. Mr. Binney, of the Maulmain Karen Mission, writing nearly two years ago, in alluding to the danger of transmitting through native helpers a corrupt form of Christianity," says, "More men must immediately enter this field; . . . if more laborers are not sent, I see not how ultimate failure can be avoided. The history of the church affords not a ray of hope, with which I am acquainted. The divine blessing does not appear to have been imparted, or to be promised, to inefficient, inadequate effort; but so as to encourage to, and prosper the faithful labors of his people so far as they are performed." . . . . . "My dear brethren," he adds, "mercy to the souls of men, who ask to be instructed,— love to the church, and compassion for the men you have already sent here, alike call for a reinforcement. I write thus, because I dare not do otherwise. My heart is almost constantly oppressed with the reflection, that we are really to meet this people at Christ's judgment-seat; and I am deeply anxious to free myself from guilt respecting them."

Review now the history of the last ten years. What has not been done throughout these ten years to quicken and spread abroad the spirit of Christian Missions, and to constrain professed disciples of the Lord Jesus, honestly and without repentance, to give themselves and their possessions to his cause. Intelligence of the state of the heathen; of their abominations and miseries, and helplessness except through the gospel of Christ; of their accessibility, and the promise of their speedily evangelization if the work were worthily attempted;— intelligence of all this has been sent out among the people, and pressed on the understanding and heart, till it has become as a tale thrice told. The claims of the perishing, and of him who died to save them, have not only been urged by those who were specially deputed, but acknowledged and reiterated by multitudes of fellow-laborers, pastors and people; while the voices of the mission

aries have come up from their solitary places, beseeching instant succor, before it be too late. Yet how lamentably inadequate the supply! How little commensurate with the wants of a dying world! With few exceptions, laborers are not sent forth into the harvest. The means of their support are not obtained. There is found to be in mere human appliances to this end, a singular powerlessness; a forwardness to do, but not the doing. In all this God speaks to us. By our continual failure he stains our pride, and bids us cease from man. "In me is thy help." We must betake ourselves to prayer.

Prayer is power. "The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much." Prayer controls the elements. "Elias prayed, and it rained not on the earth by the space of three years and six months." Angels wait on prayer. "Peter was kept in prison; but prayer was made for him ; . . . . and the angel of the Lord came upon him, . . . . and his chains fell off from his hands." Prayer is the appointed channel of God's beneficence. "Ask, and I will give thee." Prayer procures means and instruments; and the blessing which brings prosperity, comes through prayer. Above all, prayer-sincere, fervent, persevering prayer,—ensures "to will and to do ;" for on behalf of them who pray, and in them, “God worketh." Prayer is preeminently the appropriate means; prayer to him who "hath ascended up on high and hath received gifts for men," and who gives apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors and teachers, in answer to prayer. The “gifts and calling” are from him. He is the lord of the harvest. It is his right alone to send laborers into it. He alone knows whom it seems good to him to send. “Thou, Lord, which knowest the hearts of all men, shew whom thou hast chosen." Prayer only can effectually prevail. We may call to the ear of able men; we can point to the waiting harvest, and the few and fainting reapers, and the fast declining sun. But we cannot bestow gifts and grace; we cannot speak to the heart; we cannot create the willing answer, Send me. "Pray ye the lord of the harvest." This was the commandment Jesus gave, being yet present with us. And it was the only commandment then given. "The harvest truly is great, but the laborers are few; pray ye therefore ;" as though prayer were the beginning and the ending of man's efficiency, embodying and embracing all other things;—and so it is.

It is by prayer, if by any human instrumentality whatever, that the churches at large will obtain from the Holy One a "fresh anointing," that they may abide in him, and the love of Christ constrain them to live to him, remembering that they are not their own, but have been "bought with a price." It is through prayer the Holy Spirit will rest in "double portion" on the pastors of the churches, so that they all will "naturally care" for them that are near and for them that are afar off, for whom Christ died. There are some who are thus minded, pastors and churches; YET NOT ALL.

This privilege and necessity of prayer to the lord of the harvest has been recognized by the church in all ages; from the day when the apostles prayed, and "continued with one accord in prayer and supplication," down to these last days in which the missionary prayer meeting has been set up in monthly concert. This missionary "concert of prayer" is an abiding, practical confession and attestation by the church universal, of the need, the suitableness, and the efficacy of prayer. It has been despoiled, in some measure, of its simplicity of aim, such as it had in the days of its institution with Carey and Sutcliff and Pearce and Ryland and Fuller; in many cases, we fear, its primary, essential feature of prayer,―single-hearted, believing prayer for the descent of the Holy Ghost on all the earth,-has been in some sort superseded by incidental

and subordinate ends; the feebleness and poverty of our faith, and the lukewarmness of our spiritual affections, which should have more urgently impelled to prayer, disinclining thereto; yet even now, throughout the churches, prayer is the professed design, prayer enters into, qualifies, sustains and blesses all the rest. And when prayer shall again come to be not acknowledged merely, but felt, as the one thing needful, and men shall pray in spirit and in truth to the lord of the harvest, that he will send forth laborers, while they "keep his commandments and do those things that are pleasing in his sight," then it will be seen that prayer hath power with God and can prevail.

Is it not time, Christian reader, that we had learned both the necessity and the practice of fervent prayer? Has there not been in years gone by, is there not to this day, a most lamentable and injurious infrequency and heartlessness of prayer? Has there not been, does there not exist still, a concealed, yet practical disbelief as to the power of prayer? Has it not been the unrecognized thought of our heart, "What profit should we have, if we pray unto him?" And have we not relied on man's devices, on the power of appeals and arguments, on the constraining goodness of our cause, on the overpowering representations and entreaties of our missionary brethren, speaking in the midst of our assemblies face to face, or sending up their voices from the tomb? Has not this, ordinarily, been the burden of our missionary assemblages? Have they not come together more for mutual excitement, than to unite in confession, humiliation and wrestling prayer? And does not here lie the secret of our measured success?

We may have sinned against the Lord God in this thing. We may have sought to do our work in our own strength, in our own way. God may have discerned in us pride and self-confidence and self-will, and a virtual denial of his sovereign right and power as God of missions. We have sought him negligently, nor followed him wholly, and he would bring us back to a just recognition and confession of our impotence and need. He may cherish, we would hope he does cherish, thoughts of mercy to us as almoners of his grace to the heathen; and, therefore, by withholding for a season the light of his favor, would bring us to a humble and hearty seeking of his face; that so we may prove him by our prayers, as well as by tithes and offerings; and that "the windows of heaven may be opened."

Were fervent and persevering prayer to go up continually to the lord of the harvest from all hearts, both ministers and people, what glorious results would not ensue! The lord of the harvest would hear. He would answer. He would send forth laborers into his harvest. They would go out with joy, and be led forth with peace. They would "go into all places whither Jesus himself would come." The harvest of the world would be gathered in ; and the sower and the reaper and the lord of the harvest would rejoice together.

DISGUISES OF COVETOUSNESS.

That which constitutes the strength of covetousness, is its power to assume the appearance of virtue: like ancient armor, it is at once protection and disguise. In the vocabulary of covetousness, worldliness means industry; though it is obvious to every Christian observer, that the pretended industry of many a religious professor is the destruction of his piety, and will eventually form the ground of his condemnation. Idleness is his pretended aversion. His time, his

strength, bis solicitudes, are all drained off in the service of Mammon; while nothing is left for religion but a faint sigh, a hurried, heartless prayer, and an occasional struggle so impotent as to invite defeat.

“But Providence,” he pleads, "has actually filled his hands with business without his seeking; and would it not be ungrateful to lose it by neglect?” But have you never heard, we might reply, that God sometimes tries his people, to see whether they will keep his commandments or not? and may he not be now proving how far the verdure of your piety can resist the exhaling and scorching sun of prosperity? Besides, is it supposable that God intended you to interpret his grant of worldly prosperity into a discharge from his service, and a commission in the service of Mammon? And, more than all, significantly as you may think his providence invites you to labor for the bread that perisheth, does not his gospel, his Son, your Lord and Redeemer, call you a thousandfold more emphatically to labor for the meat which endureth unto eternal life? You may be misinterpreting the voice of his providence; the voice of his gospel you cannot misunderstand; it is distinct, imperative and incessant; urging you daily to "seek first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness."

Another individual is a slave to parsimony; but he is quite insensible to it, for the temptation solicits him under the disguise of frugality. Waste is his abhorrence; and he knows no refuge from it but in the opposite extreme. Every new instance of impoverished prodigality is received by him as a warning from Providence to be careful. His creed is made up of all the accredited maxims and world-honored proverbs in favor of covetousness, the authority of which he never questions, and the dexterous application of which fortifies his mind with an antidote against all the contagious attacks of charity. And thus, though he lives in a world supported by bounty, and hopes, perhaps, to be saved at last by grace, he gives only when shame will not allow him to refuse, and grudges the little which he gives.

The aim of another is evidently the accumulation of wealth; but the explanation which he gives to himself of his conduct, is, that he desires simply to provide for the future. Want is his dread. And though, in his aim to avoid this evil, he may not distinctly propose to himself to become rich, yet what else can result from his constantly amassing? His interpretation of competence, if candidly avowed, is affluence; a dispensation from labor to himself and family to the end of time, a discharge from future dependence on Providence, a perpetuity of ease and sloth. Till he has succeeded in reaching that enviable state, his mind is full of foreboding; he can take no thought except for the morrow. As if Providence had vacated its throne and deserted its charge, he takes on himself all the cares and burdens belonging to his state; and, laden with these, he is totally disqualified for every holy duty and Christian enterprise which would take him a single step out of his way to competence. And often is he to be seen providing for the infirmities of age long after these infirmities have overtaken him, and laboring to acquire a competence up to the moment when a competence for him means only the expenses of his funeral.

In the instance of a person who has attained to competence, covetousness often seeks to escape detection under the name of contentment. He fancies that he is completely vindicated from the charge of cupidity, by saying, "I am quite content with what I have." But so also that minion of wealth whom our Lord introduces with the solemn warning, "Take heed, and beware of covetousness." His contentment is only covetousness reposing self-complacently from its toils, resting on its well-filled bags, and saying, "Soul, take thine ease." Let an agent of charity approach him with outstretched and imploring hand, and, as if touched by Ithuriel's spear, he will forthwith start into his proper character, and demonstrate that his contentment depends on his keeping his property entire; at least, that he is not content to give.

Covetousness will sometimes indulge itself under the pretence of preparing to retire from the cares and turmoil of active life. The propriety of an early retirement from business, must depend, of course, on circumstances. But how often does the covetousness which wears this mask, retain her slave in her service, even to hoary hairs, putting him off from time to time with delusive promises of approaching emancipation. Or else, he retires to spend, in slothful and selfish privacy, that which he had accumulated by years of parsimony. Or else, by mingling readily in scenes of gaiety and amusement, he shows that his worldly aversions related, not to the world of pleasure, but only to the world