ump
of the amputated arm, and spared his brother's life. Christ, in the same
way, might plead with the Father the five wounds received on Calvary. "I
have often heard an old man pray for children," said the preacher, "and
have heard him ask for things which I am sure were not proper to ask for
for children. It was so long since he had been a child that he had quite
forgotten what children's feelings were. It was not so with Jesus. But
you must remember also to pray for yourselves. Jesus prayed for Peter
that his faith might not fail, but it did, because Peter did not pray for
himself. 4. Christ wishes children to be happy, and they could not be
that without the pardon of sin and hope of heaven. 5. The text taught
that there are a great many children indeed in heaven. It is true there
were there Jesus, and the patriarchs, and prophets, and angels, and
apostles, but there were more children there, for of such is the kingdom
of heaven. That last text meant that the glory of heaven was open to
children, but it also meant that the population of heaven was made up of
children. They would be there of every colour,--from every quarter of
the globe. Last Christmas morning one little child was in that chapel
who is in heaven now. "Shall we go there when we die?" was the question
which concluded and enforced the preacher's appeal, which was plain and
simple and thoroughly adapted to its end. Of course there were some
little ones who could not follow the preacher, but it seemed to me that
evidently the majority did. It is to be hoped they did, for none but
those who live in London can tell what are its trials and sorrows for
such as they, or what are their needs. From the Sunday-school even many
a lad and girl has gone astray. It was only a few weeks before that, at
a midnight meeting in the Euston Road of some eighty or thereabouts--I
cannot speak within one or two--some seventy fallen, weeping women
confessed that they had been Sunday scholars, and amongst them even there
were Sunday-school teachers! Of the hundreds who trooped joyously into
Finsbury Chapel on our last bright, joyous Christmas morning, who can say
what may be the end? Of this one thing, however, we may rest assured, it
will be long before some forget the wise, kindly words listened to then,
the songs in which they then took a part, or the prayers that then went
up to heaven for them.

DR. PARKER AT THE POULTRY.

"What are you doing?" sa