mission to his will. Had these feelings always reigned in human hearts, there would never have been any occasion for penitence, nor for a Saviour to be crucified for sin. Now, if a child's heart is changed, the first moments of its renewed feelings will probably be, love to God, and submission to his will. Now let us suppose the mother to try this experiment. As soon as the child is able to have any intercourse with her, which is long before he can speak, she teaches him to love and reverence her. The first, mothers know very well how to do; in the second, they are not equally quite so successful, for they postpone exacting obedience too long, and then, they seldom make a business of teaching submission, as they ought to do. It is a very simple lesson, however, to teach, if the mother will but exercise a little firmness and decision. She may place things in its reach, and teach it not to touch them. She may require it to lie still, without attention from others, when all its wants are supplied, and it is going to sleep. In a thousand ways, in fact, the infant, long before it is able to talk, or to go alone, may be taught submission and love. It will, of course, not know the name, but it will understand and feel the thing.

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The mind, however, thus learning to submit to the will of another, looks up to its parents, as the only superior power. It knows of no other, which is above it;-and if it is allowed to them, of course, a proud and ununico uror, and govern submissive spirit is found. If, on the other hand, a steady and efficient, but gentle and quiet control is exerted over it, in these early days of its life, a humble and submissive spirit is formed, which rests, at first, upon the mother and the father, the only objects it can see, which can claim its obedience.

Now, these feelings are the same, in their nature, as those which the sanctified heart will feel, only they do not yet rest upon God, as their object. The difficulty with the unrenewed heart is, not that it is incapable of gratitude and affection, but these feelings will not rest upon God;-and conversion does not endow the soul with any new powers or faculties, but it only gives existing powers a new direction. Now the course which the mother takes is this. Making herself the object of these feelings, at the early age, when it is impossible, by any means, to convey to the mind any idea of a higher being, she stands ready, the moment the mind of the little one is so far expanded as to allow her to communicate this knowledge, to bring the Deity in, and transfer these feelings from herself to Jehovah. The child knows what the feelings are, for he has experienced them, he is accustomed to them. He has loved his mother, and, feared to disobey her commands. Love

and reverence have become habits with him, and they have been (for we suppose the mother to be a Christian, and to have exhibited the Christian character in all her intercourse with the child,) directed to the same qualities, as far as the child. can understand them, in the parent on earth, which claim them on the part of the Parent in heaven. Now, as soon as the child is capable of understanding the existence, and obtaining some faint conception of the character of an unseen God, the mother brings him to view. She herself steps aside, that the child may gaze upon a far more perfect and exalted exhibition of those qualities, which, in their imperfect form, have secured his affection and respect. She resigns, as it were, in favor of the cominon Maker of both. Having held the government so long as vicegerent, she now returns it to the hands of the Sovereign; and always afterwards, in all her intercourse with her child, recognizes the power, which extends equally over them both.

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Now if a mother attempts to take this course, (which is, in fact, and must be the course, which, more or less distinctly, all Christian parents must take,) in dependence upon herself, and in reliance upon the intrinsic efficacy of such a method, she will certainly be disappointed. We admit it is strange, that it ever can fail ;—at least, it would be strange, if the human heart 'arish these feelwere not so thoroughly known. You - v4 may cnt..... ings of love and subs mission to yourself to the utmost,—you may guard your conduct most watchfully, so as to be sure that you possess and exhibit those qualities on which they should rest, -you may then bring in, in the most skilful manner possible, the knowledge of God, and feel sure, when you do it, that the heart of your child must turn towards its Maker, with the feelings which his character ought to inspire. But when you have done all, the child will gaze for a moment on the magnificent spectacle of an ever present and almighty duty; but his affections, untouched, come back to earth, and all your efforts will not fix them above. Here, at this juncture, we need divine grace. God must come to help you here. His Spirit must aid, or the young immortal will look, with wonder and astonishment, for a few moments upon its Almighty Maker, and then turn hopelessly away. It is sad to behold this; but the Scriptures say it is so, and experience and observation say it is so, if possible, in language more emphatical still.

But let no mother despond. God will, in almost every case, and many Christians will say, in every possible case, come, at such a crisis, to your aid. We do not believe that there is, in the whole course of human life, a time so favorable, and an

influence so likely to be so effectual in securing the renewal of the heart, as the time and the circumstances we have deseribed ; and it should be understood, that this, which we have been describing, is not a new inode we have invented. It is the nat ural course which things must take in every Christian family, where the mother does her duty. We have endeavored to describe it distinctly and clearly, and to call the attention of our readers to the several parts of the process. But it is the natural course of Christian instruction in early years, which we have been describing. If it strikes any parents as new, they will see, by a little reflection, that it is not so. There must be a time, when the child does not know any being but its parents. It must learn, experimentally, submission and love towards them. There must be a time, when God is first perceived; and then he must be exhibited in such a manner, as to call for these same feelings, resting upon God, for their object. We have brought the several steps of the process, distinctly to view, but it is no new course. It is the course by which thousands, and tens of thousands of children have been brought to God in every age. All we do, is to call the attention of mothers to the particular steps of that course, which Providence marks out, that by understanding them more distinctly, they may work with more confidence and skill.

It is the most solemn of all the considerations, which should overwhelm the mother's mind, that she must necessarily, for some time, be the Supreme Being to her child. She acts, and she must act, for a time at least, as the representative of God. Reflect, then, mother, when your little infant, lying by your side, has yet scarcely opened its eyes upon the light of heaven, -reflect on the position you assume towards it. For many long months, you are to be its all-it is to look upon you as the pattern of excellence, and as supreme in power. It can see no one higher than you; and the responsibility you thus assume, you cannot relinquish. Assume, do I say? No mother would assume it. God lays it upon you, and you cannot put it away. If you do your duty, you can come, indeed, at last, after a year or two has past away, and lay it again upon him. You bring your child to its Maker, and resign the supreme affection and reverence, which must, in the mean time, be rendered to you, that they may rest upon their proper object. For a time, however, you must reign alone. And what kind of a sovereign will you be? Will you neglect and postpone your duty, because your child is young? or will you feel, that when God leaves you thus alone with it, you should be doubly faithful to your charge?

We have a word to say, in regard to the evidence of piety in young children. There is nothing in which parents more frequently mistake. They mistake, too, in both ways;—that is, both in regard to the evidence of piety itself, and of the want of it. If a child is very desirous of hearing portions of Scripture read, of not omitting morning and evening prayer, or if he manifests interest in any other duty, which the parent is accustomed to consider a religious duty, she is very apt to fancy it strong evidence of his piety. Whereas, we are in great danger of not understanding what it is, that interests the child in the performance of this duty. It may be something very far from piety. A child will sometimes be very desirous of saying his prayers, when a slight attention to the manner in which he says them, will show that it is no religious feeling, which prompts them. Children get interested in religious duties, as mere ceremonies, in many cases, and perform them as a species of play. Perhaps they do it seriously; in fact, in many of their plays, they are serious. They like to do any thing regularly and systematically, if it is not made tiresome. Parents see the interest they thus take in many religious duties, and imagine that their hearts are in it, when there is no real evidence of it, whatever.

In the same manner, parents may often consider appearances as very strong evidence of want of piety, which really have nothing to do with the question whatever. How often, for instance, do we hear parents say, "I sometimes cannot but hope that my child's heart is renewed; but then she is so playful, it seems impossible to make any abiding impression." Playful! As if there was any possible inconsistency between playfulness and piety. Why it is as plain, that God made children to be playful, as that he made the eye to see. Let no mother, then, be afraid of playfulness, and light-hearted happiness. Lead the heart of the little one to deep and strong emotions, at times and teach it to think seriously in the proper seasons for serious thought; but do not interpret the results of a physical constitution, which is one of the most beautiful pieces of mechanism which the creation exhibits, as evidence of want of piety. Look at the heart-watch its motions-see if you perceive rising affection for God-see if penitence for sin, as against him, is easily awakened-notice whether the conscience is becoming more tender, and the life and conversation more harmless and undefiled, through the influence of love to an unseen God. These are the real evidences, whether in childhood, or youth, or old age, of a heart renewed.

For the Religious Magazine.

THE WORTH AND THE CARE OF THE SOUL.

Reader, in the following remarks, I shall adopt the language of direct and personal address. I suppose you to be convinced, by every day's observation, that your continuance in this world must very soon terminate. You believe in the ennobling doctrine of the soul's immortality, and of the continued expansion of its capacities of enjoying or suffering throughout its endless existence. You believe in eternal rewards and punishments; and you believe that the soul's future destiny will depend, not upon the wealth here amassed, the pleasure here enjoyed, or the knowledge here acquired; but upon the moral character here formed, and the spiritual life here begun. With this belief, you are conscious that you have not formed that moral character, or commenced that spiritual life, which alone can fit you for eternal happiness. If such be your belief, and such your condition, I ask you to read what follows, as if it were addressed directly to yourself alone.

What, then, is the worth of the soul? How shall it be measured? How shall it be conceived? With what shall it be compared? Its immortality and its ever-expanding capacities are the elements on which its value depends. Let one immortal soul enjoy forever any definite and continued degree of happiness, however small-it is clear that the sum of its enjoyment, through the whole of its eternal existence, would exceed the sum of happiness that could be enjoyed in this world, by all the myriads of men that have ever inhabited it, or by the eight hundred millions that now inhabit it. Nay, the excess would be beyond all computation. Add, now, that the soul will enjoy not a very small continuance of happiness, but an inconceivably great, ever-enlarging and absolutely unbounded measure of felicity, going on, increasing with its expanding capacities, in a geometrical ratio, through the interminable ages of its immortality, and who will attempt to draw the comparison between the sum of that one soul's happiness and the sum of all the worldly felicity of all the world's inhabitants, from its creation to the present time? Well might it be asked, "What will it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?"

Reader, do you go about, from day to day, conscious that there is in you a spirit of this inestimable value? And yet there is. Such a soul is committed to your care, and for its destiny you