The Wanderer Brought Back: or, Paren

tal Power.

A SON of pious parents was dedicated from infancy to the service of God in the holy ministry. He was publicly consecrated by baptism; early and faithfully taught the great truths of the Bible; and by all the means that God gives to parents to prepare their children for usefulness here, and glory hereafter, he was trained up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. His early years gave bright promise, that his future life would yield the fruit of parental watchfulness, and that a father's counsels and a mother's prayers would not be lost on him.

And when he left his father's house to complete his education abroad, there was scarce a fear that the tenderhearted boy, (who could not hear of a Saviour and his love, without a tear,) would ever become a prodigal. Parental confidence was strong that early instruction would exert its appropriate and restraining power. Christian confidence in God assured those anxious parents, that their child would be saved from destruction, though he was going into danger. He went abroad. New scenes opened upon him. He was young and ardent, and the gay companions that surrounded him, welcomed him to their circle, as they spread before him the allurements of pleasure and of sin. He struggled, for a while, against the tempter. But one barrier of virtue yielded to the assault, and another, till he fell. The conquest was not easy, but it was at last achieved: and he plunged headlong into the vortex that has swallowed thousands, and from which few have ever been drawn.

There were those who saw his danger, and who desired to deliver him as a bird out of the hand of the fowler. They called him to their company. They set before him the joys of religion, but it had no attractions for his corrupted heart. They spoke of heaven, but his heaven had been already gained. They spoke of hell, but he feared it not; of Jesus and his dying love, but his eye was tearless and his heart unmoved. Argument, motives entreaties, were equally vain. The tender-hearted boy was hardened in sin. A coat of mail was on his soul.

"How would your parents feel, should they hear that you had become a Christian ?" said a pious friend to him It was an one day, as they were for a moment together. arrow that found its way through the joints of the harThe rock was smitten and ness, and reached his heart. the waters gushed. The fountains of the great deep were broken up. He fell on his knees and besought his friend to pray. He thought of home, of a parent's prayers and tears, and as early recollections thronged on his mind, he resolved to return. He did turn to God. He renounced the ways of sin, and consecrated himself to the Saviour; and often have those parents' hearts been filled with joy, as they have heard the gospel preached by him whom they had in infancy dedicated to the ministry. Every tie but their love was sundered, and that tie drew him back. Parental faithfulness saved him in the hour of his danger.

This is not language too strong. God employs means to accomplish his purposes. In this case, he caused the early instructions of those pious parents to spring up like long buried seed, in the heart of that wayward youth. And such impressions are the most powerful, that human instrumentality can make on the soul. The ties that entwine around the heart, and bind it to the scenes of early life, are the strongest that man can throw around his fel. low man. And when the sinner leaves the path of virtue, and wanders into the ways of the transgressor, those impressions grow fainter and fainter, those ties weaker and weaker; but as long as they are not wholly obliterated or broken, there is hope.

Oh yes! there is hope for the vilest prodigal who has not forgotten his father's counsels and his mother's prayers. He may be a thief, a robber, a murderer; he may be a wild, lawless, reckless rover of the seas; his hand against every man, and every man's hand against him; sailing under the black flag of piracy, he may riot like an incarnate devil, in scenes at whose recital the world turns pale; he may strew the decks of his prize with the mangled corpses of his victims, and dance in their warm blood; or slake his foul lust on innocence and beauty that have falen into a pirate's power! He may be all this; he may do all this; but if that monster, (I will not call him a man.)

when the day's work of butchery is over, and he slugs himself in his hammock to find repose, then feels the thought of home stealing over him; if the memory of a deserted mother who prayed for him in his infancy calls a tear unbidden to his eye, "unused to weep," there is hope even for him. He is not altogether lost. That thought may be a beacon light in the darkness of his black heart. He is a wanderer on the broad ocean, tossed by the tempests of heaven, and driven by fiercer tempests in his own soul; but that thought of a mother's prayer and a mother's love, that thought, that last expiring ray of hope, may be the polar star that shall lead him back to virtue, home and God.

The return would be more natural than the departure. He would follow the guidance of an impression, which, it may be, the Holy Spirit made on his heart when he sat on his father's knee, or bowed by his mother's side to repeat his evening prayer.

Parents! your power is next to Omnipotent over the children that God has given you. The cords you fasten on their hearts, are the strongest that human power can furnish to hold them back from ruin. Follow them with the ceaseless influence of parental love, from infancy onward to the grave. Make home sweet to the child. Throw around his heart a thousand tender associations that will bind him, as with links of iron, to the home of his childhood; to the parents that nurtured and sheltered him, and wept and prayed for him long ere he knew the meaning of prayers or tears. Impress on his heart your tenderness, your deep anxieties for his everlasting weal; and when he breaks away from your arms, and rushes on in the ways of sin and death, it may be, yes, it may be, that he who would trample on a Saviour's blood, and despise the grace of God, and break his laws and reject his proffered love, may pause, before he crushes beneath his feet his mother's heart.

Rev. Jonas King.

An account of the manner in which this distinguished man commenced his education has been given at page

145. On leaving college, ne studied divinity, and was licensed to preach. His reputation for scholarship was such, that soon after he was elected a professor in one of the eastern colleges, on whose account he sailed for Europe. While there, it was deemed important by the American Board of Commissioners, that he should proceed as a missionary under their direction to Palestine The colege, after some solicitation, was prevailed upon to consent to the arrangement, and a letter was written to Mr. King, informing him of the wishes of the Board of Commissioners. This letter reached Mr. King at Paris, and was received for him by the gentleman to whom we have alluded, who was then engaged in mercantile busi ness in that city. This gentleman received a letter at the same time, desiring him to unite with the Board in their endeavors to procure the valuable services of Mr. King, in that most interesting and important field of labor, Palestine. When Mr. King came into the countingroom, the letter was handed to him. He immediately retired with it to a small private adjoining room. He did not return for about three hours. When he came out, reaching his hand he inquired. "What shall I do?" "Go." "Behold," says he, "I go bound in the Spirit to Jerusalem, not knowing the things that shall be fall me there." The gentleman immediately wrote to several friends of the missionary cause in Europe, saying, Mr. King has consented to go to Palestine, I will give a certain sum for so many years, will you do the same? Affirmative answers were returned in every case.

Before he left for Jerusalem, Mr. King requested his friend on his return to America, to go and see his aged parents and administer to them such consolation as their condition should require. This he promised, and this promise he kept, when a few years after he found himself at Northampton, in Massachusetts, and within a few miles of their residence. Knowing that they were still in indigent circumstances, he determined not to visit them without an open hand. It was in the winter season; a sleigh was procured and laden with provisions, and, accompanied by a young man, the son of the host from whom he had procured the sleigh, he started on his long promisel errand of mercy. On arriving at

the house he found it as he expected, small and decayed, the inmates of which might well say

"No beggar soils the knocker of my door,

The child of rags by instinct shuns the poor."

When that door was opened by the aged mother, in every lineament was seen the features of Jonas King. There was no mistaking the parentage. I have come,"

said the ambassador, (for such he may well be termed,) "from your son at Jerusalem." The venerable father rose up to receive him, and after a few hurried questions, said, "Let us pray," and bending down, he returned fervent thanks for his social privileges, and especially, for the opportunity offered him of hearing from his long absent and beloved son. The provisions were brought in. "These," said the ambassador, "are sent by your son, at least I present them in his name." "What," said the aged and simple-hearted mother, "did these things come all the way from Jerusalem ?" As the coffee, and tea, and sugar, were successively placed before them, the good old man said, "Of a truth God has this day abundantly blessed us, again let us return thanks," and he bowed the knee and lifted up his voice, and gave thanks to God for his goodness to them. The table was soon spread, and the aged pair, and their son's friend and their benefactor were gathered around it, the lad who had driven the horses was among the number. A blessing was invoked and the meal partaken of, with grateful hearts. When it was over, the day was drawing to a close, and the gentleman signified his intention of returning. Before he departed, the old family Bible was brought forward, and a chapter read. The eyes of the pious old man were dimmed with age, and he regretted their decay, especially, as it prevented his reading the sacred word. Again, the old man said, "Let us unite in prayer," and again he bowed himself, and invoked the choicest blessings upon his son nd upon his friend. With a heart filled with love and admiration of the piety of these aged saints, and depositing secretly between the leaves of the old Bible a twenty dollar bill, that friend departed, expecting in all probability never to see their faces again upon the earth. A few years afterwards, the same gentleman was attending a commencement of one of the New England colleges.