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been fulfilled. Such an exercise will shew the majestic solemnity of the Word of God. It will give a meaning to its generally neglected portions, and will lead the mind attentively to ponder many a forgotten prediction or promise, which the lapse of time and the combination of circumstances will by-and-by fulfil in all their literal exactitude.

If his taste be the metaphorical, how rich the field which the Word of God opens. Take one emblem. "There is a river, the streams whereof make glad the City of God." Work that emblem out. Take the Volga, or the Niger, or the Nile, or the less dignified Thames. Think over and trace out its characteristics, and then compare them with that river of grace to which the verse refers. A river is small in its origin (witness the Thames in its source, the Cotswold hills), onward in its progress, abundant in its waters, free in its supply, triumphant in its end. How naturally the features of a river grow upon us as we think our subject over, and how singularly indicative in these five particulars of that which they symbolize! And so also is it with a rock, or a vine, or a grain of mustard-seed. Adaptiveness is the feature of all Scriptural images, and rich will be his reward who succeeds best in finding out its several features.

However, I will not proceed. I will only say, let us try to love our vocation more as teachers of the Bible, and let us welcome every tribute which is poured into its lap, whether from the lips of friends or of foes. From the superstitions of heathenism, or from the progress of civilization; from the pains-taking of devout critics, and the wrangling of perverse scoffers; from the idols of Persepolis, and the wanderings of the Jews there is but one voice, and its trumpet note is," Thy Word shall not pass away.”

Douglas, Isle of Man.

J. F. S.

THE TEACHER WHO STARVED HIMSELF.

AND how was this?

He was no whimsical vegetarian, delighting only in the herbs of the field, and condemning all cattle and sheep to a lingering old age. Nor was he a fog-brained ascetic, deeming a pale sunken face an almost necessary adjunct to a contrite heart, and inflicting on him self a long series of petty persecutions altogether alien from the true spirit of the Gospel of joy and peace!

No, my readers. The old Roman speaks of a sound mind in a sound body, but it is all too easy to find the one without the other-to find the active and soaring spirit out-growing its frail and feeble tenement

of clay; or to find on the contrary, the full and healthful proportions of the bodily frame in painful contrast with a sluggish ignoble spirit.

So of him whom I am describing. There was the hue of health in his face-the spring of activity in his footstep-the tone of animation in his voice; not in these did he bear the impress of weakness, it was the spirit, not the body, that was ailing the teacher, not the man, that starved himself!

What is it to be a teacher? It is to bring mind to bear on mind, to train, to instruct, to control the opening intelligence of the young, to bring them under the influence of the same spells that have acted upon us. And the Sunday school teacher has this additional task, without which his distinctive character is altogether lost, and his labour a superfluity-to draw the object of his care within the influence of eternity-to speak of the things that concern the future, to turn a child's enquiring eye upon the records of Divine truth, and the revelations of immortality.

And if mind is to act on mind, and character is to mould character, if one will is to control another will, and one intellect animate and strengthen another intellect—if this is teaching, he that teaches must be a man of power.

First, he must have somewhat to teach, and then he must know how to teach it; and in proportion as he fails, (wilfully and by neglect) in either of these, just in proportion as his mind is dwarfed, or his experience limited, so far do I say, without hesitation, that the teacher has starved himself.

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So, alas, did our friend! and I will tell He that would teach must first learn. You may smile at this, as a self-evident proposition; but there are too many who do not act upon it; perhaps, because they think their knowledge much more extensive than it really is. I have read of a man who undertook the charge of a school without sufficient previous education; but being an honest and an active man, he spent his nights in studying the lessons for the following day.

Nor need a teacher be a learned man; all I mean is, that he must not teach what he has not learned. He need not talk about Greek roots or Latin derivatives, when he cannot construe Cornelius Nepos ; nor (much less) presume to explain Scripture when his own mind has never worked at it.

How is a teacher to learn? He should read, he should observe, he should think, he should converse.

I am not going to give you a disquisition on each of these, I am only telling you the sad truth, that in all these various sources of mental nourishment, our friend starved himself.

He starved himself in reading. And yet he was not too poor to

buy books; I should charge him rather with being too poor to read them, for he was poor in that gem of character, a longing for knowledge.

Look down his book-shelf. He is a Christian by profession; and so you see yonder several religious works, but the bindings are far too neat and new. Yonder is Flavel, then Goode, Bridges, Bishop Newton, or Keith, as fresh as if just from the booksellers; Baxter, with the pages not all cut, Blunt the same; Scott's Commentary, (a small edition), with a few others; and a tiny cobweb running across the edges. Then you will see one or two periodicals, volume one; whether they died thus young it were hard to say; if they did not, it was not because he had no desire to bury them. Ask him if he has read anything new lately, and he must rub up his memory for a minute or two before he can give you an answer. He thinks there was something that had interested him, but he really cannot recall the name, "his mind is so occupied."

There is a tradition, that a friend once lent him a Number of our Magazine; but he returned it with the remark, that he thought there was nothing in it!

So it always was; and thus, instead of his mind expanding, striking out fresh roots and fresh branches, it stood still--he starved himself. Then he starved himself again in observation. He had two eyes, it is certain-but it is a question if he did not think one of them superfluous; at any rate he used them as though he did not know their value. Nothing short of an elephant or a flash of lightning attracted his attention, and his ears were insensible to sounds less overpowering than a trumpet or a salute. If he walked in the streets, he saw "nothing particular," no incidents, no illustrations: if he had a country ramble, he never set eyes (as he said) on anything but the commonest forms of animal and vegetable life. The flowers were all daisies and buttercups-the plants all common grass-the birds all sparrows-the trees all elms-the clouds all black. He rested in the shade, but he never remembered the "shadow of a Great Rock." He walked by the river, but he never thought of the Water of Life, or the Pool of Siloam; the twittering of the sparrow never reminded him that man was 66 of more value than many such; the nests of the swallows under the eaves never made him think of their building in safety by the Altar in the Temple. He never saw the sun rise, and if he had, it would not have recalled Malachi's words to him!

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No! he had powers of observation—the eye, the ear, the touchbut he starved them all!

And did he think? No; there too he starved himself! But let me explain what I mean; he did not task himself in thought. Of course, from morning to night, thoughts of many kinds were flitting

through his mind, but he never took a subject up with the mental determination-" I will think this out; " and so it came to pass that whilst many thoughts passed through his mind, very few indeed took up their abode. There was plenty of traffic, but no accumulation; a splendid repast prepared, but no feasting; as though the old device of descending tables conveyed away all the viands before he had time to begin.

But perhaps he made up for all this by conversation? Perhaps he was a diligent attendant at lectures-always present at the teachers' meetings-glad to talk over the lessons-ready and thankful to benefit by the experience of older teachers!

Alas no! there again he starved himself. He had no taste for lectures, they were all so dry. He never could attend the teachers' meetings the weather was always wet. The lessons he had entirely overlooked-the advice of experienced teachers he thought was generally either pedantic or enthusiastic. He did not think much good came of all this machinery-let every one do the best they can.

And so he contrived to starve himself. He went on teaching for some time, for (to do him justice) he thought it a duty; but what wonder that he took no pleasure in his work? What wonder that he was dry, pedantic, careless, monotonous? What wonder that he had finished his chapter long before close of school, and gazed at the clock till he knew every inch of its face, its spots and scars?

Would you drive an engine with no fire in the boiler? would you roll a gravel path with a reel of cotton ? would you fell a tree with a paper knife? would you turn a mill with a syringe? When you can do these feats, then you may expect a teacher to be successful who takes no pains.

But I have one more sad thing to say of him. He might have read with diligence-have used his powers of observation with delight —have fixed his mind in thoughtful study-have received with gladness all the help that others could have given him-he might have done all this, and yet altogether failed, for want of that blessing from above, the condition of which is that for it we must PRAY.

Must I draw aside the veil, and tell you that when the early Sabbath bell was chiming its pleasant invitation, or the starry night was shrouding the last hours of the Sabbath-when the day's work was over-when the past required pardon and the future needed grace-when the world was without, and he alone before God—that then he starved himself?

Alas, it was even so! He did not, he could not, altogether neglect the Throne of Grace, the Sacred Page; but from the treasures of the one, and the mercies of the other, he turned too soon away. A hasty glance, a short prayer, and all was over! He lingered not with the

sweet Psalmist of Israel, the Evangelical Prophet, the great Lawgiver, or the loved Apostle. He knew not the full meaning of the words, “I will not let Thee go except Thou bless me."

What wonder then that his best friends looked on him with mournful fear? what wonder that they sought in vain for the fulfilment of the promise to the true Christian,-" He shall grow like the lily, and cast forth his roots like Lebanon"?

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