There were once two fathers, both of whom God had blessed with children. One lived on the river Mississippi, in America. He was a man of great wealth. Yet he would have freely given it all to have brought back his son from an early grave. One day that boy had been borne home unconscious. They did everything that they could to restore him, but in vain. "He will die," said the doctor. "But doctor," cried the poor father, "can you do nothing to bring him to consciousness, even for a moment?" "That may be," said the doctor, "but he can’t live." Time passed, and after awhile the father’s wish was gratified. "My son," he whispered, "the doctor tells me you are dying." "Well," said the boy, "you never prayed for me, father, won’t you pray for my lost soul now?" The father wept. It was too true he had _never prayed_. He was a stranger to God. And in a little while that soul, unprayed for, passed into eternity. Young man, the day will come, when you perhaps will be a father too. If your boy was dying, and called on you to pray, could you lift your burdened heart to Heaven? Have you learned this sweetest lesson of heaven or earth, to know and hold communion with your God? And before this evil world shall have marked your dearest treasures for its prey, oh learn to lead your little ones to a children’s Christ. But what a contrast was the other father! He too had a lovely boy, and one day he came home to find him at the gates of death. "A great change has come over our boy," said the weeping mother; "he has only been ill a little while, but it seems now as if he were dying fast." The father went into the room, and put his hand on his son’s forehead. He could see the boy was dying. He could feel the cold damp of death. "My son, do you know you are dying?" he asked. "No, father, am I?" said the boy. "Yes, my boy, you can’t live till the evening." "Well, then, I shall be with Jesus to-night, shan’t I, father?" "Yes, my son, you will spend to-night with the Saviour." As he turned away, the little fellow saw tears trickling down his father’s cheeks. "Don’t weep for me," he said; "when I get to heaven, I shall go straight to Jesus, and tell Him that ever since I can remember, you have tried to lead me to Him." Reader, if God should give you a son, and should see fit to take him again to Himself, would you not rather he should carry such testimony as that to your Master, than have all the wealth of the world rolled at your son’s feet? Once more, then, let me earnestly pray you to set a good example. Young man, set a good example to the boys who work with you on the farm or elsewhere. They will be ready to pick up anything good or bad from you. And if they once learn it, it will be very hard to unlearn it again.