the foundation in each heart for an unbroken home-communion of their sainted spirits in heaven! It cements them together in their tent-home, creating a sweet concord of hearts and hopes and joys; and then elevates them unitedly in fond anticipation of reunion in their eternal home. They blend their tears together over the grave of buried love, and enjoy the saintly sympathy of loved ones gone before them. This is its most lovely feature. Tell me, is there not a bond of sympathy between Jesus and His people here,--between loved ones in heaven and their pious kindred on earth? Do not the tears of the Christian home reflect the tears of Jesus? These are to the heart like the dews of Hermon,--like the dews that descended upon the mountains of Zion. "No radiant pearl which crested fortune wears, No gem that, sparkling, hangs from beauty's ears, Not the bright stars which night's blue arch adorn, Nor rising sun that gilds the vernal morn, Shine with such luster as the tear that breaks For others' woe, down virtue's lovely cheeks." Is such, Christian brother, the sympathy of your home? It will be a safeguard against the follies and the false interests of life. It will restrict the fashionable taste and sentiments of the age. It will teach wisdom to the pious mother, and be a sure defense against the dangers and indiscretions of the nursery and fashionable boarding school. Under its influence, mothers will not trust the souls of their children to the guardianship of irreligious nurses, nor expose them to the perils of a corrupted and heartless fashion. They will deny themselves the ruinous pleasures of a gay and reckless association with the world; and with maternal solicitude, attend upon the opening of those buds of life which God has committed to them. The pious mother will wield her power over her children, by the force of this sympathy; for her's is the deepest, purest, and most saving of all home-sympathy: "Earth may chill And sever other sympathies, and prove How weak all human bonds are--it may kill Friendship, and crush hearts with them--but the thrill Of the maternal breast must ever move In blest communion with her child, and fill Even heaven itself with prayers and hymns of love!" CHAPTER XV. FAMILY PRAYER. "Hush! 'tis a holy hour,--the quiet room Seems like a temple, while yon soft lamp sheds A faint and starry radiance through the room And the sweet stillness, down on yon bright heads With all their clustering locks, untouched by care, And bowed, as flowers are bowed with night,--in prayer. Gaze on, 'tis lovely--childhood's lip and cheek Mantling beneath its earnest brow of thought!"