"Well, Samuel, you have been a good boy, and we have had a pleasant time. Now I am going to give you something to do, which, if you do it aright, will wind up the day very pleasantly."

"What is it?" says Samuel.

"I am not certain that it will please you, but you may do as you choose about undertaking it. It will not be pleasant at first; the enjoyment will come afterwards.”

Samuel.

to do it."

Father.

"But what is it, father? I think I shall like

"Do you think you have any faults, Samuel ?" S. "Yes, Sir, I know I have a great many."

F. "Yes, you have; and all boys have. Some wish to correct them, and others do not. Now, I have supposed that you do wish to correct them, and I had thought of describing to you one of your faults, and then telling you of a particular thing which you can do, which will help you to correct it. But then it will not be very pleasant for you to sit here and have me find fault with you,-mention a number of instances in which you have done wrong, and particularize all the little circumstances which increased the guilt. This, I say, will not be very pleasant, even though you know that my design is not to blame you, but to help you to improve. But then, if you undertake it, and after a little while find that you are really improving, then you will feel happier for the effort. Now, I wish you to consider both, and tell me whether you wish me to give you a fault to correct or not,"

If the boy now has been under a kind and gentle but efficient government, he will almost certainly desire to have the fault, and the way by which he is to correct it, pointed out. If so, the father may proceed as follows:

"The fault I am going to mention now is vanity. Now it is right for you to desire my approbation. It is right for you not only to do your duty, but to wish that others should know that you do it. I think, too, it is right for you to take pleasure in reflecting on your improvement, as you go on improving from year to year. But when you fancy your improvement to be greater than it is, or imagine that you have excellences which you possess in a very slight degree, or when you obtrude some trifling honour upon the notice of strangers for the sake of getting their admiration,

you exhibit vanity. Now, did fault?"

you

know that

you

had this

S. "I do not know that I have thought of it particularly. I suppose though that I do have it.”

F. "Your having the fault now is of very little consequence, if you only take hold of it in earnest and correct it. It has grown up with you insensibly; in fact, almost all children fall into it. I presume that I had it as much as you do, when I was as young. Do you think now that you can recollect any cases in which you have shown vanity?" S. "I don't know; perhaps I could if I should have a little time."

F. "Well, I will give you time to think, and if you really wish to correct yourself of the fault, you may think of all the cases you can, and tell me of them. If you prefer it, you may write the list and show it to me."

Now, if the subject is taken up in this spirit, most boys who had been treated on these principles before, would receive the communication with pleasure, and would engage with interest in the work of exploring the heart. And such a boy will succeed. He will bring a list of instances, not perhaps fully detailed, but alluded to distinctly enough, to recal them to mind. His list might be perhaps something as follows:

"Dear Father,

"I have made out a list of the times in which I was vain, and I now send it to you.

“1. I brought out my writing-book a few evenings since, when some company was here, in hopes they would ask to see it.

"2. I said yesterday at table, that there was something in the lesson which none of the boys could recite, until it came to me, and I recited it.

"3. I pretended to talk Latin with George, when walking, thinking that you and the other gentlemen would

overhear it.

"I suppose I could think of many other cases if I had time. I am glad you told me of the fault, for I think it a very foolish one, and I wish to correct it.

Your dutiful son,

Now, let me ask every one of my readers who has any knowledge of human nature, whether, if the effort of the

father to correct this fault should stop here, a most powerful blow would not have been struck? Do you think that a boy can make such a self-examination, and confess freely his faults in this manner, without making a real progress in forsaking them? Can he as easily, after this, attempt to display his accomplishments, or talk of his exploits?

The process ought not to stop here, but this is the first step; confession,-full, free and particular confession. In the first chapter I described the power of confession to restore peace of mind, after it is lost by sin; and in alluding to the subject of confession again here, it will be seen that I look at another aspect of it, viz. its tendency to promote reformation. It is in this latter respect only, that I consider it

now.

The first step, then, which any of you are to take, in order to break the chains of any sinful habit which you have formed, is, to confess it fully and freely. That single act will do more to give your fault its death-blow, than almost any thing else you can do. If you are a child, you can derive great assistance from confessing to your parents. If you shrink from talking with them face to face about your follies and faults, you can write; or confess and express your determination to amend, to some confidential friend of your own age; but above all, be sure to confess to God. Lay the whole case before him, in full detail. I cannot press upon you too fully the necessity of being distinct and definite, and going into full detail in these confessions.

There is one very erroneous impression which young persons receive from hearing public prayer. It is always, as it ought to be, general in its language, both of confession and request. Take for instance, the language of the prayer-book of the Church of England, so admirably adapted to its purpose.

"We have erred and strayed from thy ways like lost sheep. We have followed too much the devices and desires of our own hearts. We have offended against thy holy laws. We have left undone those things which we ought to have done; and we have done those things which we ought not to have done. And there is no health in us." How general is this language. It is so with our Saviour's model of prayer. 'Forgive us our debts, as we forgive those who are indebted to us.' Public prayer ought to be some

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what general in its expressions, for it is the united voice often of thousands, and expresses only the acknowledgments and the petitions which are common to them all.

But the mistake that multitudes fall into is, that when they begin to pray themselves, they take public prayer as the model for secret supplication, and they spend their season of retirement in repeating the same general supplications which they hear from the pulpit in the hour of public worship. But this is a very great error. The very object of secret prayer is to afford the soul an opportunity of going minutely into its own particular and private case. There is no magic in solitude-no mysterious influence in the closet itself, to purify and sanctify the heart. It is the opportunity which the closet affords of bringing forward the individual case in all its particularity and detail, which gives to secret devotion its immense moral power. The general and comprehensive language which is adopted in public prayer, is thus adopted because it is the object of public prayer to express only those wants and to confess those sins which are common to all who join in it. The language must necessarily, therefore, be general. But it is always the intention of those who use it, that minute detail should be given in private supplications. In the prayer of the Church of England, for example, the morning prayer for families is printed thus:

"Here let him who reads make a short pause, that every one may con

fess the sins and failings of that

day."

"We come before thee in an humble sense of our unworthiness, acknowledging our manifold transgressions of thy righteous laws.* But O gracious Father, who desirest not the death of a sinner, look upon us, we beseech thee, in mercy, and forgive us all our transgressions." Here you will observe that on the margin it is suggested that this entering into detail should be done even in the family worship. How much more when the individual has retired alone, for the very purpose of bringing forward the peculiar circumstances of his own case.

This is the only way to make secret prayer interesting, as well as profitable. A child, just before retiring to rest, attempts to pray. He uses substantially the expressions which he has heard in the pulpit. "I acknowledge that I am a great sinner. I have this day done many things which are

wrong; I have neglected many duties, and broken many of the commands." Now, how easy is it for a person to say all this with apparent fervour, and yet have present to his mind, while saying it, no one act in which he really feels that he has done wrong, and consequently no distinct mental feeling that he is guilty. Our confessions, half of the time, amount to nothing more than a general acknowledgment of the doctrine of human depravity. 'I humbly confess that I have been a great sinner this day," says a Christian at his evening prayer; and while he says it, the real state of his mind is, "I suppose I must have been so. All men are sinners, and I know I am." As to any distinct and definite feeling of personal guilt, it is often the farthest from the mind while using such language.

It is astonishing how easily and how soon we become habituated to the general language of confession, so as to use it most freely without any sense of personal guilt. A parent will reprove a boy for a fault, and the boy will, as the father goes over the details, defend and excuse himself at every step. Here he will lay off the blame upon his brother, there he will say he did not know what else to do,-and in another respect he will say that he tried to do as well as he could. And yet after he has finished all this, he will say gravely, "But I do not pretend to excuse myself. I know I have done wrong." I have had such cases occur continually in the management of the young.

you

But do not forget what is the subject of this chapter. It is the means of correcting faults, and as the first means, I am describing full and particular confession of the sins wish to avoid in future. Before I go on, however, I wish to say one thing in regard to the influence of going into minute detail in prayer. It is the only way to make prayer interesting. When you come at night with a mind wearied and exhausted with the labours of the day, you find your thoughts wandering in prayer. No complaint is more common than this. There is scarcely any question which is asked of a pastor more frequently than this: "How shall I avoid the sin of wandering thoughts in prayer?" It would be asked, too, much oftener than it is, were it not that Christians shrink from acknowledging to their religious teachers a fault which seems to imply their want of interest in spiritual things. Now, the remedy, in nine cases of ten,