leaves." This was an indication that it might have fruit near maturity; for the fig-tree puts forth its fruit before its leaves. It was the season of the year then, when figs were nearly or wholly ripe, and before they were usually gathered; the very time, when, if this tree ever bore fruit, fruit was to be looked for upon it.

This explanation, it may be said, would throw much light on the passage, if the words, "the time of figs was not yet," occurred as a reason why our Lord sought fruit on the tree; but they seem rather to be given as a reason why he did not find it. According to this interpretation, the clauses of the passage should be arranged thus; "He came, if haply he might find any thing thereon, for the time of figs was not yet; and when he came he found nothing but leaves."

I think they are to be understood so, notwithstanding their actual collocation. And if it seem strange that the writer should have adopted an arrangement which throws no little obscurity over his meaning, I can only say that it is no more than was to have been expected in writers so artless as the Evangelists every where show themselves to have been, and no more than we occasionally find in them. A perfectly similar instance occurs in this same Evangelist, where there can be no doubt of his meaning; Mark xvi. 3, 4, "And they said among themselves, who shall roll us away the stone from the door of the sepulchre? And when they looked, they saw that the stone was rolled away, for it was very great." No one can doubt that the words "for it was very great," express the reason why the question, "who shall roll," &c. was asked, though a complete sentence intervenes. Our translators indeed have enclosed the intervening sentence in a parenthesis, which somewhat relieves the difficulty to the eye, but all such marks are modern invention. Mark xii. 12, presents a parallel example; "And they sought to lay hold. on him, but feared the people, for they knew that he had spoken the parable against them." Here the last clause gives the reason of their seeking to lay hold of him, and not of their fearing the people, as a strict interpretation would make it to mean.

But grant that the tree never had, and never would have, borne fruit, it was its nature, as it sometimes is of individuals of fruitbearing species, to be barren. Still it was an agreeable object to the eye; it was at least harmless; why curse it?

I suspect that word curse to be at the bottom of a good deal of the embarrassment which this passage has occasioned. According to its popular acceptation, it places Jesus in an aspect in which we are reluctant to contemplate him. But a little reflexion will serve to divest it of revolting associations. "To curse" means—to call down evil, usually with an implication that it is done with malevolent passion. It is used, however, of inspired prophets commissioned to announce the future woes appointed to fall on wicked men, with whatever calmness, solemnity and pity they may execute their commission. So this act of Jesus must be regarded as a perfectly calm exercise of his miraculous power. To the question, why it was done at all, I am free to answer, I cannot tell, nor do I think it very important to know, or worth while to indulge in a vain conjecture of imaginary reasons. The supposition that it was intended to typify the destruction of the Jewish nation is gratuitous, founded on some imagined reference to the parable of the barren fig-tree. The only use which Jesus is said to have made of it, was to draw from it a lesson of the power of faith. Perhaps this was all; though it seems to me more probable that this was only an incidental use of it, and that the main purpose of the act is passed over in silence by the sacred historians. Though I cannot enter into all the reasons of it, I have learned enough of Jesus from his whole history, to be willing to believe that this was not a useless or ostentatious act of power, that only our ignorance of the accompanying circumstances causes difficulty respecting it, and that if we were in possession of all the facts of the case, we should see that some end was answered by it, well worth the destruction of a beautiful tree.

C. P.

FURNESS'S PRAYERS.*

THERE are no books which one is less disposed to criticise, than books of devotion. And yet there is perhaps no composition, with with which it is so difficult to satisfy all minds, or to satisfy ourselves,

* Domestic Worship. By W. H. Furness, Pastor of the First Congregational Unitarian Church in Philadelphia. 12mo. pp. 275. 1840.

as the composition of prayers. So strongly have we felt this, that we have been ready to say, prayers were never meant to be written. A genuine prayer is the breathing of the soul in tones and sentiments that cannot be transferred to paper. We never read a prayer, with the same feeling that we hear or offer it. The most beautiful and perfect portions of the English Service depend chiefly, for their power, upon the spirit and manner of him who repeats them. And in proportion as we forget that he is reading, and are able to catch the sentiment as coming from the soul rather than the book, do we share and enjoy it as devotion. That much of this is the effect of habit, there can be no doubt. It casts no reproach upon written forms, nor the slightest suspicion upon the piety of those who use them. We should be sorry to be thought capable of such a suspicion. That which we are saying has no reference to the reality or the degree of piety. It may be all a matter of individual feeling-but none the less real. It will account at least for that which we are about to say, and for which no better reason probably can be given; viz, that in the book before us, as in every book of prayers that we ever opened, we have found less than we desired or hoped to find. And yet in the same breath must we say, we have found more than in any other collection.

This volume differs in its arrangement from others of similar character, and differs to advantage. The prayers are not assigned to particular days, an arrangement that may have some advantages, but to which there are some objections. They are simply numbered here, fifteen for the morning and as many for the evening. These are followed by three morning and three evening prayers for Sunday, and two "Forms of social service" for the aid of families or societies who have no stated means of religious worship. Twelve forms for "Occasions are then given, and the book is closed with a few original and beautiful Hymns.

The whole spirit of the volume is delightful. It is fervid, subduing and elevating. It comes nearer to actual prayer, as we have just said, than anything we have seen. There are excellent collections among us, which have given satisfaction to thousands, and have done, we know, great good. They will continue to do good. To many minds, and classes, they may be more satisfactory than this. But for a certain order of minds, this will fill a place that has not been filled before. There is a propriety as well as purity, a refinement without

formality, and occasional pathos and sublimity, that give the volume an original character, and make it not merely "another prayer-book." We value it particularly for the distinction, that its prayers are, for the most part, strictly petitions, and not dissertations. Few things are more offensive than the forms of harangue, description, local information, and formal argument, which we sometimes find both in spoken and written prayers. Of these there is little comparatively in this volume, though we were sometimes led to think of it, and to desire greater simplicity. We might complain too, and many will complain, of too great length in most of the prayers. Directness and brevity are essential to the creation, if not to the utterance, of true devotion. That we sometimes allow ourselves, in public or social devotion, to forget for a moment that we are actually addressing a being, and that that being is GoD-or that remembering Him alone, we lose sight of the nature of man, and think of what he should be, not of what he is -may be the cause of much of the want of interest and efficacy attending these exercises. If indeed they are designed for contemplation alone, to affect, by their own power only, the minds and hearts of those who use them, the defects to which we refer may be less important.

We have a growing and at times oppressive conviction, that nothing is so much needed, at this time and at all times, as to sustain and extend a living faith in the personal relation of man to God, and the direct providence of God over man. We'believe nothing will do so much to sustain this faith, as the inculcation and exercise of prayer— public, domestic and private. Of the cessation of prayer, we have no fear. As soon should we fear the cessation or extinction of truth. God has provided for both in the eternal principles of his own and our nature. But we do fear,—rather we know, for they own it, that some of the best minds derive not half the comfort they might from the exercise of prayer, because of the vagueness of their faith in its object, and their merely philosophical views of its efficacy. We think not thus of the writer before us. No heart can pour forth such devotions, that is not filled with a living faith in their efficacy. We thank him for their glowing spirit, and for the help they will afford to many a thirsting mind. Such helps are greatly needed; needed not less, but more, as society advances in its different paths. The ignorant and the cultivated need them. The confirmed, the skeptical, and the mystical need them. They are wanted in the family, they may

comfort and encourage the individual. From whatever motive they are used, they can hardly be used without benefit.

Why are they used so little? It is supposed there is an increasing disuse of forms and stated services, especially in families. Domestic worship is said to be less common than formerly, even among those who take the position and are allowed the character of Christians. We have no means of knowing the fact, but we see reasons for believing it. It is clearly the tendency of the times to distrust all forms, and too much the practice of Christians to disparage them. To many this is a sign of good, rather than of evil. It indicates to them a growth in spirituality, less reliance upon the outward, greater interest in the inward life. God grant that it be so. We should rejoice to believe it. But as yet we cannot. We do not see this growth of spirituality in other and positive expressions. This is negative. And the fact that it is negative, and yet taken, trusted, and welcomed as proof of progress, surprises us most of all. "I do not think much of forms," is thought to show that the young man or woman who says it, does think much of that which is better than forms. "I see no need of ordinances, they seem to me puerile and sensual," is admitted as proof that the man has got beyond ordinances. "The letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life," is urged as argument against the very injunctions of the Gospel that contains it, nay, sometimes against the probability or necessity of revelation itself. We desire better evidence of spirituality, and should be pleased with better specimens of reasoning. We are not satisfied that Christianity is outgrown. We cannot suppose, that the God who gave revelation, and the Saviour who enjoined prayers and ordinances both by precept and example, overrated human weakness and failed of foreseeing human progress. We say not this lightly. God forbid. We say it in no contempt or reproval. It is a simple but strong feeling, which comes over us not to dishearten but to amaze, when we hear many of the young and old speak as they do of prayer, of worship, of providence, and revealed religion. It cannot be, that faith in these must grow fainter, with increase of knowledge and privilege. The expansion of intellect, if such it be in reality,-the world's experience and advancement, should make us feel more, and not less, our dependence on the Power that is over us, and our obligations for the means of communion which are graciously given. If the soul grows, it will take more delight in approaching God in the ways of his appointment, and in all