which is worthy of all acceptation, that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners.”  This gave her a little comfort; and after visiting her frequently, and directing her to that blood which cleanseth from all sin, he succeeded, with the blessing of God, in bringing peace to her mind.  She died soon after, rejoicing in the hope that her sins, though many, would be forgiven her.  Well may you exclaim, my dear children,

    “Holy Bible, book divine,
    Precious treasure, thou art mine.”

Infanticide still prevails in India, but as I have given a particular description of this crime in my Sermon to Children, on the Condition of the Heathen, I will here say nothing farther on the subject.

CHAPTER XXI.

THE DUTY OF PRAYING AND CONTRIBUTING FOR THE SPREAD OF THE GOSPEL.

My dear children—­There is another story connected with India, which I might have mentioned in my last chapter while writing about the destruction of infants.  I will relate it now, in order that you may be constrained to pray more frequently for the heathen.  Some time ago, the wife of a native prince had a little daughter.  The father ordered it to be put to death, immediately after it was born.  Had it been a son, an heir to the throne, he would have taken great care of it.  A second, a third, a fourth, a fifth little daughter was born.  All these were also put to death by the command of the father.  When a sixth little daughter was born, the mother’s heart yearned over it.  “I cannot part with it,” said she; “I will have it taken away and hid, so that the king may know nothing about it.”  This was done, but the poor mother never dared to send for her little girl.  She never saw her again, but died sometime after.

Many of the little girls in India are very pretty.  They have dark eyes, and sweet, expressive countenances.  This little child grew to be a very beautiful girl; and when she was eleven years old, some of her relations ventured to bring her to her father.  They thought that he would be struck with the sight of his sweet child, and that he would love her for the sake of her mother who had died.  The little girl fell at his feet and clasped his knees, and looked up in his face and said, “My father.”  And what do you think that father did?  Do you think that he took her up in his arms, and kissed her?  No.  He seized her by the hair of her head, drew his sword from his belt, and with a single blow took off her head.

Now, my dear children, do you not think that you ought to pray for the poor heathen—­to pray that God will send the Gospel to them?  I want to tell you of a little boy who heard me preach some time ago about the heathen.  One night he said his prayers, and went to bed.  After he got into bed, he said to the nurse, “I have forgotten to pray for the heathen, and I must get out of bed and pray for them.”  The nurse then told him that it would not be necessary