FAR away across the wide ocean, where the palm-tree lifts its broad leaves to the sun, and where the earth is kissed by the hot breath of the Torrid Zone, there dwells a dark race of people. To them, the sun shining in his majesty, the earth clothed with the beauties of nature, the warbling of birds, and the music of running brooks, do not speak of a Divine Power; for they know not the true God, but are idolaters, bowing down to gods of wood and stone. 

Many readers will doubtless wonder how people can be so deluded as to worship gods made with their own hands. David explains this when he says that "they that made them are like unto them," deluded, blinded and ignorant of the truth, so that they imagine there is some real power in these effigies. 

The artist gives us on this page of our little paper, a picture of one of these idols; and what a sad picture it is a poor Hindoo mother teaching her child to pray, and to pray to such a hideous monster. Do you suppose that she is repeating our beautiful prayer, "Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name?" No; oh, no! Poor woman! She has never learned that we have a Father in Heaven to whom we should pray. She has never been told how much he loves us; so much that he gave his own dear Son to die for us. But instead, she has been taught that she must worship this image. No wonder the little child starts back and is afraid. He may well be frightened by such a monster. Could you love such a god as this? You could not imagine that such a being could love you and say," Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of Heaven."

Dear children, when you kneel to pray to our Father in Heaven, who loves you and will answer your prayers, pray for the poor pagan children, and thank God that You were not born as thousands are, Where God was never known, And taught to pray a useless prayer To blocks of wood and stone.