THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PRESENTED BY PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID THOUGHTS PM THE THOUGHTFUL. n OLD IIUMPHRI arch. wkm Ivy to Ha prfato Chwton around ih porch I dearly lo?t ; to bom* abort. LO NDON: Till: Ui I.K.IOUS TRACT 80C1F ItutitmUd 1779. OLD AT TIIF nr.rooroBY, 56, PATKRWOVTBR ROW AND 65, rr. PAUL'S CHURCHTARU. PREFACE. As an old man, I may be allowed a little quaintness in giving a title to a book ; and a considerate reader will not ojiinnvl with me for choosing that of "Thoughts for the I -iirhtful," inasmuch as it is the best that his occurred to my mind. Some of the following pieces have already appeared in the "Tract Magazine ;" and, in- deed, the whole volume itself is of a very mi- nding character, claiming no attc ; r for the novelty of its design, the l>ri( v of its wit, the extent tion, or the di j.tii and solidity of its wisdom. I'.ut as we expect not th<- ,-t to erect a pyramid, so my humble design may escape the censure of all who ; eful- ness to grandeur. In thus collecting together a few of my fu- gitive thoughts, it has 1 xcite . and call forth the thankfu IV PREFACE. and kindheartedness, of the thoughtful on a variety of subjects, well worthy of more at- tention than I have bestowed upon them. He who duly considers what a minute speck deranges the clearest sight, and what a mere spark kindles a conflagration, will be careful neither to propagate error nor to excite ill will. I hope my little book is consistent with truth, and I trust it is of a friendly spi- rit. If we wish for peace on earth before we enjoy it in heaven, the least we can do, in the midst of our unnumbered infirmities, is to foster grateful and kindly emotions ; for it is only when the heart is full of thankfulness to God, and unfeigned love and charity to man- kind, that we can reasonably hope " the wil- derness and the solitary place " to be " glad," and the " desert " to " rejoice, and blossom as the rose." OLD HUMPHREY. CONTENTS PAGE A SWEET Spirit l The Son and the Cloud I The Gothic Pile The Broken Thread ' Want of Forbearance 11 So I Twitted it l| How far it it to Canaan ? 15 : illroad Station Nothing tad Something Halleluiah ... The Book of Time S3 Vcanaiit Fid.l 31 The Bald- headed Sexton Torn your Telracope u . ortheNexi? 4* 4:J rncrakc 47 Sing for Joy 60 The Hollj Bosh hristian's Lever ;i^ VI CONTENTS. PAGE The Savings' Bank 64 The Blacksmith 66 The Bog on the Scottish Border . . . . 68 Trees and Plants 71 Why is it? 73 A Precious Promise . . . . . .76 The Crazy Man and his Watch 78 The Banian Tree 79 On what are you depending ? 83 The Barrack Yard 85 The Portraits 87 The Geranium Tree 90 Death's Visits to the Village . . . . . 93 The Mariner's Compass 99 The Smut in the Corn 101 The Serpent's Tail and its Head . . . .107 The Ivy 110 The Tracks in the Clay 112 Singing 116 Bamborough Castle 119 Uprightness is True Prosperity 122 The Man in the Mask 124 The Picture Frame . . . . . . . 126 The Tooth-ache 129 The Whetstone 131 Sunshine . . 133 Sympathy for Sailors 135 The Broken Finger Post 138 The Times . . 140 Edmund Hawker 142 On an Unfaithful Friend .145 Bernard Gilpin 148 Common Occurr*>" es ... .1 5 J CONTENTS. vii PAGE The Gods of ' n . The Deep Pit . i:.:. Tyranny and Oppression Jewish Custom . . 160 Food Aged Christians . . . '0 What Good can I do? . . 72 The Natural Creation - 1 Ipaj . . 77 [Good Hope .... :.> Kindness 81 Submission . l-l Rest Rrinkburn Priory ..... . 189 Are you Ready? 191 The Robin tod the Sparrow . . 193 The Swallowed Bible . . ; An Enemy . Th, Hippy Children . The Wanderer without a Guide . 208 The Osk The Old Pensioner . _.., i : . 211 911 The Fit of Abstraction - 1 > . 214 The Coat of many Colours . . 217 Sudden Changes . 219 The Churlish Farmer .... . 221 Desolation . . 223 The Doors being shut . . 225 Trying Times . . 226 The Two Busts . . . 228 Vlll CONTENTS. PAGE Indigestion 230 The Basket of Summer Fruit 232 The Lasket Lane 235 God's Presence 238 On Dress 239 The Bitter Fruits of War 241 The Setting Sun .244 A Sabbath passed in a Ditch 246 Wages 249 Suitable Mercies 252 The Seasons 254 We shall meet in Heaven 256 For me 259 How old are you? 261 Town and Country 265 Who's the next? 267 The Allegory 272 The Sermon 273 Faith and Patience 274 The Stork with the Broken Bill . . . . 276 The Old Hovel . .... 278 THOUGHTS FOE THK THOUGHT! I I, A SWEET SPIRIT. THERE is a sweet spirit not to be found every in the day, nor, indeed every day of tin- year, but it is sometimes to be met with a sjurit of forbearance, kindness, and charity, that delights to speak well of the absent, and to represent favourably what to others may np- pear doubtful. " She has a high way with In r, " said an Irish maiden when speaking of her absent mistreat, who was considered jr "people do not under st ami In r She has n way with her; but she is like the lilies, that are so gentle and mild when you come to know u." -V 2 A SWEET SPIKIT. Oh that we all had more of the spirit of this female ; that all our seeming highmindedness and pride could be explained in as satisfactory a manner ; and that we were enabled to say of our- selves with perfect sincerity and truth, whatever may be our outward bearing, " Lord, My heart is not haughty, nor mine eyes lofty : neither do I exercise myself in great matters, or in things too high for me!" Psa. cxxxi. 1. THE SUN AND THE CLOUD, IT is usually thought, and no doubt correctly, that in age our emotions are much deadened ; hut uith regard to the outward things of creation mine appear to be as lively as ever. As I stood gazing en the western sky, the orb of day was ? gloriously. From a dark cloud that ensconced the sun, regular beams of light, widening hi course, shot upwards and sideways. So clear and bright was the firmament, that the tops of the far- 1 hull. lings were clearly defined, and the flight of pigeons that with rapid wing were wheel- ing round in the air, at the distance of a mile, were distinctly visible. While entranced with admira- tion I continued to gaze at the kindling heavens, the sun came forth from his hiding place in purple and gold, flinging upon earth and heaven such an intensity of brightness, and pouring forth such a flood of unendurable glory, that my hands clasped themselves involuntarily ; and as I had no words that could relieve my heart and soul, I stood in silent ecstasy, my eyes overflowing with tears. 4 THE SUN AND THE CLOUD. I know that clouds are sent forth from the Eter- nal on errands of extended usefulness ; that the sun is the visible light and glory of the world, calling into existence myriads of God's creatures, and executing through the wide-spread universe the almighty will of his Almighty Maker ; but I felt at that moment that the bright sun and the dark cloud had, also, another mission to execute ; to entrance my eye with beauty and brightness, to impress my heart with a sense of God's glory and goodness, and to overwhelm my spirit with un- speakable wonder, gratitude, and praise. THE GOTHIC PILE. I LOVE to walk in these gloomy cloisters, and to muse upon this Gothic pile, that for so many centuries has excited wonder. It is mouldering now, and discourses eloquently on the fading i Mtu re of this world's most lasting glories: Lord, what is man t to frail, to weak I How Tain hit worldly trust I The pnmdt efforts of his hmndj Shall cram*'*) la the dust. Look at the sculptutcd portico, purely Gotlnr ; nothing can be finer. It is as rich as age and elaborate earring can make it, from its pointed top to its substantial base. Regard the massy imt- tresses, and that goodly tower where unnumbered s are filled with the effigies of saints, i. bishops, grotesque figures, and curiously wrought ornaments. But let us enter the building. See what windows there are of painted glass I what a spacious nare, and what extended tran- septs ! Mark how the clustered pillars shoot up to B 2 THE GOTHIC PILE. the fretted roof a hundred feet above us ; and then what piles of monumental marble ! The armed knights lying on their backs are sadly mutilated ; their helms and hauberks have been battered ; their shields and gauntlets, and two-handed swords, have been broken ; and the iron mace that once lay at the foot of yonder tomb has been taken away. These mutilated fragments bid us look upwards for immortality ; for on earth we cannot find it. Observe the galleries above, and double columns narrow and high, now seen, and now losing them- selves in the thick walls of the building. In olden times, dark-dressed nuns might be seen there, gliding to and fro in the dim light like flit- ting shadows, hasting to matins or vespers. Here and there are flights of steps of black marble, leading to different chapels ; for the church was a chantry, endowed with revenue for priests to sing masses for departed souls one of the many mummeries of Popery ! The altar-piece is impos- ing, and the stalls of dark-brown wainscot, also, with beautifully carved Gothic canopies, and seats with strange devices. But let us descend below. This old crypt, so rich in cobwebs and in carved work of the sculptor's chisel, looks a different place to what it did when its clustered pilasters and groined arches were lighted up with lamps hang- ing from the roof. There are no hooded friars r.OTHIC I 7 now, kneeling in devotion, and " bidding tlu ir beads" before the costly crurltix. Time has hn-n, when this low-browed vault has dazzled the be- holder's eye with all the glittering glory that could xirtcd l.y richly wrought vessels of the pre- cious metals, by decorated altars, glowing paint- ings, coloured glass, and sparkling jewels. Where we now stand, bald-headed monks have stood before us, in grey gown and rosary ; and mitred abbots, habited in gorgeous apparel, in vestments of purple and crimson, stiff and glittering with silver and with gold. The place is at the present time M Faired round with misty damp* and ropy slime," and teems with unsavoury odours; but silu-r censers have ere now filled it with the perfume of frankincense and myrrh. It is now silent ; hut the sweet voices of the young, and the deep mellow tones of age, mingled together, have rung iu awful and mysterious melody through its echoing re- cesses, with the praise of the Virgin, instead of the praise of the High and Holy One. With what a cloud of errors and delusions has Popery enshroud- 1 the Christian profession ; its indulgences, fessions, penances, and purgatory, sealing the word of God, bowing down to crucifixes, and s< til-- intercession of saints ! How earnestly should 8 THE GOTHIC PILE. we pray for the removal of these soul-deceiving delusions ! I love to walk in the gloomy cloister, and to muse on the Gothic pile ; for it tells me what a frail worm I am. The bald-headed monks, and mitred abbots, where are they ? and where shall I shortly be ? The glowing paintings, the sparkling jewels, the gorgeous apparel, the silver censer, the perfumed incense, and the mingled voices of youth and age are gone ; but their very absence teaches me to cling to things that are eternal, and to value more highly the simple and superlative excellence of the gospel of Jesus Christ. It tells me to seek treasures in heaven ; it moves my heart to magnify the Lord, and my spirit to rejoice in God my Saviour ; and in him alone. THE BROKEN THREAD. I r is a bad sign when age is too proud to Irani a useful lesson from childhood. If in my walks a ixl friendly cottage calls, I can do any good to others, I am thankful ; hut the amount of my ser- vices is very small. < \vever, does it occur, that when I do no good to others, I get good to myself. This morning, a little rhiM, at a house wh called, came weeping to hi -r ninth. T in great grief. Sh<- had been sitting very quietly for some tm.c on a little stool, sewing a piece of clean rag for prartice. When I in|uirrd the cause of IHT trouble, it was a broken thread; the poor little girl seemed overwhelmed with the conviction that all her work was at an c "Did you think, lo\r, I could not fasten it <>n again?*' asked the mother, wiping away the streaming tears. " Yes," sobbed the child. 1 can though in a minute," said th. ninth, r. "Sec, love, sc< Dear little child, thought I to myself, thy grief 10 THE BROKEN THEEAD. and thy simplicity are just like mine. How often and how long have I sat weeping and sobbing with, as it were, a broken thread in my hand, not considering how easy it would be to my hea- venly Father to fasten all the broken threads, and to heal all the broken hearts of his children ! WANT OF FORBEARANCE. FOR shame ! for shame I hasty, impatient, and] petulant Christian! Was David the song of tlio drunkards ? Was Elisha the derision of children T Was Paul called a madman ? And must you hold tip your head forsooth, and feel indignation on account of a trifling injury ? Do you profess to be a follower of your meek and lowly Lord and Blaster, and fly off in a tangent because a slight indignity has been put upon you ? Go and pon- <1( T the words, " With all lowliness and meekness, with long-suffering, forbearing one anoth love," Eph. iv. 2. Was righteous Abel slain! Was Daniel cast into the lions' den T Were those, of whom the world was not worthy, sawn asunder? Was Stephen toned to death ; and the Lord of life and glory taunted, buffeted, spat upon, scourged, and cru- cified; and cannot you bear with an offending brother, without giving way to anger, hatred, ma- lice, and uncharitableness ? For shame ! for shame ! Open your Bible, and let the following WANT OF FORBEARANCE. text be the subject of your meditations : " If ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Fa- ther will also forgive you ; but if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses," Matt. vi. 14, 15. Should it happen, reader, that you have a hasty spirit within your bosom, think not that my re- marks are directed against your infirmity. No, no, not a word of it. The truth is, that my tem- per has been too easily ruffled, and every syllable I have uttered has been directed against the hot head and angry heart of Old Humphrey. SO I TWISTED IT. You will agree with an old man in the obser- vation, That it is a pleasant thing to he in that delightful mood, wherein you seem to have tin- power of turning every thing to the best account. In such seasons, the earth is felt to he the Lord's, and " the i ill ness thereof; the world, and they that dwell Pfe \\iv. 1. A Christian friend, who is often in this mood, has just given roe an account of an evening party in the following words : "We stayed supper on the little island, having made a fire of sticks. I could not help thinking of St. Paul on the island of Melita, when the barbarous people showed him no snial- kindness, receiving him, nnd those uith him, ' because of the present rain, and because of the cold.' True it is, that there came no viper out of the heat ; but that did not signify. A u Inlr, the party began singing, all standing rmm.l the fire. They were singing, alas ! not the praise* of God but I laughed in my sleeve, for tc 2 twist I U c 14 SO I TWISTED IT. O that Old Humphrey could thus twist every word that comes out of the mouths of his fellow- sinners, as well as every thought that emanates from his own heart, to God's glory ! This would indeed be acting up to the spirit of the text, "Whether therefore ye eat or drink, or what- soever ye do, do all to the glory of God," 1 Cor. x. 31. HOW FAR IS IT TO CANAAN ! " How far IB it to Canaan 7" said a friend. "Why," replied I, "the children of Israel found it a long way ; for they travelled forty years in the mess. The most important thing is to know that we are tn the way, for then the distance will get less and less every hour." " How far is it to Canaan f ' asks the doubting Christian ; " for I am sadly afraid I shall never get there. My sins are a heavy burden to me, and I long to he rid of th.-m, if, indeed, there is hope for such an one as I." Go on, poor doubting Christian ; take fresh courage, and quicken thy step. Canaan is not so far off butthou shalt reach it at last; and it tlmu couldst know how willing the Saviour of sinners is to receive thee, it would shed a sunbeam on thy dejected countenance. I have a word of comfort for thee, a cordial for thy heart : " I, even 1, am he that blottith out thy trans- gressious for mint- <>\vn sake, and will not re. her thy sins," Isa. xliii. 25. 16 HOW FAR IS IT TO CANAAN? "How far is it to Canaan?" asks the trium- phant Christian ; " for I long to be at home. I know that my Redeemer liveth, and because he lives, I shall live also. My soul has made me like * the chariots of Amminadab,' and I am impa- tient to behold him face to face !" Go forward, triumphant Christian, with the glorious ring of assurance upon thy finger. Cast not away thy confidence, which hath great " re- compense of reward." But stay ; I have a word for thee also, which may be useful. Ponder it in thy heart : " Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall," 1 Cor. x. 12. " How far is it to Canaan ?" inquires the af- flicted Christian ; for I have lain a long while upon the bed of suffering. ' Wearisome nights are appointed to me.' I am full of tossing to and fro unto the dawning day. ' Oh that I had wings like a dove ! for then would I fly away, and be at rest.'" Be of good cheer, afflicted Christian! The heavier the cross, the more pleasant will be the crown. If we suffer with Christ, we shall be glo- rified with Christ. I have a word to refresh thy fainting soul, and will now give it thee : " The sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us," Rom. viii. 18. HOW FAB IS IT TO CAN 17 " How far is it to Canaan ?" asks the perse- cuted Christian ; for I am an outcast from my family, a stranger upon earth ; like my Lord, I am ' despised and rejected of men.' ' Many are th.-y that rise up against me/ and they hate me with cruel hatred?' " 1 1 Id on thy way, persecuted Christian ; it is a safe one, and a blessed one, yea, the one thy Re- deemer trod before thee. Dost thou want a word of consolation! I will give it thee; lay it up in thy bosom : " Blessed are ye, when men shall hate you. when they shall separate you from their company, and shall reproach you, and cast out your name as rvil, for the Son of man's sake. Rejoice ye in that day, and leap for joy: for, behold, your reward is great in heaven," Luke vi. 22, 33. " How far is it to Canaan ?" sighs the bereaved Christian; "for I am a lonely and desolate pil- grim. All that were dear to me upon earth are taken away. My tears have been my meat day and night, and my soul yearns for the land where there shall be no more death, m itlu r sorrow nor crying." Pass on, bereaved Christian ; the more lonely thy pilgrimage, the more pleasant will be the company of the " shining ours" that await thrr, and the sweeter thy reception at the end of thy c 2 18 HOW FAR IS IT TO CANAAN ? journey. The Lord whom thou seekest, hath a special care and pity for his desolate ones. Take these words with thee, and may they refresh thy spirit. For even though they he desolate " The redeemed of the Lord shall return, and come with singing unto Zion ; and everlasting joy shall he upon their head : they shall obtain glad- ness and joy ; and sorrow and mourning shall flee away," Isa. li. 11. " How far is it to Canaan?" asks the dying Christian ; " for the swellings of Jordan are risen about my soul. ' Fearfulness and trembling are come upon me, and the terrors of death are fallen upon me.' Alas ! I sink in deep waters : I shall not see the land that flows with milk and honey." Look up, poor dying Christian ; for yonder is the bright and morning Star : thy night is far spent, and the day is at hand. Is thine arm too feeble to be put forth for the book of God ? Then I must even hold it up before thine eyes. Look on these words, and let neither flood nor flame affright thee ; be of good courage, for they are the words of Him who has promised, when flesh and heart fail, to be the strength of thy heart, and thy portion for ever : " When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thce ; and through the rivers, they shall uo\\ 19 not overflow tbee : when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned ; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee. For I am the Lord thy God, the Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour," Isa. xliii. J, 3. THE EAIL-ROAD STATION, I HAVE but just returned from the rail-road station, where every one I saw seemed to have ardour in his heart, and hurry in his eye. If we were half as much in earnest in preparing for heaven as we are for our jaunts of pleasure, and our journeys of business, it would be something ! What a bustle pervaded the whole station ! load- ing and unloading, running backwards and for- wards, some going into the carriages, and others coming out, while the rattling vehicles set off and arrived by turns. In the midst of all this bustle, I noticed a man walking coolly along with a tin pan in his hand, greasing the wheels of the carriages. He took no notice of the fine folk or the bustle ; whoever and whatever the people might be, did not appear at all to trouble his head ; whither they came or went, was no business of his ; on he went with his employment ; it was his duty to grease the wheels, and grease the wheels he did. Thinks I to myself, " Here's a lesson for me. THE RAIL-UOAD STATION. 21 This man is but a picture of what I should be," Oh that I had humility and godly integrity enough in my heart to go straight on with my work ! " greasing the wheels," if needs be ! patiently and cheerfully occupying the lowest station assigned me by duty, until it should be said unto me, " Friend, go up higher/' Luke xiv. 10. NOTHING AND SOMETHING. LISTEN to an old man, who, among the multi- plicity of his words, may drop a few not unde- serving your attention. Listen to an old man. There is no way of passing through this world in safety, without having the word of God before our eyes, and the grace of God in our hearts. If this be true, and undoubtedly it is, then the word of God and the grace of God ought to be our daily delight. Now, the word of God and the grace of God both inform us, that we value many things very highly here below, which are of no value and es- timation at all in His eyes who trieth the hearts and the reins of the children of men. Many things which we consider as SOMETHING, are with Him as NOTHING. Among men, it is considered a great and glo- rious thing to lay up riches, and to increase in treasures abundantly ; but the word of God says, "Labour not to be rich; cease from thine own wisdom. Wilt thou set thine eyes upon that NOTHING AND SOMETHING. 23 which is not ? for riches certainly make themselves wings; they fly away as an eagle toward heaven," Prov. xxiii. 4, 5. " What is a man profited, it he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul ?" Matt. xvi. 26. It appears, then, that though riches are SOMETHING among men, they are NOTHING before God. Among men, it is considered especially desir- al.l. to get the friendship of the world; hut the word of God says, "Love not the world, neither tin- things that aiv in thr w.rM. If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him/' 1 John ii. 15. " Know ye not that the friendship of the world is enmity with Godt whosoever therefore will be a friend of the world is the ( n.my of God," Jas. IT. 4. The friendships of the world, then, valuable as they may appear, though they are SOMETHING among men, are NOTHING with God. Among men, it is considered commendable to be thoughtful for the future, and to manifest anxi- ety to provide for themselves and those who shall come after them ; but the word of God forbids all undue desire and anxiety about these things: "Take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or. Wherewithal shall we be clothed ? for your heavenly Father know- eth that ye have need of all these things. But? 24 NOTHING AND SOMETHING. ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteous- ness ; and all these things shall be added unto you/' Matt. vi. 31 33. Among men, these things are SOMETHING, but they are NOTHING with God. It is thought to be an excellent thing among men, to sit in the first places of the synagogue, to make long prayers, and to give money to feed the poor ; but the word of God points to the heart, to the motive of the mind, and considers these things of no avail, unless accompanied with sincere cha- rity. " Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal. Though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be ' burned, and have not cha- rity, it profiteth me nothing," 1 Cor. xiii. 1 3. These things, then, though SOMETHING among men, are NOTHING before God. Living as we do, in a world of sin and sor- row, with temptations without, and a heart of un- belief within us, we are continually underrating what is of great value, and attaching an import- ance to what is worthless ; and it would be almost impossible to point out in how many instances we consider things SOMETHING, which, alas ! are NOTHING. But if riches, and the friendship of the world, and worldly wisdom, and formal prayers, and os- XOTHIN.. AND SOMETHING 1?.'. tentatious almsgiving, are as NOTIIIM; with God ; it Incomes us to consider, what are those things that will he considered SOMETHING in his sight. An humble heart, fervent charity, submission to the will of God, reverence for his holy word, dependence on his precious promises, and an un- reserved confidence in our Lord and Saviour for life and salvation these things let us seek, in His name that is above every name ; for though tin \ may be accounted as NOTHING before men, they are SOMETHING before God, and will be ]>: to be so, when every thing worldly shall become 44 less than NOTHING, and vai HALLELUIAH ! I LOVE to pick a daisy or buttercup in my path, and to stick it in my bosom. Now there are daisies and buttercups to be found in the every day occurrences of life, as fair to look upon as the flowers of the field. There is a text of Holy Scripture which says, " Whether therefore ye eat, or drink, or what- soever ye do, do all to the glory of God," 1 Cor. x. 31. And a letter that I have but just received from a Christian correspondent in the country supplies me with an excellent practical illustra- tion. The whole epistle has in it but four shaft lines ; the last two of these are as follow : "I am going out to dinner. Country delightful. Crops abundant. Halleluiah ! " Now, this is just what I like. Most people know that Halleluiah means, " Praise ye the Lord ;" and we can all of us thank God for great favours, but how few of us put a Halleluiah to the record of our common mercies ! It strikes me that it would be no bad method to find out the HALLELUIAH ! 27 lawfulness of our pleasures, and the spiritual state of our affections, if we were each to ask this question in the midst of erery enjoyment " Can I put up a hearty Halleluiah at the end of it?" THE BOOK OF TIME, IN a melancholy mood I turned over in my fancy, some of the dark pages of the book of time. The volume readily opened where the page was inscribed, " CRIME." It was the record of human deeds ; but demons alone could have prompted them. All that is selfish, designing, dark, and deadly ; all that envy, hatred, malice, and uncharitableness could sug- gest and execute, was registered there. I read, and as I read I trembled ; for earth seemed crying aloud to Heaven to avenge the countless iniquities of mortal men. Hot-headed rage, red-handed murder, and cold-hearted villany, unsparingly pur- sued their wild career. Truly, " out of the heart proceed evil thoughts, murders, adulteries, forni- cations, thefts, false witness, blasphemies," Matt, xv. 19. I hurried through the shadowy para- graphs before me, and turned over the page. " War'* was the heading that I lighted on, and 1 sickened at the sight. War, relentless, bitter, accursed, and cruel, has flung its plagues upon THE BOOK OF TIME. 29 all nations. Fear goes before it, and famine and death tread upon its heels. I read with horror of sieges where fire and sword wasted tlu of battle plains where the war-horse trod fetlock deep in gore ; of bayonets sheathed in human bosoms, and of murderous cannon sweeping down tiu- multitude, as the mower cuts down grass with his scythe. I pressed the leaves together in haste, and opened them at another part. My eye tVll on the word "OPPRESSION." Could it be that man, to whom forbearance and loving-kindness are < nu.illy (xtni.l, .I by the Father of mercies, could practice such remorseless cruelties ! I pondered on the darkened page : the strong had oppressed the weak ; the rich had ground the faces of the poor ; miserable multitudes, unjustly accused, had strrt.-hr.l tin i r fettered limbs in gloomy dungeons ; .nid countless throngs of oppressed fehW with agonizing groans, had perished in slavery. I read no more. I closed the hateful volmnr, and could almost have howled out an annt against human ty. Hut in oj.rnini: the book of life, the gospel of peace, I met with the words, "Thou art inexcusable, O man, whoso- ever thou art that judgest ; for when in thou judgest another, thou condemnest thyself; for thou that judgest doest the same things i. 1. D 2 30 THE BOOK OF TIME. And had my heart within it the germs of these enormities? Yes, in its very core the seeds of sin were thickly set, and matchless grace and im- measurable mercy alone had prevented the acorn from becoming an oak, and the mustard-seed from springing up as the largest of all trees. My mouth was stopped ; my heart was humbled. " Who can understand his errors ? cleanse thou me from secret faults. Keep back thy servant also from presumputous sins ; let them not have dominion over me ; then shall I be upright, and I shall be innocent from the great transgression. Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, my strength, and my Redeemer!" Psalm xix. 1214. THE PLEASANT FIELD. ( )i i> Ilui'.j.l.n y loves a ramble, ami he has been taking one. It was in a pleasant knolly li Id, MM pnrt of which was so covered with cowslip- had a myriad of them been taken away, tin bees that were buzzing from flower to flower would searcely hare missed them. Into that field came suddenly a party of young people ; children from three years old to seven, boys and girls, with ruddy cheeks, sparkling eyes, and hearts running over with happiness. Tlirir hint could scarcely control tin in : indeed, she l.ar.lly appeared to wish so to do, but rat I leave them to their own wild <1 li-ln. Like lambs suddenly let loose from tl>. y hurst into the field, wonder and joy beaming rv face. What running, racing, and i ing! What laughing, hallooing, and gumboil in.; ! It was long before they were so) T enough to r the flowerets <{ui< rtily did I give them my blessing, for my heart yearned towards tj, ; ,t th'-y imJit not be happy that hour 32 THE PLEASANT FIELD. only, but that God would satisfy them early with his mercy, that they might rejoice and be glad all their days. I love to look on a scene like this, Of wild and careless play, And persuade myself that I am not old, And my locks are not yet grey : For it stirs the blood in an old man's heart, And it makes his pulses fly, To catch the thrill of a happy voice. And the light of a pleasant eye. mi: BALD-HEADED SEXTON. LISTEN, ye thoughtless young topers ! Listen, ye hoary-headed swill-pots, to Old Ilunipl (..!> <>t the Bald-headed Sexton. 44 See yonder maker of the dead man's bed. The sexton, hoary-headed chronicler I Of hard, an mean ing face, down which ne'er stole A gentle tear, with mattock in his band, Dig through whole rows of kindred and acquaintance, By far his junior* I Scarce a skull's east up, Hut well he knew its owner, and can tell Some passage of his life. Thus baud in hand The sot has walked with death twice twenty years. And yet ne'er younker on the green laughs louder, i hi a smuttier tale. When drunkards meet, Hone sings a merrier catch, or lends a hand More ready to bis cup. Poor wretch ! he minds not That soon some trusty brother of the trade Shall do for him what he has usands," 34 THE BALD-HEADED SEXTON. Abel Austin was about twelve years old, when, in the season of autumn, he went on a visit to a little village in the west. Not being accustomed to the country, every object was interesting to him. He walked across the green, and sat on the bench under the trees, where the aged people of the village, at the going down of the sun, often got together, and talked of days gone by. He stood at the door of the blacksmith's shop, while the bellows blew up the roaring fire, and hundreds of sparkles fled in all directions from the red-hot iron as it was hammered on the anvil. He called at the cottages, talked with the labour- ing men, as he met them going to or returning from their work, rambled about the green fields, and lingered in the churchyard among the old tombstones. One afternoon, he was walking from one green hillock to another in the churchyard, when he came to an old tombstone, almost covered over with moss, so much so that it cost him no little trouble to read what was written on it. A loud and mournful toll sounded from the belfry just as he had scraped away enough of the moss to be enabled to read the verse. The words were as follow : THE BALD-HEADED SEXTON. 35 Didst hear the toll Of that sad solemn bell ? It said, -A soul Is gone to heaven or hell." The solemn words would hardly have been passed by at any time by Abel Austin without a pause ; but the tolling of the bell made them ap- pear more striking than they otherwise would have been. Abel stood looking at the old stone, and once more he read the inscription. All this while the old bald-headed sexton was throwing out the earth from a grave he was dig- ging. For a time Abel saw his hands, wh< lifted them up above his head to throw out tin* dirt ; but presently he got so low, that the spade only could be seen, and at last the earth was thrown out without even the spade being visible. When the sexton got out of the grave, Abel went up to talk with him. " Who is going to be buried here ?" said he. 41 A man that was old enough to be my fat 1 replied the sexton, as he threw a spadeful of earth over a leg bone, which had been thrown cut of the grave, and then patted it down. ' but what he had died long ago," continued hi- ; " then there would have been more room for the rest of us." 36 THE BALD-HEADED SEXTON. Here again the sexton struck the edge of his spade on something embedded in the mould ; it was a skull, and the unfeeling manner in which he struck it, and covered it over, showed that his employment as a gravedigger had somewhat hard- ened his heart. " I knows whose skull that is," said he. " Many a pot o 5 beer has Joe Lakin and me had together ; but he must have been dead these five-and-twenty years ago. He was a rare 'un at the tankard, and kept It up as well as here and there one ; but, in a drunken fit, he, some how, got down to the mill- dam, and there he was drowned." Here the bell, which had stopped for some time, most likely through the inattention of the lad iu the belfry, again sounded in a solemn manner. It went to the heart of Abel Austin ; but the bald-headed gravedigger thought nothing about the matter. " When Joe was alive," continued the sexton, as he put his hand into the armholes of his red waistcoat to throw it over his head, for he had been working without his waistcoat and his jacket " When Joe was alive, there was jolly work with us at the Malt Shovel. Him, and I, and the black- smith were cronies, and we had been drinking together the night that Joe got drowned. When he was almost done up, I challenged him to an- THE BAIJ>-IIEADED SEXTON. 37 other mug, and that settled him. He got out of his way in going home, and tlu-u iVH, as I said, into the mill pool. He might 1. alter lurk ; but we can't live for t The lines on the tombstone, the tolling of the bell, and the opened grave, had disposed Abel to serious thought ; and the profane, unfeeling con- versation of the bald-headed sexton made him shudder. The careless way in which he had struck the skull of his old companion seemed to n; to cruelty, and especially when it was consi that he was, in some measure, the cause ot In* untin. Abel Austin was so struck with tin- hardheart- eduess of the sexton, that he could not speak to him another word. He did, it b nd to say something, and the verse on the old t stone was on the tip of his tongue ; but the s< the shining bald head, having stuck hat all on one side, and thrown his blue jacket OfW his shoulder, walked whistling towards the bt-lfry door, with his spade m !.;-> 1 n Abel i had much Ui say about hi> oumtrv u-it. He talked of the li'.ux , the neat cottages, the blacksmith'* the village green, the pleasant fields, and . nor did he forget to speak of the ueaded sexton. But it is wonderful how 38 THE BALD-HEADED SEXTON. soon impressions wear away from the minds of young people. They are like the words written on the snow, or on the sand of the sea- shore, which the heat of the sun, or the returning tide, al- together destroys. What with his books and his playmates, and one thing or other, Abel, in a little time, had forgotten the solemn lines on the stone ; and even the bald-headed sexton was no more remembered. Winter came, with its frosts and snows ; spring arrived, with its flowers and singing birds ; summer spread its grateful influence around ; and autumn, abundant autumn, again visited the land, adorn- ing it with loaded fruit-trees and crops of golden grain. Once more Abel Austin went to spend a little time at the village. Old scenes bring back to our remembrance many things which we had forgotten ; and this was the case with Abel. The sight of the village church directly brought with it the figure of the bald- headed sexton. The very first walk that Abel took, after his arrival at the village, was to the churchyard ; where, as he entered the little gate at the corner, he again heard the bell toll. He walked up to the old grave-stone, and found the inscription in much the same state as he had left it, save that the moss was gradually filling up the letters. Though he ADED SEXTON. 39 had not thought about the verse, it agaiu came into his memory even before he read it on the stone. lie had not mused long at the spot, when he saw at a distance a man coming across the green hillocks, with a spade and a long iron borer on his shoulder. He came np within a few yards ot the old tombstone ; and then, putting down his spade, he began to bore into the ground with the long iron rod, that he might know whether there was a coffin or not where he was about to dig a grave. In a short time he set to work in earnest to dig a full-sized grave. Abel Austin drew near to ask after the bald- headed sexton, for his mind misgave hi :n likely he might have died since his last i are not the gravedigger that was here last year," said h< , a. M resting the man ." was i'lv, " and you'll not see him agni Old bald-headed Nokes has done his day's work at last, and I am now digging his grave. He took a mug too much at the Malt Shovel on Saturday night, and l.rukr hi> neck in MI. from the bank side into the hollow way. He has covered up many a one in his time, and 1*11 cover him up now." ili<- bell tolled again, ulnl- the gravedigger made this careless, profane remark; and Abel 40 THE BALD-HEADED SEXTON. Austin, with a shudder, turned his eyes to the old gravestone, and walked thoughtfully away, re- peating the lines, Didst hear the toll Of that sad solemn bell? It said, " A soul Is gone to heaven or hH." TURN YOUR TELESCOPE. M I will lift up mine eyes unto the bills from whenct cometh my help,** Psa.cz xi. 1. WHEN a child, I caught up a telescope to M< w more distinctly a distant object, but soon found myself worse off than ever ; for the obj. question appeared smaller at r <>tY than before. "Turn your telescope!" said a friuui, who was standing at my elbow: "turn telescope ; for you are looking through the wrong end of it. When the telescope is turn. . I, matters will be mended." Christian, art thou dismayed in thinking h<>w little and how changeable thy love is to God ? In telescope ; for things will only get worse thine eye is fixed where it now is: look through the other < u:: 1 oration. tongue has set more peop! can, : 1 the peace of more families, and done more mischief in the world, than nil the hitrlm that were ever hung. He that sets his m-iulihour's : lei n lire with a tukrn up and >r his lift- ; l>ni he that i nil-lines the I. of his ;.-* u ith his tongue is allowed to go free. Sometimes he propagates the lie of his own :ig, and sometimes the unfounded r, going forth with the poison of asps un.i.-r his lips ; and covers over ing, lying, and slandering, with t) excuse, that lie has " heard it said so." Whrii a house is on fire, though the flame ihr floors, wraps j-.mnd tin- walls, and rages among the rafters, you may arrest its oss with a water-engine ; or you may restrain 44 THE TONGUE. it from setting other houses on fire ; or, even if it should burn down a whole street, a village, or a town, there is an end to it : but where is the end to the raging of the tongue ? " The tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity," James iii. 6. It spreads far and wide, it compasses sea and land, and no engine can repress its power. Of all con- flagrations, there is none so rapid, wide-spread- ing, and destructive, as the conflagration of the tongue. The sword is a deadly instrument, and many are the mighty that it has laid low ; yet it is not half so deadly as the tongue. The teeth of the sons of men "are spears and arrows, and their tongue a sharp sword," Psa. Ivii. 4. Where one has been injured by the sword, a hundred have been wounded by the tongue. The sword pro- voketh to momentary contention ; but the tongue, by its grievous words, stirs up lasting anger, envy, hatred, malice, and uncharitableness. Fierce are the wild beasts of the forest, when pressed by hunger ; for they spare not, neither show pity to the traveller that falls in their way. Savage are the wolf, the hyena, and the tiger ; mighty is the elephant, and terrible the lion, the monarch of the woods ; but these are not so fierce as the tongue, nor so untameable, for they may be subdued and made gentle as the lamb : " Every TONGUE. -1.5 kind of beasts, and of birds, and of serpent- of tilings in tbe sea, is tamed, and hath been tamed of mankind : but tbe tongue can no man tame," James iii. 7, '3. idful is the plague when the leprous spot spreads in the flesh. When the infections I) ntaminraing touch conspire to carry on the pestilence through the crowded mini; and lamentations increase, desolation and < abound; but ti health, peace, and r. Death n re in the power of the tongue;" it wounds not only the body, but tbe spirit. It not only injures the -, but blasts with its pestilential poison the character of the dead. "What shall be don< thou false tongue ?" The flame, the sword, the wild beast, and the pestilence, all top do not half so much injury to mankind as the tongue. Our prayer should go forth in the morn- ing, and be again repeated at eventide, " Lord, ,u my heart, and k : >ngue from evil." God hateth "a proud look" and "a lying tongue;" " )>nt the tongue of the wise is health. 1 >rd, who shall abide in thy tabernacle ? who shall dwell in thy hf-ly hill .' lie that walketh up- rightly, and worketh righteousness, and speak . th the truth in his heart. He that :u nut 46 THE TONGUE. with his tongue, nor doeth evil to his neighbour, nor taketh up a reproach against his neighbour," Psa. xv. 13. O God, thy goodness and thy love Preserve the old and young: Lead thou my wandering heart above, And guard and guide my tongue. T11K CORNCRAKE. WHEN walking abroad in the country, it is not one thing, but everything, that seeems to set forth a lesson of instruction. Every tree of the field, every branch of the tree, every spray of the branch, and every leaf of the spray, appears to address Ol ney. One evening, on returning home through some fields of mowing grass, I stopped short on hearing the noise of the landrail, or corncrake, so called from the well-known sound it so constantly utters. Many a time bad I listened to the corncrak. compared its noise to the creaking of a thick branch in the winds; and many a time had I Imntt-d in vain to find it. But this time it seemed close at hand. "Just by that sprig of green sorrel," said myself, as I tripped over the grass, " I shall find hut no such thing! When I got tin : ; was in (juite a different direction. Still I followed the sound, and still was I dr Now it was behind, and then before me ; now to 48 THE CORNCRAKE. the right hand, and then to the left ; hut all of no use : the moment I reached one place, the sound was iu another. Repeated disappointments brought me back to the beaten patn. I did not discover that evening where the corncrake was ; but I found out, to a certainty, many places where it was not. Perhaps, reader, you may have been as much disappointed in your search after happiness, as I was in my search after the corncrake ; and per- haps, too, like me, you have been glad to get back again to the spot whence you first set out. I was led by the corncrake a long dance through the mowing grass ; and if you are pursuing earthly happiness, you will be led a long dance too. Hundreds of us have made up our minds to be happy : we have felt sure that if we could do this, or get that, or obtain the other, we should have little else to wish for ; but we may as well join in a chase after the corncrake, as after happiness in worldly things ; for we are just as likely to catch the one as to get possession of the other. We have countless blessings to be grateful for ; but the words spoken by the Redeemer to his dis- ciples were not, "In the world ye shall be happy," but, " In the world ye shall have tribulation." It will be wise, then, to let the corncrake happiness of the world deceive us no longer, whether we THE CORNCRAKE. 49 hear it afar off, or whether it appears within our reach. Let us give up the fruitless chase, and seek peace only in Christ, confidently looking forward to enjoy final and complete hap; in His presence, where there is "fulness of joy" and "pleasures for evermore." SING FOE JOY, As the trumpeter does more on the field of battle with his trumpet, by animating his com- rades, than he could do with his sword ; so I, being a poor singer, may do more by exhorting others to sing, than by singing myself : f ' O sing unto the Lord a new song : sing unto the Lord, all the earth. Sing unto the Lord, bless his name ; show forth his salvation from day to day," Psa. xcvi. 1, 2. Sing, pardoned sinner ! for thy Saviour is called to his heavenly throne. He who died for thee is to be thy Judge. What, then, hast thou to fear ? Thou once wast at enmity with God ; but now thou art reconciled by thine adorable Redeemer. Thou once wast in bondage ; but now thou art at liberty, and canst exult in the hope of everlasting life. Sing, sinner ! for thy mourning is turned into joy, and thy fear of hell exchanged for the hope of heaven. Sing, soldier of the cross ! for the Captain of thy salvation has obtained the victory. The ene- FOR JOT. 51 mies were proud and high ; but they are humbled and brought low. Thou wast a prisoner ; but thy ransom is paid. Sing, soldier ! for though thou wast a rebel fighting under the standard of sin, now thou art a true and faithful soldier of Jesus Christ, conquering under the banner of the cross. Sing, sojourner of the desert ! for the heat and bur.lrn of the day are well nigh past. T! thou hast been ; but now thou hast rivers of water in a dry place. The sun has sorely smitten t but now thou hast the shadow of a great rock in * weary land. Sing, sojourner of the desert! for the promised land is in view, and thou shalt enter with joy into thine everlasting in); Sing, weary pilgrim ! for thy crooked paths are made straight, and thy rough places plain. The burden of sin that oppressed thee is taken from thy back, and laid upon another who alone has power to bear it. A staff is given thee to support thy steps ; a cordial to revive thy heart. Tl shall no more kindle upon thee, nor the waters overflow thee. Sing, pilgrim 1 for the g<>l.|. n gates of the heavenly city are open, and thy Saviour waits to receive thee Sing, Christian! for thou hast cause. Thy Leader and thy Lord is near to heal thy w<> to dry thy sorrows, and to supply all thy wants out of the riches of his grace. Art thou weak ? he will 52 SING FOR JOY. strengthen thee ; ignorant ? he will instruct thee ; cast down ? he will raise thee up, and support thee. Sing, then, in time ; for hou wilt soon sing a new song in eternity ! Sing, pardoned sinner ! Sing, soldier of the cross ! Sing, sojourner of the desert ! Sing, weary pilgrim ! and sing, Christian ! for you have cause for singing. " O come, let us sing unto the Lord : let us make a joyful noise to the Rock of our sal- vation. Let us come before his presence with thanksgiving, and make a joyful noise unto him with psalms. For the Lord is a great God, and a great King above all gods," Psa. xcv. 1 3. THE HOLLY BUSH, IT signifies but little whether we take for our subject the cedar of Lebanon, or the the house wall, so that we turn the matter to a good account. Listen, then, to old Humphrey on the holly bush. The morning was frosty, and the leafless trees hung with icicles, when the red berries of a holly bush attracted the attention of an idiot boy. He scrambled through the prickly barrier, and seized on the tempting fruit; but found it hitter to his taste, and surrounded with thorns. His hat fell from his head, his hands tingled with pain, his clothes were torn, and his face was covered with scratches. And how many a misguided wretch, in the pur- f pleasure, has been robbed of his patrimony, stung by his conscience, torn by his false friends, and lacerated by the unkindness of the world ! The man of the world is an idiot boy, and worldly pleasure at best but an holly bush. The idiot boy had forgotten his disappointment, rl 54 THE HOLLY BUSH. when the sky was suddenly obscured, and a mo- mentary storm descended on his head. Instead of enduring the temporary inconvenience, he thought- lessly increased his misfortunes by taking shelter in the holly bush. How parallel with the rashness of thoughtless humanity ! When visited by the sudden blast of calamity or misfortune, hasty and petulant under our afflictions, though wounded by the world a thousand and a thousand times, we yet run to that world for comfort and security ! Why, we might as well take shelter in a holly bush. Mark how quarrelsome this bush appears : ever alive to the slightest insult, it pardons no fault, it forgives no injury, but immediately punishes the wilful or inadvertent offender. Ah, my friends! in this sharpness of disposition, this quickness to revenge our supposed grievances, we all too much resemble the holly bush. But let us take a nearer view of the holly bush. What a rattling it makes when disturbed by the winds ! How rudely the boughs rustle against their brother branches, and how sharply are the leaves of the same spray pointed against each other ! I could think of the opposing interests of the world its wars, its rumours, its commotions ; nation set against nation, and kingdom against HOLLY r 55 kingdom ; the party spirit of towns, the scandal lages, and the feuds of private qm-ntly branches of the same family, at variance < ach other. I could think of those things, I say, until I regarded the whole world as a holly bush. And what are its inhabitants? Evergreens in appearance, glossy in thrir expressions, soft and silky in their professions ; but, desire their golden fruit, stand in need of their assistance, r tii* in for protection, lean on them for support, and you will confess with bitterness that man, than a holly bush. But let us consider : the bitterest herb may be grateful to the smell, the most brackish water prove medicinal ; and something surely may be said in favour of the holly bush. 1 1 is tenacious of its rights, and jealous of its liberties; but it never attacks the liberties of others. It is ever ready to defend itself, In it is never known to be the aggressor. Nations may It learn wisdom from the holly bush. It is grateful in the darkest seasons ; it repines not at the wintry winds ugh cold its place, though lone iu lot, Ii buJg, it bean, it murmurs not; but in the bleakest storms and rudest blasts looks cheerfully towards the skies ; and the fruit of 56 THE HOLLY BUSH. gratitude at the darkest season is abundant on its branches. And can we learn nothing from the holly bush ? Perhaps the little spray that I now hold in my hand was among the topmost branches of its pa- rent tree, and bore its blushing honours thick upon its aspiring head, defying the wintry blast, and exulting in security ; but it was untimely severed from the place where it grew, it was cut down in the glory of its youth : And we may endure the rude ravage of time, And exult, though the loud howling tempest may roar; And we, too, may fall in the midst of our prime, And the place that now knows us may know us no more. TIIK (II HI MIAN'S LEVER, " If yc have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain, Remove hence to yonder place, and it shall remove ; and nothing shall be impossible onto yon," Matt xvii. 20. A CHRISTIAN will willingly get good from every thing, and a lever may help him to a able reflection. The lever may be regarded as a simp!, instru- ment ; but the right knowledge of its power, and its proper mode of application, was a u Covery. A rhilt!, hy means - pf, "ill the work of a man. Christian ! say not thou art come to a stand, though the mountains of the tower up to the skies in thy way. Lay hold of the lever that God has !, use of his p. K PRAYER OF I II II : Christian's mir . The right use of I would speak with humility as well as boldness, will hnth bring Christ down to thce, and raise THE DIVER, IT is a pleasant thing, when pilgrims are travel- ling the same road together, to beguile the time by the relation of their past adventures. A Zion- bound pilgrim lately gave me an interesting his- tory, in nearly the following words : " Often, in the days of my youth, have I gazed on fragments of ruddy coral, goodly shells and pearls, costly stones and curious sea-weed, and thought of those wrestlers of the ocean, who dive down to the caverns of the deep in search of pearls. " The wild wonders of the ocean, explored by the pearl-diver, in his painful struggles to win the treasures of the raging ocean, have been at such seasons present with me ; the broken ship and half-buried anchor ; the monsters of the world of waters ; the sharp, craggy rock ; the deep, dark cavern ; the glittering spar ; the sparkling gem, and light reflecting pearl : ' They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters : these see the works of the Lord, and his THE DIYER. 59 wonders in the deep;' and he who pursues the wild and life-wasting calling of a diver, has scenes of terror and beauty presented to his eyes that others never saw. 1 speak of these things feel- ingly, for I myself have been a diver ; but do not mistake me. Pearls though I have, costly beyond all price, yet they were not brought up from the mighty deep : listen, and you shall hear my re- lation. " For twenty years of my life, I was a diver in books, and brought up stores of knowledge to me were prizahle, gems of thought and costly pearls of reflection : but all this time I was as nun -h a stranger to myself as I was to the bottom of the sea. I sought my own pleas ur -, I i lighted to hear some new thing, and to see some new sight ; but there was one sight I could never see, and that was, the sinfulness of my own heart. " One sabbath day, as I sat in the house of God, it pleased II 9] to take of the things spoken by a zealous and faithful minister < gospel, and apply them with power to my soul. The word of the Lord was 'quick and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, > tlu- dividing asunder of soul and spirit, ntul of the joints and marrow/ and was ' discen thoughts mul intents of tin h. art .* The man of God seemed to smite me ' with the 60 THE D1VF.K. rod of his mouth,' and to dash me in pieces ( like a potter's vessel. That sermon, for the first time in my life, set me diving into my own bosom. I descended, not altogether unattended by the light of His Spirit, who will 'search Jerusalem with candles,' into the deep caverns of my own evil heart. What I found there, I will not make known, nor attempt to describe the terrors that filled my soul at the discovery. Blessed be th3 God of mercy ! in my distress I became a diver in the Scriptures of eternal truth ; and, though for a long time I was unsuccessful, through his good- ness who hath measured the waters in the hollow of his hand, I became possessed of the pearl of repentance, and cried out, ' God be merciful to me a sinner !' Luke xviii. 14. " Though I then possessed a gem more pre- cious than the gold of Ophir, in the pearl of re- pentance, yet for a long time I knew not the value of it, nor felt any comfort in its possession, until one day a kind friend, by his encouraging and Christian counsel, set me diving again, no longer into the troubled sea of my own guiltiness, nor the dark, frowning waves of God's holy law, but into the boundless ocean of the everlasting promises of the gospel. Another pearl was then added to my treasure, and that was the pearl of hope ; so that I was enabled to rejoice in the PIVER. 61 blessed assurance of Him who spake as never man spake : ' Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out,' John \ i. " The time came, however, when I left off to ' do business in great waters ;' for thing*- smoothly and well with me. I began to think, with David, that the Lord had made my moun- tain to stand so fast, that I sh r )>c moved.' I began to be less careful, and then was less prayerful, in my heavenly walk. This care- lessness and self re by degrees broui great backsliding of heart, and barrenness of soul ; ami where it would have ended, I cannot t.-ll : hut it pleased a faithful God, who had set his love t me with the rod. The dark clouds of nee gathered above me, and a heavy broke over my head. One dearer far to me than my own life was suddenly snatched away, a lonely pilgrim on the earth. i was my soul overwhelmed within me ; and, being exceedingly tossed in the tempest of aftl v cry was, ' All thy waves and thy billows are gone over me I ' Again I became a ami, in the deep waters of adversity, by the mercy of a covenant God, who made all these ;* to work together for my eternal good, the pearl of submission was added to my treasures s 62 THE DIVER. 'The Lord gave,* said I, and the Lord hath taken away ; blessed be the name of the Lord.' " In this * great deep,' I saw more of the works of the Lord and his wonders than I had ever known before. He made all his goodness to pass before me, and showed me wherefore he contended with me. I had departed from him. I had left my * first love.' I had joined myself unto idols, arid mine eyes were turned earthward ; but in these deep waters the Lord lifted them up, and then I saw ' no man, save Jesus only.' Two other pearls were obtained through mercy the pearls of love, and of Christian assurance. Yes ! when the winds and waves were stilled, there was ' a great calm ;' and in that calm my soul could say unto the Lord, not only, * Whom have I in heaven but thee ? ' but also, ' There is none upon earth that I desire beside thee.' These, then, are some of the pearls which, through mercy, I possess. " I must now say a few words about one pearl which I have kept back till the last, because, in comparison thereof, all the pearls I have spoken of are worthless as the small dust of the earth ; and, as my Lord knows how apt I am by my wayward- ness to lose or injure the pearls and ornaments in my possession, he bus placed this one Pearl of pearls, which is the sum and substance of all my THE DIVER. 63 wealth, in so secure and exalted a place, that it is utterly impossible for the bitterest of my enemies, either on earth or in. hell, to touch it. God has placed this inestimable treasure 'far above all principality, and power, and might, and dominion,* even in heaven itself, at the right hand ot iiis eternal throne. Yes, this precious ' Pearl of great price ' is the Lord Jesus Christ, my sacrifice and my Saviour, the eternal and ererlasting God, who, by the offering up of myself, has purchased for me an inheritance in the kingdom of his Father, where I shall be with him for ever and ever. THE SAVINGS BANK. IT may seem hard to a servant when she gets her wages paid her, to go directly and put it into the savings bank. It may seem hard to her at the time ; and, if she be of an impatient disposition, she may think to herself, "Is it not foolish in me to go and pay away my money as fast as I earn it ? While other people are sporting their new ribands and laces, here I go and put my money out of sight, in this great house, and for a long time hear no more of it." But, by-and-by, when a time of need comes, a time of sickness or misfortune, she goes again to the savings bank, and finds it a very great comfort to be able to draw out the means of helping her through her necessity. The impatient Christian, or even the patient but faint-hearted Christian, is often inclined to cry out that he hears nothing of his prayers. " While the worldly-minded around me are at ease," says he, "my prayers are mingled with my tears day and night at the footstool of my God ; but I hear no more of them." Alas ! he is for a moment THE SAVINGS BANK. 65 tempted to say, " I have cleansed my heart in vain :" but, by-and-by, comes a time of great trial, a heavy affliction, a sore bereavement, a painful sickness, or he is brought down to the gates of death ; and then the Lord is a wall of fire around about him, fills his heart with heavenly peace and resignation, and gives him "a happy issue" out of all his afflictions. Then he finds that his heavenly Treasurer has not overlooked the faint- est sigh that escaped his breast, but was only melting the profits of it until the most suitable time of need. THE BLACKSMITH, " Behold, I have created the smith that bloweth the coals in the fire, and that bringeth forth an instrument for his work," Isa. liv. 16. I WAS once overtaken by a wintry storm, and was fain to take refuge in the shop of a blacksmith. Fancy to yourself Old Humphrey standing upon the high hearth, with his head part of the way up the broad chimney, the bright flame shining full on his face ! What an animating scene is a blacksmith's shop ; all noise, blaze, and bustle ! The black- smith takes a piece of iron, burns it in the fire until it is sufficiently malleable ; then puts it upon the anvil, and beats it about, until it is formed into the shape for which it is intended : perhaps a horse-shoe, a hoe, or a pickaxe ; which is brought forth from the blacksmith's shop ready for service. The people of God are sometimes sorely tried by their worldly-minded neighbours, who are set against them. It is natural to feel angry with those who thus afflict and oppose them ; but THE BLACKSMITH. 67 Christians should check these feelings, with such a thought as the following: "How do I know what service my heavenly Father has designed me to do for him ? These very people, though I them such troubles to my soul, may be smiths blowing the coals in the fiiv. Ti.-y may be modelling me under his superintendence, and bringing me forth an instrument prepared for hi* uae." THE BOG ON THE SCOTTISH BORDER, IF you have never suffered from high-minded- ness, your experience has been very different from that of Old Humphrey. It is but a comical figure that a man cuts in crossing a moor on horseback, on the Scottish border, if he happens to be con- fident in his own judgment, and unaccustomed to moorland travel. Too proud to drag along at the heels of his mounted guide, he bravely leaps on to a patch of dark brown heather, which he takes to be hard and dry, when his horse sinks into the* treacherous bog up to the girths, and he himself is literally bespattered with mud. Well ! there is no help for it ; and, if he has obtained nothing else that is likely to be of service to him, he has, at least, gained the benefit of experience. Again proceeding onwards, carefully avoiding every dark brown patch within his view, he makes for a strip of bright green herbage, near the bot- tom of the hill, nothing doubting that there he THE BOO ON THE SCOTTISH BORDER. 69 shall find firm footing. Alas! he is now worse off than before. His steed is knee-deep in a plash y moss, occasioned by a spring from the mountain side, and he himself is thrown over his head into the wet grass and y idling mire. Crawl* ing through the mud and water, and thoroughly cured of his self-confidence, he submits his own judgment to that of another. Once more mount- ing his affrighted steed, he follows his guide with all the humility of a beaten spaniel, and arrives nicy's end without any additional ca- lami here not much in this description akin to the boggling and floundering of a backsliding Chris- tian, when forsaking the guidance of God, and fol- lowing for a season the devices and desires of his own heart T Oh! what muddy bogs, what miry sloughs, does he get into ; and what a spectacle to men and angels does he present ! But no sooner is his heart humbled, no sooner does he patiently submit to the guidance of his heavenly Father, than he gets again into the right road : " I waited patiently fur the Lord ; and he im -linl unto me, and heard my cry. He brought me up also out of an horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and established my goings. And he hath put a new song in my mouth praise unto our God : many shall see it, and fear, 70 THE BOG ON THE SCOTTISH BORDER. and shall trust in the Lord," Psa. xl. 1 3. He no longer wishes to take the lead, but humbly and gratefully cries out to his Leader and Lord, " Thou shalt be my rock and my refuge," Psa. Ixii. 7 ; " Thou shalt guide me with thy counsel, and after- ward receive me to glory/' Psa. Ixxiii. 24. TREES AND PLANTS. WHAT an interesting page in the volume of creation is that of plants, and shrubs, and trees ! I loved to look on it in my childhood, and I delight to linger on it in my age. Of all plants that flourish in the wild garden of the woods and commons, you will surely not find one more curious and beautiful than the fern. But it is not its curiosity nor its beauty of which I am now going to speak, but a cha- racteristic it possesses in common with many, indeed with most other plants and trees, and one that possibly you may not have observed. When you next meet with a fine fern plant in your country rambles, take out your pencil, and make a rough sketch of the shape and character of the plant as it grows. Break then one branch from off the stem, and observe how precisely it will bear the leading fea- tures of the whole plant : you hold in your hand a complete fern, but of smaller dimensions. Strip off then one feathery spray from the branch, and 72 TREES AND PLANTS. there is still a complete bush, bearing all the marks of the parent tree. Pull off the spray one little sprout of green, and still you have a fern bush in miniature. The peculiarity I have mentioned may be traced, though not marked quite so strongly, in the holly tree, the fir tree, the sycamore, and also in large trees : the branch, the spray, and the leaf of the oak, the elm, the poplar, and the willow, all bear the image and character of the whole tree. Christian, canst thou not apply this, in some way or other, to thine own advantage ? Is it not written, that He whom thou servest is the Head, and his people are the members ? That he is the true Vine, and his followers are the branches ? Pursue for a moment this thought. Perhaps it may be found that the church of Christ, the whole family of God, bears Christ's image, not as a body only, but as individuals ; and that as a single leaf bears the likeness of the branch, and the branch the likeness of the tree, so a single member of the church bears the image of the whole church, and the whole church the image of Christ. Thus, then, Christ is the Tree, the church is a branch ; a Christian congregation or family is a spray, and a disciple of Jesus is a leaf. WHY IS IT! " WHY is it !" said a friend of mine. " How comes it to pass that the people who love this world leave the people who love God so much to th.mselves? God's children arc lovely in their conduct, nnd full of kindness even to their ene- mies. Why, then, does the world look shy at :.r " There are many reasons,*' replied I ; " for ' the friendship of the world is enmity with God/ James iv. 4 ; hut I will give you one. Listen to me, and I will tell you a story. Some time ago, I spent a few days with a young friend, a relation of mine, who was about to put on her bridal robe. Now, 1 loved her ; for she was a timid, gentle, and amiable maiden : but, for the first tim in my life, I was tired of her company. She told me all about her intended marriage, and there was no cud to the subject. There was one thought in her head, one name on her lip, and one lo\o in her heart. How they met, when they parted, and where they met again, with the ups and the downs, 74 WHY IS IT ? the doubts and the fears, the sunshine and the shade, which they had passed through all was told me. I can hear much ; but this I could not bear, for there was no end to it ! "To change the subject, I spoke of God's glo- rious creation of gay flowers and of green leaves, of sun, moon, and stars ; but it was useless : there was not a flower that looked to the fair face of heaven, not a leaf that fluttered in the wind, but it reminded her of something of that one never- ending subject. The sun, moon, and stars seemed only remembered by her as having lighted up the skies under which she had walked with her lover. There was, as I said before, one thought in her head, one name on her lip, and one love in her heart. I grew weary of my amiable relative, and I left her to herself. " Now, lovely as God's children are, kind, good, and gentle as they are, it is not much to be won- dered at that they should be deserted ; for they are almost always dwelling on one subject. The love of God is their continual theme ; when once it is begun, there is no end to it : they have one thought in their heads, one name on their lips, and one love in their hearts : ' The rolling orbs proclaim in heaven His goodness every hour, And glowing proofs of love are given In every leaf and flower.' WHY IS IT? r." Worldly people have so many subjects to occupy their attention, that they caifnot be confined so much to this one, and therefore it is that they leave God's people to themselves." A PEECIOUS PROMISE, THOUGH you may not, like me, have grey hairs on your head, yet you may have made the re- mark, that there are many of the comforts of this life suited only to particular seasons and circum- stances : some for summer, and some for winter ; some for day, and some for night ; some for health, and some for sickness : hut the precious portions and promises of the Book of Truth seem calculated for all times, and for all situations in which we can be placed. Let us take up one of them : " There re- maineth therefore a rest to the people of God," Heb. iv. 9. What a blessed portion is this for the soul that hungers after righteousness ! What a blessed expectation for the weary pilgrim who is toil-worn, and faint with his journey ! What a blessed haven for the tempest-tossed Christian mariner! What a sustaining staff ! What a firm rock to tread on ! What a blessed encouragement to the discouraged, to be assured, notwithstanding A I'liKdOUS PROMi 77 fear and every disappointment, that " there ncth a rest to the people of God!" Are you one of these people? Have you the mark in the forehead .' the token in the heart ? the witness in the spirit ' Rejoice, then, with exceeding great joy. You may have been buf- feted, and you may be buffeted again. Weary you may be of worldly toil and trouble, and weary you will be ; but what of that ! The hand of the il has graven the sentence, "There re- nmincth therefore a rest to the people of < a i i.l f h.'f rest shall assuredly be yours. l is a precious portion and promise for the beginning or the latter end of the year. It \\ill do for the spring, tbe summer, the autumn, and the winter. It is an elixir of life, tha? without injury in nil eli mates, and may be taken at night or morning with equal advantage : nay, it may be a comforting cordial to you every h -.Mi- day, and every minute of the hour. Let come what will, riches or poverty, health or sick- ness, joy or sorrow, life or death, the promise still holds good, TL re rernaiiieth therefore a rest to the people of God." ii J THE CRAZY MAN AND HIS WATCH. A POOR crazy fellow, one day, on finding his watch half an hour too slow, insisted upon it that the sun had gone down that evening half an hour sooner than it ought to have done ; when a sober- minded neighbour of his assured him, that, be that as it might, he would find it wiser and easier to regulate his watch by the sun, than to attempt to order the sun's revolutions by his watch. How many conceited Socialists, how many vain- glorious Deists, and how many proud Atheists, are acting as this poor crazy man acted ! Poor, pur- blind, mortal creatures would do well to remem- ber, when cavilling at the word and works of Al- mighty God, that it is much more likely, than the contrary, that Wisdom, Power, and Goodness, should be right, and that ignorance, weakness, in- firmity and folly, should be wrong. THE BANIAN TREE. WHAT a mercy it is, when our faith and tmtanls the Redeemer are strong enough to en- able us, like the bee that gathers honey alike from the rose and the thistle, to gather instruction, comfort, and encouragement, from every around us ! Then it is that we can rejoice " with joy unspeakable," in the midst of manifold bleat- ing* ; then it is that - Meekly, humbly, bending low, Amid oar griefs we kist the rod; And find, in every earthly woe. The mingled mercies of our God.** On reading, the other day, an account <>t tin Banian tree, I was struck with the com|>arison whieh might be made between this tree, and tin- Immhle and sincere Christian, who lives a life of faith in the Son of God, and seeks not only to know, but to do his will. The Banian tree is found in more beauty and tion in the scorching clime of India, than in 80 THE BANIAN TREE. other places. It is sometimes called the Burr tree, or Indian fig, and is different from any tree that grows in England. Each tree is in itself a grove, and sometimes spreads to an amazing ex- tent ; hardly ever decaying while the earth affords it sustenance. Every branch from the main body throws out its own roots several yards from the ground : these, at first, are thin, slender fibres ; but they grow thicker until they reach the sur- face, and then, striking into the ground, increase to large trunks, and become parent trees, shooting out new branches, which produce roots, and trees, in the same manner as before. Thus the tree grows, .every branch producing a succession of stems, until the whole assumes the appearance of a grove. A Banian tree, with its many trunks, forms the most beautiful bowers and cool recesses that can be imagined ; its leaves are large, soft, and of a lively green ; its fruit is a small fig, which, when quite ripe, is of a bright scarlet colour. It affords sustenance or shelter to the monkey, the squirrel, and the peacock ; as well as to various kinds of small birds. We can hardly form a proper notion of the ex- tent of these trees. On the banks of the river Nerbudda, a Banian tree grows, which, if mea- sured round its principal stems, is nearly two THE BAXIAN TREE. SI thousand feet in circumference. It has thr. v hundred and fifty large trunks, and more tlnn three thousand smaller ones; and it is said that seven thousand persons may find ample room to repose under its shade. Green wood - pi L- doves, peacocks, monkeys, squirrels, and large bats find a shelter among its braiu The Banian tree flourishes and throws out its green leaves beneath the radiance of the sun : the Christian throws out his graces beneath the beams of the Sun of righteousness. The Banim spreads wide its branches, which, taking root, pro- duce other trees : the Christian extends his in- fluence, his faith, his love, and his hopes, which, through mercy, taking root in other hearts, in- fluence them to grow in grace, and to become Christians like himself. The Banian tree becomes a grove of goodly trees pleasant to gaze upon : the Christian, blessed from above, spreads abroad the pospcl of the Hnleemcr, nud thus multiplies the followers of Christ, till he forms a ban.l, a goodly company of faithful worshippers. The Banian tree brings forth fruit, beautiful t<> the and the Christian bears fruit also, far more lovely than that of the trees of the field. The Banian tree is a shelter to the creatures that seek its protection : the Christian man, too, by his love unfeigned, his zeal, his fidelity, his prayers, and 82 THE BANIAN THEE. his praises, is a shelter and protection to all whom he can assist and serve. But while we thus draw the resemblance be- tween the Christian and the Banian tree, let us bear in mind, in reference to ourselves, that, " A good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit, neither can a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit :" and also, that "Every tree that bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down, and cast into the fire," Matt, vh. 18, 19. ON WHAT ARE YOU DEPENDING? STRANGE as it may appear, it is a truth, that Christians are often helped by their hindrrances, and made rich by their losses; and I may add also, that by their falls they learn to stand on tlu-ir tVct the more steadily. An hour ago, I walked abroad with a youthful companion ; the sun had some time set, and flu- landscape, as the poet says, had " faded," and a " solemn stillness" pervaded the air. Some will have it, that yonth and age are not fit asso< but often do I find just the referee of this to be tin- truth. Well, we seated ourselves on a rail overhanging a dry ditch of some depth : " Hare a care," said I ; " for you know age is cautious, and oftentimes mistrustfu 1 . Haveacare," said I ; "for the rail on which we are seated, is hut a crazy one." " Crazy 1" cried out young confidence "CV why, it is as firm as a rock T " " Ay," thought I, 84 ON WHAT ABE YOU DEPENDING " the rocks on which some people depend are as uncertain as the shifting sand." In five or ten minutes after, (for notwithstanding my sage reflec- tion, I had kept my seat,) the rail gave way under us with a crash, and we both fell backwards at full length into the ditch. My companion fell lightly, and was not injured ; but as for me, I did not escape without bruises : nevertheless, after slowly gathering myself up again, I walked away, much benefited by my mishap ; for it suggested to my mind this very profitable inquiry, " On what are you depending ?" Now, there are many, who, though too worldly- wise to trust the weight of their bodies on a crazy rail, are thoughtless and reckless enough to trust the welfare of their souls on a foundation equally precarious. On what, then, are you depending ? It is quite bad enough when our earthly hopes break down with us ; but it is a thousand times worse when the same thing happens to our hea- venly expectations. If you are content with the beggarly elements of time, your foundation does not so much matter ; but, if you have set your heart on the glorious things of eternity, bear in mind that " other foundation can no man lay than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ," 1 Cor. iii. 11. Till] BARRACK-YARD. As I passed by the barrack-yard tbe otber day, I beard a firing and thundering ; so I stepped in to see what it was all about. The horses were drawn up in two files on each side the yard, and the snl.lirrr* were tirinp hefore their fares. This was to accustom them to the flash and the report of the musketry, that they might be steady in the Imttl. I here was a great deal of snorting, and prancing, and trampling among some of them, as they tossed np their noses, and flung about their long manes in the air. But others, who were more experienced, stood it out bravely, only show- ing tin ir mettle l.v thrir glaring eye-balls. Before God's children are accustomed to trouble, before they are disciplined in the school of trial, they are apt to start aside on trivial occasions. When a blast ot blows up from the north, when dark clouds of adversity gather together in the west, when there U a whirlwind of perple in the south, and a sharp storm of trihi \ down from the east, they are almost driven i 86 THE BARRACK- YARD. to their wit's end, little thinking that their hea- venly Father is thus fitting them to bear the heat and burden of the day, that they may fight the good fight of faith, and lay hold on eternal life. Poor Job, when his troubles first came upon him, rent his mantle and shaved his head : he grieved in silence for seven days and seven nights, and then opened his mouth and cursed his day. But, how was it with him at the last ? Why, he stood steady in the midst of his afflictions, as brave as a lion, and as meek as a lamb : " Though he slay me," said he, "yet will I trust in him/' Job xiii. 15. THE PORTRAITS, DID you ever hear the story of the two 1W- traits ? Come ! I will tell it to you ; for it is striking one. A painter who wanted a picture of Innocence, drew the likeness of a child at prayer. The link suppliant was kneeling by the side of h who regarded him with tenderness. The palms of his lifted hands were reverently pressed toge- ther; his rosy cheek spoke of health, and his mild blue eye was upturned with an expression of devotion and peace. This portrait of young Rupert was highly prized by the paint n , t< r In- had bestowed on it great pains; he hung it up in his study, and called it Innocence. Years rolled along, and the painter became an aged man ; but the picture of Innocence still adorned his study walls. Oft n ha 1 h< thought of painting a contrast to his favourite portrait ; but opportunity had not M-rv.l. II- had sought for a striking model of Guilt, hut had failed to find 88 THE PORTBATTS. one. At last, he effected his purpose by paying a visit to a neighbouring gaol. On the damp floor of his dungeon lay a wretched culprit, named Randal, heavily ironed. Wasted was his body, worn was his cheek, and anguish unutterable was seen in his hollow eye : but this was not all ; vice was visible in his face, guilt was branded, as with a hot iron, on his brow, and horrid imprecations burst from his blaspheming tongue. The painter executed his task to the life, and bore away the successful effort of his pencil. The portraits of young Rupert and old Randal were hung, side by side, in his study ; the one representing Innocence, the other Guilt. But who was young Rupert, who kneeled in prayer by the side of his mother in meek devo- tion ? And who was old Randal, who lay ma- nacled on the dungeon floor, cursing and blas- pheming ? Alas ! the two were one ! Young Rupert and old Randal were the same. Led by bad companions into the paths of sin, no wonder that young Rupert found bitterness and sorrow. That brow which in childhood was bright with peace and joy, in years became darkened by guilt and shame ; and that heart which once was the abode of happiness, afterwards became the habi- tation of anguish. Fathers, tell the tale to your children. Mothers, whisper it in the ears of your THE PORTRAITS. 89 little ones, that they may know bctiim-s the exceeding sinfulness of sin, and the exceeding de- cvit fulness of the human heart. Well may youth and age walk humbly before God, putting up the prayer, " Keep me as the apple of the eye, hide me under the shadow of thy wings," Psa. xvii. 8. i 2 THE GERANIUM TREE. " For there is hope of a tree, if it he cut down, that it will sprout again, and that the tender branch thereof will not cease," Job xiv. 7. LET an old man go back to the days that have long passed by. My grandmother had an old favourite geranium tree, which was cut down nearly to the roots, and had looked very sickly a long time. One Sunday morning, as she sat at her window, her eye fell anxiously upon the geranium tree, which we had not noticed for a day or two : " Ah," exclaimed she, " it is dead !" "Dead!" said I. "Yes," she replied, mourn- fully: "I thought it would die; to-morrow it must be turned out of the pot." The next morning, I heard my grandmother calling to me in a sprightly voice : she was bustling about in her little garden, and I judged that something must have pleased her. As soon as I appeared : " Do you see ?" said she and she 91 held up the forlorn-looking geranium tree "do you see ? I was just going to throw it away ; but look here, and here, and there again !" I stooped down, and looked very particularly, for I had no spectacles on like my grand mot IHT. At last I discovered, here and there, on either side of the old withered stump, a little sprout of tender green a tiny budding forth, hardly bigger, to be sure, than the head of a pin, but quite enough to dispel the fears of my grandmother, and to assure us both, beyond a doubt, that the tree was Look up, my soul ! there is ju*t such hope for thee. How often do I find thec sickly, barren, and lifeless ; full of sin and wretchedness 1 Thou affrightest me, and fillest me with deep fit- treat ; yea, I am ready to say unto thee, " Thou art dead; why cumhrn-st tlmii th- -nmnd'" Hut, blessed be God, another hour dispels these fears. Another hour, and I discover certain signs of life. A budding forth of We to God, hardly discernible, a tender shoot of affection for all the di HI pies of Jesus, a love of God's holy word, and e\n- a yearning to love it more. Come, these arc signs of life ; for where didst thou get these tendrr huddings T Yes, my soul, thou art and thy life U everlasting! Fear not, thou shalt 92 THE GERANIUM TREE- yet bud, and blossom, and bear ; thy Saviour owns thee ; and none shall pluck thee out of his hand : Though a thousand foes assailing, Fill my soul with sad dismay ; Yet, while Jesus firmly holds me, I shall never fall away. DEATH'S VISITS TO THE VILLAGE, A WORD FOB THE CLOSE OK THE YEAR. THEY say that people live longer in the country than in the town, and perhaps they may a few short years ; hut be not deceived by the saying, my country tVii-n.U. f<>r the word of the Eternal is gone forth : " The days of our years are three- score years and ten ; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labour and sorrow ; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away," Psa. xc. 10. Neither town nor coun- try can prevent the visits of Death ! I ' it h came up the village. It was in the SPRING ; tin- (Vosh leaves were budding forth, and the snow- l were peeping out of the ground. Hr \\rut into tlic thatched cottage by the ash tree, ul>< n sat old Roger Gouph in liis nnn-rh.-iir. \\ifh his brow wrinkled and his hair white as flax. Rogei was taken with the cramp in hU stomach, nnd < rax-d to hrcathr : " \Vhnt D 94 DEATH'S VISITS TO THE VILLAGE. liveth, and shall not see death ? shall he deliver his soul from the hand of the grave?" Psa. Ixxxix. 48, The wheelwright's wife sat with her baby, her first-born, in her lap. It smiled as it lay asleep, and breathed softly. The mother went on mend- ing stockings, every now and then casting a fond look at her little treasure. That day week its gentle spirit departed, leaving its fond parents half heart-broken. How uncertain is human life ! " It is even a vapour that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away," James iv. 14. Death went down the village in the SUMMER. The heavens were bright with sunbeams, and the earth seemed to smile ; the gardens were in their glory, and the merry haymakers were busy in the fields. The sexton's son had long been ailing, and all agreed that he could never struggle through the winter. The red tinge on his cheek was not of a healthy hue ; consumption had marked him for the grave. He had taken to his bed a fortnight, when his head fell back gently on his pillow, and he went off, like an infant going to sleep : " As for man, his days are as grass : as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place there- of shall know it no more," Psa. ciii. 15, 16. Butcher Hancocks was the strongest man in DEATH'S VISITS TO THE VILLAGE 95 the parish ; hut he was no match for Death. His chest was broad, his arms were sinewy and strong, and his frame bulky, and well knit together. "As hearty as Hancocks," was a common adage. No matter! sickness soon robs the stoutest of his strength, and pulls down the tallest man to the ground. The fever fastened upon him, so that one hour he raged with heat and thirst, and the next his teeth chattered with cold. His neigh- bours carried him to his grave : " Lord, make me to know mine end, and the measure of my days, what it is ; that I may know how frail I am. Behold, thou hast made my days aa an hand- breadth ; and mine age is as nothing before every man at his best state is altogether I, 5. Death crossed the village in the AUTUMN. The <>n hard trees were bending beneath their load, the sickle was at work among the wheat, and the scythe was sweeping down the barley. Never was known a more abundant year. The loaded teams were seen in all directions, and the gleaners were picking up the scattered ears from the stubble. Farmer Blount was a wealthy man. He was in the corn-field with the reapers, when he suddenly fell to the ground. Some said that he was struck by the sun, and others that it was a fit of apoplexy ; but whatever it was, Farmer 96 DEATH'S VISITS TO THE VILLAGE. Blount never spoke after. You may, perhaps, have seen his tomb by the stone wall of the churchyard, with the iron palisades round it. Truly may each of us say, " There is but a step between me and death," 1 Sam. xx. 3. "Widow Edwards lived in the shed at the back of the pound. It was a wretched habitation ; but the poor cannot choose their dwelling-places. The aged widow had wrestled hard with poverty ; her bits and drops were few and far between. Her son, who ought to have been a staff for her old age to rest on, was at sea. He was roving and thoughtless ; but there is a heartache in store for him on account of his aged mother. Death found the widow alone, lying on her straw. No one was at hand to comfort her, or to close her eyes : " Watch therefore ; for ye know not what hour your Lord doth come," Matt. xxiv. 42. Death went round the village in the WINTER. The icicles were a foot long, hanging from the penthouse in the carpenter's yard ; and the snow lay here and there in heaps, for it had been sho- velled away from the front of the cottages. Not a stone's throw from the finger-post at the en- trance of the village dwelt Abel Froome, the clerk's father. For years he had been afflicted ; but his mind was stayed upon Christ, the Rock of ages, and he loved to think of eternal things. He VTSIIS TO THE VILLAGE. 97 had lived to a goodly old age ; and, as a shock of corn ripe tor the harvest, he was rendy to he gathered into the garner of God. While his days were numhering, his heart had applied unto wis- dom ; and he kn>w Him, \vhnm to knn\\ life. Death found him sitting up in his bed, with the Rihle in his aged hands ; and the last words that faltered from his lips were, " Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace according to thy word : for mine eyes have seen thy salva- tion," I,uke ii J'.i. ;r his conscience was at work within him, and hi- mind was disturbed : "The spirit of a man will sustain his infirmity ; hut a wounded spirit who can bear ?'* Prov. xviii. I I . It was a horrid sight to see Harry < -lew -hing his hands, tearing his clothes, and gnashing his 98 DEATH'S VISITS TO THE VILLAGE. in anguish, and quite as bad to hear the curses he uttered in his despair. He died as the wicked die, without hope, " driven from light into darkness, and chased out of the world," Job xviii. 18. "Rend your heart, and not your garments, and turn unto the Lord your God : for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and of great kind- ness, and repenteth him of the evil," Joel ii. 13. If Death thus goes up and down, and across and around the village, at all seasons of the year ; if he takes away the young and the old, the feeble and the strong, the rich and the poor, the right- eous and the wicked ; how long will he pass by THEE ? Is it thy prayer " Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his ?" Numb, xxiii. 10. Is Christ thy hope, thy trust, and thy salvation? If so, thou mayest indeed rejoice, and say with exultation, " Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil ; for thou art with me ; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me," Psa. xxiii. 4. TUB MARINEK'S COMPASS. " Look unto me, and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth,** laa. xlv. 22. A NEW subject, and m\rl remarks are t'n-- rjiKiitly excellent things; but, as they are not always to be had, it may be well to rcnn that an old subject ay, and an old saying too- may at times be made very profitable. One word, tii.-n. on tin- mariner's com puss. The finger <>t the compass points towards tlu The vessel, by its reeling and tossing, may cause it to quiver and shake, and force it tr n time from its natural bent; but, cvi-n in its <|ui\t ring, you may still discover the point from \\ln.-li it unwillingly turns: and when ilu- vessel is again quiet, again will it quickly settle, point in.; north wnrd. Christ is the point towards which the hearts of his people are directed by the hand of God, who has made them willing in th day of his power. But temptation, sin, and affliction, may toss the followers of the Redeemer to and fro, and 100 THE MARINER'S COMPASS. season force them from their proper position. The world, the flesh, and the devil, may succeed for a time in turning them from the supreme object of their adoration ; but, even in the storm of tempt- ation, Christ is the point to which their desires struggle to steady themselves yea, and the point to which they shall be steadied eternally, when there is no more rocking in the tempest of this world's tribulation. THE SMUT IN THE CORN, WHEN we look around us with an hmnhle and inquiring spirit to obtain knowledge, there are i* any, of God's works, which will not afford lessons of useful ins- During last autumn, I was walking abroad with n Christian frit-mi ; and we passed through several fields when the wheat was full in the ear, bat not ripe. It was of a grateful gr< and waved to and fro, as the wind passed en hkr the billowy surface of the sea. The stems were very high, and the crop appeared abundant. Such a scene brings many a Scripture sn to the mind of a Bible reader. He thinks of tin he land of Egypt, when for seven years nig nor harvest ;" <>f the sheaves that stood up and made obeisnm t<> tin one in the midst, as they appeared in Joseph's ; nf tli. ,lis, iplcs plucking the corn n walked through the corn-fields on the sahhath day ; of Ruth plrnninff in tin- fn-hls when Hony. K 2 102 THE SMUT IN THE CORN. gave commandment to his young men, saying, " Let her glean even among the sheaves, and re- proach her not : and let fall also some of the hand- fuls of purpose for her, and leave them, that she may glean them, and rebuke her not;" of the seed sown in good ground, which brought forth fifty and an hundred fold ; and of that fearful warn- ing wherein it is said of the Lord of glory, that he will "gather the wheat into his garner; but the chaff he will burn with fire unquenchable/' Luke iii. 17. The corn-field was surrounded on all sides with meadow and pasture land, and fine elm and oak trees ; so that, with the exception of here and there a farmer's homestead, we could see nothing but the sky above us and the grateful green fields, while silence reigned around. How different was such a scene from the high houses, the thronged pathway, the crowded carriages, and the continual rumbling and rattling of Cheapside, which we had so lately left ! As we passed through the field, my companion began to pluck some of the wheat ears. He brought half a dozen of them to me, and I much ad- mired them for their beauty and fulness ; but, when he told me to press the grains of wheat, I found that they contained nothing but a thick juice of a dark blue colour. Soon after, we met two good- TIIC SMUT IN IHK ut the practised eye could discover in them a slight tinge of blue or purple. Tin- l.nl. UK i.It nt called forth a train of reflec- tions in my mind, strengthening 017 oj> most, or rather all, of (iod's works may afford us lesions of instruction. For a moment, I likened mankind to a wheat-field. 1 looked on human beings as the stems of standing corn ; some hoUm- up their heads proudly above their neighbours ; some beaten down to the very ground by the storm which had passed over tlu-m ; and others rn- and bustling to and fro, as the gale of interest or passion blew. it is not the high ear in the corn, nor th ear, n the ear that is being blown ahour. that I wish to speak of. Something may be got from all these ; but what can be got, or \\ i . be hoped for, from tin- ear that is The 104 THE SMUT IX THE CORN. rest of the corn will ripen, and the smutted corn will appear to ripen also ; but its dark juice will only dry up to a nauseous filthy powder, as black and as bitter as soot. The smutted corn is like a hypocrite ; it appears to be what it is not. As the smutted corn is in the wheat-field, so is the hypocrite among mankind. Whether you know any hypocrites or not, it is very necessary to know that " the joy of the hy- pocrite is but for a moment ;" yea, that his "hope shall perish," and that his " trust shall be a spi- der's web," Job viii. 13, 14 ; xx. 5. If you look around you in the world, you will find that those who are upright and honest are willing to make known what they are ; while those who are designing and dishonest take great pains to hide what they are : and the reason is plain : for the better we know an honest man, the more anxious are we to have dealings with him ; but the better we know a rogue, the more careful are we to avoid him. The ignorant quack pretends to be a wise doc- tor ; he boasts of the cures he has performed, and of the sovereign virtue of his worthless physic ; he hides his real character. The swindler puts on a smooth face, bargains for goods, and talks about prices, jingles the mo- ney in his pockets, and promises payment the THE SMUT IN Till. CORN. 105 moment they are delivered, though he never pur- poses to pay a farthing. The impostor ties up his leg, or his arm, or pretends to be blind, that he may ask for charity with more success. All tlux , like hundreds of others, are in disguise ; they are deceivers, coun- terfeits, hypocrites. They are not what they seem to be : they are smutted ears in the coru-iuhl of mankind. It is bad enough to see hypocrisy around us ; still worse to notice it iu the same hous< but worst of all to have it in our own bosoms* How is it with you ? Is all right within doors ? you sound at t To be a hypocrite iu the common affairs of is bad and base ; but to be a hypocrite in holy things, is truly terrihle. How severely did the Saviour rebuke hypocrisy I " Woe unto you, s< Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye are like unto whited sepulchres, which indeed appear beautiful outward, hot are within full of dead men's bone*, and of all uncleanness. Even so ye also out\\ appear righteous unto men, but within ye m nf hypocrisy and iniquity," M How vainly does the hypocrite persuade himself that he is not known I Dissemble as much as he will, deceive as successfully as he may, tl, still a shade of difference between him ami 106 THE SMUT IN THE CORN. he counterfeits, which may be observed by some of the quick- sigh ted among men; but, even if he escape the eye of man, how shall he escape the all- discerning eye of God ? He who knows the secret thoughts, who tries the heart and the reins, can distinguish at a glance the good grain from the smutted corn. Happy is he who can say with godly sincerity, " I have chosen the way of truth." "Search me, O God, and know my heart : try me, and know my thoughts : and see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting," Psa. cxix. 30 ; cxxxix. 23, 24. We left the corn-field ; and no doubt before this the wheat has been cut down by the sickle. It has been gathered into the garner, or piled in the stack-yard ; but wherever it may be, the smutted ears are valueless, and, indeed, as I was informed, would prove injurious even to the good wheat. The scythe of death will soon cut us down : the upright in heart will be as wheat, the hypocrite as the chaff which the wind drive th away. How fearful, then, the words of holy writ, " He will thoroughly purge his floor, and gather his wheat into the garner ; but he will burn up the chaff with unquenchable fire !" Matt. iii. 12. TIM: SERPENT'S TAIL AND ITS HEAD. "TiiK serpent's tail," says Med rash Bamid ben Rabar, "had long followed the direction of the head, and all went on well. One day the tail began to he dissatisfied with this natural arrange- and tlius addressed the head: 'I have long, with great indignation, observed thy nqjatt prorrrdin-v In all <><:r jmrnrys it is tlmu that takest the lead, whereas I, like a menial servant, am obliged to follow behind. Thou appearest everywhere foremost; but I, like a miserable slave, must remain in the back-ground. Is this just? Is it fair? Am I not a member of the same body? Wby should not I have management as well as thouf 'Thou,' exclaimed the head, 4 th n, silly tail, wilt manage the body ! ' Thou ha- ther eyes to see danger, nor ears to be apprised of it, i,<>r brains to prr\ nit it. Perceivest thou not that it is even for thy advantage that I should and lead advantage, indeed P 108 THE SERPENT'S TAIL AND ITS HEAD. rejoined the tail. * This is the language of all and every usurper. They pretend to rule, all of them, for the benefit of their slaves ; but I will no longer submit to such a state of things. I insist upon, and will take the lead in my turn.' c Well, well/ replied the head, ' be it so, lead on.' The tail, rejoicing, accordingly took the lead. Its first ex- ploit was to drag the body into a miry ditch. The situation was not very pleasant. The tail strug- gled hard, groped along, and by dint of great exertion got out again ; but the body was so thickly covered with dirt and filth, as hardly to be known to belong to the same creature. Its next exploit was to get entangled among briers and thorns. The pain was intense ; the whole body was agitated ; the more it struggled, the deeper the wounds. Here it would have ended its miserable career, had not the head hastened to its assistance, and relieved it from its perilous si- tuation. Not contented, it still persisted in keep- ing the lead. It marched on, and at length crept into a fiery furnace. It soon began to feel the dreadful effects of the destructive element. The whole body was convulsed ; all was terror, confu- sion, and dismay. The head again hastened to afford its friendly aid. Alas ! it was too late ; the tail was already consumed. The fire soon reached the vital parts of the body ; it was destroyed, and THE SERPENT'S TAIL AND ITS urw. ]()!> the head was involved in the general ruin. M hat caused the destruction of the head ? Was it not because it suffered itself to be guided by the im- becile tail r Such will ever be the course and end of all who allow bodily passions to take the lead, instead of spiritual affections : " As is the earthy, such are th'-y also that are earthy: and as is the hea- venly, such are they also that are heavenly," 1 COT. xv. 48, THE IVY, THE hungry man is not over nice in his food. The poor prodigal, when he could no longer ob- tain dainty meat, was fain to take up with " busks that the swine did eat." As it is with the body, so it is with the soul. A hungry soul will be glad to get sustenance and strength from the meanest thing under heaven. If a Christian has not the book of God's revelation at hand, he looks at the book of creation. If he cannot admire the all- glorious sun in the skies, he takes up with a tree, a flower, or a leaf, be it green or withered, and sees therein the handiwork of God. The oak tells him to be stable ; and the ivy that twines around it is not without its lesson of instruction : Ivy ! thou art ever green, Let me changeless, then, be seen : While my Saviour loves me, ne'er Let my love grow old and sere. Ivy ! clinging round the tree, Gladly would I learn of thee ; Clinging, as the year goes round, To the cross would I be found. THE IVY. Ill Yes ! come shine or shade, wet or dry, sum- mer's heat, or winter's chilling blast ! If t loses its hold of the tree, it is soon trodden under foot ; and if I lose my hold of the cross of Christ, then shall I also perish. THE TRACKS IN THE CLAY, ON passing along the fields at no great distance from a country village, I came to a narrow neck of ground which was bounded on the one side by a pond, and on the other by a steep rock, but the nar- row neck or strip of ground itself was a miry clay. This miry strip of ground was a sort of defile, a narrow passage from the higher fields and roads to the lower. All the footpaths from the adjoin- ing meadows, and all the lanes from that part of the neighbourhood met there ; so that travellers on foot and on horseback, gigs, wagons, and carts, horses, pigs, sheep, and cattle, all had to pass through the defile. As I paused for a moment, sitting on a stile, and looking down into the defile, I was struck with the numerous tracks or marks left in the clay. Here were the traces of wheels of various kinds ; there the iron-shod hoofs of horses and the di- vided hoofs of cattle had left their impression ; while the footmarks of men, women, and children, were clearly discerned. In one place, the ring of mi: 1KA( KS IN IHE CLAY. 1 1 ,'t a patten marked the clay : in another, the li-ht footprint of a female, who had trodden carefully on her toes, was seen ; and in a third, the hoh- . nailed shoe of a labouring man had pressed firmly and deeply on the yielding clay. A musing fit came upon me, and I thus pursued the current of my reflections. .is narrow neck of land, this clayey d sets forth no unimportant lesson for my con>i>!< r- ; for not only those who hare passed this place, but every human being also, leaves a track behind him iu tin- pathway he pursues through the world. It may be light and faint, or it may be heavy and strongly marked, but some trace or oil M r he is sure to leave. 1 1 ow many a king has waded through slaugh- ter to a throne !' ruled his subjects with a rod of iron, and oppressed those whom he ought to have ncd with 'justice, judgment, and ecj' How many a 'hero* has spent his lite in the de- vtnu-tion of his fellow men, shedding the life-blood of countless multitudes, merely to gratify vain se have left a trackh tin m by which we trace their unworthy career. " What a differnuv there is between the track y the good man, and the track of the wicked ! way of the wicked is as darkness: th.-y know not at what they stumble ;' but ' tin path i' L 2 114 THE TRACKS IN THE CLAY. the just is as the shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day,' Prov. iv. 18, 19. "Look at the track left by the desperately wicked man. In youth, he was idle, and a sloven, a truant, and a speaker of lies. He grew up a drunkard, a sabbath-breaker, and a blasphemer. His occupation was poaching and thieving, till at last, as a murderer, he died on the gallows. You may trace his career in his slatternly wife and vagabond children ; every one that speaks of him holds his memory in abhorrence, and you may read his history in the Newgate Calendar. " The track left behind the kind-hearted Chris- tian is of another cast. He feared God, and de- lighted in obeying his will ; he loved his fellow- creatures, and found pleasure in doing them good. Go to the Sunday-school ; every boy knows the kind instructor who gave up so much of his time for his advantage. Go to the almshouse ; the widow blesses his memory. Pay a visit to the churchyard, and read the verse inscribed upon his tombstone, c Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright ; for the end of that man is peace/ Psa. xxxvii. 37. ' Blessed are the dead' which die in the Lord/ Rev. xiv. 13. Trace him from his youth to his age ; through life and through death. He has left a track behind him by which he is known. . THI E CLAY. 1 !." "And now, \v \\ilt thou leave behind r, \\liat t- boa n mv 1< behind thee ? Will thy memory be blessed or cursed ? Tbe track thou wilt leave, thou art now making; < g day, every winged hour, is a part of thy brief career. Love God, fear God, obey God, and honour God ! 1 \\i\- <>l the righteous, then shall thy latter end ho like his. ! mfl thy cm-mirs ; 'hli->-' do good to them th.v .-, and pray for which clespitefully use thee, and persecute tin ( .' Do these things, and thy track may be traced with joy ; neglect them, and it will be pondered orrow." SINGING, THOUGH but a poor singer, yet I have a habit of singing when alone. A little thing sets me off a bit of green on the earth, or a bit of blue in the skies. Yes, yes ; I like singing, and often sing with my heart, when my lips are silent. I like to hear a milkmaid sing in the green meadow when her heart is so happy, that she cannot help it. I love to hear a song uncalled far. Who asks the birds to sing ? They sing to relieve their hearts, and this is the sort of singing that I like. I like to hear a loud Hallelujah, not by the clear musical voice of one who is paid for it, but by a thousand tongues singing with the heart and the understanding. You shall have my favourite song. I sang it in my youth and my manhood, and now I am singing it in my years. " When all thy mercies, O my God, My rising soul surveys, Transported with the view, I'm lost In wonder, love, and praise," SIN' 117 Many a green field and parched heath, many a hill and valley, have been made vocal by the hum- drum voice of Old Humphrey. I have sung this song in a loud voice on loiu-ly Salisbury Plain, and in a low voice in crowded Cheapside and in the Strand. I havi- su:)- it on the mountain top, and a hundred fathoms deep in the heart of the earth in the ruins of Kenilworth and Tintcrn, and the palaces of the TuilK rii-s and Versailles amon^ the waving woods on the land, and amid the waves of the heaving ocean. Another favourite song of mine is the Old ith Psalm, com- posed by John Hoj,! i ondjutor of Thomas St< rnhold. For seven years, in the days of my \outh, I heard it sung on every sabbath, and in- stead of being weary of the words, un poetical as are, I like them better than ever. M All people than on earth do dwell, fling to the Lord with cheerful voice: > serve with fear, his praise forth irll , Come ye before him and rejoice. The Lord, ye know, is God indeed ; Without our aid he did us make: We are his flock, he doth as feed, And for his sheep he doth as take. O enter, th< n. his gates with praise, Approach with joy bis courts nnto; Praise, laud, and bless his name always, For it is seemly *> to do. 118 SINGING. For why ? The Lord our God is good j His mercy is for ever sure ; His truth at all times firmly stood, And shall from age to age endure." Perhaps you will smile at an old man singing this psalm by himself, as it is more suitable for public worship. Well ! well ! let an old man have his own way : it reminds me of old times, and makes me happy. My voice may not be very melodious ; but I try to sing with my heart : as the apostle says, " I will sing with the spirit, and I will sing with the understanding also,*' 1 Cor. xiv. 15. BAMBOROUGH CASTLE, NORTHUMBERLAND. As I love to speak well of a poor man, so do I lore also to speak in praise of a rich one, when I have the opportunity. Whether the ohj t of my praise be clad in lawn or liusey, is of no conse- sieur de Chamillard is said to have been the last iiiiiiixU-r intrusted with this extraordinary s When on his death-bed, he was urged to disclose the mystery of the Man in the Mask ; he replied that he could not; that it was a secret of state, and that he had sworn never to reveal it. Now, extraordinary as urn stance of a man wearing a mask for more than forty years undoubtedly is, yet, when we consul, r tin policy, tip- reservation, the deceit fulness, the guile, and the double dealing of the human heart, we must , that to find a man that did not wear a mask would be still more extraordinary. Could we but see the weakness of the strong, the ig- norance of the learned, the cowardice of the brave, and the folly of the wise ; could we discern the passions and motives that inll the worst, ay, and the best ot >m hour to hour, from day to day, and from year to year ; we should be compelled to regar an as wearing a mask, and concealing thereby the real features of his mind. It is a truth, that we hide more than we reveal; but God seeth through all our disguises; "for his eyes are upon the ways of man, and he seeth all his goings," Job xxxiv. 21. " The Lord seeth not as man seeth ; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart," 1 Sam \\i. 7. M 2 THE PICTURE FRAME, "And the Lord alone shall be exalted in that day," Isa. ii. 1 1. I REMEMBER in the days of my youth showing to a friend a drawing of mine, of which I was not a little proud, thinking it to be very well done. It was enclosed in a very pretty frame, which I had chosen to set off my performance to the best ad- vantage. My friend had scarcety glanced at my drawing, when he exclaimed, " Oh, what a beauti- ful frame ! where did you get it ?" Blushing with mortification, I snatched away my drawing, and could have thrown the frame into the fire at that moment, though it had before given me so much pleasure. This was a fit of youthful jealousy. I had no objection to have the frame admired ; but I could not bear it to be admired instead of my drawing. Since then, I have often been reminded of this fit of youthful jealousy and pride by what I hare observed in the conduct of God's people. THE I'lClfRi: FRAMB. 1X7 When any talk of prayer and praise, of holy ^ and godly meditation, the hearts of true ers respond to these things ; hut if they see thac these are trusted in, as having in the sli_ degree part or lot in the matter of justification be- fore God, Vway with thorn ! away \\itli tin- The gilt frame of a picture is very well as a frame, but it has nothing to do with the merit of the picture itself; nor should Christian gifts and graces ever be put in the place of the one full and free sacrifice offered up by the Redeemer on the cross for the justification and redemption of his people. <1 our God has declared himself a jealous God. He hath created all things in id earth for his well-beloved Son, an u- 132 TH E WHETSTONE . ing them again to plunge once more amid the bloody strife. How great their toil and danger, and how little their reward ! Now, if those who live in strife and contention take such trouble to fit themselves to injure others, how much more should Christians exert themselves in doing good ! Let us, then, lock more closely to our whetstones, where we may rub up and renew our kindly affec- tions one towards another. The house of God, and the throne of grace, should be more diligently sought by us, that an edge may be put on our zeal for the Redeemer's glory, and that our de- sires may be sharpened after every good word and work. SUNSHINE, You are, no doubt, n lover of sunshine. Your eje has brightened while gazing upon the beam that has lighted up tla path before you, ma ; village windows blaze, and put a golden star on athercock of the church steeple. That beam has shinrd into v.>'ir \< TV in-art, and made you feel glad to be alive. But there is an-.tlur kind of that you love. Is there not some beloved whose smile is a brighter and dearer sunbeam to you than the brightest beam that gladdens on a summer* s day ? Yes, it is the smile of a husband, a wife, a sister, a brother, or well, no r ! it is the smile of some dear being, whose every thought is blended with your own, and with- out whose smile, in the merriest summertime, would be a gloomy world. But the shadows of the evening have before now doted over the sunshine that has gilded your pathway ; and if night has not yet beclouded the Min>hiny smiles of those you love, it will do sol N 134 SUNSHINE. There are removals in this world of tribulation that wring the heart ! You may have to go and weep in the grave-yard, ere long, where they have laid the object dear to you as your own life ! There is yet another kind of sunshine ! Delight in that, and no night shall close over it for ever the sunshine of a Saviour's love in the heart. Clouds may intervene for a time, but those clouds shall pass away ; the valley of the shadow of death may seem to shut it out for ever, but that will be only the last cloud breaking away before the dawning of eternal daylight, and the blaze of everlasting sunshine ; for it is expressly written, that, " There shall be no night there/' Rev. xxi. 25. Well, then, may the clouds and storms of this life be borne with patient and joyful antici- pation. SYMPATHY roil SAILORS. IT was a rough night a very rough night ; and I was just retiring to rest, when, in an awkward attempt to carry three hooks into an adjoining room, one of them fell to the ground. 1'irkin^ it uj>, and examining the open page, to see if it was soiled, my eye fell on the following paragra] " I saw a hoy climb to the main-top mast : he had been ordered there to secure a loose tackling ; he would not have gone there could he have helped it. The night was dark to pitchness ; t>nt, by the light of the binnacle, I saw enough to tell me that a tear was rolling down his cheek. 1 was no moment for delay ; the order given must be executed ; so away went the boy. It was a boy that had entertained me with \.-rlasting stories of his mother and his home ; and who told me of the dread he had that he should n< turn to them. The boy went up. I watrlu-d him at first, and then listened to him : he had L- the first steeple, now flew to the second: had put his foot upon the yard, and grasped the 136 SYMPATHY FOK SAILORS. tackling, when when but my brain reels ; for what I heard was a sudden fall, and then a gur- gling in the waters." Nothing could have been more in character with my thoughts than this affecting narrative, for I was at the moment reflecting on the dangers of the billow-tossed mariner, in seasons when landsmen, tucked up in their warm blankets, repose in comfort and security. Very little rest did I obtain that night ;. for the wind howled and raged as if it had a quarrel with the earth. The thunder, too, roared, the rain descended, the lightning flashed, and I thought of heaving billows, and shattered ships, and ship- wrecked seamen. While the storm lasted, oh, what sympathy I felt for sailors I The morning came, the storm was over, the sun shone upon the ground ; and when I seated myself at the breakfast table, my sympathy for sailors was well nigh gone. Thus it is with us alL Subjects which ought to lay hold of our very souls, and wring from us strong compassion, are only reflected on when some arresting fact or fiction* or some unusual circumstance, brings them vividly to our transitory remembrance. The debt we owe to sailors is great, yet how little we regard it ! No wonder that our proverbial neglect of SYMPATHY FOR SAILORS. 1ST seamen should have called forth the pungent rebuke 1 and our sailor we adore In times of danger, not bet The danger o'er, both are alike requited Ood is forgotten, and the sailor slighted.** N 2 THE BKOKEN FINGER-POST, THINK not that, because my hairs are grey, the infirmities of age confine me within doors. No ! no ! I have been dealt with mercifully ; and am often found a long way from my own fireside. Some time ago, when travelling in a strange neighbourhood, I came to a place where the road branched off in two opposite directions, so that how to proceed I did not know. It was, indeed, a puzzling situation ; for, as night was coming on, my taking the wrong road would have been attended with great inconvenience. At last I perceived a finger-post, which, in my perplexity, I had not noticed. Hastening up to it, I read the inscription on the left arm, which pointed towards two distant towns, neither of which I wanted to visit. I then passed round to look at the opposite arm, when lo ! it was broken off. " Well, come," said I to myself, taking heart, " I now, at least, know very well the road I am not to go." THE BROKEN FINGER-POST 139 We sometimes meet with such dimvnlties that we seem to come to a stand in onr numl> knowing which way to turn. What to attempt, how to act, and what will he the end of it, we can- not tell : this part of the finger-post is broken off. In such trying and dangerous situations, hou when we might be tempted to turn aside from the iod does often so mercifully hedge up some of our ways with thorns, and so ir. us by the directions of his holy word, that it \ve will but give heed to it, there is a plain warning given of the road we are not to go. Tl an unspeakable mercy : let us in all case promptly from the forbidden path, and lei^ the rest to him. If we sincerely look to chill-like spirit, we arc sure to obtain the direction he has promised to bestow. !>ring even blind by a w .new not," and ! thnii in paths that they have not known.*' will make darkness light before them, and crooked things straight." "Trust," tl.m, " in the Lord with all thine heart and lean not unto thine landing. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths," Isa. xlii. 16 ; iii. f>, 6. THE TIMES, THE times ! the times ! We are always talking about them ; but though we moralize much, I fear we mend but little. It seems to be a kind of privilege, charter, and birthright among aged people to praise the past times, and deplore the present ; the shadowy future is not so frequently the subject of conversation. But truly the changes are great that take place from the season of youth to that of grey hairs. In my day, the pulling down of old houses, and the building up of new ones ; the deaths of old men, and the coming into notice of young men ; the alterations in the customs and fashions that once prevailed, and the changes in the opinions of mankind, have so altered the world, that it is indeed other than it was. We used to take matters quietly, and move about more at our ease ; but now, bustle is the order of the day in all things : whatever we do trust be done by steam. Wherever we go, we uust go by rail -road ; and there never was half T!!E TIM . Ill tl" h. going forward as there is at the present time. Every our once thought ' !>orazo was the highest mountain in South Ainerii-a, and I , the loftiest in the world; but now it is found out that Sarato lifts uj> its head above Chimborazo, and that C 1m- moulari looks down on Dhawaligira. But while times, and manners, and ; 'minus, arc thus changing, we aged j should be aware that we are changing too. My limbs used to be more active than they arc ; nud my brow was once free from wrinkle. \\ IK ih, r I regard it or not, these grey hairs tell a tale to I ought to lis? years through I have passed been many? the fewer, t'u.-u. are those that remain to me, and the stronger the reason for my thinking less of seasons gom l,\. and more of those that are to come. Let MM-. :ri.! HAW, 1 43 It was a sad loss, you \Nill say, to lose his money ! Ay ! but it was a gain to Edmund ; for it taught him, or rather God taught him by it, " not to trust in uncertain riches," but to lay up for himself " treasure in ! mind was taught to believe that "Godliness with conn nt- ment is great gain ;" and that "Better is little with the fear of the Lord, than great treasure and trouble therewith," 1 Tim. vi. 6 ; Prov. xv. pi. Many pitied him when his worldly friends fell away, and said, " This is worse than ever ;" but it was the means of terching him to " cease from man, whose breath is in his nostrils." lie : confidence in an unfaithful man in time of trouble is like a broken tooth, and a foot out of joint ; " and his heart was tunied to that " 1 that stick, th closer than a broth When sickness came upon Edmund, many cried out, " It's all over with him now ;" hut in- stead of that, it was the best thing that erer be- f 1 him. Before he was afflicted, he went astray, but afterwards he took heed to the word < Lord ; so that his poverty made him really and his weakness made him truly strong. Can he be called a poor man who has a frit -ml in Him to whom belong the silver and the gold, ami the cattle upon a thousand hills ? Can he be poor who has God's presence and God's grace 144 EDMUND HAWKER. here, and the promise of beholding God's glory hereafter ? No ! no ! Edmund was a rich man ; he lived rich, he died rich rich in contentment, rich in thankfulness, rich in hope, rich in faith ; rich in peace, and rich in rejoicing in Christ Jesus. Edmund Hawker had his troubles, but they were all sanctified ; he was purified in the fur- nace of affliction ; he was tried in the fire, but he came forth as gold. His last days were his best days ; for he was taught so to number them as to apply his heart unto wisdom. Turn over the leaves of Edmund Hawker's Bible, and you will see that it has been read by a God-fearing man. The marks left there will tell you that he heeded God's reproofs, and highly valued God's precious promises in Christ Jesus ; these were, indeed, as oil to his joints, and marrow to his bones. And will you still tell me that Edmund Hawker was poor ? Who, then, is rich ? Life is ".a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, arid then vanisheth away." The world is fading, and the goodliness thereof, with all its riches, will be known no more ; then will it be found that heavenly treasure is the only treasure worth possessing : " That true riches are they which will not pass away, And true wisdom the fear of the Lord." AN UNFAITHFUL FRIEND, DID you ever, by any accident or misfortune, break a tootb, so that the port remaining in the head was as tender as the apple of your eye T u are as old as I am, most likely you know very well what I mean, without further descrip- tion. It is of no use being peevish when a tooth gives way through age and infirmity : we should call to mind the service it has rendered us in times gone by, and that may reconcile us to put np with a little inconvenience and pain. But li.l you ever so far forget yourself, as to try to bite a hard crust with your poor broken tooth ? I can see you screw up your face at the very thought of it. Why, the pain in such a case runs up to the very brain like lightning. We are poor, imp creatures ; and if it did not please God in mercy to melt our hearts now and then with a sense of his unspeakable goodness, we should be more im- patient than we are. Did you ever, in walking along hastily or care* o 146 AN UNFAITHFUL FRIEND. lessly, tread with your foot on one side, and sprain your ancle to such a degree, that the weight of an ounce upon it would have made you shout aloud with agony ? This is by no means an unlikely case, if you have been a pilgrim for any length of time in the rough and crooked pathways of this uneven world. Well, then, biting a hard crust with a broken tooth, and trusting your whole weight on a sprained ancle, are just like putting confidence in a faithless friend, when you stand in need of his assistance. You will find the words in Prov. xxv. 1 9, " Confidence in an unfaithful man in time of trouble is like a broken tooth, and a foot out of joint ;" and you will find the meaning of them in your own heart and soul, if ever, in a season of calamity, you lean for support on that pointed spear, an unfaithful friend. Then will you be ready to estimate aright the injunction, " Cease ye from man, whose breath is in his nostrils : for wherein is he to be accounted of?" Isa. ii. 22 ; and to cry out, He whom I trusted has deceived me! "The best of men is but a brier, and the most upright is sharper than a thorn hedge," Micah vii. 4. Let us seek God's grace, that we may never play the part of an unfaithful friend ourselves ; and in order to prevent disappointments, let us trust in that "Friend that sticketh closer than AN UNFAITHFUL FRIEND. 147 a brother," who, among the changes of the world, changes not ; but is " the same yesterday, and to-day, and for eyer." Of Him the poet beauti- fully says One there is above all others, Wdl deserves the name of friend; . < love beyond a brother's. Costly, free, and knows no end. They who once his kindness prove, Find it everlasting lore. i BERNAED GILPIN, OH how I love to read of a man who has loved mercy, and practised kindness ! Bernard Gilpin lived in the reigns of Queen Mary and Queen Elizabeth, and obtained, by his piety, zeal, and benevolence, the name of " The Apostle of the North." At that time, the feuds and quarrels among the people of the northern counties ran high, and very few men had sufficient influence to soften down the angry passions of the people. On one occasion, when Bernard was in the pulpit, two opposing parties met in the church, and there seemed but little doubt that a fray was on the eve of taking place. Bernard descended from the pulpit, and placing himself between the hostile parties, prevailed on them to put off their intended battle till the service should be over. He then exhorted them from the pulpit in so earnest, affectionate, and effectual a manner, that they gave up their purpose of fighting on that day, and also agreed that so long as the good man remained in the neighbourhood, there should be no strife and contention between them. BERNARD Gil PIN. 149 It is written, " Blessed are the peacemakers : for they shall he called the children of God," Matt. v. ix. Now, when we read this text, and when we hear of instances like that related of Bernard Gilpin, wherein a kindly spirit has sub- dued the rage of hot and angry hearts, it should move us to make trial of our powers in the art of peacemaking. It is a noble achievement to bring one to his proper senses who has been beside him- self with anger, hatred, malice, and all uncharita- bleness ! to take the fire from the inflamed eye, the venom from the stinging tongue, to disarm the uplifted hand, and to change tl. oss of the revengeful bosom into forgiveness and love ! readiest way to fit ourselves to be peace- makers, is to encourage a peaceable disposition in our own hearts, taking heed to the exhortation of the apostle: "Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamour, and evil-speaking, be put away from you, with all malice: and be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath for- given you," Eph. iv. 31. 02 COMMON OCCURRENCES, LET me run through a few of the common every-day affairs of life. I lost my way, and was for a time sadly perplexed ; but when I regained my path, I could have sung for joy. The wind blew dust into my eyes, and blinded me ; but it only rendered me doubly grateful for my eyesight afterwards. I had travelled far, and felt hunger and thirst ; but this made my frugal meal a feast of fat things in my estimation. For a time I was sorely troubled with a fit of the toothache ; it passed, and oh, how delightful it was to be at ease ! I mislaid my spectacles, and could not see to read the Bible ; never was I so thankful for spectacles as when I found them. I was cast down, and brought very low ; but I went in my weakness to Him who is strong, and soon felt like a giant refreshed with wine. WfH-instructed Christians not only know, but COMMON OCCURRENCES. 1 1 feel, that all things work together for good to those that truly love God ; and they may truly say : Car purest pleasures spring from pains i Oar heaviest losses are our gains; Weakness gives strength, peace follows strife. And death brings everlasting life. If winter heightens onr enjoyment of spring, summer, and autumn, let us be thankful for win- ter. If the darkness of the nigh rs, in our estimation, the brightness of the day, 1 t us thank God for th< niim^ht gloom. Nothing can be clearer than that the shade is as necessary as the shine, and deprivation as salutary as < ment The trials and perplexities of life, are an essential part of God's mercies ; and a Christian man should never ponder on the gloom of earth without contrasting it with the glory of heaun. THE GODS OF THE HEATHEN, THE Egyptians worshipped Osiris, Isis, Ty- phon, Anubis, Serapis, and Harpocrates. The Persians adored Armuzd, Mithas, and Ahriman. The Hindoos bowed down to Brahma, the creator, Seeva the destroj^er, and Vishnu the preserver. These, and many other gods, were acknow- ledged by the Egyptians, the Persians, and the Hindoos. The Babylonians worshipped Belus ; the Ca- naanites, Philistines, and Syrians, adored Moloch, Baal, Dagon, and Rimmon ; the Peruvians bowed down to the sun, moon, and stars ; and the Mexicans paid divine honours to Vitzliputzli and Kaloc. These, and many other gods, were ac- knowledged by the Babylonians, the Canaanites, the Philistines, the Syrians, the Peruvians, and the Mexicans. The Scythians worshipped Tabite, Papius, THE GODS OF THE HEATHEN. 153 Apia, Stripnssa, Oestosynes, and Thamimn- the Scandinavians adored Odin, Frea, and Thor ; the Celts, whose priests were called Druids, bowed down to Teutatcs, Dis, and Andate ; and the Greeks and Romans paid honours to Ccelus, Terra, Saturn, Jupiter, Nej.tmu, M.-rcurv, Apollo, Man, Vulcan, Juno, Ceres, Mil Vesta, Diana, Venus, Cybele, Pluto, Sol, Bacchus, and Luna. These, and many other gods, were acknowledged by the Scythians, the Scandinavian* the Celts, the Greeks, and the Romans. Under various shapes, and accomjmn; 1 \\irh unnumbered abominations, were these idols wor- shipped. They were formed of gold, silver, brass, iron, wood, and stone. The heathen poured out human blood before them as freely as water, and "sacrificed their sons and tluir daughters Ptt, BfL The Egyptians, Persians, and Hindoos; Babylonians, Canaanites, Philistines, and Syrians ; the Peruvians, Mexicans, and Scythians; the Scandinavians, Celts, Greeks, and Romans, of olden times, have passed away but idolatry has yet its temples on the earth. Ren awhile the heathen, and enter the recesses of thine own heart. Neither Moloch, nor Dagon, nor Ashtaroth, nor Buddha, nor Juggc-i have there a shrine ; yet may there be a " house of 154 THE GODS OF THE HEATHEN. Bimmon" in which thou secretly bowest down! " Thou shalt have no other gods before me," is the commandment of Him whom thou professest to worship. Remember, then, that selfishness is sin, and that covetousness is idolatry. The heathen bent the knee to idols in darkness and ignorance ; but if thou committest idolatry, it is against light and knowledge. The heathen worshipped gods proverbial for deformity ; but if thou bowest down to sin, thou bowest down to an uglier idol than Osiris, Dagon, Baal, Ashtaroth, Molech, or Juggernaut. Return, O holy Dove, return, Sweet messenger of rest ! I hate the sins that made thee mourn, And drove thee from my breast. The dearest idol I have known, Whatever that idol be, Help me to tear it from thy throne, And worship only thee. THE DEEP PIT, I REMEMBER reading, in a humorous author, some pieces of advice on the matter of purchasing a horse. " If you wish to possess a sure-footed animal," says he, " and one that may be relied on, look out for one broken at the knees ; for, : Hints stones, will not do so again if he can help This advice scarcely agrees with the opinion or prartire of those who value themselves on knowledge of horses and horsemanship ; and not being enough of a jockey myself to settle the I leave the matter as I find it, contenting myself with applying the principle laid down to men instead of brute animals. It is said, with some truth, that "a burned child dreads the fire ;" and it might be added, that a half-drowned man has some fear of the water ; by which I gather, that both OUT errors and 156 THE DEEP PIT. calamities may, to a certain degree, be corrected and avoided by the penalties and inconveniences they bring upon us. Very proudly did I once walk along some slippery rocks at the edge of a deep pit. Again .and again was I cautioned to be careful, and, in fact, to come away altogether from the place, for it was a dangerous spot, and many accidents had occurred there ; but no ! Mr. Highinind had too good an opinion of his own care and discretion. Suddenly my foot slipped from under me, and down I came upon the hard and slippery rock. It was a fortunate thing for me that I suc- ceeded in laying hold of a projecting crag, just as I was sliding into the pit below ; for had I not done so, it is hard to say whether I should ever have stood on my feet again. As it was, Mr. Highmmd, with all the humility of a beaten spaniel, crept away from the place on his hands and knees. Now, though all the cautions of my guide had no effect upon me, my fall cured me at once of my folly. No need was there for me to be ex- horted to practise care and caution. I was a perfect pattern of carefulness, a complete model of humility and circumspection : let who would be reckless and careless, Old Humphrey was not THE DEEP PIT. 157 one of the number. How full of significancy is that text of the royal psalmist, "Before I was afflicted I went astray : but now hare I kept thy word!" Psa. cxix. 67. T lii-re is a pit deeper and more dangerous than the one of which I have spoken even the pit of destruction. Many regard it at a distance with- out fear, and others venture on its very brink without apparent concern ; but when once a Mate of danger gets possession of the soul, what tears , are shed, what groans are uttered, and what prayers are offered up for security! Sam fear is a costly thing. It was with this conviction on bis mine] that a Scottish divine put up the following prayer to the Father of mercies, t irreligious and ungodly king : " Shake him o'er the mouth o' hell, but dinna let him fa* in!*' TYRANNY AND OPPRESSION, IT may not be an unprofitable question to ask ourselves, if we are not too apt, when we think of tyranny and oppression, to apply these terms to cases wherein the great and the mighty of the earth alone are concerned? Pharaoh, for in- stance, oppressed the children of Israel, requiring them to make brick without straw ; and since then, many other tyrants have ruled the nations under their control with a rod of iron. But instances of tyranny and oppression are continually taking place in the common walks of life. We shall do well not to forget that example in Holy Writ, wherein he who had been forgiven a debt went and took his fellow servant by the throat, saying, "Pay me that thou owest," Matt, xviii. 2325. One of the most striking illustrations of oppres- sion that I ever met with, was in a retired lane in a country village. Passing along a high bank in a field, my attention was drawn to the lane below, by a scuffling noise and a loud barking. Looking down from the bank I saw a young TYBANNY AND OPPRESSION. If) 9 pointer dog standing before a lamb, and every now and then jumping up at the unprotected animal and laying hold of his nose or his ear. The dog must have been thus occupied for some time, for the poor lamb was almost exhausted. You may be sure that I was not long in making the best of my way down from the high bank into the lane, and instructing the tyrant of a pointer dog, in the most summary manner, that though he was stronger than the helpless creature he had so long tormented, he was not beyond the reach of punishment. There is something so paltry, so pitifully mean, in oppressing another, merely because you have the power, that such hateful conduct deserves the severest reprobation. When a master tyrannizes over his servant, when a creditor oppress, debtor, when a rich man grinds the face ot tho poor, and one who is strong takes advantage of another who is weak, it is a hateful sight, and highly discreditable to humanity. Never do I witness an instance of this kind without thinking of the poor lamb and the pointer dog. JEWISH CUSTOM. A CHRISTIAN man will gladly learn from a Jew aught that will render him more humble in his own estimation. That was a striking custom which the Jews used to observe at their wedding feasts, of the bride and bridegroom drinking toge- ther from the same glass, and then breaking the glass in pieces. This was intended to teach them that all earthly enjoyments are as brittle as glass. Their bosoms might beat, and their eyes sparkle with joy, but the hope of its continuing long was weak as a spider's thread. There is no security but in the favour of God. Pharaoh was king of Egypt, and reigned proudlv, thinking, no doubt, that the crown was firm on his head, and the sceptre. safe in his hand; but, The sceptres and the crowns of kings Are frail and unsubstantial things. In the pride of his power, when the strength of his kingdom was brought forth his captains, his chariots, and his horsemen, he was overtaken by JEWISH CUSTOM. 161 the closing waters of the Red Sea, and over- whelmed with sudden destruction. Belshazzar was king of Babylon : great was his power, his pomp, and his ambition : Bat royal pomp and kingly power Are bat the baubles of an hoar. So confident was he of the durability of his greatness, that he made a feast to a thousand of his lords, and drank with his princes, his wires, and his concubines, out of the golden cups of the house of God, and praised the gods of gold, siU < r, brass, iron, wood, and stone. But the hand* i on the wall struck him with dismay, and in " that night was Belshazzar, the king of the Chaldeans, slain," Dan. v. 30. Herod was the proud and confident king of Judea; but in th< midst of his pride and power he was suddenly brought low : Alas ! how frail, how soon are flown, The passing pageants of a throne I On a set day, when arrayed in his royal apparel, he sat upon his throne, and made an oration to the people : " And the people gave a shout, saying, It is the voice of a god, and not of a man. Ami immediately the angel of the Lord snmtr him, because he gave not God the glory : and he was .- a 162 JEWISH CUSTOM. eaten of worms, and gave up the ghost/' Acts xii. 22, 23. With such instances as these before us of the instability of earthly possessions and enjoyments, and the suddenness with which the most high- minded and confident have been struck down from the seat of self-exaltation, let us walk hum- bly with God, and depend entirely on his grace. The broken glass in the nuptial ceremony of the Jew, is a fit subject for the consideration of a Christian : For all should know, amid their greatest gains, How frail a thread their earthly hope sustains. FOOD, THE thought may nerer have struck yon. that it is Tcry possible to be starred to death in the midst of food, and to die of thirst in the middle of the sea ; for many kinds of food are no more adapted to the appetite and nourishment of a human being, than the salt water. Give a dog hay, a horse flesh, a cow fish, and a man grass, and they will all soon be in a miserable case. Now, if this be true of the body, it is equally true of the soul. A thriving soul must live on thri\ ing food ; and that prayer of Agur the son of Jakeh, "Feed me with food convening for me," is an excellent one, whether it refer to quality or quantity, Prov. xxx. 8. 1 1 you have ever eaten that which has disagreed with you, I need take no pains to describe the weight, t}ie pain, and sickness of body, you have endured. And if yon have ever devoured with a greedy mind the doctrines of legality, pharisaism, infidelity, and atheism, you must know j or if you do not now, you will know some 164 FOOD. time the distressing doubt, darkness, disappoint- ment, fear, and remorse, which such poisonous food occasions to the mind. We are not sufficiently thankful for the supply of health, and temporal and spiritual food, which the great Giver of all good has so abundantly provided for us. We have no need to feed on husks, for there is a fatted calf prepared for us by our hea- venly Father. While the ground brings forth fifty and a hundred fold, while the trees bend beneath their summer and autumnal load, and while the creatures of the land and the water are given us for food, shall we do well to reject them, and to gather the poison berries of the hedges to assuage our hunger ? While the records of eternal truth, the everlasting gospel of Jesus Christ, is within our reach, shall we act wisely in taking up with the vain refuges of lies, and the idle dreams and dogmas of mutable men ? Oh no ! let us feed on food convenient for us, and let our souls prosper in banqueting on the word of God ; for " the law of the Lord is perfect, converting the soul : the testimony of the Lord is sure, making wise the simple. The statutes of the Lord are right, rejoicing the heart : the commandment of the Lord is pure, enlightening the eyes. The fear of the Lord is clean, enduring for ever : the judg- ments of the Lord are true and righteous alto- FOOD. 165 gether. More to be desired are they than gold, yea, than much fine gold : sweeter also than honey and the honeycomb. Moreover by thi-m servant warned : and in keeping of them there is great reward," Psa. xix. 7-1 1. Have a care of high-seasoned and exciting food, whether for the body or the soul. Who so tongue- valiant and reckless as the drunkard in his cuj- ' and who so faint-hearted and cowardly at other times ? Who so confident of heaven as be who would get there by his own deeds T yet wbo so fearful of hell when he comes to die ? Healthy spiritual food keeps the spirit humble. The humble soul standcth, because it Uketh heed lest it should fall ; it walketh uprightly, because it feareth the Lord ; and it exults without danger, because it rejoices with trembling. AGED CHRISTIANS, EXPERIENCE has taught me that few things have a stronger tendency to confirm the wavering, to raise up the spirits of the desponding, and to establish the faith of the steadfast among the peo- ple of God, than a visit to the habitations of such aged Christians as have borne the heat and the burden of the day, and are about to enter into the joy of their Lord. The youthful traveller is apt to presume on his strength : but he is ignorant of the rough places and thorny pathways he has to tread ; he knows not the trying influence of the sultry sun, and the wintry blast, with which the wayfaring man has to contend. The young recruit, ardent in spirit, listens to the inspiring sounds of the drum and the trumpet, and dreams of nothing but victory : the toilsome march, the weary midnight watch, the bloody struggle, and the carnage of the battle-plain, are unknown to him. And so it often is with the youthful Chris- tian : he feels equal to any trial ; he is ready to make any sacrifice ; and is willing, like Peter of AGED CHIUSTTAJJa. 167 old, to die rather than to deny bis Master. But alas ! alas ! the fain tings, the halt ings, the back- sliding* of Christians, are enough to make us tremble while we rejoice in the hope set before us. And therefore it is that I say, few things are more calculated to give real encouragement and strength to the seeking soul, than a visit to the habitation When the Lord of life and glory speaks of the recompense that shall attend acts of Christian kindness, he does not say a hag of money or a goblet of wine shall he recompensed, but, " Who- soever shall give to drink unto one of these little ones a cup of cold water only in the nairu disciple, verily I say unto you, he shall in no wise lose his reward," Matt. x. 42. You must he ill provided for indeed, if you cannot command a cup of cold water ! It is the will and not the power that is want- ing ; for every human being that breathes, and possesses the use of his faculties, may do good. Look around you for opportunities of usefulness ; for sometimes, if you cannot do a kind deed, yet a kind word, ay, even a kind look, will be useful. A small kindness, if well timed, may be more useful than a great one performed without consideration. No sooner r. j.rrties and peace-restoring pou Those who have no r nature's ban will do well to endeavour to attain it ; and to him who possesses it, and yet guiltily foregoes 1/6 THE NATUKAL CREATION. his opportunities of visiting the country, I would say in the words of the poet : " Oh, how canst thou renounce the boundless store Of charms that nature to her votary yields ? The warbling woodland, the resounding shore, The pomp of groves, the garniture of fields, All that the genial ray of morning gilds, And all that echoes to the song of even ; All that the mountain's sheltering bosom shields, And all the dread magnificence of heaven ; Oh, how canst thou renounce, and hope to be forgiven ? " Courage, Christian ! Creation tells us that there is a God, good, and great, and glorious ; and Kevelation tells us, that " this God is our God for ever and ever," Psa. xlviii. 14. THE PEDANT. ARK you open to reproof? for if so, there is hope of amendment in every error; but if you are obstinate and high-minded, you are in a piti- able case. We are told that a pedant, being shipwrecked, and seeing every one around him clinging to something to keep himself afloat, laid fast hold of one of the anchor*. This story at first seems a little extraordinary. That a man vain of his knowledge should manifest such extreme simplicity and folly, is hardly to be hrlirvcd ; hut if we look about us in the world, and regard the actions of mankind, or examine narrowly the errors of our own hearts, we shall not be quite so much surprised at the pc a>sUt each other lit nls to a young woman who was in ill health. The words were hut few : hut though years roll i .n ; and when -ir.trhed on I lied, she expressed an earnest desire to see me. I went ilinrtlv; when she told me lh \\onls I had spoken to her when unwell, ninny years ago, had led her to lull I \s..ul< unwilling to render a deed of kindness in her ^ hour. young woman was looking forward to an R 182 KINDNESS. eternal world, with a mind rightly directed to the Friend of the contrite in heart, who can support those who trust in Him, in death as well as in life. But one thing lay heavy on her mind : she had for some time been at variance with a friend who had judged her unjustly, and treated her hardly. This had led to unkindly feelings. To forgive and be forgiven, and to die in peace with her es- tranged friend, was the desire of her soul. I think that I was eloquent in pleading her cause, for I brought her erring friend a contrite penitent to her dying bed. They wept, they prayed, they forgave each other ; they read the word of God together ; and, in a few days, with a mind im- pressed with a sense of God's abundant mercy in Christ Jesus towards her, the young woman died in the presence of her reconciled friend, calmly and confidently committing her spirit into the hands of her Redeemer. I saw her dust com- mitted to the ground, and never have I passed her grave without calling to remembrance the exhort- ation, "Be kindly affectioned one to another," Rom. xii. 10. How many a life has been beclouded how many a death has been rendered unhappy, by unkindness ! If we hope for mercy, we should show mercy. If we have received kindness, we should render kindness to others. Let us take a E3. IPS review of our past lives, and see if there have been no unkind words on our part that we can recall; no unkind deeds for which we can atone? We ought, unquestionably, to live in peace with God, and in charity with all mankind; and if we think aright of the amazing grace of the Redeemer, in pardoning our manifold offences, we shall be desirous to obey his merciful exhortation, " Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them I despitefully use yon, and persecute you,'* Matt. v 11; bearing in mind the affectionate ejaculation, " Be kindly affectioned one to another." SUBMISSION, I REMEMBER hearing of a dear lover of books, who had his library burned down to the ground. When his friends expressed their surprise that he should bear his loss with so much calmness, his reply was, " I must have learned but little from my books, if it has not taught me to endure the loss of them. 1 * I remember hearing of another who had reason to expect that his dying brother would leave him a large fortune : " Your brother is dead," said the executor, " but he has not left you a single six- pence of his property." " If God had not known that I could do better without it than with it," was the reply, " I should have had it every penny. It might have given me many enjoyments on earth, but it would surely have hampered me on my way to heaven : I thank my heavenly Father for ridding me of the burden." I remember, also, hearing of a third, who, when told that his enemies had taken away his oxen, his asses, and his camels ; that fire had fallen from heaven and consumed his sheep ; that his servants had been slain with the edge of the sword ; and that a great wind had blown down a house on the heads of his children, and killed them, replied, "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away ; blessed be the name of the Lord." Now what is the use of hearing about such instances of submission to the will of God, if they leave us as impatient under troubles, and as re- pining under losses, as they find us ? These things should be as medicine to our minds, oil to our joints, and marrow to our bones. Oh for the spirit of some who have gone before us, who have borne affliction without murmurins, taken joyfully the spoiling of their goods, endured meekly and patiently the bitterness of persecution, even to death, and accounted all tilings but loss in parison with the excellency of the knowledge of Jesus Christ 1 R 2 REST, " I HAVE had no rest now," said an aged and afflicted servant of God, " for nine days. I have had no rest," said she, " night or day ; and I long for rest ; yea, 1 long to enter into that rest which remaineth for the people of God." As I knew that her mouth was usually filled with praises, for she was one of those cheerful Christians who are always singing of mercy, I could not hut enter deeply into her affliction ; and this led me to ponder afterwards on the blessing of rest. If we valued our common mercies more than we do, we should love God better than we do, and the grace of our Redeemer would be more abund- antly acknowledged in our lives and conversation. If the value of food is taught us by our feeling the want of it, and the value of clothing increased by our not being able to procure it, how grateful are we for food and raiment ! If the air which we breathe, and the water that we drink, become tainted, how grateful are we for fresh air, and ST. 1 s " pure water! As it is with other mercies, so is it with the hlessing of rest. When labour! n.: under anxiety of mind, or pain of boily, we vainly strive in the night season to slumber: when wewateh in di.Mpiietudo, and water our conch with our tears, oh, how < to partake of rest ! I remember that a man died, in the days < : youth, who had the character of being a icrj wicked man : several of his neighbours attended him during his sickness* until, at last, there irew few who dared to remain by his bedside. The cottage in which he d.vlt stood on a lonely com- mon ; and the wretched man used to start up in bed at night, and point in a hurried man different parts of his room, where he said the was waiting for him. Many i nights were passed in this manner, without Ins closing his eyes in slumber. After his d< those who attended him talking together of his terrors : they described his afflictions as \irv heavy; but what impressed my mind mme than anything else which they said was, that " the miserable man could never get any rest." \Vh.u would not that wretched being have given for one hour of the peaceful slumber that we so commonly enjoy ! If we enjoy the blessing <>; and pence through the hours of darkness, and luivc never offered up thanks and praises in an 188 REST. especial manner for these mercies, it is time to offer them up now. Who is there who would give up his peaceful slumbers to possess the wealth of the world? Alas ! whatever a man may possess though gold and silver fill up his chests though he possess every earthly enjoyment that man must still be wretched indeed, who has not rest. Let us think of these things, that we may be grateful together for the rest appointed to us on earth ; and earnestly pray that our hearts may be made willing to accept the merciful and gra- cious invitation of our compassionate Saviour Jesus Christ, " Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest" Matt. xi. 28. BRINK BURN PRIORY. BRINK BURN Pnory, in Northumberland, dedi- cated to St. Peter, was founded in the reign of Henry I., by William de Bertram, Baron ol i'-Tiii, who established the Black Canons, or Canons Regular of r of St. Augu Tin baron endowed the priory with lands out of his wastes. Now tradition tells us, that, on a certain occasion, a Scottish army, which had maile -union or inroad into England, in n turning homeward passed near to Brink burn without ob- bcmiii; the |ri.ry. The monks, congratulating each other in having escaped that pillage which the neighbourhood had been \i>it.-,l, in thrir excess of joy set about ringing the bells, imprudence proved to them an unfortunate affair; tor the Scots, not being out of hearing, in; ately turned back nn yon cannot do ; for, though he is such an j , ho runt rives to persuade you th.-it h<- i* your hrst trirml ! Hr has abused the confidrurr nvp put in him. He has led you into c\il, he has denivr.l y.n. he has robbed yon, and placed jn.ixnn in ycmr hasket and in your store. s -J 198 AN ENEMY. In short, there is hardly any bad deed which lie has not, at one time or other, either done, or per- suaded you to do. Now this enemy is, as I said before, the nearest acquaintance that you have. It is not your father, nor your mother, nor your sister, nor your brother, but a part of yourself It is your oivn heart. Think for a moment of the deceit this enemy has practised against you. He has persuaded you to disobey God's will, that you might indulge in your own ; to seek for happiness in sin, which never yet failed to produce sorrow ; to set your affections on a poor perishing world that is passing away, and leave unsought that eternal inheritance winch is in heaven. Truly, " the heart is deceit- ful above all things, and desperately wicked : who can know it?" Jer. xvii. 9. Think how this enemy has robbed you of your peace of mind, by prevailing on you to commit iniquity ; for sinners are always unhappy. " The wicked are like the troubled sea, when it cannot rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt. There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked," Isa. Ivii. 20, 21. Think how he has poisoned your enjoyments, by depriving you of the comfort of God's promises in Christ Jesus, by bringing you into a state of condemnation ; for " the soul that sinneth, it shall ENEMY. I'.' 1 ) die," F,zok. xviii. 4. How many fears and fore- bodings has he brought upon you of God's dis- pleasure and eternal wrath! If thought on these things, think of them now. Should you be in doubt wln-ther the heart is so wicked as 1 have represented it to be, hear the word of God says about it that word which cannot lie : " From within, out of th- of men, proceed eril thoughts, adulteries, fornica- tions, murders, thefts, covetousness, wickedness, deceit, lasciviousncss, an evil eye, blaspl . foolishness : all these evil things come from within, and defile the man," ' 21 23. .fully drawn, and is, indeed, enough to terrify any one who looks upon it. And can you, after all this, consider your heart as a friend, unless it be changed ' [f JOQ can, you must be content to endure all the miseries it will hring upon }u. " Be sure your sin will tin. I you out," Num. xxxii. 23. Hut if you are convinced that your heart is c\ il, nn.l not to be trusted, (he that trusteth his heart is a fool, ) why then hast < e can restrain the unruly wills and affections of sinful Go unto the Lord Jesus Christ, th- HI.IKT'S IViend, and pray, "Create in me a clean 1 O God; and renew a i b within 200 Psa li. 10; and be assured that your prayer will be beard. God bas promised to tbose who seek his grace, " A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you : and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you an heart of flesh," Ezek. xxxvi. 26. This is the promise of God, and not a jot or tittle of bis promises shall fail : for they are yea and amen in Jesus Christ. THE HAPPY CHILDREN, THKRE are moments when the most buoyant hearts, the most elastic spirits, are bowed d and it was so with me yesterday, when I walked abroad. The sun shone, and we all love snu- the wind blew, and I delight in a high wind ; yet still I began to be cumbered with many cares, and my heart sank within D As I continued my walk, brooding on trifling ions and imaginary evils, 1 came Middmly to a turn in the lane, where two ragged am lining themselves; the one swinging to and fro on a gate. They were both of tin -m highly delighted, and the one on the gate at least was as happy as a king. lit- sat on the topmost bar, holding it with his bands, \\liiu- his toes were tucked in between t" f the hars he-low him, that he might not (all. re was unwashed, and his hair r. his stockingless feet came through his shoes, and his ragged raiment : ;<> :,. .filed him not 202 THE HAPPY CHILDREN. every time the rattling gate was banged against the gatepost, he burst into a roar of laughter. " Oh," thought I, " and can happy -hearted childhood, with scanty blessings, revel in mirth, and indulge wildly in unrestrained merriment ; and age, surrounded with unnumbered mercies, give way to repining and despondency ? Shame, shame upon me?" Again I looked at the young rogues at their pastime, and heard the wild laugh of the happy urchin exalted on the gate. The sunshine that beamed on my head seemed to enter into my heart ; the wind that blew around me raised my spirit, and I began to sing of mercy. "O come, let us sing unto the Lord : let us make a joyful noise to the rock of our salvation. Let us come before his presence with thanksgiving, and make a joyful noise unto him with psalms," Psa. xcv. 1.2. THE WANDERER WITHOUT A GUIDE, I 11 IVE just been reading ot one \\iio climbed the Chr\iot hills, taking a guide with him to dir.vt him the road. No sooner hain<, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness/* 1 John i. 8,9. You will, perhaps, never see the gnarled oak which I have described to yon ; hut nrvrr mind that, for the first hollow tree that you meet \\ith may remind you of it, nn run every risk, jeopardizing body and soul i'.r the glittering bauble of this world's apprnhritinn. B is some difference between time nml nity, cnrth and heaven, n chaplet of fnd ing flowers 212 PHILIP OF MACE DON. and a crown, of eternal glory ; and yet they who follow after the lesser advantage, show more ar- dour, self-denial, and enterprise, than those who pursue the greater. He who would endure hardness as a good sol- dier of Jesus Christ, should be willing to learn from friends and enemies, wise men and fools, Christians and heathens, aught that will quicken his feet, strengthen his hands, or animate his heart, in obeying the Captain of his salvation ; and this being the case, we may learn a profit- able lesson from what has been said of Philip of Macedon. AN UNEXPECTED SERMON, SERMONS are not always preached from tho pulpit ; for the other day I u !ly heard a Tery good, though a homely one, mulor the por- of a theatre in the Strand ! It was an odd 4>lace, to he sure ; but a smart shower had driven me there for shelter, and soon afu r nn old man took slu lu -r there also, who began to talk of tho best things. "Sir," said he, "I am righty-tWO years of age, and God has graciously given mr, among many mercies, the mercy of being made sensible of his goodness. I remember, in my boy- hood, hearing an aged minister declare from the pulpit, that when he was forty years old he con- l himself so good, that he believed the itions of Satan had no power over him , but when he was threescore and ten, h< \\ns obliged to confess that Sal an had a bait for old v/i//. I am, Sir, as I told you, eighty-two ; and as the minister found at threescore years and ten, so I find at eighty-two, that I am a poor, weak, worthless creature, totally dependent on God's goodness and grace, feeling every day of my lite that Satan has a bait for old birds still" THE FIT OF ABSTRACTION. IT was on a sharp, frosty day at the latter end of December, when, standing up at the window to look at the trees, powdered over as they were with snow, and at the poor half-famished birds that were rendered tame by the severity of the season, that I gave way to a fit of benevolent abstraction. I will endeavour to set down my ruminations. " Oh !" thought I, " that it were possible for me to do some kindly deed to every man, woman, and child under the canopy of heaven ! Oh that I could for once in my life make every eye sparkle, every pulse throb, and every heart beat with de- light ! Had I the power, the poor should be made rich, the rich more affluent than they are, and the one and the other should have heavenly hopes added to their earthly enjoyments !" Now this was all very beautiful ; and I no doubt *hought so, for I continued my musings of bene- volence. " How delightful it would be to comfort the afflicted, to raise the fallen, to liberate the captive, THK HT OF ABMi 2 1 ."> to heal the sick, to bind up tlu- tn;i-c.i and broken, and to scatter abroad, wide as the world, the elements of peace, comfort, satisfaction, hap- s and delight!*' If any thing, this latter burst of pliihnthropy was finer than the former ; and most likely, at the 11 . :ny countenance brightened up in mplating the fair p <-h my fancy in such glowing colours had drawn. But not yet was the fountain of my good intentions dry, or the treasure-house of my munificence exhausted ; for thus did I continue my abstraction. * Had 1 the power and the opportunity to bless mankind, friend and foe should alike be the par- takers of my bounty ; misery should be unknown ; nn kindness should be banished from the world ; nnd the nations of the earth should celebrate an unbroken jubilee of joy." By the time tliat I h.ul ani\< 1 at this exalted climax of philanthropy, I stood tolerably high in my own estimation, and how much higher I might have elevated myself it would be hard to say ; l-ut, nt tlu moment, my opposite neighbour opem door to let in a strange cat, which had, for some time, been mewing in the cold j he brought out, too, directly after, some broken victuals to a shivi ring lad, who had undertaken for a trifle to sweep away the snow from his door ; and scat 216 TUP: FIT OF ABSTRACTION. a liberal handful of crumbs around for the benefit of the poor birds. With shame and confusion I reflected on my useless thoughts, and on my neighbour's deeds. I had stood stock still, idly dreaming on imaginary kindness, while he had really performed three acts of unobtrusive charity. When shall we learn that benevolence consists not in thinking, but in doing ! A real penny outweighs an ideal pound ; and a cup of cold water given with kindness, is better than rivers of oil flowing only in the imagination. THE COAT OF MANY COLOUKS, THE other sabbath morning I overtook an aged man, whose threadbare coat was well pan-hid \\itli cloth of different hues, so that it was iiuK id k ;i coat of many colours." As I walked bchiml liim, musing on his grey hair, his bent body, his hum- ble mien, and slow movement, he turned i place of worship. " Wt-11," tliouirht 1, " I took him for a pilgrim, and a pilgrim in* is, 1 doubt nut, t<> the city with the golden gates. Reappears to be low in the world ; but there was one who wore, if not a coat of the same kind as his, at least a coat of many colours, who was brought much lower, and yet afterwards was raised to a high estate, even to sit among princes." However much there may be to discourage a man in so humble a garb from thriving in this world, there seems to be no impediment in the way of his arriving at high honour and dignity in tin- world that is to come. Earthly kings may not covet his company ; but if his heart be right with God, however lowly his apparel may be, he shall share the glory of the King of heaven. It must comfort such an one to know, on Divine authority, u 218 THE COAT OF MANY COLOURS. that the Almighty Ruler of the skies despiscth not poverty. He puts down the mighty from their seat, and exalts them of low degree. He fills the hungry with good things, and sends the rich empty away. Were all the Christians congregated together to whom the Saviour of the world, when on earth, showed personal kindness, they would form but a motley group, and would obtain but little atten- tion on account of the respectability of their clothing. Simon Peter's " fisher's coat," was most likely of a very homely fashion. Poor blind Bartimeus, who would not be chidden into silence, but persisted in crying out, " Jesus, thou Son of David, have mercy on me," was not, you may depend upon it, dressed in very fashionable attire. I greatly question if the cloak that Paul left at Troas was of much value ; and I never could think of lowly Lazarus as wearing any other coat on the sabbath day than that which he wore on every other day of the week. Cheer up, humble-minded, meanly-clad Chris- tian. Be content for a while to take the lowest seat : by and by thou shalt hear the welcome in- vitation of thy Lord, " Come up higher ;" when garments shall be given thee pure and white as the moon in her brightness, and effulgent as the sun in his glory. SUDDEN CHANGES, AN old mail's experience will perhaps be borne out by your own in the following relation. How sudden are, at times, the changes in the face of creation ! One of the goodliest days that I erer remember, was ushered in by the appearance of a storm. A sullen stillness prevailed, and the gathering gloom became more and more oppres- It was a season that solemniied tin- n.nM ; a day in which the burdened spirit might have L'ivm way to sadness, and the desponding soul lamented for sin. The heavy clouds were roll. d thiekly together: the low growl of the distant thunder seemed the note of preparation the pi*. cursor of the raging storm. But even from the bosom of the coal-black cloud the sunbeam burst forth ; the darkened vapours were soon scattered, and heaven was lit up with a blaze of glory. It was a season of sudden surprise and joy ; a day in which the exulting heart might aloud, " Let young men, and maidens ; old men, and children ; \ fcbmg that 220 SUDDEN CHANGES. hath hreath praise the Lord : for his name alone is excellent ; his glory is above the earth and heaven. Praise ye the Lord," Psa. cxlviii. 12, 13 ; cl. 6. How oft amid the murky shroud The sunbeam wins its way, And breaking from the thunder cloud. Proclaims a goodly day. How often too, with waving wings, When judgments seem to roll, Mercy flies kindly forth, and flings A sunbeam on the soul. THE CHURLISH FARMER, ARE you kind-hearted or churlish? This is a little like asking if you are a cordial or a scourge to those around you. One of the most churlish remarks that I re- m cm her to have ever heard was made by a far- it was on a Shrove Tuesday. A servant- irirl Imd been frying pancake* and fritters all the ni Tin ML:, till, what with the heat and the fatigue, she seemed hardly able to stand. A kind-hearted MMtor, who happened to be present, interceded that the girl might have a little rest. "Let her rest in her grave ! " was the reply of the churlish fani. > happened when I was a boy, so that by the time I grew up to manhood, the churlish farmer was in years. With the wrinkled brow and the it iir came age's infirmities, weakness, rheu- matic attacks, loss of appetite, and decrepit >il\ Often and often did I hear him c<>; : weari- ness and pain, and especially that he could get no rest; but never do I remember hearing liim m.ikr this last observation without being reminded of his churlish remark, " Let her rett in her grave ! " u2 222 THE CHURLISH FARMER. Years rolled on ; spring and summer, autumn and winter, passed away. The farmer's ground was ploughed and sowed, reaped and mowed ; his harvests were safely stowed in his rick yards and barns, and at last he himself was gathered into the garner of death. It seems but as yesterday when I attended his remains to the house appointed for all living. When the funeral service had been read, the rattling earth dropped on the coffin, and the mi- nister had taken his departure, some who were present indulged in a few remarks, standing on the edge of the grave. One remembered this of the departed, and another remembered that. I had my remembrance too ; and I wish it had been of a different kind. I remembered and it moves me even now to acknowledge it I remembered his churlish remark, " Let her rest in her grave ! " Now, whatever of our frailties and infirmities may be remembered by our surviving friends, when the green sod is growing over us, let it not be said that we had within us unkind and churlish hearts. We are borne with ; let us bear with others, not forgetting the injunction of the apostle Peter, " Be pitiful, be courteous ;" nor that of St. Paul, " Be kindly affectioned one to another," Rom. xii. 10; 1 Pet. iii. 8. DESOLATION. ANOTHER thought for the thoughtful. Most persons, young and old, have a pleasure in \isitiii- ruins. Tlii> inrlinaiimi is somewhat ro- mantic in youth, hut in age it springs from graver niul ileeper emotions. When an old man gazes on a dilapidated mansion, a roofless church, a ruined abbey, a desolated palace, or a mouldering castle, it comes home to his heart. The ivy, the crum- bling wall, the falling fragment, and the tot ; tower, speak to his spirit in a language that I,,- cannot but comprehend. They are monument! on which are graven his own mortality. Old Humphrey has wandered in desolate placet, while the hollow blustering wind and the voiceless solitude have alike impressed his mind with the so- Irmu truth, that the ground was giving way beneath his feet, and all things fading around him. I! latter end has been vividly brought before him, and his lips in a subdued tone have syllabled the words, " All the days of my appointed time \\ ill I wait, till my change come," Job xi\ . 11. 224 DESOLATION. How impressive is the language of Holy Writ, when prophetically sketching the ruins of Baby- lon! "It shall never be inhabited, neither shall it be dwelt in from generation to generation : neither shall the Arabian pitch his tent there ; neither shall the shepherds make their fold there. But wild beasts of the desert shall lie there ; and their houses shall be full of doleful creatures ; and owls shall dwell there, and satyrs shall dance there," Isa. xiii. 20, 21. " I will also make it a possession for the bittern, and pools of water : and I will sweep it with the besom of destruction, saith the Lord of hosts," Isa. xiv. 23. Not only Christians, but Turks, have been moved to solemn reflections by the influence of desolate places over the mind. It is said that when Mohammed, second emperor of the Turks, took possession of Constantinople in the year 1453, and thus put an end to the Roman name, the splendid palaces of Constantine in their desolation much affected him. For a season he mused in a melancholy manner on the fading nature of earthly greatness, and then broke out in the language of Arabian poetry " The spider hath woven her web in the imperial palace, and the owl hath sung her watch-song on the towers of Afrasiab." THE DOORS BEING SHUT, I HAVE been reading over the text : " Tlu>n the same day at evening, being the first day of the week, when the doors were shut where the disciples were assembled for fear of the Jews, came Jesus and stood in the midst, and saith unto them, Peace be unto you," John ix. 19. I ha\e been reflecting on the circumstance of " the doors being shut," and some pleasant though somewhat ful thoughts have come across my mind. Do you wish that Jesus would come into your heart, saying, "Peace be unto you?" Look well to it that the " doors " and windows arc " shut ;" for if your ears are open to take in all ain babbling that prevails in Vanity and your eyes open to stare at all the tine thin^ set forth, your heart will soon be as full ns th inn at Bethlehem, and there will be no room for Jesus. Either keep the doors and windows shut, or watch them carefully. It is cold work watching, especially when darkness is round you. Many a weary hour will you have while nth.T folks are merry-making ; but v shall see that the morning Sun of Righteousness is better than the midnight lamp ot TRYING TIMES, You may have seen, perhaps, a hand of emi- grants parting with their friends just as the ship was about to weigh anchor. Mothers hang- ing on the necks of their sons ; brothers and sis- ters linked in each others arms ; lovers as pale as agony could make them, clinging to one another bathed in tears ; and white-headed old men and grey-headed old women spreading out their aged hands to their children on board, or clasping them in prayer on their bended knees, invoking the best blessings of the Almighty on those they were about to lose for ever ! If you have seen these things, the tears, the lamentations, the blessings, the agony, the faintings, and the prayers, no doubt, sunk into your souls. It is just possible, too, that you may have been present among the passengers of a ship in distress, when the mast has been carried away by the board, when a leak has sprung, and four feet of water been collected in the hold ; when the vessel has struck on a rock, staving in her bows, tearing TRYING TIMES. 227 away her keel, and beating about on the sharp crags, like a huge fish left by the receding sea upon the shallowy shore ; and if so, you must have seen the wild rush of crew and passengers on deck, witnessed the heart-rending agony of old and young, and heard the mingled oaths and prayers, the fervent petitions and frantic ravings, of tin- bewildered throng in momentary expecta- tion of overwhelming destruction. Now these are trying times, and they bring to light whether we have been building on the sands >r on the rock. It is in vain to deceive ourselves \vith false hopes, trusting to the strength of our I and thr influence of reason over us these things will no more support us in such sea- sons, than a leaky boat will preserve us in a sti.nn. There is no cure for the sorrows of earth, save the well-grounded hope of the joys of hea- ven. If, when we part with our friends here, we have the assurance that we shall meet them herc- at'ter, it will go far to mitigate our grief ; and it, when we are tossed in the storm that threatens us and all around us with destruction, we can put our confidence in Him who said to the troubled ocean, "Peace, be still," Mark iv. 80, thru only will our souls be sustained in peace. THE TWO BUSTS. NEVER affect knowledge in that about which you know nothing. By acting contrary to this advice, you may pass for a person of discernment one moment, and be overwhelmed with confusion the next. I will not undertake to answer for the truth of the tale, but it is said that a stranger once went into the study of a statuary, where two busts were standing ; one, he was told, was the resem- blance of the murderous Greenacre, and the other that of the benevolent Howard. For some time he gazed on the figures, observ- ing in one all the ruffian qualities of a murderer, and as distinctly tracing in the other all the amiable virtues of a philanthropist. Long and loud were his praises in commendation of the sculptor, who had succeeded in depicting so faith- fully and forcibly the lineaments of virtue and vice. All passed off remarkably well, until the discriminating stranger, by one of his remarks, made it appear too plainly that he had mistaken THE TWO DUSTS. 229 one bust for the other ; that in which he had admired virtue, was the likeness of Greenacre ; and the other, in which he had abhorred vice, was the resemblance of the philanthropist. If uc are in the mood to profit, we may get good from the narration given. Who is there that has not credit for more wisdom than he pos- sesses? With many it is a favourite object to appear wiser than others ; and with most of us it is easy to be proud, but very hard to be humble. A HINT TO A NEIGHBOIJK ON INDIGESTION. As you are troubled with indigestion, taking medicine, and leading a weary life of it, now better for a season, and then again worse than ever, I will prescribe for you. Experience is an excellent physician ; take, then, my recipe. You are welcome to it, though it is invaluable. Look less to the food you eat, and more to the temper and frame of mind in which you eat it. Instead of getting much physic into your stom- ach, get a little thankfulness into your heart, and you will soon see what will become of your indi- gestion. The love of God shed abroad in the heart helps the temper ; a good temper helps the appetite ; a good appetite helps the stomach ; and a good stomach assists the digestion. So long as you are under the dominion of fear, anger, hurry, care, grief, ill-temper, or any bad passion, you may live in vain on the wings of larks, the thighs of woodcocks, aud the breasts of HINT TO A NEIGHBOUR ON INDIGESTION partridges. Nothing will suit your indigestion ; the tender will become tough, and the light will lie heavy on your stomach. Let love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, abide and abound in your heart. Ob- tain this spirit, eat your food under its influence, and get often into the fresh air ; and, tnki my word for it, you will ere long be able to eat toasted cheese and barm dumplings with impunity. THE BASKET OF SUMMER FEUIT, WHERE is the Bible reader in the whole world who has not occasionally found, when reading the word of God, an unusual fulness, significancy, and sweetness in texts which he has read over a hundred times without emotion? Sometimes, too, the words suggest to the mind comfortable thoughts, which appear to have little or no con- nexion with the true meaning of the text. A case of this kind occurred to me yesterday, as I read the words, " And he said, Amos, what seest thou ? And I said, A basket of summer fruit," Amos. viii. 2. Now the basket of summer fruit seems, in the prophecy, to set forth the approaching end of Israel ; but it communicated to my mind joyous feelings, and delightful anticipations. " Summer fruit," seemed the symbol of coming mercies, and blessings about to be enjoyed. What more plea- sant to the eye, what more grateful to the taste, THE BASKET OF SUMMER FRUIT. 233 in the sunny season of the year, than summer fruit ? " Amos, what seest thou ? A basket of summer fruit." A good thing it is to know the true meaning of CTery text in God's holy word ; but I hope it is not an unlawful use of Scripture to receive grate- fully any pleasant suggestion it may convey that is not opposed to its general spirit and truth ; ami that I may, without committing an error, follow out such suggestion when it adds as murh to my thankfulness as to my joy. Oh ! what goodly baskets of summer fruit arc in store for the humble believ. , there is summer itself, with all its fruits and flowers, its glowing scenes, and golden, glorious skies all given by the hand of his heavenly Father ! Thru there are heart-comforting seasons of prayer and praise, wherein a weak worm of the earth is per- 1 to hold close communion with the in God of heaven ! Then there is the book of eter- nal truth, not the word of men, but, as it is in truth, the word of God, enlightening the eyes, making wise the simple, converting the soul, and in: the heart, Psa. xix. 7, 8. Then come the ordinances of religion, the means of grace, and the hope of glory through Jesus Christ, with nil the precious promises of support through life and death, and an abundant cut ram < into life eternal. x 2 234 THE BASKET OF SUMMER FRUIT. " Amos, what seest thou ? A basket of summer fruit." Ay, and a precious basket it is too ; for though in one sense it shadows forth the end of Israel on earth, in another it sets forth, as with a sunbeam, the beginning of Israel in heaven. If you are enabled to consider the subject experi- mentally, it will be indeed a basket of summer fruit, refreshing to your heart and to your soul. Till' ],. \SKET LANE. AGAIN do I say it to my sorrow, that a worse road than Lasket Lane it would be very difficult to find. So stony in one part, and so clayey in another; so full of deep ruts, holes, and quag- mires, and so beset on each side with straggling brambles, that, take it altogether, it would be, as I said, no easy matter to find a worse road. Not only is the road bad in itself, but the people who hare to do with it seem to take a sort of pride in making it worse. On one side tin- road lies a gate-post, thrown down so carelessly, that any one unaccustomed to the lane, when driving along in a gig at nightfall, would, in nil probability, be overthrown. On the other side, at some distance from the gate-post, is a heap of weeds, not spread about, but piled up as if for the very purpose of doing mischief; while, from the top of the lane to the bottom, large heaps of stones lie in very dangerous positions. They may be broken some day to fill up the nits, the holes, and the quagmires ; but while they lie uhere they now are, tin -y ivn.ler Lasket Lane almost impassahlr. Some time ago, I had to pass along this lane 236 THE LASKET LANE. on a very stormy day ; and though I was on horseback, with a pair of mud boots up to my thighs, and a great coat and Macintosh on my back, still, to get along Lasket Lane was a sad trouble to me. While I was walking my horse cautiously along, holding at the same time an umbrella over my head, I heard a splashing be- hind me, and in another minute, a countryman, in a smock-frock, mounted on a strong horse, dashed by me, seemingly as light-hearted and as unconcerned as if the weather had been fine, and the Lasket Lane as smooth as a bowling-green. The countryman had neither umbrella, mud boots, great coat, nor Macintosh cloak ; yet on he went, freely and fearlessly, not even thinking that to be a trouble which I had so much difficulty in contending with. As he resolutely splashed onward through the miry lane, I looked after him with a degree of respect ; for I felt my own little- ness. "There goes my superior!" thought I; and before I had reached the middle of the Las- ket Lane, no doubt he was at the end of it. If you had seen me huddled up on horseback, wrinkling my brow at the stormy weather, and looking anxiously at the wretched road, you would very likely have laughed at me ; but had you seen the countryman, you would have regarded him with pleasure. Learn a lesson, then, from us both. THE LASKET LANE. There are many Lasket Lanes in the world, of one kind or other. Rude and rough roads, and deep and dirty quagmires, are to be found in most places ; and if there are not these, still there are trials to endure, and difficulties to overcome. M ' them with a good spirit, and he not dis- heartened by trifling troubles ! Be ashamed of giving way to unnecessary fears ; look upward confidently, and go onward boldly. Learn to endure hardness as a faithful soldier of Christ, especially in holy thing- " No man, having put his hand to the plough, and looking back, i* fit for the kingdom of God," Luke ix. 62. Courage in the common affairs of life is a valuable quality, but in spiritual things it is a Christian grace. Let us take courage, thru, thinking lightly of our momentary troubles. " Let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the nee that is set before us, looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith ; who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, de- spising the shame, and is set down at the right hand 0f the throne of God. For consider him that endured such contradiction of sinners against him- self, lest ye be wearied and faint in your mn MI 'i :*. GOD'S PRESENCE, THEY who have God's presence have all that they need ; for in his presence is fulness of joy, and at his right hand are pleasures for evermore. Are they in doubt and danger? they hear the Master's voice saying, " Peace, be still ;" and, " It is I ; be not afraid !" Are they in the water or the fire ? " When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee ; when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned." Christians, indeed, are not over particular about circumstances, so that they are blessed with God's presence. "When Jesus is seen walking upon the sea, they know that there will soon be a great calm. The people of God know what winter is as well as summer ; they know what thorns are, as well as flowers. Often do they walk in desolate places, and stumble in rugged pathways, with a darkness that may be felt all around them ; but when God is with them, crooked things are made straight, and rough places plain. I ask not therefore whether you are at ease or in trouble ; whether you are sit- ting down in green pastures, or standing up in a fiery furnace ; but, rather, 7* there one with you like unto the Son of God?" See Dan. iii. 25. ON DRESS, WHAT a medley of opinions, what diversified iiu Imations there are among mankind on the sub- ject of dress! One follows the fashion; nimthrr is negligent, and becomes slovenly ; a third con- siders neatness an indispensable requisite ; a fourth disapproves of wearing mourning; and a fifth dresses plain and lowly, making it a matter of conscience to do so, and deeming it wrong otherwise. For myself, I leave the right and the wrong of the thing, believing as I do that we are too apt, in many cases, to be more precise than our heavenly Father requires us to be. We are too much given to bind ourselves where he gives n% liherty, and to take liberty where he would hind us for our good; but I am rather fond of following out my own feelings in these matters, and in letting others follow out theirs. Let thi- ng bride and bridegroom adorn themselves \\ith their wedding garments ; and let those who are sorrowful, if they lUt, put on sackcloth and go softly. Some time ago, in leaving the house of 240 ON DRESS. a neighbour, I took up a hat which had crape around it ; but as it did not fit me, I returned to change it for my own. " Well, sir," said the owner of the hat, " I do not much wonder at the mistake, as we have each of us hoisted the symbol of sorrow. May that sorrow which is shadowed forth on our hats be sanctified to our hearts, and then it will be a blessing to us both." This Christian remark had my hearty Amen ! and the crape on my hat has often, since then, brought it into my mind. Whatever be our opinions about dress, it is not, I think, wise to affect singularity. Were a man to dress himself up in a Merry-andrew's cap and bells, or a Harlequin's jacket, he might set the neighbourhood grinning around him, but he would add thereby neither to his comfort nor his reputation. But, after all, weakness is more pardonable than ill-nature ; and, therefore, though I hold with no extremes, I dislike the extreme of fashion less than the extreme of fault-finding. THE BITTER FBUITS OP WAR, THE surgeon who would cure a wound must probe it to the bottom, if it be requisite ; and he that would produce a hatred of war, must not be afraid to make manifest its enormities : " The field of battle (Borodino) had all the appearance of an extinguished volcano . The L- round was covered all around with fragments of helmets and cuirasses, broken drums, gun-stocks, tatters of uniforms, and standards dyed with blood. On this spot lay thirty thousand half-devoured cones. The emperor (Napoleon) passed quickly nobody stopped ; cold, hunger, and the enemy, urged us on : we merely turned our faces as we proceeded, to take a last melancholy look at the vast grave of so many companions in arms use- lessly sacrificed." SEGUR'S Ruttian Campaign. Read, ye fathers ! Are ye ready thus to sacri- fice your sons ? Is this the fame and the glory ye desire for them T Are ye quite content that the 242 THE BITTER FRUITS OF WAR. flesh of your flesh, and hone of your bone, should thus be made an untimely banquet for birds and beasts of prey ? "Multitudes of these desolate fugitives lost their speech ; others were seized with frenzy, and many were so maddened with the extremes of pain and hunger, that they tore the dead bodies of their comrades to pieces, and feasted on the disgusting remains." SIR ROBERT KER PORTER. Read, ye mothers ! and ask yourselves if it was for this that ye nourished and brought up your children tenderly for this that ye watched and wept over them, and taught them to lisp their infant prayers ? " In the hospitals of Wilna were above nine- teen thousand dead and dying, frozen and freez- ing ; the bodies of the former, broken up, served to stop the cavities in windows, floors, and walls ; but in one of the corridors of the great convent, above fifteen hundred bodies were piled up trans- versely, as pigs of lead or iron. In the roads, men were collected around the burning ruins of the cottages, which a mad spirit of destruction had fired, picking and eating the burnt bodies of their fellow-men." SIR ROBERT WILSON. Read, ye fathers and mothers ! ye wives and husbands ! Read in the bitterness of your spirit, and instead of railing on the culpable demerits of THE BITTER FRUTTS OF WAR. 213 others that delight in war, call to mind your own. I would fain put these questions to your hearts and your souls. Have you ever reflected on the sin and the sorrows of war f Have you ever lifted u p your voice on high among your i'r or whispered into the ears of your children, de- nouncing war as a curse to mankind ' I Live you c v, r put up a prayer to the High and Holy One, that the sword might be scabbarded for ever? Have you, in short, done any thing in thought, word, or deed, to extend on earth the blessings of peace, and to diminish the guilt and misery of war? THE SETTING SUN, DID our emotions at all correspond with the wonders around us, then would our hands, our eyes, and our hearts be continually lifted up to- wards heaven. What a goodly sight is that of the retiring orb of day ! The sunset that I have just seen is not to be described ; but as fair and glow- ing landscapes are sometimes tolerably depicted in Indian ink, so my poor expressions may sha- dow forth some faint resemblance of the glorious spectacle on which I have so recently gazed. Blue was the wide firmament in the east, the north, and the south ; it was in the west alone that the kindling beams of the retiring sun were visible, gradually increasing in intensity till the overpowered sight could no longer endure the brightness that in one point concentrated itself in an apparent blaze. A change came over the scene : and dark, gilt-edged clouds, in broken masses, assumed the appearance of rocks, through which floods of light found their way. Another change. The rocks became darker, and the glowing light THE SETTING SUN. 245 brighter. It was a transition from loveliness to excessive beauty, from grandeur to magnificence unutterable. I could only give a rapid glance at the overpowering scene ; but in that glance what glory was visible ! the floods of light were as cascades of silvery streams, cataracts of mnltm gold, and tumbling torrents of liquid diamonds. In this imperfect state of being, how much of rapture may be enjoyed ! but in a more glorious existence a thousand new scenes may be given us, and ten thousand uew sources of delight. Y 2 A SABBATH PASSED IN A DITCH, IN moving among mankind, we are very sure, every now and then, unexpectedly, to fall in with those who are grateful for the means of grace, and the hope of glory, who read the Bible, value the sabbath, and love the Saviour. Not long ago I met with a stranger, who, in conversation with me, spoke thus on the subject of the Christian sabbath: "Though there is doubtless much of ungodliness in England, yet, when compared with the sabbaths on the Continent, a sabbath here is a delightful season. No one can truly value that blessed day until he has been deprived of its enjoyment. When in the army, I felt this deprivation; we had misery in every shape ; for, in the Peninsular war, toil, danger, disease, and death, were continually around us and among us. Th^ nearer the troops appeared to be to eternity, the farther off their thoughts A SABBATH PASSED IN A DITCH. 247 appeared to be from God. The thousands that had been slain were disregarded ; neither the dead nr the dying seemed to excite a serious thought in the minds of the reckless soldiers. In circumstances, how grateful would have been the peace, the refreshment, the consolation, the joy of a Christian sabbath ! "It was on the sabbath day that I received a letter from an affectionate daughter, thru in Eng- land ; it alluded to the uncertainty of life, e>pe- cially to a military man. It pressed on me the consideration of eternal things, and pointed me n who, in peace and in war, in health and in sickness, in life and in death, is able to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by him. Every word made a lodgment in my heart. Foli ling up the letter, and putting a prayer-book in my pocket, I walked out to a distance the camp, until I came to a solitary ditch : in that . on my knees, I poured out my foul before God, and there, in peace, I spent my sahfuith day Christian reader, this anecdote is worthy of attention; it shows that, with God's blessing, the faithful and affectionate remonstrance of a pious child will affect the heart of a parent, though he be a soldier in the camp, and surrounded with ungodliness ; and also, that when the soul truly 248 A SABBATH PASSED IN A DITCH. hungers and thirsts after the bread of life and living waters, it will, under the most unfavour- able circumstances, find out a way of holding communion with God. The heart may be com- forted in the most solitary place, and a profitable sabbath may be spent in a ditch. WAGES, ONE word with you about wages ; but first lot me tell you, tbat I am not one of tbose who vuuM have men work for nothing. No, no! An honest, industrious, skilful workman ought to receive good wages. Neither am I one of those who think work : it to demand what they like for tlu-ir hihonr, regardless whether or not tip ir masters can afford to give them more than they do. Masters must be considered as well as men. In short, I take it that a discontented and .rliing workman, and a hard oppressive master, are both alike, and that m -it her the one nor thr other is n rn .litable character. Masters cannot do without workmen, nor workman \\ithm.r masters ; so the one ought to consider the welfare ot' tin- Ofl You may say that workmen's wages are not high enough, either in town or country, and that a man with a family has many a pinch to make hotli ends meet; but, .,ad as it is to have low wages, it would be a great deal worse not to 250 WAGES. receive wages after they have been fairly earned. How would you feel if, on a Saturday night, your master should say that he did not intend to pay you your wages ? You would tell him that you had worked hard and honestly for your money, and were therefore entitled to it ; and in telling him so, you would speak the truth. But let us see if you would, on all occasions, he equally anxious to receive your wages. You either are, or ought to he, a servant of God, "The high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity." What wages, then, do you consider yourself entitled to receive at his hands ? If, as an humble follower of Christ, relying wholly on his atoning sacrifice, and giving all glory to God, you work while it is called to-day, doing the ser- vice of your Master with a willing mind, you will have no reason to complain of him hereafter. Grace here, and glory hereafter, are .not to be de- spised. But, remember, " The wages of sin is death" sure, certain, and eternal death. Remem- ber, that even the great apostle Paul complained of the evil of his heart, and that the word of God tells us there is none righteous, no, not one ! If, then, " the labourer is worthy of his hire," will you venture to demand your wages ? If God, the Almighty Master of his servants, is ready to render to " every man according to his work," are WAGES. :;> i you equally ready to receive your wages? This is a serious inquiry, and may, perhaps, lead you, not only to reflect on God's forbearance during your past life, but also to seek his grace in time to come, that yen may be "a workman that needeth not to be ashamed." me moves with rapid wings; but when shall fly The counties* ages of eternity ? " Of how little importance are the wages of time, compared with those of eternity! If you know that you have done the works <>f iniquity, and feel afraid to reply to tin- inquiry, "'1Y11 me, what shall thy wages be ? " take up the language of the poor prodigal, " I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy son : make roe as one of thy hired servants," Luke xv. 18, 19. It thus, with a coi rit, you are enabled, through mercy, to enter anew into the service of God, you will receive from him more than you can ask or think. 44 For kingly crowns, though freely gi Are dross, compared with that reward Of peace on earth and joy in heaven, Prepared for those who love the Lord." SUITABLE MEECIES, WHEN we regard the human frame attentively, we are not only struck with its symmetry and beauty, but also with the suitableness of its sepa- rate parts to the functions they have to perform. Had the hands occupied the place of the feet, and the feet the place of the hands, how imperfect would have been the workmanship performed by the one, and the movements made by the other ! It is the same with the other members ; they are nicely adapted to their several ends. Although we observe these things, we are not so quick to perceive a suitableness in the blessings which our heavenly Father bestows upon us in the different seasons of life. If in youth we had the love of quietude that accompanies age, our strength and activity would be of little use ; and if in age we possessed the ardour of youth, our infirmities would prevent it from being a benefit to us. There are a few lines, written by the Rev. H. Venn, on this subject, that can scarcely be read without interest. vBLE MERCIES. 253 "When I look back forty years of my life, 1 remember I was perpetually in company, full of animal spirits, thoughtless, self-pleasing ; and soli- tude would then have been the heaviest burden to my mind. Now, to be alone ; to be looking on my bed as probably the spot on which I am to fight the last battle before I win Christ, and see him as he is ; to consider, with the eloscst attention, the origin, and the nature, and the consequences of death to the friends of Christ this work invigor- ates my mind, and nourishes my soul. I accept the privilege and power of doing tlm-, and the opportunity I have for this exercise, with joyful pratitude, saying, 'The lines are 1 me in pleasant places : yea, I have a goodly herit- age,' " Psa. x THE SEASONS, You will agree with Old Humphrey that Spring is a pleasant time ; and when the sun is shining, the flowers blooming, the green trees waving, the birds singing, the balmy breeze blowing, the spirit rejoices and the lips burst into a song. Summer is a pleasant time, when the noon- tide ray gilds up the woods, the waters, and the moun- tain-tops ; when the air is filled with odours, and the laugh of the merry haymakers is heard in the meads. Autumn is a pleasant time ; and we cannot look without gladness on the golden grain, the laden fruit-trees, the varied foliage, and the kindling heavens. Winter is a pleasant time to all who are hardy enough to walk abroad when the frosted snow lies on the ground, and the trees are hung fantastically with rime ; for then wonder is awakened in the mind, and the pure, sharp, bracing air gives a cheerfulness to the spirit. Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter, are pleasant seasons : ami if any tiling ran make them more pleasant, it is the heart-hit reinemhramv ihM they an- t he gift of God. Yes, He \\rn.hath measured the waters in the hollow of his hand, :t:i'l meted out heaven with the span, and com- prehended the dn^t of the earth in a measur* weighed the mountain-* in scales, ami thehilU in a balance; lie, \\ith whom the nations are as a drop of a bucket, and are counted as the small dust of the halance, who "taketh up the isles as a \ery little tiling ;" for whom " Lebanon is not sntl to burn, nor the beasts thereof sutliei.-nt tor n hnrnt-otlVring;" He has pi\en thnn to me. Anrl uh.if I:a\ t - I Lci\.-n in return' The fragments of > linga, and the mere shreds of the joyous days and peaceful nights he has bestowed upon me. oli Irt ni- ! all my powers ng his sacnd praise, - and Summer** rosy hours. And Autumn's pleasant days ! And when the keener wintry skies Shall freexe the sterile gr 'l'ii.-. ( Kt my halleluiahs rise, And more and more abound. WE SHALL MEET IN HEAVEN, I HAVE just received a letter from a Christian friend a dear, afflicted, aged, and dying friend ; but his heart is where it should be. It has got above the mists and fogs that gather about us here, and seems to set but little store by anything that has not immortality written upon it. One paragraph of the letter says, " We shall meet in heaven ;" and if this expression has brought tears into my eyes, it has also given joy to my heart and soul. " We shall meet in heaven." Why, then, what need have we to be cast down by anything that shall happen on earth ? The thorny and boggy places, the rough and crooked pathways, that we sometimes get into, are enough to make our faces a little cloudy, and our souls a little sorrowful, so long as we can see no end to them ; but what bewildered and be- nighted wanderer ever despairs while he sees before him a friendly light ? What weary and WE SHALL MEET IN UFA LV)7 way-worn traveller gives way to despondency while he discerns in the .ii>tancc the door of his own cottage open to receive him ? The assurance that "we shall meet in is a cure for all earthly ills. Hut then, is the saying a true one? Can we 1 njH.n it ? Are we sure that we v ' in heaven ? What the heart says, either \\ ; i> in trouble or in joy, is very uncertain ; and what the world says is still less to he depended hn I Yes ! yes ! my fri< . 258 WE SHALL MEET IN HEAVEN. frame, and desponding, unbelieving heart prevent it ; for the mouth of the Lord has spoken it. You may get the start of me. You may be in heaven before me. You may say to me, in the language of the Bible you love, " Stand here, while I meet the Lord yonder ;" but, for all that, " we shall meet in heaven." FOR ME, REGARD; it'ns a part of that hom, whole, thai immeasurable creation, which the haiul <>f the Almighty has formed, and receiving, as I do, daily comfort an hinirs around me, I love to think tliut my happiness has > for which they were created. lionirht is enough to call forth thank- fulness in my heart and soul, and to fill my mouth NM-'h praises. I know that the creation has been t the enjoyn ivriads of beings, yet still it was not the less formed for i clouds that hang like a canopy aroniul tin v. Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. ,e earth ; are charged to minister to my wel- fare and !,..!;. mess. is above me fair and five, And changing seasons, onward roll for me. Wl; r the winds gently breathing at ruddy morn or dewy c-\ f rush . ulc^s in their course v!. i, I regard 260 FOR ME. the ebbing or flowing tide of the world of waters, or gaze with wonder on its mountainous billows chafed into fury by the storm, the same thought pervades my mind it is for me these changes are made. For me the winds on urgent errands ride, And boundless ocean rolls its mighty tide. The moon, that glides so peacefully through the blue vault above me, is distant two hundred and forty thousand miles. The sun, that gilds creation with its beams, is ninety-five millions of miles removed from this habitable globe ; and the glit- tering stars that stud the skies are said to be at least nineteen millions of millions of miles sepa- rated from us ; and yet, as an intelligent being and an heir of immortality, profiting by their existence, and admiring their beauty, I may say, in grateful acknowledgment to their Almighty Maker, Ye glowing balls ! ye shining orbs of heaven ! Sun, moon, and stars, for me your light is given. HOW OLD ARE YOU ? ' How old are you ?" said a woman to an aged man, who was leaning upon two sticks. I lin- gered to hear the old man's reply. " / shall lc fourtcorc," said he, " // / / next Ea* Many a word dropped by the way-side has been j.irkr.l up and pondered on with advantage hour. Let me, then, ask you, " Uow old are 1/<>lf /" Are you ten f Because if you are, you have ten thousand sins to repent of, and ten thousand mer- cies to be grateful for. What a thought ! you ever think of it before ? I f not, it is worth \ mr uhi!.- to think of it now, and very seriously too, bearing in mind that youth U the time to serve Lord ; that a good beginning bids fair to be followed by a good ending ; that " dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return," Gen. iii. 1!) ; ;,inl that " we shall all stand before the judgment seat of ( ,: -m. \iv. lo. Are you twenty or If so, you have still sins to forsake, and more nun i< | thankful y 26*2 HOW OLD ARE YOU 1 to acknowledge. You are in the meridian of your days, the prime of your life. If you have allowed your youth to pass unimproved, run no further risk ; try to make amends for the past. Up and be doing ; call upon the name of the Lord. Though you forget a thousand things, never forget, " It is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment," Heb. ix. 27. Are you forty or fifty ? If this be the case, there is no time to lose. You must look about you, lest the shadows of night overtake you. What have you done for the glory of God ? What are you doing ? What do you intend to do ? More than half your life is gone by, even though your days should be long in the land. If you have not yet made up your rnind to forsake sin, and to cling to the cross of the Redeemer, read, mark, learn,, and inwardly digest the following passage in the word of God : ' ' The wages of sin is death ; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord/' Rom. vi. 23. Are you sixty or seventy?' Do you answer, Yes ? Then I hope that while your feet are on the earth, your eyes and your heart are fixed upon heaven. Is it necessary to remind you, that your days are drawing to a close, that your life is as a spider's web ? " The days of our years are three- score years and ten ; and if by reason of strength uT they be fourscore years, yet i- tin ir >treni:th l Borrow; for it is soon ." Psa. xc. 10. Death is at the very door. Nrath to come, and ponder on the passage, " Blessed are the dead \\hieh die in the I ! 13. It' to tin- qucsti n, " // '-//- //..'.'" ymi can give the same reply* as the old man did, / shall txfourscor if I ft re till next E< are absolutely beside yourself if you arc not daily looking forward to eternity. If the warning voice whispers to youth and speaks audibly to man- hood, it cries aloud to you. Not only \utli n, but with your heart, you should say, "Tl.. re is but a step between me and d. 1 8am. xx. 3. If yon have not, long ago, fled for refuge to the cross, and obtained mercy from the Saviour of sinners, go now, even at the i-leunth h'Mir. Think of the iiinumerahle. the h ;i|.r transgressions c ith, \'ir manhood, and old age. Lose not a day, an hnnr, a moment, in applying to Him who "is able to save them to the uttermost that eome unto God by him, seeing he ever h%eth to make intercession fur them," Heh. \\\. 9hm \ou first drew breath, more than tour thousand sabbaths have passed away. T has risen and set between twenty and thirty thou- sand times, and thousands of millions of human 264 HOW O.LD ARE YOU ? beings have passed from time into eternity. Still there is mercy. But if your treasure and your heart he in hea- ven, why, then, be of good courage. Though flesh and heart fail you, God will be the strength of your heart and your portion for ever. Go on, travel- ler ; for you may even now see the end of your journey. You have borne the heat and burden of the day ; you have passed through briers and thorns ; you have but a little further to travel ; endure to the end, and you shall be saved. The older you are, the nearer to heaven ! The heavier your load, the greater your deliverance ! The darker your pathway below, the brighter your glory above. Sin, and tears, and sorrow, shall pass away ; arid " when Christ, who is our life, shall appear, then shall ye also appear with him in glory," Col. iii. 4. TOWN AND COUNTRY, " I WISH," says a town friend, "you had accom- ; 1 me to Exeter Hull ; there is something so animating in the addresses of Christian nun, \\h-u their eloquence is that of the heart, called by a grateful sense of the abundant merries of their hr!i\ri:i\ IV " I wish," says a friend in the "you could see the primroses, the cowslips, and the blur-bells around me, with the golden gr the herchi'H bursting forth in the woods, and thru you would ised to find that halle- luiahs are irrepressible. The Psaln: them so ; and I, too, feel 1 to call On all the trees around me to clap their hands with rus than ever hurst from Exeter Hall. You should have been with me this morning, to have seen the gleams of living light glancing on the beech woods, while the refreshing gale made the towering trees bow their radiant heads, as if in ad<> r great Creator; and ti feel certain that m mv li\elv, poetic feelings, and 26G TOWN AND COUNTRY. many glowing, devout affections, would have been kindled in your heart." Thus beset on all sides with Christian provoca- tion, marvel not that, growing a little warm, not with anger, but with thankfulness, I should cry out aloud, " Praise God in his sanctuary ! Praise him in the firmament of his power ! Let every- thing that hath breath praise the Lord ! " Psa. cl. 1, 6. WHO'S THE NEXT' HERE comes the cheerful old man with his ve- getables. So sure as the morning comes, so sure does he come too, with his horse and cart. Ho is usually dressed in an old great coat ,m mistletoe. The dry wind may blow, or the rain come down in showers; the sun may thnm hU hnrning beams around, or the flakes of snow fall thickly one upon another ; hut they never hasten i\ the old man's appearance. At the 26 8 WHO'S THE NEXT. accustomed hour his horse and cart are sure to stop at the doors of his customers. Now, this old man has a singular custom of crying out in a sharp, shrill voice, every time he serves a customer, " Who's the next ?" Before he has received the money for his stuff, even while he mounts his cart to pull a bunch of turnips from the top of the pile, or weighs in his scales the potatoes he is selling, he calls out, " Who's the next? Who's the next?' 9 The other morning, as I sat with pen, ink, and paper before me, musing on the varied changes that had taken place in the last year ; sometimes thinking of those who had left the neighbourhood to pitch their tent in another place ; and some- times reflecting on those who had been called away from this world of mingled joys and sorrows ; while I sat thus musing, the sound of the old man's voice broke upon my ear, " Who's the next? Who's the next?" and lifting up my head, I observed a hearse with its nodding plumes slowly passing by. Before it walked the mutes with their staves clothed ; on each side were men with shorter staves, and behind came the mourn- ing coaches. Whether a father of a family was being conveyed to his long home, or whether a beloved mother had been summoned to the eternal world, I could not tell ; however this WHO'S THE N might l>e, the ^pir-it of a fellow creature ha.l winged its way from time to eternity, and the breathless body was about to be committed to the grave "ashes to ashes, and dust to dust." No wonder, then, that the call of the old man ntV 'hi next ? JF*o'* the ncxtr he, at the very moment the hearse passed by, and .iMjniry seemed to sink into my heart. h is tni.- that the ojd man had no thon- the breathless being about to be committed to the tomb; lie only meant to inquire who would l>* h;s hut to me it sounded awfully. A mortal was being conveyed to " the house appointed for all living," where thousands already gone, where thousands must still go ; and fin- thrilling inquiry, " WK<>9 tkc next T' ap- peared to be directed to me, and to all around. It it pleased God always to remove the sick, and to leave those who are in health to the aged, and to preserve the young, we should he in less doubt about who would next be called away world ; hut this is not the case. The strong man is sometimes cut down in an in- like A blade of grass by the mower's so t In , the ehild, nay, the babe at its mother's breast, is nipped and destroyed like a flower by the frost. We cannot tell, th-n, whose turn is approaching. " // Ho 9 the next.'" is a fit inquiry tor us all. 2 I 270 WHO'S THE NEXT ? Is it not a little strange that we should think so much of things which are uncertain, and so little of what is certain ? that we should prepare for what may never happen, and make no prepar* ation at all tor what must happen 1 The warning words of Holy Scripture should tingle in every careless ear for they will apply to us all "As the Lord liveth, and as thy soul liveth, there is hut a step between me and death." In a short time it may be said to every one who fears not God, " Thou fool ! this night thy soul shall be required of thee." If we read our Bibles more diligently, and pondered more thoughtfully on the manifold passages that bid us prepare fur our latter end, we should look around us anxiously, and the question, " Whos the next ?" would be more frequently in our mouths. It is said that the sultan Saladin had a shroud carried before him, to remind him of death. We all require something to remind us of the same thing ; and you must not think hardly of me if I have gently and quietly led you along, by my account of the old man and his cart of vegetables, to ponder a moment on your latter end. Who is the next among us to enter eternity we cannot tell, nor will it much matter, if we are prepared for death by having an interest in Christ Jesus. There are thousands who have been in bondage all th.-.r fore* lo:,- tlr.uiji I I ath : now, a sad state to be in, an, I yet there is no / but a lively faith in the merits and sacrifice of our blessed 1 ; 1 '.ml be against us, we have nothing to hope; it he he 1 we hare nothing to fear. What A mercy. -tcad of trembling at th of deatli, to rejoice in the hope set before us. to be able to s.v ugh I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no \il : for thou art with me ; thy rod and thy staff tiny comfort me!" Oh that we may nil, then, seek the Saviour with nil mir i all our soul. and with all our stn s promises art precious, and what he has promised he is able and willing to perform. faithful unto , a;,.l 1 \\ill U i\e iheC A crown of lilr." in the sight of the Lord is the death - saints." " Blessed are the dead whirl. ,li<- in thr Ln Let us ponder these things more d. I nest ion solemnly occurs to us, JPho U the ii/ \ ? we may feel no fear ; tonfiding in th 1 life given i the gospel of Jcv say, "O death, where U thy sting? O gra? where is thy victory T" THE ALLEGOKY. '* 1 HAVE," says one, in a written communication to me, "a dear packet of letters of my father, as well as a broken likeness of him, and sketches drawn by his very own hand, and many other things that he gave me. These are all very pleasant to me while he is away ; but when we meet, down will go the letters ! Any one may take the likeness, the sketches he drew for me, and all the rest ; for hanging on his neck, I shall forget every thing but himself, and look on no- thing but his face !" Now these things are an allegory ! At least as such I will regard them. We have a goodly packet of letters of our heavenly Father in the Holy Scriptures. We have a likeness of him, imperfect and broken though it be, in his glorious creation. We have sketches of his goodness in the changing seasons, and gifts of his love without number in providence and in grace ; but glorious as these are now, when " death is swallowed up in victory" they will be as nothing to us; for we shall then see the face of our heavenly Father, and he will be all in all. THE SERMON. THE other day, after walking some time in the , I found myself, before I was aware, in the rery middle of an animated sermon, preached to myself from t! \\ hy should it he th< a thiMLT i iirrr, !]!,!< uitii you, that God should raise the dead?" Acts xxvi. 8. "Look around, my "and beli r_r, or rise be- Here every thing that God has spoken. Look wonders of creation, and hearken again t Miry, ' \Vhy should it be thought a thin- inrmhMr \\ utt God should raise the dead ?'" // The sun was blazing in the firmament of hea- the birds were warbling in the air, an flowers and green trees were blooming on tin- earth ; but they gave n. There waa no answer ;u creation, or my own heart. at that moment that I did believe in the resurrection ay, as truly as if I had pu fingers into the nail- prints of my Rede* hands, and thrust my hand into his side ; . i ami joy, ' .My Lord and my (iod ! John \x. . FAITH AND PATIENCE. OH, how I love to look through the telescope, for it hrings distant things so very near, and makes them appear so very plain ! Think not that I am speaking of the wooden tube and glasses sold by the optician. No ! I am speaking of the telescope of faith given in mercy by the King of kings ; for faith is the gift of God, Eph. ii. 8. How nimbly we walk ! How strong we feel ! How cheerfully we smile when looking through this telescope ! Simeon looked through it, and cried out in transport, " Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word ; for mine eyes have seen thy salvation," Luke ii. 30. Stephen looked through it even when the stones were flying about him, and feared nothing, for he saw " the glory of God !" Acts vii. 55. Those who look through this telescope often feel alive, yea, have their hearts filled with joy, while others are fast asleep or quaking with fear. It is otherwise when the telescope is put down ; things are farther off. It in AND r.\ . j;.> is then " I shall see him, hut not now ; I shall behold him, but not nigh" Num. x\i\. 1 ,~. till \ve must be patient ; for it i> through faith and j>:iti IK t that flie promises are to be obtained. See Ilrh. M. 12. When we look through this telescope, God's arrangements appear to be exceedingly wise and good. It is indeed a wonderful and delightful arrangement, that while the Father of mercies changes not, hut remains " the same yesterday, to- day, and for ever/' everything is changing around n- in . ^'race. We are often tor hurrying things forwards, wanting the fruit before the blossom, sod the blossom before the leaves ; but it is of no use ; we most be patient. II that believeth shall not make haste." God is sometimes slow in his movements ; but they are at length found to be grand, harmonious, and glorious movements for all that. THE STORK WITH THE BROKEN BILL, " Without me ye can do nothing," John xv. 5. I WELL remember seeing, some years ago, at the Zoological Gardens in the Regent* s Park, a stork with a broken bill : a portion, at least, of two inches of the lower mandible had, by some acci- dent, been broken off, so that it was impossible for the poor bird to pick up a particle of food. Many of the visitors, especially the younger part of them, threw fruit, and pieces of cake and gin- gerbread into the aviary, some of which fell on the ground, and some in the water ; but though the other birds freely partook of such food as suited their taste, the stork with the broken bill could not partake of the repast. It was a distressing sight to see the poor bird pushing the food about with his upper mandible, and opening his bill time after time, with the de- sire and expectation of laying hold of the tempt- ing piece before him. For half an hour I stood STOKK WITH I HI'. ' '277 watching him ; and thonji never successful, the forlorn rreatnre still went on vainly endeavouring to satis \ i . Tlu keeper who he care of him told me that the hill would ho mended, hy adding a piece of wood, in the shape of a hill, to the broken part ; hut whether this was done I cannot say. v often, s: time, wh.-n \ainly en- deavouring to piek up consolation nud pn>ti God's holy word, have I been reminded of the poor Itork. NN'ith the bread ot h. re us, ;it tor Him who . t'nr ns. II,' . H ft "i: of the \\itli the mtlu.-iiee ol' h> II . ^j.irif. Iff uho teedeth the r:i\en- ttUfl . or ue ilie Mth i ami.ie , for we cannot feed ourselves. THE OLD HOVEL, Do you see that old shattered hovel yonder ? There it stands, and there it has stood ever since I can remember anything. Many a game of play have I had in the days of my boyhood be- hind the hay-ricks at Fanner Mitchell's, and many a time have I taken shelter from the storm in that old hovel. You may, perhaps, think that it was new then ; but no ; it was much the same as it is now, except that there were not half so many cobwebs in the cor- ners, that the boards were not quite so black, and that the thatch had only half as many holes in it. When I returned home from school, though the old pit was filled up, and the old pound taken quite away, yet the old hovel was standing there still, with its half-thatched top, peeping over the little hedge, as ugly as ever. After another absence of two or three years, I again returned home. " Oh," thinks I, " the old hovel has been down this many a day ; " but no sooner did I pass the blacksmith's shop, arid get a view of Farmer Mitchell's rick-yard, than I saw it standing just where it did, and in much the same condition. There was an old worn-out cart-horse, that I suppose the farmer did not like to have killed, standing at the entrance of the J 1 ' > oil lum-1 ; one seemed just to suit the they looked as though they belonged to The new sign, the smart front of the tan- house, and tlu' \\hite painted finger-post, WIT ." thinks I, "though the old hovel is still standing, it must be nl ; one of these days down it u ill come." ging world ; and if you look at a y of a dozen people ever so happy, it is ten , hut in a few years they \\ill ho found in half a dozen ditlVmit pla^s ; that is, v are all then alive. " For what is ;>our, that appeareth for a little and then vanished) away," James iv. II. OnCC again I Irt't the \;i:i_-'', f .r a longer time than hcforc ; and when I came back, (he had been new shingled, and the k rv,'ilt. A grand house had been l.uiit by Sj ear the clump of firs on the hill ; the thatched cottages on the bank side were now all roofed with red tiles lu Il's house had a new bow- window looking into the c old broken cross on the green was taken away. " \\'.Ti," thinks I, oust changes, 'I e I shall hardly be able to point out the spot where the old houl stood; 110 don 1 )' it tnmhlnl down sh It the village." \\hat was my surprise, on looking 280 THE OLD HOTEL. Farmer Mitchell's fold-yard gate, towards the rick- yard, again to see the ugly hlack top of the old hovel ! I scarcely believed it possible ; yet, there it was ; there it is now ; and, for aught I know, there it will be for years to come. Trees, cottages, and houses have been pulled down ; yet there still stands the old hovel, with its cobweb- bed corners, broken boards, and shattered black thatch, uglier than ever. It is an odd thing, but, so long have I been accustomed to look upon the old hovel, that, ugly as it is, I shall regret it when it falls. Down it must come, that is certain ; it will soon be a heap of ruins, for it is little better than that now. Like the old hovel, the tenements about us, and the frail bodies we inhabit, may endure a few more summers and winters ; but at last they must perish in the dust. Oh may I ever be en- abled to say with holy Job, " I know that my Re- deemer liveth," Job xix. 25. Let us look for his mercy, that when our earthly tabernacles are dissolved, we may have " a building of God, an house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens," 2 Cor. v. 1. Let us look, by faith, " for a city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God," Heb. xi. 10. RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY: INSTITUTED 1799. M316915 BA> BINDER, 49IAHTHOIOMEW CLOSE.