Her prayers God has with

her case. They are no longer for her. are not heard. Means do not avail. drawn. She can do no more. She must perish. Her case is truly sad. But of all we can say and do, this is the sum-go and tell Jesus. We can counsel, we can advise, we can pray, but all that avails you nothing unless you can be persuaded to go to him. Tell him your feelings and your fears with far more minuteness and confidence than you tell any other. He invites you to come. He has an ear that can hear; a heart that can feel; an arm that can save. Go tell him all; peradventure he may yet save you. And there is the humble Christian, too, who has once enjoyed a sweet sense of forgiven sins. Now he mourns at times for himself: "O that I were as in months past!" Then he mourns for Zion-for the perishing around him-for his own kindred that are out of Christ. Go tell Jesus your desires. Let that sigh fall upon his ear. Let him hear that prayer.

It is winter. We visit the abode of sickness. The

husband and the father lies on the verge of the grave. The cold hand of Death is already upon him. He fears not death. The sting of it is removed. But he looks upon the companion of his bosom, soon to be a stricken widow; he looks upon his babes, soon to be orphans; and he fears for them when he has gone. He has not gold or silver, houses or lands, for them to inherit, and he fears how it may fare with them when he can no longer protect or provide. It is parting with them that tries him most. Tell Jesus that, dying saint, and he who has left but this anxious thought may ease you of it before you depart. You may hear him 66 Leave thy fatherless children, I will preserve say: them alive; and let thy widow trust in me."

Again we visit that abode when the father is no more. He sleeps in the dust of the earth, where the rude blasts reach him not. We would point the bereaved to the only source of consolation. But before we enter, we hear the mild, subdued accents of a female voice in prayer. The place seems holy. The mother has gathered around her her orphan children; she has read the sweet promises of God to such, and now she is at the throne of grace telling Jesus their

wants.

And then a sainted mother is called away. The dying conflict has been long and sharp. But it was not for herself-it was for those that God had given her. "Jehovah-jireh-The Lord will provide;" and she finds comfort in the promise. She gives them up. But the responsibility she drops another must assume. An elder sister must take it up. She has witnessed the burden of the mother's soul, and drank much of the spirit of a mother's love. Her efforts are incessant to be to those thus committed to her, all that a mother had been. She would point them in paths of virtue, and lead the way. But now, for a little, she has stolen away. She is not to be found in the domestic circle. But there is heard a still small voice, like the gentle whisperings of a spirit. It comes from the sister's well-known place of prayer. She has retired with her burden, and is alone, telling Jesus. And when both parents are no more, and I gather around me the orphan group, it is not simply to tell them of the divine promise to take them up when father and mother are removed; it is to urge them to go to Jesus, and, in their own simple language, tell him their loss, and humbly invoke his care. In fine, if the parent or the child, the master or the servant, the minister or the people, the ruler or the ruled, the sick and the dying, or those in the vigour of life, want wisdom, want comfort, want light, want peace, want joy, want better hearts; are they afflicted, or do they mourn; whatever be their state, whatever their wants, let them go and tell Jesus. "Christ and his saints smile and sigh together."--New York Observer.'

CHILDREN! READ THIS.

THE Rev. James M. Wilson, editor of the Covenan ter, in an obituary notice of his son, who recently died in Philadelphia, in his seventh year, among other interesting particulars, says of him :—

So soon as he could read with tolerable facility, which was about the end of his fourth year, he commenced the reading of a portion of the Scriptures daily, and committed one question, at least, in the Shorter Catechism and a small portion of the Psalms every morning. Having completed the Shorter Catechism, he went on to commit in the same way an analysis of it with the Scripture proofs. He then attempted the Larger Catechism, all of which he could repeat with considerable accuracy, before he was attacked by the disease which terminated in his dis solution. Previously to this time he had committed seventy-eight psalms in order, and had read the Bible one and a half times through in his daily course, be sides as much more at least in a cursory manner. Nor were these acquisitions at all forced upon him they were his delight. At the appointed time, he always ran with eagerness to his catechism.

This little boy died before he was seven years old;" and when Death came to call him hence, he went with him joyfully.

Boys! girls! is there one of you that would not wish to be like this little boy? But how few of you are like him? And why? Is it not because your heart is not in your catechisms, and psalms, and chapters as his was? King David said: "O how I love thy law! it is my meditation all the day." He delighted to read God's law, and to meditate on it; and no doubt! by meditating on it he had large portions of it on his memory. This little boy was like David. How happy he must have been!-happy in the knowledge of God-happy in his service-happy in his friendship; for God was his friend, and loved him.

and watched over him, and soon took him to himself!

Would you wish to be as happy? O then live as near God; have your hearts changed-renewedmade holy. Christ will do this for you through his Holy Spirit, if you take them to him and ask him to do it. Then will your feet run to do his command-i ments. The Bible-the catechism-your hymns, will all be dear to you, for Christ's sake.

RELIGIOUS REVIVAL AMONG CHILDREN. THE town of Mens has for some time past beer. blessed with a remarkable revival of religion among its children and youth. It commenced towards the close of the year 1844, and has continued ever since. A good minister of the place, writing to a friend, says:

I never saw anything equal to it. The Holy Spirit produced in their hearts such a conviction" of sin, | and such a love of prayer, that it was necessary to have several meetings a-day, in which they prayed and wept incessantly. This movement extended to the surrounding country, reached persons of mature age, revived former converts, and reclaimed backsliders. The labours of the summer season having dispersed the children, and kept others very busy, the

work slackened. At present we have meetings every day; but there has been some falling off among the children; nevertheless, I counted the other day, sixty persons between the ages of sir and twenty-five, who have held out, and continue to pray. At least the half of this number appear to be strengthened in faith, and give evidence of a sound conversion. This, truly, is a wondrous harvest, which more than fills up the places of the fifteen persons who, this year, have died in the faith. There is now less enthusiasm, but more light; the piety is more solid. We hope that, this winter, the Spirit of the Lord will return and breathe upon the Church, and continue his work of growth and increase.

We have had as many as thirty-five meetings in the church, weekly. The Evangelical Society of Geneva has sent us the Rev. M. Breguet, who is of great assistance to us, especially for the country. On Sabbath, in Mens, there are meetings from eight in the morning to ten in the evening. I believe that I have never, in all my life, wept so much as I have done this year; but it was tears of joy. We had moments in which we saw heaven descend into our hearts, with pure delight. Although there are still from twenty-five to thirty children who have thus persevered, and who continue to pray in our meetings, even children of six years old, we do not deceive ourselves in relation to them; but the impressions of childhood will not be lost in their influence on a riper age. Among young people of both sexes, piety is more firm and consistent, and among them there has been no falling off. But it is with the children especially that I have passed, and still pass, the happiest moments, and I can affirm that they have taught me many things. I more fully understand that passage now: "Except ye become as little children, ye can not enter into the kingdom." At the infantile, and sometimes sublime, prayers of children, from six to twelve years old, one experiences an irresistible impression-one feels the grace for which supplication is made descending from on high into the soul. this manner it has happened that a little child has thrown a whole assembly into tears.

In

One day a Swiss gentleman came to our children's meeting. During the first prayer, having assumed a standing posture at the commencement, he kneeled on a chair, and before the child had finished, he had prostrated himself on the floor, bathed in tears. I might relate to you very interesting traits of our young people, of both sexes; but seems to me that those which have relation to our dear children will interest you more. A young boy had succeeded in bringing to the evening meeting, in a stable, some of his companions; being on his knees, and having his eye on them, he observed two or three of them slipping through the obscure light towards the door; he ran to bring them back--he was too late-they had gained the door. Immediately he fell on his knees, and weeping, said: "Lord, lead back again my comrades who have deserted !"--A woman, who was still young, and who is just dead, after being confined to bed for a year, without the ability to move, being paralytic, had been in the habit of causing her three children to sing hymns to her; these, a girl and two boys, were from ten to fifteen years of age. The singing soothed her pains. One night, her younger boy was lying beside her, and at midnight, after praying a long time for his mother, he sang the hymn:"In all my sufferings, Lord, To thee alone I flee," &c.

In the midst of a verse he stopped short, he had fallen asleep; and his poor mother heard him still, speaking in his dream: "Do not weep, mother; you see I always pray and sing."

179

FIFTY REASONS WHY A SINNER OUGHT TO TURN TO GOD THIS DAY WITHOUT DELAY.

if

(Condensed from Baxter.)

1. CONSIDER to whom you are to turn-to God. 2. Consider to what you are to turn-to holiness. 3. Consider from what you are to turn- from sin. you might have your own will. 4. Delaying shows you would never part with sin,

5. What a case you are in while thus delaying. 6. Delaying gives great advantage to the tempter. 7. It abuses Christ and the Holy Spirit, who may leave you.

8. What is it you stay for?

9. The longer you stay, the harder the work will be.

10. Sin gets victory daily by your delay. 11. Age has inconveniences-youth advantages; therefore, it is folly to delay.

12. More advantage than former ages or other nations.

13. Delaying runs a hazard; life is uncertaingrace is uncertain.

14. It increases your sin.

15. It increases God's anger against you. 16. It may damn the soul and body for ever. 17. Time lost by delays is an inconceivable loss. 18. God has given no time to spare.

19. Consider the greatness of the work to be done. 20. Many perish, and few turn, who wilfully delay. 21. If turning be necessary, the sooner the better. 22. If you will not, you are without excuse. 23. Consider how long you have stayed already. 24. If you have hopes of salvation, is it ingenuous to continue in sin?

25. If you were sure of salvation, you will still suffer loss by delay.

26. How many stay for you, while you delay!-God the Father, Son, and Spirit, angels, ministers, and godly persons.

27. Christ did not delay to die.

28. God did not delay to do you good.

29. When you are to receive any outward deliverance, the sooner then you think the better. 30. Your worldly delights are passing without delay.

31. Worldly business you delay not, as sowing, reaping, &c.

32. You delay not to receive gifts from your fel

lows.

33. You should wait for God, rather than he wait for you.

34. You will not delay helping a neighbour in an emergency, and you will not help yourself.

35. You deal worse with God than with the devil, for you delay not to do his will.

36. Speedy turning can do no harm, and will never cause repentance.

37. It will grieve you much, if you do ever turn, that you turned no sooner.

38. Has not God a right to appoint the time? and he says "To-day."

39. Dare you say you know better than God when to turn?

40. Quick coming makes you the more welcome. 41. Do with God as you would others should do to

you.

42. Delay is a denial.

43. God does not stay for all, as for you.

44. God will not always patiently wait.

45. Delays weary God's ministers.

46. Unspeakable loss you suffer while you delay. 47. You are doing what must be undone, or you are undone.

48. Your conversion will be more grievous-more painful.

49. Delays are contrary to the nature of the work and the soul.

50. If you slumber, your damnation slumbereth

not.

cence. cross.

AN ADVICE.

My son, if ever thou lookest for sound comfort on earth and salvation in heaven, unglue thyself from the world, and the vanities of it; put thyself upon thy Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ; leave not till thou findest thyself firmly united to him, so as thou art become a limb of that body whereof he is Head, a spouse of that husband, a branch of that stem, a stone laid upon that foundation. Look not, therefore, for any blessing out of him; and in, and by, and from him, look for all blessings. Let him be thy life; and wish not to live longer than thou art quickened by him; find him thy wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, redemption-thy riches, thy strength, thy glory. Apply unto thyself all that thy Saviour is, or hath done. Wouldst thou have the graces of God's Spirit? -fetch them from his anointing. Wouldst thou have power against spiritual enemies?-fetch it from his sovereignty. Wouldst thou have redemption?-fetch it from his passion. Wouldst thou have absolution ?-fetch it from his perfect innoFreedom from the curse?-fetch it from his Satisfaction?-fetch it from his sacrifice. Cleansing from sin ?-fetch it from his blood. Mortification ?fetch it from his grave. Newness of life? -fetch it from his resurrection. Right to heaven ?fetch it from his purchase. Audience in all thy suits? -fetch it from his intercession. Wouldst thou have salvation?-fetch it from his session [sitting down] at the right hand of Majesty. Wouldst thou have all ?fetch it from him who is "one Lord, one God, and Father of all, who is above all, through all, and in all." -Eph. iv.5, 6. And as thy faith shall thus interest thee in Christ, thy Head, so let thy charity unite thee to his body, the Church, both in earth and heaven. Hold ever an inviolable communion with that holy and blessed fraternity. Sever not thyself from it, either in judgment or affection. Make account there is not one of God's saints upon earth, but hath a property in thee, and thou mayest challenge the same in each of them; so that thou canst not but be sensible of their passions; and be freely communicative of all thy graces, and all serviceable offices, by example, admonition, exhortation, consolation, prayer, beneficence, for the good of that sacred community.

And when thou raisest up thine eyes to heaven, think of that glorious society of blessed saints who are gone before thee, and are now there triumphing, and reigning in eternal and incomprehensible glory; bless God for them, and wish thyself with them; tread in their holy steps, and be ambitious of that

crown of glory and immortality which thou seest | shining on their heads.-Hall.

"ONE STAR DIFFERETH FROM ANOTHER STAR IN GLORY."-1 Cor. xv. 41. DIVINELY blest, the infant soul

On angel-pinions borne away,
Ere it could feel this world's control,
Or find the path that leads astray!

But happier far, the veteran saint

Who lays his long-worn armour down,
And, freed from warfare's hard restraint,
Receives an amaranthine crown!

While some young warrior grasps that shield
Which once he bore, and wears that vest;
His warfare done, he leaves the field,
And enters on his heavenly rest.

AN INCIDENT OF EASTERN IDOLATRY.

ABOUT twenty-five years ago a "jogi," or devotee, was accustomed to sit under the shade of a tree near the road which leads from this city (Allahabad) down to the river, where the Hindu population went to perform their morning worship and bathing ceremonies. The jogi had a "chela" (a pupil), whom he was instructing in his Shastra (a sacred book.) He laboured much and long, but never succeeded in teaching his pupil to read. When he grew old, and found himself near the close of life, he said to his pupil: "Inasmuch as you are not able to read this book, when I am gone, you had better bury this book by the root of this tree, and come at certain times and worship the book-that will be the next thing to having learned to read it. The pupil did so. As the people continued to pass by for months, going and returning from their bathing place, they saw this young man regularly making his puja, or worship, at the root of the tree where the book was buried. They gradually began to turn aside, one after another, to join him. After some time a shrewd shopkeeper of the city perceived that the spot could be turned to account; so he bargained with the land- 1 owner for half the profits that might arise from the place, and then erected a temple under the shade of the tree. The worship and celebrity of the place have gone on increasing, and now there is a cluster of five or six temples in a cluster of trees, and a regular concourse of worshippers every Monday morning, especially of the devout Hindu women of the city and surrounding villages, who go there to worship the divinity which is supposed to reside there; and also a concourse of Mohammedan young men, who go to worship-at least to gaze at-them, when they come out from the seclusion of the female apartments, and appear in open day with their best clothes on. And once a year there is an immense concourse of many thousand people, who assemble there to make offerings of fruits and flowers, and pay honours to-they know not what.-Rev. James Wilson.

181

THE church of S is beautiful to the natural eye. Small, but neat-carefully kept, and covered all over with a rich veil of ivy, it is the admiration of many a passer-by. In it, however, no Gospel had been preached for at least half a century. The pulpit was occupied, and a weekly sermon read, but no glad tidings to the sinner came from the preacher's lips. Yet the people were satisfied-they had fallen into utter apathy.

But there was one old woman with whom it was in some measure otherwise. She had spent her life in the midst of this death, and for a long time had been equally contented with the rest. About eight or nine years ago, however, she began to have a vague sense of her want. How it arose she knew not, and could never tell; but she felt that there was something wrong both about herself and her minister. What this was she could not explain, or what was likely to cure it. But she felt it. Each returning Sabbath made her feel it more; till impelled by this secret, indefinite sense of want, she wandered almost unconsciously one Sabbath morning into the neighbouring town, which was but a few miles distant.

She knew nothing about any of the ministers there; and even though she had known, it would have been of little service, for she scarcely knew the errand on which she had come. "As God would have it,” she wandered into my church, and sat down. She listened to the message, and thought it strange. She had never heard the like before, and hardly understood it. She waited and came back in the 'afternoon, and felt more interested than before. She then returned home, wondering at what she had heard.

During the week conviction of sin took hold of her. The Spirit of God was working deeply in her soul. When next Sabbath returned, she again set out upon the same errand. Light seemed to be rising. Sabbath after Sabbath did she come, and ere long found the restingplace. Since that time she has walked consistently as a follower of the Lamb, during many trials and sorrows.

As soon as she had found the Saviour for herself, she began to tell her neighbours what she felt. One young woman she persuaded to accompany her. Under the first sermon, this girl was arrested and brought under deep conNo. 16. *

victions. She had never heard the Gospel before, and it came home with mighty power. Ere long, her feet also were led into the way of peace, and she went upon her way rejoicing, "looking unto Jesus.”

She was naturally warm-hearted and eager in her temperament. This soon showed itself in her renewed state. She could not refrain from telling what God had done for her soul. And having soon after changed her residence to another village, she sought out some believing ones, and met with them for prayer and fellowship. For four years did she remain the same zealous, affectionate, happy Christian. Many knew and loved her. Even the ungodly wondered at her consistency of walk, and her beaming countenance of love, which spoke of the deep peace within-" peace like a river." She rested simply and confidingly on Jesus; and looking simply at the cross, she was a stranger to doubts and fears. Some attempted to distract and poison her with their theories of "perfection." But she rejected them all, feeling too deeply her own utter vileness to allow her to boast of being free from sin.

About three years ago God smote her with sore sickness. At first she was merely laid aside from work, but not confined to the house. And during this time she went continually about warning her neighbours, and beseeching them to turn to God. She lost no opportunity of telling her friends of Christ, and reminding them of a coming eternity.

But she was soon laid upon a death-bed. While there, all was peace. She had known Christ in the day of her health, and in the hour of sickness he was not to seek. So long as she was able, she still continued to speak to her friends about their eternal welfare; and now she did so with double solemnity and power, as one upon the edge of that eternity for which she besought them to prepare.

To the last her hope was calm and bright, for her eye was upon the Star of Bethlehem. Jesus had been her all in life; and she found him to be her all in death. She was patient, yet she longed to be with Him whom, having not seen, she loved.

I saw her but a short time before her death. Her labouring breath made her but imperfectly heard. She grasped my hand and pressed it tenderly. "You told me long ago," she said,

"that it was blessed to die in Christ, and I now find it to be so." After a little, she added, again pressing my hand, "Farewell, till we meet in glory!-farewell!"

About two years before her death, she had been the means of awakening a relative of her own. I remember, one sweet bright summer afternoon, meeting them both together, and as I passed I spoke a solemn word to the careless girl. But then she was impenetrable. She turned away from my warning and that of her believing cousin. But not long after she was brought to a deep sense of sin, through means of the unwearied efforts of her relative. She has since that found "peace with God," and has walked with him consistently as a child of light.

Thus it is that God works. In ways the unlikeliest yet the simplest. All of them worthy of himself-fitted to humble man and to exalt the Saviour. How interesting to trace his marvellous works! He begins with one poor solitary wanderer; that one is made the instrument of calling another; that second is made the means of drawing in a third. And thus the work proceeds. How natural, yet how full of wisdom and of majesty !

Should we not be more deeply interested in scenes like these? Should the outward bustle of political or ecclesiastical affairs and events ever withdraw our eye from such blessed, such heart-cheering narratives? These are the things that gladden angels, and should they not glad

den us? And should there not be far more earnest and importunate prayer that God would pour out his Spirit upon the parched fields, that we may not merely have one such scene, but many, nay, thousands? O LORD, REVIVE THY

WORK!

he came to where the cross stood. The story would have been differently constructed, in this point, by one less acquainted with the life of grace than Bunyan was. Is not the sinner justified and pardoned in the first moment of his believing? Has he not as full and valid a title to eternal glory when he enters in at the wicket as when he enters in at the celestial gate? Why, then, it may be asked, has not this been attended to in the story which professes to exhibit the symbols of all these great truths? Bunyan has formed his allegory with a juster discrimination. and another to be delivered from the sense of sin; It is one thing to be delivered from the guilt of sin,

one thing to be pardoned, another to enjoy the comfort of pardon. There are some who come into the full possession of this most inestimable blessing in the moment of conversion. Others there are, and these constitute the greater number, who attain the assurance of forgiveness, and the joy that springs from it, only after time has matured their Christian experience, and brightened their Christian evidences. And there is a third class, composed of men naturally of feeble minds and irresolute tempers, to whom Providence has allotted no great trials, nor made to pass through any very severe discipline, and who, in consequence, have acquired but a scanty stock of gracious experiences, and made but slender attainwho carry their burden all the way, and never fairly ments in the Christian life-a third class, we say, get quit of it till they hear the welcome words at the gate above: "Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you."

Bunyan belonged to the second class that of those who are oppressed by the burden of sin long after it has been forgiven. Still, in this respect, his Master was kind to him above most. He met him at an

early stage of his journey, and said to him: “Son, be of good cheer; thy sins are forgiven thee." And Bunyan truly, when he heard the words, and saw that they came from Him who hung upon the tree, was of good cheer. Not more joyful was Christian on the little eminence beside the cross, when he felt his burden giving way, and saw it roll down into the sepulchre, than the following passage from the little work, "Grace Abounding," exhibits Bunyan in the possession of. This morning, so bright and warm,

BY THE REV. J. A. WYLIE,

Author of the "Modern Judea," &c., &c. BUNYAN having fled from the City of Destruction, been pulled out of the miry slough, and drawn back from the burning mount to which he had turned aside, came at length to the gate. Here he knocked, and was admitted. He was now within the gate, but the great burden was still on his back. This presents us with another parallel between himself and his pilgrim.

It will be recollected by its readers, that the allegory, many of whose richest pages are the fruit of Bunyan's own experience, and whose noblest metaphors are but passages from the history of his own soul, represents Christian as not immediately delivered from his burden, but carrying it all the way till

dreary night a night during which his groans had ascended without intermission; his deep spiritual affliction having this one favourable symptom, which to a skilful eye would have indicated most surely the certain arrival of deliverance, however tardy might be its approach, namely, that if he dreaded that his burden should never be taken off, not less did he dread that it should be taken off in any wrong way that conscience should be pacified by any application but that of the blood of Christ. But the "comforting time," as he terms it, was now come He heard one preach a sermon on these words in the Song: "Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair." "Then I began to give place to the word, which with power did over and over make this joyful sound within my soul, 'Thou art my love, and nothing shall separate thee from my love.' And with that