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racter of the child of God and the heir of the world ? and day after day the same—amass-'ı heaven? Do Christians bear, in sufficient pro- ing just as they do; and, as the hoard accu. | minence and distinctness, the impress of mulates, pushing still the more eagerly, just as heaven? Do they appear before the world, as they do; spending as they do, and saving and “ strangers and pilgrims on the earth,” who grudging as they do; giving to self and family, “ have here no continuing city, but are seek to house and establishment, to a name for ing one to come!” who are regarding and wealth, and for all that wealth can command, anticipating, as their inheritance, “the better the first place; and, while expending largely for country?” Is the difference such that the such objects, contributing stintedly, and by world can be at no loss to see it? Is it mani- solicitation, for purposes of benevolence, and fest to them, my fellow-Christians, that you do even for those spiritual and eternal interests not, like them, consider the present world as which are connected with the kingdom of yrur world, but the world to come? Is this Christ, the salvation of men, the glory of God! quité apparent, as it ought to be, in your whole pouring out floods for the one, while scanty general bearing? Is the spirit of “godliness” | driblets are, with difficulty, drawn off for the so thoroughly infused into all your domestic other ? Fellow-believers, there is need, on this arrangements; all your mercantile transactions, subject, for great searchings of heart; if we your company, your conversation, your enter really are of those who “ look not at the things tainments; the objects about which you take an which are seen, but at the things which are' interest, and which, by your generous libe- not seen,”let us show it:-let it appear that this rality and zealous activity, you seek to promote; world is not that on which our hearts are set; as that those with whom you intermingle in but that we have higher aims, to which all that life "take knowledge of you that you have been we can acquire of it is subordinate and subser.! with Jesus?" that you have learned his lessons vient. Let us be consistent. Let us not profess and imbibed his spirit? Or is there, on the one thing and do the contrary. Let us beware contrary, such a general assimilation of your of making ourselves at once a laughing-stock conduct to that of worldly men ; such an ab- and a stone of stumbling to the men of the sorption of your thoughts and anxieties, your world, by giving them reason to say, “ Whatil time, your talk, your plans, your aims, your do ye more than others?" and putting into efforts, your pleasure when you succeed, and their lips the taunting proverb, “ Physician your disappointment, dulness, regret, and grief, heal thyself !” when you fail, as that the men of the world must be at a loss to discern the distinction be
NO TIME TO THINK. tween you and themselves, and would smile in
“ Can you spare five minutes-only five ?" sarcastic surprise, were they to hear you mak. “ Well, what is it, Mr. H—?" ing use of those strong Bible terms in which “ I am desirous to say a word to you on busithe preference of things spiritual and eternal is ness of some interest.” breathed, with such fulness and fervour of heart,
“ Business, Mr. H -! why, I have business by the writers themselves, or the class whom enough on hand for a dozen men, with twenty
pair of hands.” they represent? if they were to hear you, for
“I know you have, Mr. A—, and always example, speak of “ counting all things but loss lave had ever since I knew you. Have you for the excellency of the knowledge of Jesus made your will?” Christ your Lord,” of this world “not being “ My will, Mr. H—! are you serious!" your rest,” of “the Lord being the portion of
Never more so. You are yet in the prime your inheritance and cup?” if they were to of life, to be sure, but men die every day; and hear you use the words of the Psalmist : “ From leisure in this world, it would not be amiss to
as there is no prospect of your ever having any men of the world deliver me, who have their por- keep your house in order.' You look surprised, tion in this life: as for me, I shall behold. thy Mr. A ; but listen a moment. The last time face in righteousness; I shall be satisfied when I spoke with you (some six weeks since), you I awake with thy likeness ?” if they heard admitted that you had some doubt of your being you praying earnestly in the morning, that
a child of God-it was your duty, you allowed, “ the world might be crucified to you, and
to have full assurance of a saving interest in
you to the world;" and then, in following you in Christ, but, “though you had been a professed
follower of Jesus some twenty years, you had your course through the day, should see the not that evidence of being a child of God, which prayer answered in the entire immersion of you knew you onght to have, and which you your whole soul in the world, and nothing but I thought some did possess.' Permit me to ask,
THE THEFT AND THE LIE.
have you taken any decided measures to remove When George was almost nine years of age, all doubts in the matter of such immense im- he was sent to a neighbouring shop for some portance ? I anticipate your answer. You thread, which was wanted in the family. When have been incessantly occupied, night and day, he went in there, he found two or three persons ever since we parted, harassed with conflicting who were to be served before him. As he was duties—no time to think, or for reading, but on looking about, he saw a nice, double-bladed the Sabbath. The daily papers you are obliged knife on the shelf. It was just what he wanted; to con, but as for new books and common perio- he had been wishing for such a knife a long dicals, you take them all for the benefit of time, and the price was only twenty-five cents. your family, but don't pretend to read them. He had exactly that sum in his hand. His You must confess, things don't go on just right brother John would have been likely to have with your children; you have some misgivings bought the knife without thinking, and then whenever the question arises, whether you are run home to tell all about it; but George never bringing them up in the nurture and admoni- did things in John's way. He did not forget tion of the Lord; but then you can't get time to that he had been sent for two hanks of thread, look at these matters. Now, Mr. A what but he looked at the handsome knife, till he shall be the end of these things? By-and-by, could not see anything else. You know that you must find time to die; and when you come we can think very quick; it was but a little to lie upon your death-bed, and I come in to while that he stood by the counter, but many pray with you, I shall pray, to be sure, that thoughts passed through his mind. God would put beneath you his everlasting First, he thought, I do want that knife; then arm, and that
conscience said, You must not buy it with this
money, for it is not yours; then an evil thought “ Jesus would make your dying bed As soft as downy pillows are ;"
came, I can tell mother something; said con
science, That will be lying as well as stealing, but shall say to myself all the while, it's almost wait and save your spending-money. George impossible, for he is resting on thorns. His re was almost persuaded by this last thought, and flections can only be such as these : 'Death ! was turning away, when his heart suggested to heaven !—what are they? I have had no time him, perhaps the knife would be gone before he to think. What will became of my wife and could get money enough, so he asked the clerk children? I have had no time to think. Are to let him see it. Conscience is a faithful friend, my children Christians ? I have had no time but if we will do wrong, it will stop warning us. to think. Some of them are professors — I George bought the knife; but after he had put hope my wife is a Christian. Have I done all it in his pocket it felt as heavy as lead. Oh I could for them! Why, yes—no, not exactly; how he wished it was in the shop again! Why, I am a poor miserable creature to have had the said he to himself, why do people hang things care of immortal souls; but then, I might have up to tempt us !-if only I had never seen it ! taken time, and studied their wants; where Many a one has asked this question before there is a will there is a way.'
George. But we must be tried; how else shall But enough. Reader, “time is the warp of we know what we are? If this boy had rememlife, O weave it well.” Possibly you are erring bered God's holy commandment, and prayed to from the narrow way. Look well to your mis- him for help to keep it, the desire of having givings. Examine well your hopes of heaven. the knife would have gone out of his mind. -Monitor.
“My son, you have stayed long," said his mother; “why, what is the matter?” for George
was pale, and trembled. THE THEFT AND THE LIE.
“Oh, mama, you know the old shed at the
corner of the fence--as I was going past, a GEORGE was only a little younger than his drunken man came out, and ran after me, and
eldest brother. He was a well-behaved child, made me fall down, and the money dropped in and generally obedient to his parents. But the sand, so I lost it." George had one fault, he was cunning. Some “ Oh,” said the servant girl, little thinking boys think this shows smartness, but it is very that she was helping George out with his lie, hard to be cunning and truthful at the same “ that must be the same man that I saw asleep time. George could not see this; his parents under the fence this morning.” tried in vain to convince him that the little
George felt relieved; but so far was he from tricks, by which he outwitted his companions, enjoying his dear-bought knife, that he put it were all founded on deceit, and partook of a away in the bottom of his box, whence he
lie. So it came to pass, that though the might not see it. He could not help thinking school-boys all thought George very smart, they of it, however. called him a slippery fellow. True, there is The Bible says, “ A lying lip is but for a great probability that the character a boy has moment;” and again, " Be sure your sin will at school will go with him as long as he lives. find you out." So it fared with our cunning boy. Pray, then, children, that you may begin right. To make his story more sure, he had said to
his father that Mr. Benton, a neighbour, had A youthful wife the threshold crossed, seen the drunken man, and made him go away.
With matron's treasure blessed; One lie, you know, makes twenty. Mr. Benton A smiling infant nestling lay was not in the habit of coming to the house of In slumber at her breast. George's parents, but it happened that his cart She spoke no word, she heaved no sigh, broke down near their gate, and he stepped in
The widow's tale to tell; forassistance. George's father said to Mr. Benton, But, like a corpse, all white and stiff, “I thank you, neighbour, for helping my little Upon the earth-floor fell; boy the other day.” As you may suppose, the
And thousand joyful voices cry, good man knew nothing about the affair, and
“ Huzza ! huzza! a victory!" thus George's sinful conduct was all exposed.
An old weak man, with head of snow, Was he punished? Yes, severely; but who
And years threescore and ten, can tell how grieved his parents were? They
Looked in upon his cabin home, shed bitter tears over his sin. Do you ask if
And anguish seized him then. he repented ? In one sense he did; he sincerely
He help'd not wife, nor helpless babe, regretted that he had behaved wrong, and
Matron, nor little maid; made himself liable to punislıment, but whether
One scalding tear, one choking sobthat was the right sort of repentance, I leave
He knelt him down and prayed; you to determine. Soon after this, George lost his father. What a loss is a pious father, espe
And thousand joyful voices cry,
“ Huzza ! huzza! a victory!” cially to a boy who needed so much guidance and control as did this one! As you sail up one of our southeru rivers,
NOT INVITED. away off to the right, rises a gloomy building; it is the State Penitentiary. Among its miser- A rew weeks since a superb party was to be able inmates is a youth of respectable appear- given in Bourbon Street; the elite of the city ance, sad, pale, and degraded; it is poor George. was there, and many high dignitaries of the -New York Ouserter.
State honoured the soiree with their presence.! As may be supposed, there was a great flutter-1} ing among the fashionables, and a terrible de-li
mand existed for “ invitations.” Divers young A VICTORY.
ladies were in great trepidation lest they The joy-bells peal a merry tune
sliould not be bidden, and staid “mamas” lost Along the evening air;
much of their matronly dignity in trying to The crackling bonfires turn the sky
ensure due attention to their children. I am All crimson with their glare;
not able to say how many were chosen out of Bold music fills the startled streets
the mass to make up the blaze of a fashionable With mirth-inspiring sound;
saloon! Nor do I know the number of aching The gaping cannon's reddening breath
heads and hearts which involuntarily testified Wakes thunder shouts around;
next morning that all was “vanity and vexaAnd thousand joyful voices cry,
tion of spirit,” though they would not own it, “ Huzza ! huzza! a victory!"
either to themselves or others; but I do know of
one beautiful creature, whose heart was and A little girl stood at the door,
still is in a vexed and humiliated state, because And with her kitten played;
she was not invited ! Less wild and frolicsome than she,
How much she lost! Lost temper, self-reThat rosy prattling maid.
spect, and charitable feelings. These are Sudden her cheek turns ghastly white; great loss, but think you she missed there? Her eye with fear is filled,
Not at all. She missed only the glare of the And rushing in-of-doors, she screams,
ball-room—the crashing music—the noisy chat. “My brother Willie's killed !
tering crowd – the dance – the talk, and And thousand joyful voices cry,
the supper. She was overlooked_she was not “ Huzza! huzza! a victory !"
invited—she was not permitted to be at Mrs.
's ball. A mother sat in thoughtful ease,
Let us see the other side of this picture. A-knitting by the fire,
Sabbath last was the occasion of administering Plying the needle's thrifty task
the communion of the Lord's supper. A solemn With hands that never tire.
time it was (and this I say who am a sinner), She tore her few grey hairs, and shrieked, and one which impressed me to tears even with “My joy on earth is done!
my hardened heart. 0! who will lay me in my grave ?
The followers of Christ separated from the O God! my son, my son !"
followers of the world, and, with beating hearts And a thousand joyful voices cry,
and swelling bosoms, prepared in prayer and “ Huzza ! huzza! a victory !"
silence to partake of the body and blood of
ILLUSTRATIONS OF INFIDELITY.
BY WILLIS G. CLARK,
their “ departed Lord.” It was, or should have
DE TII OF THE FIRST-BORY. been, to an impenitent sinner an awful scene, only to be surpassed by the judgment, when, in like manner, the goats shall be separated from Young mother, he is gone! the sheep.
His dimpled cheek no more will touch thy breast; This young lady, dressed in the extreme of No more the music tone fashion, blooming in health, and buoyant with Float from his lips to thine all foudly prest; gaiety, was at church. Again there was a rich | His smile and happy laugh are lost to theeentertainment-a noble company -a lordly host Earth must his mother and his pillow be. -a delicious banquet, and music which entered the soul; and still she was not incited! She re.
His was the morning hour; ceived no
call”—she was neglected! Was And he hath passed in beauty from the day, she troubled, vexed, humiliated this time? Oh A bud, not yet a flowerno! She arranged her veil, smiled sweetly, Torn, in its sweetness, from the parent spray; left the churchi
, and was glad to get away! May The death-wind swept luim to his soft repose, God change her heart !-N. 0. Protestant. As frost in spring-time blights the early rose.
Never on earth again “A CERTAIN POOR WIDOW."
Will his rich accents charm thy listening ear, We have not so much as her name to call her by.
Like some Æolian strain, But we have what is better-her deed. She was Breathing at even-tide serene and clear; poor. How poor? Was she one of that class of His voice is choked in dust, and on his eyes paupers who have money in bank, money for market
The unbroken seal of peace and silence lies. and shop, money for concerts and journeys, but nothing in the world for charity ? Was she one of And from thy yearning heart, those who are impoverished by the “so many calls"
Whose inmost core was warm with love for him, who are drained by the mere appeal to give, though they give next to nothing-who have “nothing at
A gladness must depart, present?" Did she belong to one of those congrega
And those kind eyes with many tears be dimtions who are too poor to pay for their place of wor While lonely memories, an unceasing train, ship, or to sustain the means of worship creditably, Will turn the raptures of the past to pain. though they dwell in well-furnished and high-rented houses?
Yet, mourner! while the day But how poor was the widow? We have the ap Rolls like the darkness of a funeral by, praisement of all the living that she had. The sum And hope forbids one ray was precisely two mites—or to speak of it in the largest To stream athwart the grief-discoloured sky; terms it admits of, one farthing.
There was a treasury for the receipt of contribu- | There breaks upon thy sorrow's evening gloom, tions to the Lord's house in Jerusalem. A constant A trembling lustre from beyond the tomb. income was necessary to repair the buildings and maintain the worship. Did the poor woman pass by
'Tis from the better land! the treasury and shake her head, saying she had | There, bathed in radiance that around them springs, nothing to give ? or that what she had was too trifl
Thy loved one's wings expand; ing to offer—too small to be entered on the subscrip- As with the choiring cherubim, he sings; tion book? Or did she say, Let the rich throw in
And all the glory of that God can see, much-they can afford it-my gift would be worth nothing?
Who said on earth to children-" Come to me." No. The certain poor widow gave nobody the trouble of calling on her, or of listening to her polite and though his presence may be lost to thee,
Mother, thy child is blest; apologies. She took her farthing in her hand, and went up to the great temple, and when she saw some
And vacant leave thy breast, of the rich throwing in their handfuls of shekels, or And missed a sweet load from thy parent knee; their minas, she was glad she had two pieces to add to Though tones familiar from thine ear have passed,
the collection, and the brass mites were as cheerfully Thou'lt meet thy first-born, with his Lord, at last. dropped as any gold or silver that went into the treasury that day.
Yes, and they were as cheerfully received. For the Lord of the temple was sitting over against the
ILLUSTRATIONS OF INFIDELITY. treasury at the time, and declared that inasmuch as
THE DEATH-BED OF IIUME. she had, in the fulness of her heart, bestowed all that she possessed, she had done more than all others.
And the same Lord has his eye upon every disciple HAVING endeavoured to exhibit the leading feawho has now the privilege of contributing to his tures in the character of Hume as these respect cause. He knows who gives and who withholds; he himself-his fellow-men-his Maker ; having also discerns the cheerful and the grudging giver; he shown some of his leading inconsistencies and selfestimates the gift, not by its intrinsic am unt, but by contradictions ; also, the uncertainty, vanity, and the proportion it bears to the means of the donor. misery of his infidel philosophy ; we might here well A farthing may represent more in his view, and be draw our observations to a close; but his disciples more abundantly recompensed, than the thousands or tens of thousands which men emblazon when they and admirers might complain of us if we made no are given, though they scarcely diminish the heap reference to his death. They make a boast of the from which they are taken.- Presbyterian.
calmness and cheerfulness of his dissolution. They
say, “Judge of the man's character and system by his and religious system; that truth stands upon ground death. See how superior he is, in point of patience altogether independent. Death-beds may prove the and tranquillity, to many professed Christians. Surely tendency of systems, and the sincerity of the parties, Infidelity cannot be so fatal a thing as you represent, unless strongly tempted to support à character and when it sustains in comfort through a long and deviate from truth—but this is all. They are no inlingering illness, and enables the sufferer to look at
fallible standard of truth. With regard to the death death with ease and satisfaction, and even desire."
of Hume, if we are to receive the statements of his It is necessary, therefore, that we consider and form friends, and such of his own as have been published, some estimate of the closing scene of this celebrated few men could have died in greater tranquillity or Infidel.
unconcern about futurity. He spoke of the death There can be no question that the friends and of friends, and frequently and familiarly of his own, followers of Hume make use of his death as an with perfect calmness, and in full possession of all argument in behalf of the harmlessness, if not the his faculties. There was time, too, for consideraadvantage, of unbelief. Dr. Cullen, the well-known tion, as his sickness stretched over the greater part physician, giving an account of it a fortnight after of eighteen months, though it was only in the latter the event, says: “It was truly an example of great three that suffering was decided. Four months be! men dying with cheerfulness; and to me, who have fore his death, he recorded in his autobiography the been so often shocked with the horror of the super- following account of the state and prospects of his stitious on such occasions, the reflection on such a health: "I now reckon on a speedy dissolution. death is truly agreeable.” Dr. Adam Smith deemed have suffered very little pain from my disorder; and
the event so important, that he published a full ac what is more strange, have, notwithstanding the great count of it shortly after, and concluded with the decline of my person, never suffered a moment's eulogium, “I have always considered Mr. Hume, abatement of my spirits, insomuch, that were I to
both in his lifetime, and since his death, as approach name the period of my life which I would most choose ing as nearly to the idea of a perfectly wise and vir to pass over again, I might be tempted to point to tuous man as perhaps the nature of human frailty this latter period. I possess the same ardour as ever
will permit.” Bishop Horne was so impressed with in study, and the same gaiety in company. I consider, the progress of Infidelity, shortly after Hume's death, besides, that a man of sixty-five, by dying, cuts off only and with the mischievous influence of his reported a few years of infirmities: and though I see many death, as well as writings, that he addressed an an symptoms of my literary reputation breaking out at onymous letter to Dr. Smith, signed by “One of the last with additional lustre, I know that I could have People called Christians ;” in which, says the editor but few years to enjoy it. It is difficult to be more of his “ Letters on Infidelity," he “ endeavoured to detached from life than I am at present.”—There is undeceive the world with respect to the pretended no trace here of any idea of futurity. As a matter
cheerfulness and tranquillity of the last moments of of course, it is taken for granted that, at sixty-five, the unbelieving philosopher ; and overthrows the death only cuts off a few years of infirmities. It is artificial account given in Mr. Hume's Life, by allu never imagined that it may possibly conduct to an sions to certain well-founded anecdotes concerning experience far more serious than ten thousand bodily him, which are totally inconsistent with it." This infirmities. at least shows that Infidelity made use of the charac The record of an excursion to Bath, a few months ter of Hume’s death as an argument in its favour ; before his death, in company with Mr. John Home, and that, in the belief of intelligent Christians, it the dramatist, who had once been a professed was of service to it. Hence the propriety of neutra- minister of Christ, has been preserved, in which lizing this unhappy influence, which may be revived the nephew says: “His spirits are astonishing. He by the picture presented in the elaborate “Life and talks of his illness, of his death, as matters of no Correspondence" now published. Besides, admitting moment, and gives an account of what passed between the death-bed of Hume to have been all that his him and his physicians since his illness began, with friends describe, there are important lessons which his usual wit, or with more wit than usual.” On one Christians may draw from it. It is desirable to see occasion, speaking of his burial-place, his nephew Infidelity from first to last, through its entire course. desired him to change the discourse. He adds, he It is possible that Providence may have so ordered did so, “but seemed surprised at my uneasiness; !! events in the case of Hume, as to show forth Infi- which, he said, was very nonsensical.” Looking back delity in its very best form, living and dying, that upon the same excursion, Hume himself says: His people might be the more thoroughly guarded “Never was there a more friendly action, nor better against its snares, and not be tempted by inferior planned; for what between conversation and gaming.
Professed Christians, too, are apt to entertain not to mention sometimes squabbling, I did not pass mistakes in regard to death-beds in general, as to a languid moment." Gaming! strange occupation what they teach, as well as other things ; and hence for a dying man, with one who had once been a mineed counsel, if not caution. On these different nister. Dr. Adam Smith, describing the scene still grounds we propose to make a few remarks on the nearer its close, says: “ His cheerfulness was so great, DEATH-BED OF Hume.
and his conversation and amusements ran so much We need scarcely remind the reader, that the na in their usual strain, that, notwithstanding all bad ture of a death-bed, whether dark and gloomy, or symptoms, many people could not believe he was bright and cheerful, cannot affect the truth of a moral dying.” In illustration of this, he busied himself in