a Virgil or Dante, and not the inspirations of God. Man is not a spiritual alien and a wanderer because his true condition has not been revealed; he rejects the Saviour, not because he does not hear him preached, nor even listen with assent to the story of his coming, and works, and suffering, as a friend and substitute; but, with all this persuasion of his mind and conscience, he is still an unbeliever.

Like the spectators at the grave of Lazarus, he sets at naught the truth which he admits. The arrow of conviction falls short of his heart, and the real excellency of the Saviour is invisible. Imagine a garden of exquisite beauty, adorned with every plant, and fruit, and flower, that money and taste can collect, with fountains and rivulets to add to its varied attractions. Suppose that you meet a stranger here, who, with an eye to all appearance healthful, passes along without bestowing the least attention upon a single object; in your bursts of rapturous delight, as you look at this or that most beautiful parterre, blooming in beauty and exhaling the sweetest fragrance, he is silent, and responds by returning only a vacant gaze; surely, you would say, this stranger is blind-eyes he has, but they see not, or he does not see as I see, or what I see; and upon inquiry, your conjecture is found to be

correct. What you see is invisible to him; the man is blind, and something more is wanted than your taste, botanical knowledge, and commendation, to make him share in your enjoyment.

The case supposed is easily interpreted. "The natural man," says the apostle, "receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness unto him, neither can he know, because they are spiritually discerned."

"The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament showeth his handy work." All nature teems with exhibitions of his greatness and goodness, as revelation glows with the glory of his grace. The earth is flooded with light, and the man has the medium, but he wants the faculty of vision. Come, then, O thou Spirit of light and life, descend as thou didst on chaos in the beginning, and brood over the writer as well as the reader of these pages. "What in us is dark, illumine; what is low, raise and support." Reveal to our hearts, as well as our minds, the unseen realities of that brighter, better world, - where faith is changed to sight, and hope expires in fruition.

"JESUS OF NAZARETH PASSETH BY."

BY MRS L. H. SIGOURNEY.

WATCHER, Who wakest by the bed of pain,

While the stars sweep on with their midnight train,
Stifling the tear for thy loved one's sake,

Holding thy breath lest her sleep should break,
In thy loneliest hour there's a helper nigh,-
"Jesus of Nazareth passeth by."

Stranger, afar from thy native land,

Whom no one takes with a brother's hand,
Table and hearthstone are glowing free,
Casements are sparkling, but not for thee;
There is one who can tell of a home on high, -
"Jesus of Nazareth passeth by."

Sad one, in secret bending low,

A dart in thy breast that the world may know,

Wrestling, the favor of God to win,
His seal of pardon for days of sin;
Press on, press on, with thy prayerful cry,
“Jesus of Nazareth passeth by."

Mourner, who sittest in the churchyard lone,
Scanning the lines on that marble stone,
Plucking the weeds from thy children's bed,
Planting the myrtle and rose instead,

Look up from the tomb with a tearful eye,
"Jesus of Nazareth passeth by."

Fading one, with the hectic streak,

In thy veins of fire and thy wasted cheek,
Fearest thou the shade of the darkened vale,
Look to the Guide who can never fail ;

He hath trod it himself! He will hear thy sigh, "Jesus of Nazareth passeth by."

JESUS AT THE WELL OF SAMARIA.

BY REV. JAMES FLINT, D. D., SALEM, MASS.

WHOEVER reads the several evangelists with the slightest attention, will perceive that we are indebted to John, the beloved disciple, for our knowledge of many of the most interesting incidents, which oc curred in the ministry of Jesus, and particularly for a more detailed account of some of his most remarkable conversations. As an instance in point, we have, in the fourth chapter of John's gospel, an invaluable record of what took place, and of the pregnant and very remarkable discourse of Jesus at the well of Samaria.

As usual, from the commencement to the close of his public ministry, Jesus was going about teaching and doing good. He was now journeying from Judea to Galilee. His most direct route would lead him through the confines of Samaria. About mid-day, fatigued with travelling under the scorching sun of that warm climate, he reached the fertile