VII. A CONTRAST AND A QUESTION. What a powerless thing the gospel sometimes appears! The minister is half ashamed of it. The people slumber under its most affecting statements. Again, at another time, the gospel is evidently "the power of God unto salvation." An unseen power accompanies the preached word, and the sanctuary is felt to be the house of God, and the very gate of heaven. Then the word of Jeremiah is fulfilled: "Is not my word like as a fire? saith the Lord; and like a hammer that breaketh the rock in pieces?"(Jer. xxiii. 29.) Then stout-hearted sinners are awakened. Old, and middle-aged, and little children, are made to cry, What must I do to be saved? An awful stillness pervades the assembly. The arrows of the King of Zion are sharp in the heart of the King's enemies, and the people are brought down under him. O sinner! has the gospel come thus in power to you? Has the hammer of the word broken your rocky heart? Has the fire of the word melted your icy heart? Has the voice that is "like the noise of many waters," spoken peace to your soul? VIII. THE LOVE OF GOD. There is no love in this world like a mother's love. It is a free, unbought, unselfish love. She cannot account for it. You cannot change it. You must break to pieces the mother's heart before you will change it. It is the fullest love with which a creature can love. She loves with all her heart. But the love of God to a soul in Christ is far above a mother's love. It is a love ingrained in his nature, and God must change before his love can change. It is a full love. The whole heart of the Father is as it were continually showered down in love upon the Lord Jesus. And when a sinner comes into Christ the same love rests upon that soul.-(See John xvii. 26.) When the sun showers down its beams on the wide ocean, and on a little flower at the same time, it is the same sunshine that is poured into both, though the ocean has vastly larger capacity to receive its glorious beams. So when the Son of God receives the love of his Father, and a poor guilty worm hides in him, it is the same love that comes both on the Saviour and the sinner, though Jesus is able to receive infinitely more. 66 LORD, ARE THERE FEW THAT BE WHETHER this was a question of mere idle curiosity, swers. was upon the questioner, we are not told. It silenced him, and probably that was all. He might be willing enough to talk about religion in the general, but had no desire to have it brought home to his own case. Many such inquirers there are now. Every pastor has met with them, and been constrained to admire their evasive ingenuity, though exceedingly grieved at their personal indifference. One person of this class, when drawn into religious conversation by his pastor, and when he perceives that it is coming too near home, will perhaps turn short round and ask who Melchizedec was. Not that he cares a farthing about it, but to ward off personalities, of which he is far shyer than of "the serpent who beguiled Eve." Another will adroitly turn the conversation from himself, by asking where the garden of Eden was; or in what shape the serpent came to our first mother and beguiled her; or where Ararat, on which the ark rested, is, or from which of the sons of Noah we are descended. Another, who is determined not to be questioned about his own spiritual state, but to save appearances and treat his pastor civilly, will perhaps inquire why the Jews were forbidden to eat swine's flesh, or to sow their fields with mingled seed; or not to wear any mixed garment of linen and woollen. Or, perchance, he will quote Ezra, and want to know something about the "nine-and-twenty knives" which the king of Persia ordered to be restored to him, that he might' carry them back to Jerusalem. Another, who is of a still more inquisitive turn of mind on religious subjects, and looks deeper into things, but who is determined to keep his lips hermetically sealed with regard to his own state and prospects, will enter readily into conversation with his minister upon the Bible; and to keep him at arm's length, ask him such questions as these: How is the Mosaic account of the creation to be reconciled with the recent fossil discoveries of the geologists ? or how the angels could apostatize when they are perfectly holy? or how Pharaoh could be to blame for refusing to let Israel go when God hardened his heart? &c., &c. Now, we do not deny that most of the foregoing, and many similar questions, may be asked at the proper time, and with an honest desire for information. The objection is that they are often thrust in from mere curiosity, and oftener still to turn off the conversation from any serious personal application; and we think we have known men study the Bible more to find difficulties, and to ask perplexing questions, than with any desire to know and do the will of God. "Lord, are there few that be saved ?" What was that to him? Had he not a soul of his own to be cared for, and was not that the great question, whether it should be saved or lost? If he neglected the great salvation, and perished, as it seems very likely he did, does it make his eternal destiny any more tolerable to find that few or many are saved? The horror of despair is that he himself is lost, lost, lost! So it will be with others, who content themselves with asking curious or hard questions about the Bible, and about religion, instead of embracing THE SOLEMN DAY. the gospel, and working out their own salvation with fear and trembling. Who can doubt that it is one of "the depths of Satan," when he finds that he cannot induce men to reject the Scriptures and cast off the forms of religion, to content them with talking about it, and putting curious and captious questions, instead of asking what they must do to be saved, and of "fleeing from the wrath to come." THE TAHITIAN'S PRAYER. [WHILE seeking retirement for devotion about the dawn of day, Mr Scott, missionary at Tahiti, heard a voice at no great distance from his retreat. He distinctly recognised the voice of prayer. It was the first time that he knew that a native on Tahiti's shores had prayed to any but his idols!] It was a still and solemn hour, In an isle of the southern seas, A place for secret prayer. No ear to hear in that silent glen, Yet the giant fern gave back a voice, They were broken words that met his ear, A native of that savage isle, From the depths of his full heart cried And peace and hope were in those tones, The morning dawn'd on that lonely spot; Came with the accents of prayer and praise, The first! the first who had call'd on God Juv. Miss. Mag. OUTSIDE AND INSIDE. From Letters of late Rev. J. Campbell of Kingsland. "WHEN living at Edinburgh, I used to visit London now and then. The coach by which I came, entered London by the very road at the side of which I have now lived thirty years. I remember well the amusement I had in viewing the neat houses on each side of the way for eight miles before the commencement of London; I now wonder how little I then thought of the painful scenes that might have been seen inside some of those buildings. For example, at this instant 227 I could take you into one of these houses, and show a venerable female disciple of our Lord who has been for months enduring excruciating pain in one of her legs, and a dropsy all over her. You would find her weeping lest she should become impatient, and thereby offend her Lord; and, from closer examination, you would learn that she had not a doubt of her being on the verge of an everlasting rest. "On walking across to the house immediately opposite I could let you see a female stone blind, who a few months ago could see as well as yourself; yet, in conversing with her, you would find her cheerful and submissive to her heavenly Father's will. Go a little to the left, and I could show you a family deploring the loss of the father, who, two or three weeks ago, was in perfect health, but going out of a house, fell down two or three steps, broke his arm in three places, which inflamed, mortified, and slew him. A hundred yards from that house I could bring you to another, where I could introduce you to a pious female who was married about eighteen months ago, and lived very happily with her husband, who was a pious men. Ten days ago he went to town, as usual, to his business; in the evening, at seven o'clock, he went to a vessel in the Thames to hold a prayermeeting; while mounting up the side of the ship, his foot slipped, and he sunk into the river, and has not been seen since! I could take you to another lady hard by, whose husband was lately a strong man-a kind, friendly, and Christian man-brought up under the ministry and kind care of the late Abraham Booth; he had a carbuncle in the back of his neck, which carried him off in a few days. I could go on narrating similar tales of this infirmary of a world, till both paper and leisure would fail me; and I suppose there is not a street in London, nor perhaps in Edinburgh or Glasgow, but could at this moment furnish details equally affecting; and all this misery can be traced up to its first cause, namely, original transgression in Paradise, where human nature was spoiled; then it was infected or inoculated, shall I say, with the disease of hell-sin. The blood of the Lamb of God is the only remedy which alone can cure it; and truly does the poet say, 'One view of Jesus as he is shall strike all sin for ever dead!' Yes, there is a country where the inhabitant no more says he is sick, for the whole population there are delivered from all their iniquities." THE SOLEMN DAY. THE thunder-storm is solemn: when the lightnings, as arrows, shoot abroad;" when the peals startle up the nations; when the dread artillery rushes along the sky. But what is that to the far-resounding crash, louder than the roar and bellow of ten thousand thunders, which shall pierce to the deepest charnels, and which all the dead shall hear! The sea-tempest is solemn: when those huge billows lift up their crests; when mighty armaments are wrecked by their fury; broken as the foam, scattered as the spray. But what is that to the commotion of the deep, when its "proud waves" shall no more "be stayed," its ancient barriers no more be observed, the great channels be emptied, and every abyss be dry! The earthquake is solemn: when, without a warning, cities totter, and kingdoms rend, and islands flee away. But what is it to that tremor which shall convulse our globe, dissolving every law of attraction, untying every principle of aggregation, heaving all into chaos, and heaping all into ruin! The volcano is solemn: when its cone of fire shoots to the heavens; when from its burning entrails the lava rushes, to overspread distant plains and to overtake flying populations. But what is that to the conflagration, in which all the palaces, and the temples, and the citadels of the earth shall be consumed; of which the universe shall be but the sacrifice and the fuel! Great God! must our eyes see our ears hearthese desolations? Must we look forth upon these devouring flames? Must we stand in judgment with Thee? Penetrate us now with thy fear; awaken the attention which thy trump shall not fail to command; surround our imagination with the scenery of that great and terrible day. Let us now come forth from the graves of sin, of unbelief, of worldliness, to meet the overture of thy mercy, as we must perforce start then from our sepulchres to see the descending Judge. Judge us now, that thou mayst not condemn us then. Let thy terror persuade, that it may not crush us. Yes, it is no illusion. The heavens shall be as the shrivelled scroll of parchment; this solid earth shall stagger as the drunken man, and cry as the travailing woman. The period is long since determined, when time shall have completed its course, when probation shall have run its measure, and when all the signs in the present system shall be fulfilled: when "the stars shall fall" as the leaves of autumn, when "the heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat," and "all these things shall be dissolved." It is the day of God. It is "the judgment of the great day." "And I saw," said the prophet of the New Testament, "a great white throne, and Him that sat on it, from whose face the earth and heaven fled away; and there was found no place for them. And I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God; and the books were opened: and another book was opened, which is the book of life: and the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books, according to their works. And the sea gave up the dead which were in it; and death and hell delivered up the dead which were in them: and they were judged every man according to their works."(Rev. xx. 11-13.)-R. W. Hamilton. "I CANNOT." "I CANNOT get ready in time for public worship on the Sabbath morning, I am so tired on Saturday, so hard at work all the week."-Could you not get |ready if you had a pleasant journey to take? "I cannot keep awake in the house of God, I am so drowsy."-Would you be drowsy sitting to hear a will read, if you were expecting a legacy was left you, though the reading of it lasted an hour? "I cannot find time for secret prayer or reading the Scriptures in private."-Rather say, I am not willing. Were you to receive triple wages for one hour's early rising, would you say, I cannot? "I cannot have family worship. I never was accustomed to it."-Do you tell the beggar what he has to say? Can you calinly read in Jeremiah x. 25, "Pour out thy fury upon the heathen that know thee not, and upon the families that call not on thy name," and not feel; and, friend, will this excuse please you on a death-bed? "I cannot make a profession of religion, for fear of dishonouring the cause of God."-Does not the Lord promise to assist you, for none goes a warfare on his own charges; does not Paul say, "I can do all things, through Christ strengthening me." "I cannot give my heart now to Jesus; by and by for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth I hope to do so."-Boast not thyself of to-morrow, Will this excuse do at the judgment-seat?-Tract Magazine. THE WANT OF THE AGE. Nor a little is heard, now-a-days, about "the wants of the age!"-Good men and bad, wise men and unwise, real and false philanthropists, the pulpit and the press, all have much to say as to the demands of the age, and the best way of supplying them. The Fourierite tells us we must herd human beings, as we do cattle; the Agrarian, that we must divide up property and land; the Agitator, that we must fall in with his favourite scheme of excitement; the Swedenborgian, that we must have faith in his dreams; and the Mormon, that we must bow down and worship in his temple. Every one cries out, that the age must adopt his views, or it is undone! One tells us the demand of the age is for universal education; another, that it requires liberty of speech, person, and conscience; and still another, that it must and will have an upheaving of the social state, and perfect uniformity of social privilege and enjoyment! But as opposed to some, and far above and beyond all these things, there is a want, and it is the want of the age. Do you ask what it is? It is THE GOSPEL! This is what the age wants-pre-eminently: and supremely wants-and must have for its improvement and salvation. The Bible is THE book of the age-of this, as of every age! It is not antiquated, old-fashioned, out of date!-It needs no remodelling for the nineteenth century; and he is but a madman or a fool who pretends it! The idle, who would be amused; the visionary, who prefers dreaming to reality; the vicious, who would wallow in indulgence, may turn away from it to novelties, excitement, or the wild schemes of scepticism, delusion, selfishness, and lust. But if souls are to be renewed, communities benefited, the age regenerated, our country and the world redeemed, it must be by the Bible-by Christianity! The lawless spirits of the age must yield themselves to the law of God; the free spirits of the age submit themselves to the righteousness which is by faith: the proud spirits of the age be humbled to acknowledge their dependence on the cross; the depraved spirits of the age, be renewed by the gospel of Christ as applied by the Holy Spirit. The great doctrines of the Bible must be made known, and the great duties of the Bible pressed home on every conscience, and heart, and life, in all their power, and by all the sanctions of eternity! THE want of the age is the gospel; the plain, unadulterated and unmodified gospel-the gospel preached from the pulpit, taught in the family and Sabbath school, sent forth in the Bible, and tract, and printed volume, borne by the press, the missionary, the colporteur, the private Christian to the city and wilderness.-N. E. Puritan. THE CHRISTIAN TREASURY. 229 FAITH. FROM THE GERMAN OF THOLUCK. "Faith, a new sense, to man's perceptions given, Excels all five in powers akin to heaven.' "By faith Moses, when he was come to years, refused to be to suffer affliction with the people of God, than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season; esteeming the reproach of Christ greater riches than the treasures in Egypt: for he had respect unto the recompense of the reward. By faith he forsook Egypt,not fearing the wrath of the king: for he endured, as seeing Him who is invisible."-HEB. called the son of Pharaoh's daughter; choosing rather xi. 24-27. MOSES had become a king's son, and honour and riches and luxury offered their future to him; but he chose to cleave to his poor, enslaved people. That he would meet days of reproach, of great struggles, and of great privations, his natural insight could teach him; but still he refused none of these things. As Christ instead of joy chose the cross, so Moses deemed such a reproach greater riches than the treasures of Egypt, and therefore it is also said, that he chose the reproach of Christ. With bodily eyes he could see no reward, but he had, however, discerned it with the eye of faith, and even up to the hundred and twentieth year of his life had been obliged to be content with such faith views; then, for the first time, did he attain to sight, and even then not yet at once to fruition. The aim of his earthly pilgrimage, the land of Canaan, he doubtless saw with his eyes, but his foot did not step upon it. He viewed it afar from Mount Nebo, but he himself reached it not. He entered, however, the better land of rest, of which this earthly land of rest was only an imperfect type. Thus then is the aged pilgrim a just image of the walk of faith in the land of the earthly journeying. "Who against hope believed in hope, that he might become the father of many nations; according to that which was spoken, so shall thy seed be. And being not weak in faith, he considered not his own body now dead, when he was about a hundred years old, neither yet the deadness of Sarah's womb. He staggered not at the promise of God through unbelief; but was strong in faith, giving glory to God." What a great word: he believed in hope against hope. What had Abraham in the visible world upon which he could fasten his faith, his hope, that his seed should yet become as the stars of heaven? In nature he saw only a pure No! But what can the No of all creatures effect if God's word has said Yea! "Faith endures as seeing Him who is invisible." What a wonderful fact is faith! What power is stronger than that of eyesight? And yet faith can hope in defiance of all eyesight, where there is nothing to hope! But it is verily, if you will, also an eye-an eye before which all riches of the invisible world, before which the deeps of heaven, as well as the abyss of hell, lie unfolded. Suppose him then destitute of this eye: could man have power over himself, to stake the world with all its riches, in order to win the eternal? "And if the whole world," says one of the ancients, "with all that is therein, hung on a thread of lies, and I knew the word of truth that would sever it, I would speak it out, though the world, with all which is in it, should thereby be plunged into the abyss!" Whence this certainty and con"He cleaves to the Invisible as if he saw fidence, which still does not spring from the him." Yes, that is faith, and more clearly earthly world itself? It must be a witness from what faith is cannot be described: it is the God in the soul. A mustard-seed grain of this eye for the invisible world; it is certainty, inward faith, and mountains of lusts and desires which has grown up with the inward man, are removed, the deepest passions are rooted more certain than sight that sees things that up; a grain of this faith, and the whole kingdom are before us. By the Scripture it is said, of visibility becomes transparent for man; he that "faith is an assured confidence of things sees through all, he tastes through all powers hoped for, and an evidence of things not seen" of the future, invisible world; the doctrine that -which is saying, therefore, that it is a witness" in Him we live, move, and have our being," of the Spirit of God in our soul, which is su- becomes a reality to such a mind. "I am not perior to every other witness; yea, which bids a God who is afar off, but who is nigh, saith defiance to all other witnesses of the visible the Lord." This the believer experiences; he world. As indeed it is written of Abraham: feels the breath of God, whether he walks forth in the garden of nature or in the society of men, is in its perfection; for it gives light not only in that or remains alone with himself in his little cham-cated by our text, in that it shines gladly in the darkit illuminates our understanding, but also, as indi ber. Can we wonder if the world takes the believer for a fool, for a dreamer, who lives in his own world instead of that which is common to all? And yet all they are the dreamers who live in their own world instead of that common to all; for the world, so long as the breath of God is not livingly felt and experienced every where in it, what is it else than an empty, unsubstantial vision of the night! No, we are awake! we who experience eternity already here in time, and taste the powers of the future world already here in the present. Am I without strength?-O, I see it now clearly, all weakness of man is only weakness in faith! Faith removes mountains. What are all things of the world which come against meenmity, sickness, want and death? they all are surely only what I make them by my belief or unbelief. Faith subjugates, faith transforms without distinction, every thing which comes from without. Could I in every moment of my life cleave to the Invisible, as if I really saw him with my eyes, what then would be left difficult for me, what could then be impossible to me? True, did he stand before my eyes only as the Judge, my strength must rather be broken than increased; but does he not stand before my eyes as the Father of my Lord Jesus Christ? Am I not a citizen of the New Jerusalem, of which it is written: "None of its inhabitants shall say I am sick; because the people who dwell therein are forgiven all their iniquities." Yes, now I know wherefore so much stress is laid upon faith; why it is written, "Thine eyes, Lord, see according to faith." Abraham honoured God when he believed. Yea, Lord, we honour Thee when we believe that what Thou hast promised, that Thou canst also do, and our faith is our worship. THE BURNING LAMP; OR, COUNSEL TO THOSE WHO WALK IN THE NIGHT." BY THE LATE A. VINET, D. D. "Let your . . . . lamps be burning."-Luke xii, 35. In a burning lamp three things are observable-the lamp itself, the oil, and the flame. The lamp is the soul, with all its natural faculties. This lamp every man at birth receives from the hand of his Creator, some a larger one and more ornate, others smaller and simpler, but all alike fitted to receive the holy oil of truth; for this truth-I mean the excellent tidings of the gospel-is the oil which this lamp is destined to contain. The flame is the life which the Spirit of God communicates to this truth, which flows unto us from the vessel of the gospel. Then the lamp From Gospel Studies, a volume of Vinet's Discourses, published by Mr Collins. ness of affliction, and even in the valley of the shadow of death. This flame which we are enjoined to keep alive, is that of faith, hope, and love. I say, brethren, keep alive, for Jesus Christ says in my text, "Have," or keep, "your lamps burning." But this very precept implies another-" Kindle your Why, then, should we not turn first towards those who lamps;" and another still-"Have oil in your lamps." have not kindled them, towards those whose lamps are still empty-I mean without oil, for, alas! our Have oil in your lamps, kindle lamp is never empty. your lamps," let us say to them, "for darkness is coming, darkness is near, and the lamp of the Christian alone can dissipate it." The darkness is near, the night comes. It comes at every period of life. It comes to many in the morning, scarcely allowing the sun as he rises time to throw into space a pale and gloomy ray. To a great number, life is less day than night, pierced here and there merely by some livid flashes which serve only, according to the expression of the poet, to make "darkness visible." For all, without exception, there are in life moments of deepest gloom, days of anguish and sorrow, which make even those who are most gently dealt with understand the grievous exclamation of Job," Why has light been given to the miserable, and life to the sick at heart ?" From the very sources of our happiness spring forth bitter sorrows. Our most tender attachments arm death with some of his sharpest darts; for although St Paul has said with truth, that the sting of death is sin, it is true that this sting multiplies itself and makes sharp points of all the flowers with which we deck our heads. Every crown of flowers, sooner or later, becomes a crown of thorns. I wish not, brethren, to give you here a tragical parody of human life, nor conceal from benevolence. But the happiest of mortals, he who, you the visible and numerous traces of the Creator's by an unexampled privilege, should at the end of his career have to recall only recollections of prosperity (I mean of happiness), would be a man who fered-suffered in others. Even the general aspect had never loved. Had he loved he would have sufof human life would necessarily have subjected him to the most painful reflections. At all events, it would light, and plunge down the slope of death into a darkbe necessary for him to die, to quit this abode of desome future. In the foresight of this inevitable conclusion, not once only, brethren, but daily, would he liest feelings of delight which could thrill his heart die; yes, daily would he die amid joy; and the livewould be a kind of wakening to that everlasting sadness which, in a human being, may sleep but never die. Such is the immutable condition of human life. Incessant warfare is ordained for man here below: we are born to trouble as the sparks fly upwards. On whatever destiny we fix our eye, we see it covered with wounds or bruises. As if from envy, every thing reminds us of our inevitable decay. I admit it is impossible for the most unhappy not to see in the world and in his own life, proofs of paternal benevolence, traces of a first design, which was nothing less than the happiness of all. But the unhappiness of man's condition is, nevertheless, an oppressive burden for the heart and mind. This uncertainty of the next moment, those sorrows entwined with all our joys, death always ready to avenge, or sport with our passing felicities-all this not merely affects, it astonishes us. Unhappiness seems to us disorder, and in one sense we are right; but this very conviction adds to our unhappiness. We know, besides, that against |