fort, and by the conscious inferiority which every circumstance of social life awakens in the poor.

Their souls arose under the pressure like the mercury of the barometer. Thus also Wolfe, thwarted by poverty in the warmest and tenderest affections of his warm and tender heart, became the more devoted Christian, the more zealous minister. Among the means which they gratefully review in heaven as having fitted them for the inheritance of the saints in light, sanctified poverty is one.

Poverty however, has not only those subtile elements of misery which affect the fine sensations of a few; it is a ponderous, palpable, visible thing. It oppresses, it pains, it affrights even the dull and the unfeeling.

If from a state of superfluous abundance a man were reduced by the daily subtraction of a little, down to a condition of positive want, his mind gradually conforming to the alteration in outward things would lose the shock of contrast, and find the change comparatively easy. But to be hurled at once from wealth to want, to be reduced from luxurious superfluity to scarcity of bread, to lie down and sleep as a prince, and to awake as a beggar, is a vicissitude to which in this mercantile country many are exposed, and which indeed many have experienced; it is a severe and bitter trial, which only the special grace of God can enable any one to bear with the meekness of resigna

tion, and the cheerfulness of hope. The failure of a commercial firm, the loss of a ship, the death of one man, may ruin the fortunes of many individuals. None know the utmost bitterness of poverty who have not previously tasted the sweetness of abundance. The painful clash of habits and circumstances can jar the very soul. In all events God is working out his purposes. For some of us various and sudden changes are necessary, while others perhaps of a more excitable or a more observant cast, derive from the monotonous circulation of years an experience equally valuable.

In the straitness succeeding a too prodigal expenditure, even the opulent have sometimes a taste of the privations of poverty. Upon the avaricious, want is always preying, like the vulture upon Tityus.

Content in all conditions is the Christian's duty. He must ever recollect, that the sight of the eyes is better than the wandering of the desire. If we were to make a mental inventory of all the good things of this life which we at present want or wish for, and immediately to obtain possession of them, our insatiable hearts would instantly feel new necessities, and shape new desires. Temporal blessings can no more satisfy the longings of the heart, than a pictured feast can satisfy bodily hunger. Earthly possessions are valuable in this mortal life, but who can reckon on that frail thing's continuance for a year, for a day, for a single hour?

Every thing extraneous, even all that is nearest and dearest, and the earthly body now included in the term ' myself,' all but its own self-consciousness of being what sin or grace hath made it, must be left behind in death by the separate spirit. Then will the Christian prove the "unsearchable riches of Christ." The summary of earth and heaven's happiness is contained in the words. "The Lord is my portion."

The Christian's heart devising liberal things, will acknowledge it a blessed privilege to be enabled to give food to the hungry, raiment to the naked, relief to the sick, a home to the stranger, freedom to the prisoner, and consolation to all the afflicted : yet are these benevolent offices mere emblems and faint images of blessings which the poorest Christian can confer, of pointing the sinner to the Saviour, of guiding the wanderer back to the good Shepherd's fold, of supporting the faltering steps of the weak in faith.

To those who look only upon the outward appearance, the sterling value of the gift is the measure of the donor's generosity; but to Him who looketh upon the heart, and to those of his servants who charitably endeavour to appreciate motives, the mite of self-denying necessity is more than a treasury filled with the overflowings of abundance.

"What we shall eat, and what we shall drink, and wherewithal we shall be clothed," are indeed

proper objects of our care, but not of our anxiety. The indigent believer has a particular promise whereon to rest his faith. The Bible tells him,— "Verily thou shalt be fed."

Upon the confidence

of faith dawn the bright visions of hope, the Christian's soul beholds them, and is happy. But when under the painful experience of mental and bodily privations, his domestic affections, his most tender and lively feelings are touched by the necessities of those he loves, of a child, a parent, or a friend who asks of him assistance in sickness, suffering, and sorrow, and he has nothing to bestow but his pity and his prayers, yet stronger faith, yet brighter hope, yet more devoted love must be called into exercise, to save the tried heart from breaking.

It was the lot of the favoured tribe of Levi to have no inheritance among their brethren; none of them could say, This estate is mine, and it shall belong to my posterity: they lived upon bread daily given to them from God's table. Such is still the lot of many who in heavenly rank are kings and priests.

Christ was poor, and poor in spirit; and in their best hours, his followers can reconcile themselves to the meanest and hardest lot by the thought of him who though the King of kings, and Lord of lords, had not where to lay his head here below.

VIII.-ON SICKNESS.

patience of that

When we speready to assert,

Ir may be inferred from the history of Job, and from its description of the order and effects of Satan's temptations, that the loss of goods and of children was less trying to the eminent saint, than bodily pain. culate upon the subject, we are that though sickness may be a greater trial than poverty, yet that the loss of beloved friends is a still heavier affliction; but, taught by long and painful experience, we acknowledge that the great enemy of man well knew how to touch a wounded heart to the quick. Even if the soul be so engrossed by one overpowering sorrow, that it can derive no pleasure from its remaining mercies, there is a negative consolation still in being able to give way to emotion, unimpeded by physical hindrances. But in sickness and pain this cannot be done, for the intellect becomes the wretched slave of the body's miseries. Other griefs befalling us, may be compared to closing up some few windows in our palace of enjoyment, but personal

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