of your responsibility because your lot is humble, and your condition obscure. You know not what good a single expression, a devout sentiment, or a pious action, may do, although in a small and mean circle. Even though your life be one of suffering, and though you may be called to exercise the passive rather than the active virtues, yet even here the silent eloquence of resignation and acquiescence in the will of God, may be read with deep feeling by those who surround you, and with an impression never to be obliterated. O, keep the pages of your heart and life "with all diligence," and however mean your condition, and narrow your circle of influence, you will not live in vain. "Ye are our epistle,” says the apostle, "known and read of all men," 2 Cor. iii. 2; and if your conduct be consistent, bless God that yoù have this honour conferred on you of writing a book or an epistle for him. But, beware lest, with a Christian profession, your book lead others to sloth, uselessness, and formality. Beware lest you be found pleading the cause of half-heartedness and indecision. It is to be feared, that there are many who pass current among Christians, from whose lives we learn little of the beauties of holiness, or the pleasures of piety, and who exemplify but very feebly the doctrines of Jesus Christ. This is a great stumbling-block to the men of the world, that they find the book of the professing Christian's life so much at variance with his principles. Endeavour to write such a book as the Leightons and the Howards have left behind them, whose consistent lives even infidelity itself has been compelled to respect and admire. Write such a book as shall tend not only to make the bad good, but the good better, and even your Christian brother more like Christ. Let your book be so full of meekness and love, that those who read it may, by God's blessing, be won from their love of the world, and sensuality, and covetousness. Let your book aim to convince the worldling that there are indeed true pleasures in a holy life, far above anything that can be found in the world. Let it be of such a purifying and improving nature, that your circle of acquaintance, if not persuaded to decide to turn unto God, may be, at least, restrained from evil, and by your thus raising the standard of morality and religion among them, awed into a fear of doing evil, if not a love of doing well. Let it be your ambition to live such a life, to write such a book, as will bring glory to God, and promote peace and goodwill on earth, so that men, seeing its purity and consistency, may be led to the study of that holy Book which contains the principles you profess, embrace that salvation which you yourself value above all things, and learn to fear that God, whose truth you advocate, and whose service you recommend. S. W. P.

It was an homely expression which God makes of the state of his church, "Fear not, thou worm Jacob." Every foot is ready to tread on this despised creature. While it keeps itself in that cold obscure cell of the earth, wherein it was hidden, it lay safe, because it was secret; but now that it hath put itself forth out of that close cave, and hath presented itself to the light of the sun, to the eye of passengers, how is it vexed with the scorching beams, and wrings up and down in an helpless perplexity, not finding where to shroud itself! How obnoxious is it to the fowls of the air, to the feet of men and beasts! He that made this creature such, and calls his church so, well knew the answerableness of their condition. How doth the world overlook and conternn that little flock, whose best guard hath ever been secrecy! And if ever that despicable number have dared to show itself, how hath it been scorched and trampled upon, and entertained with all variety of persecution! O Saviour, thy spouse fares no otherwise than thyself; to match her fully, thou TRACT MAG., THIRD SERIES, No. 100, APRIL 1842.

E

hast said of thyself, "I am a worm, and no man." Such thou wert in thine humbled estate here on earth; such thou wouldest be: but as it is a true word, that He who made the angels in heaven, made also the worms on earth, so it is no less true, that He who made himself and his church worms upon earth, hath raised our nature in his person above the angels, and our person in his church to little less than angels. It matters not how we fare in this valley of tears, while we are sure of that infinite amends of glory above.

UPON THE SIGHT OF A PIECE OF MONEY UNDER THE WATER.

I should not wish ill to a covetous man, if I should wish all his coin in the bottom of the river. No pavement could so well become that stream; no sight could better fit greedy desires, for there every piece would seem double, every teston (three-pence) would appear a shilling, every crown an angel (ten shillings.) It is the nature of that element to greaten appearing quantities; while we look through the air upon that solid body, it can make no other representations: neither is it otherwise in spiritual eyes and objects: if we look with carnal eyes through the interposed mean of sensuality, every base and worthless pleasure will seem a large contentment! If with weak eyes we shall look at small and immaterial truths aloof off; in another element of apprehension every parcel thereof shall seem main and essential: hence every knack of heraldry in the sacred genealogies, and every scholastic quirk in disquisitions of divinity, are made matters of no less than life and death to the soul. It is a great improvement of true wisdom, to be able to see things as they are, and to value them as they are seen. Let me labour for that power and staidness of judgment, that neither my senses may deceive my mind, nor the object may delude

my sense.

UPON THE SIGHT OF A NATURAL, (AN IDIOT.)

O God, why am not I thus? What hath this man done, that thou hast denied wit to him? or what have I done, that thou shouldest give a competency of it to me? What difference is there betwixt us, but thy bounty, which hath bestowed upon me what I could not merit, and hath withheld from him what he could not challenge. All is, O God,

in thy good pleasure, whether to give or deny; neither is it otherwise in matters of grace. The unregenerate man is a spiritual fool; no man is truly wise but the renewed. How is it, that while I see another man besotted with the vanity and corruption of his nature, I have attained to know God, and the great mystery of salvation; to abhor those sins which are pleasing to a wicked appetite? Who hath discerned me? Nothing but thy free mercy, O my God; why else was I a man, not a brute beast? Why right shaped, not a monster? Why perfectly limbed, not a cripple? Why well sensed, not a fool? Why well affected, not graceless? Why a vessel of honour, not of wrath? If ought be not ill in me, O Lord, it is thine. O let thine be the praise, and mine the thankfulness. Bp. Hall.

THE COACHMAN.

DID you ever take notice of a coachman, sitting on the driving-box of a handsome carriage, dressed up in showy livery, with white cotton stockings on his legs, without so much as a speck upon them? I dare say you have. Well! Robert Peters was a coachman of this kind, and it was on a fine day, though the roads were very dirty, that he drove up his master's carriage to the door of the great stone house in the New Road.

Most coachmen are fond of their horses, and like to set them off to advantage. One method of doing this is to get them into a good pace just as they draw near the house where they are to stop, and then suddenly to rein them in. The wheels grinding the gravel, the horses' hoofs dragging along the ground, and the stones flying right and left produce an effect. Every eye is directed to the carriage and equipage; and the noble animals, arching their proud necks, snorting and pawing the ground, call forth the admiration of the spectators. This is a proud moment for the coachman, and it was just in such a moment as this, that Walter Webb stood to admire Robert Peters, who, as he reined up his horses, really was a capital figure.

Walter Webb was a hard-working porter; he had many good qualities, but, alas, he had some very bad ones, and among them might be reckoned that of a discontented, repining spirit. There are many who know that murmuring

is wrong, yet who give way to unthankfulness, and Walter Webb was one of this description.

66

When Walter saw Robert Peters on the coach-box, making such a show in his gay livery, and reining up his horses with so much pride, a fit of envy and discontent came over him, and he began, as he walked on, to think of the great difference there was between his situation and that of Robert Peters. "Here," said he, am I toiling and slaving, always walking my feet off, and wearing coarse clothes, no one caring for me, or thinking of me, while another is dressed up in fine blue cloth, gold lace, a new hat, and white cotton stockings, riding, forsooth, on the coach-box of a grand carriage. Some people are born to ride, and some to walk on foot, and so I must trudge on like a slave while other people take their pleasure.”

Now, this fit of discontent was no credit to Walter Webb. As a professed Christian he ought to have been content with such things as he had, and satisfied with his station. A gold-laced coat will not keep away trouble; and a porter who fears God is much more likely to be a happy man than an ungodly coachman. Walter Webb ought to have known this, and indeed for the matter of that he did know it; but when one of his repining fits came upon him, he forgot it: this was a reproach to him.

It was two or three hours after the carriage had driven up to the great stone house in the square, that Walter Webb happened to pass by the coach-house and back yard belonging to Robert's master, when he saw Peters cleaning the carriage. Peters was no longer dressed up in his grand livery and white stockings, but in very common clothes, with a mop in his hand, which every now and then he dipped into a bucket of water; he was cleaning the dirty wheels of the carriage. Walter stopped a moment, for he overheard Peters talking to another man who was looking on.

"Why, hark ye, Thomas," said Peters, "you may think it a fine thing to be a gentleman's coachman, but you are very much mistaken. It is all very well to admire my showy livery, but remember it is not my own. I only wear it just for the time while I am driving my master's carriage; the moment I come home, off it goes to be boxed up till I go out again. It was worn before I came here, and may be worn by another after I am gone. A poor coat of