Grant one poor sinner more a place,
Among the children of thy grace;
A wretched sinner, lost to God,
But ransomed by Immanuel's blood.

Thine would I live, Thine would I die,
Be Thine through all eternity;
The vow is past beyond repeal;

Now will I set the solemn seal.

Here at that cross where flows the blood
That bought my guilty soul for God;
Thee, my new Master now I call,
And consecrate to Thee my all.

Do Thou assist a feeble worm,
The great engagement to perform;
Thy grace can full assistance lend,
And on that grace I dare depend.

CHAPTER XI.

A PLEA FOR THE CHURCH.

Ah, sinner, that church you despise or disesteem, or, at least, disregard, is the very thing you need, and for which your soul craves. With unsatisfied desires and unquenchable. longings it seeks for rest within itself, and finds only an empty void which neither the world nor home, nor business, nor any earthly enjoyments can ever fill. Hungry and thirsty, it turns away from the dull satieties of earth, and pines for want of heavenly manna and living water. Wearied amid the fretful circumstances of passing time and the unvarying round of sublunary prospects, it despondingly asks, "Who will show me any good?" And solitary and alone amid bustling crowds and gay, festive halls, it sighs for the wings of a dove, that it might fly away and be at rest. Yes, poor soul, thou needest rest and findest none, and never can find any, except in God

and in God's own house, and in the consola

tions there provided for you. The spark divine within thee,

Like a dim lamp that o'er a river shines,
Still in thy soul sounds the deep undertone
Of some unmeasurable, boundless time.

That still, small voice calls to your Father's house,
The mountain of your rest, the kingdom of the skies,
In heavenly grace and beauty warm with life,
With saints and angels peopling all her courts.

Many thousand hearts now happy and at home in the Church, rejoicing in the goodly fellowship of the saints and enjoying spiritual health from spiritual activity, can give their experience in the language of that beautiful lyric:

People of the living God,

I have sought the world around,
Paths of sin and sorrow trod,

Peace and comfort no where found:

Now to you my spirit turns,

Turns a fugitive unblest;
Brethren, where your altar burns,

O receive me into rest.

Lonely, I no longer roam,

Like the cloud, the wind, the wave;
Where you dwell shall be my home,

Where you die shall be my grave;

Mine the God whom you adore,
Your Redeemer shall be mine;
Earth can fill my soul no more,
Every idol I resign.

Tell me not of gain or loss,

Ease, enjoyment, pomp or power,
Welcome poverty and cross,

Shame, reproach, affliction's hour:
"Follow me;" I know thy voice;
Jesus, Lord, thy steps I see;
Now I take thy yoke, by choice;
Light thy burden now to me.

Make that choice, dear reader, yours, and this experience will be yours. Yes! in the Church there is for you a home, home-rest, and home-happiness. It is at once the emblem, the proof, and the earnest of the heavenly home,— the earthly fold of the Good Shepherd-the well in the valley-the homestead of Christ's family, where out of His treasury He supplies all their wants, and dwells among them to bless them and to do them good.

The earth's one sanctuary

Where in the shadow of the rock we dwell,
The rock of strength.

To it are given the oracles of God, the promises, the means of grace, the feast of love, the

communion of souls. Here the stranger finds. a welcome, the alien the privileges of citizenship, the orphan the adoption of sons, and the lost, dead prodigal a joyous home. Here love and sympathy, encouragement and kindness dwell. Received into this family of God with joy such as is felt by the angels over one sinner that repenteth, you will feel

No more a stranger or a guest,

But like a child at home.

Here the lost is found and the dead made alive again. The weary traveler is seated by the fireside, and his heart cheered with the wine of consolation. A mortal immortal knocks at the gate, and is admitted for a night and for ever. The scene and the locality may, like a dissolving view, pass from the light, but the heart-union formed among the brotherhood will be durable as the years of eternity; and while the sranger just admitted may be a cold corpse to-morrow, he becomes one of a family known, in the language of God, as "the church of the first-born, whose names are written in heaven," meet for God's golden house in highest heaven above.