that he has forgotten the Lord. If he has made a compromise with any sin, for example, to allow himself in the smallest indulgence of temper, of vanity or pride, of ambition, avarice, or sensual pleasures, he grieves that he has for a time acted as if God were afar off, as if God's thoughts were as man's thoughts, and as if he would take little heed to the state of the heart. But there is another elementary truth which I had more particularly in mind when I met you." "What is that?"

"We know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle (tentdwelling,) were dissolved, we have a building of God, an house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.' Ask any observing man of the world; he will tell you Christians do not believe this. Try, if you will, to convince him that he is mistaken. He will probably tell you in reply that he has the highest evidence the nature of the case admits. Do people, we may suppose him to say, who have such glorious promotion in certain prospect, never think of it? or think of it only with terror? Do men who anticipate countless wealth, and ineffable glory, choose any and every other topic for their daily conversation? Do they suffer themselves to be turned aside from their pursuit by straws, to be hindered by trifles, or burdened with rubbish? What would you say to this?" Why, I should be obliged to allow that Christians were imperfect; that while the spirit was willing, the flesh was weak."

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"And this observing man would answer you, or if respect for you restrained him, he would answer to his fellows, with an indignant exclamation, 'Stuff! I tell you they do not believe their own creed! Talk about the spirit being willing and the flesh weak. If I believed I had such a heavenly home in reserve for me, I would trample the flesh in the dust; I would demonstrate that the spirit of a living man can triumph over the flesh."

"Yes, and if he were converted, he would discover that all such self-confident boasting is vain."

"No doubt; but if at conversion he should receive a large measure of faith, a mighty baptism of the Holy Ghost, he would not lose his habits of observation, and reflection, and of investigation; and joining these, not to a vain self-confidence, but to a just confidence in God, he might look death in the face and smile. I have discovered, he might say, that it is possible for a weak and sinful man to believe the truth of God. I believe that truth. Heretofore I have missed the

object of life; now I have discovered it. Henceforth I am resolved, to endeavour to obtain for myself as much happiness in the other world as I possibly can, with all the power, might, vigour, and vehemence, yea violence, I am capable of, or can bring myself to exert, in any way that can be thought of.' His endeavour to the carrying out of such a resolution would conduct him to results more blessed than the mass of Christians have conceived of. Fellowship with God and the Lamb would be for him a reality; heaven would be always open to him; the Holy Spirit would have a permanent abode in him; ministering spirits would ever attend him; and when his work on earth was finished, he would be translated to the spirit world, not as by a strange and appalling summons, compelling his unwilling departure, but as by a natural law which detaches the ripe fruit from the support it no longer requires, so his spiritual body,' detached from earth, would gravitate to the Sun of righteousness, his adored and long-sought centre."

"The word of God is perhaps more attentively and prayerfully studied of late than heretofore. We may fairly anticipate the frequent inquiry, See, here is truth; what doth hinder me to be baptized with the Holy Ghost? why may not I receive the answer to our Saviour's prayer, Father, sanctify them through thy truth? And the answer, as of old, will be, If thou believest with all thy heart, thou mayest.' Truth half-believed can accomplish little for the soul of man. The Holy Ghost loves not the temple half-filled with idols.”

A.

COME UP HITHER!

AN aged and grey-headed pilgrim was pondering the volume that lay on the table before him, while one sat beside him who appeared to be his daughter; suddenly he raised his head: "All things are passing away," said he, in a tone of solemnity, "and the time is short!' The sun is passing away, and the moon and stars! The earth is passing away, and the heavens also! I am passing away, and you are passing away, but my chariot, probably, will be first ready. Now mark me, Sarah! and remember my words! When I am called from the world, and permitted, through matchless mercy, to enter heaven, try to faney that you see me beckoning you above, and crying out to you, Sarah! come up hither! Sarah! come up hither!"

The aged pilgrim again pondered the volume before him,

and Sarah, with a tremulous lip and tearful eye, retired silently to her chamber.

Reader!" The time is short!" 1 Cor. vii. 20.

M.

WHICH WILL YOU BE?

"HE that is unjust, let him be unjust still; and he that is filthy, let him be filthy still; and he that is righteous, let him be righteous still; and he that is holy, let him be holy still."

There is something very solemn even in the form of this expression; the word "still," at the end of each clause, repeated four times in the verse. That word seems to sound as the death-knell to the hope of the ungodly. Those who die unjust and filthy, will rise unjust and filthy still. There is no repentance in the grave, whither we are going. There is nothing in the mere act of dissolution which can change the essential character of the soul. There is nothing in the society of lost spirits, in the other world, which can purify an evil heart. There is none but God who can change the heart, forgive sins, and cleanse and purify the soul; and God himself offers to do it only in one way, through the merits of Christ, and the gracious operations of his Holy Spirit. But he makes no promise to do it for any, after this life, in any way whatever; on the contrary, he plainly declares, that as you shall die, so you will rise; as the tree falls, so it must lie. A seal, then, is to be put, so to speak, upon every man as he leaves the world. If he leave it unjust and filthy, judgment is sealed upon such a character, with all its accompanying punishment, never to be removed throughout eternity. The thought is absolutely overwhelming.

It is easy to form sinful habits; to shake them off at last may prove utterly impossible. It is easy for you to laugh at purity, temperance, virtue, holiness, and piety; but know that, unless you use aright the space now given you for repentance, you shall gnash the teeth in bitter agony, wailing, and remorse. "Be not deceived; God is not mocked; for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap." God is a God of justice; and, if you serve sin, justice must see that you are paid your wages; and "the wages of sin is death." If you choose to be unjust and filthy now, when you have all the motives of the gospel, motives bedewed with the tears, and steeped in the blood, and bathed in the dying agonies of Christ; if, with these feelings in your heart, you yet choose to be unjust and filthy, it will be perfect justice on the part of

God, having warned you so long before, to say to you in that day, "He that is unjust, let him be unjust still; he that is filthy, let him be filthy still."

Oh! this surely gives us an awful idea of hell! The character unchanged, man still unjust, with the desire of sin remaining; the poor paltry pleasure gone, the enjoyment past, the punishment abiding, the mutual encouragement ceased, mutual reproaches continuing; and all this for eternity! God preserve us from that awful state! Hambleton.

DOING ILL AND DOING WELL.

I ALWAYS feel cast down in my spirit after talking with William Wicks, and yet William is by no means a melancholy man. Indeed, he is too busy to lose time in despondency. Why is it, then, that this man, who is not gloomy himself, throws a gloom over my mind whenever I converse with him?

It is because I dislike his way of thinking, and sigh over the utter hopelessness of my attempts to change his opinions. However, I will not give him up, but hope against hope that he will some day amend. I want to do him a kindness, but I

cannot.

William Wicks is an active, healthy, bustling man of business, engaged in a prosperous trade, in which all the energies of his mind appear to be absorbed. His position suits him; he follows the occupation that he loves, and many there are who envy William's lot, and think him a fortunate and happy

man.

those

William Wicks divides mankind into two classes, who are doing well, and those who are doing ill. At first sight, there seems no objection to this arrangement, but it is with William's opinion of what is doing well, and what is doing ill, that I quarrel. With William, the man who is prosperous in business is doing well, and the man who is "not getting forward" is doing ill. He honours the former, and despises the latter.

William Wicks seems to have a hard heart, and hardly to know what pity means. He appears to have a narrow soul, and therefore to take a narrow view of things. He never asks whether a man is a kind-hearted man, a clever man, a useful man, an honest, or a good man; but only, Is he doing well? Is he getting on? Is he rich? The man who is wealthy, whatever may be his vices, is sure of William's

respect, while no merit can lift up him who is poor in his estimation. He does not even try to hide this attitude of his mind from me when we converse and argue together.

Whenever a thriving man, known to him, is seized with sudden illness, William looks puzzled for a moment, on first hearing the news, but soon dismisses the matter from his mind. The affair is beyond the general sphere of his thought; it is the doctor's business, not his. He never sees the hand of God in anything. It is a pity, too, he seems to think, for the sick man was doing well in the world, and he wonders who will succeed him in his money-getting concern, if he should be cut off in his fortunate career. As for the patient's state of mind, William considers that to be a subject for the clergyman to attend to. He will look wise, and say, that, for his part, he is no divine, and was not brought up for the church.

No wonder that William is cheerful, while he is active, healthy, and prosperous; but should he meet with reverses, how will he bear up against them, and sit in the same balance in which he places his neighbours? He who despises others in misfortune, will lose his own self-esteem in the hour of affliction.

Sometimes I venture to express my hope that, should he be afflicted, his illness may be made a means of altering his way of thinking, and that looking back on his past life may yet enable him to discover that he has not been doing well, though he has been increasing his gains. I ask him, "What is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul!" and tell him that "Godliness is profitable unto all things, having the promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come. But when I speak in this strain, William either tries to defend his opinions, or, giving a careless nod of assent, hurries off to some active occupation.

دو

No one can deny William Wicks the praise of being diligent in business, but I want him to add fervency of spirit to his active habits, and to think of his spiritual as well as his temporal welfare; my arguments and solicitations, however, have hitherto been without effect, for he is taken up with his own plans. He makes money the measure of his estimation. He has no pity for poverty, no sympathy for distress; he is all for this world, and nothing for another. In short, he is doing very ill, while he thinks he is doing very well. It is this that makes me melancholy whenever I converse with William Wicks. Old Humphrey.