softened sooner than the hearts of these villains, who answered our earnest entreaties only by blows and renewed depredations. The pillaging contiuued from one o'clock until the evening; nor was there among the host of foes that ransacked every apartment a single one who betrayed the smallest symptom of humanity."

His house was left almost desolate; and thus, in after years, he reflected on the crisis :

"A heart reposing wholly on God, and his goodness and guidance, might indeed have felt this loss, but would have borne it with humble submission to the will of God. Such a heart, however, I did not yet possess, and hence I was much cast down by the loss I had sustained. Yet this was only the commencement of those severe trials whose blissful fruit I now enjoy with gratitude and thankfulness to the Lord my God."

There are many people, especially young men, who take their inspiration largely from the shallow writers in the popular Jingo papers, and other fire and fury literature, and who, on every slight pretence of injury or insult offered to the British flag, clamour loudly for war. Possibly they do not know what war means, or what horrible scenes lie behind the empty thing they call "national glory;" what sufferings of innocent women and children, and other peaceful inhabitants of places cursed with the presence of a defeated or victorious army; what wanton and wholesale destruction of property and produce, to say nothing of the thousands slain in a cause not worth sometimes a single life, and thousands more rendered helpless and dependent for life, when oftentimes a little forbearance, a little patience, a little explanation even, and oftener still, a little less national pride, and even a very little of the spirit of Christianity, would prevent or heal all disputes. If these blatant braggarts do know what war means in reality, it shows how little Christianity has done for them, and how repulsive their spirit is to its gentle sway.

While the French besieged Mayence, Koellner had his share of annoyance and brutal cruelty. One day four Hussars came galloping into his courtyard, and presenting their pistols at him, demanded how many horses there were in the village. Only two, he told them. They then took him between their horses, and, dragging him into the village, compelled him to show them where the horses were. He took one of them to the house of one of the peasants, but the man had been ordered away the night before, with his horse to assist the baggage trains. The soldier was exasperated, and behaved with great rudeness to the woman of the house, and to the minister, firing his pistol at the latter. He ran off and hid in a stable, until he thought it safe to return home, where he found his wife in great distress, as she had heard the shot fired, and concluded her husband was dead. These acts of violence were repeated until, after eighteen days, the siege was raised.

When the French began their retreat, troops were quartered in the village where the chapel-of-ease stood. The soldiers rifled the church, and carried off the sacramental plate and other valuables. These could not be replaced, as the people were poor, and war had drained the resources even of the rich.

Koellner could not find much comfort in those rationalistic senti

ments in which he had been indoctrinated. It was well for him God did not leave him to his own devices. Instead of this, he was led to read his Bible for comfort, and, reading, he found new light, and felt a new interest in the sacred pages. The Psalms, especially, met his case, as they seemed full of consolation for such as were in trouble and distress. And, strange as it may seem, the loss of the sacramental plate, which he deplored even more than the loss of his own property, was a link in a chain of providential dispensations, which led not only to his greater comfort, but also to his illumination in and by the truth, and his establishment in the true faith, and as a faithful preacher of the gospel. How this was brought about, and what were his fature trials and blessings the coming paper will show.

The Cross of Christ in Prophecy.

(ISAIAH LIII.)

It one of his pictures was hanging on the wall of a gallery, pre

T is told of one of our English painters-of Turner, I 'think-that

vious to exhibition, the painter, walking through the hall, took a brush filled with colour and deliberately dashed it on the centre of the canvas. Next day he came and laid on the vermilion hue more deeply; a third day he rounded it into a ball of fire, or some other object of glowing crimson; the next, with another brush, he deepened still the hue, and left water and land, every ship and every spar, lit up by the brilliant tint. Now just this is what Isaiah seems to have done in the familiar fifty-third chapter. Every writer on the prophecy, almost every reader of it, has been struck with the vicarious character of the sufferings described. I shall never forget hearing Mr. Grattan Guinness, a quarter of a century ago, point out this feature of the prophecy; the chords which he that day struck are vibrating still. The "Speaker's Commentary" says there are no fewer than eleven such chords. The griefs that he bore were ours, the sorrows ours, his wounding was not for his own transgressions but for ours, his bruising was for our iniquities, his chastening was the chastisement of peace, but the peace was for others, was for us. His scourging was not because he had deserved punishment, but because we had, and thereby alone could obtain pardon. The iniquity under which he lay was that of others, that of us, that of all: the transgressions for which he was stricken were not "his own sins and the sins of the people," but "the sins of the people" alone. He was an offering for them, he bare their iniquities, yea, "bare the sins of many."

The law would help a Jew to understand this prophecy as we cannot: and the prophecy, on the other hand, would fill the void felt to be left by the law. He who had seen every year the high priest lay his hands upon the goats, and confess over them all the sins of the children of Israel; who had seen other worshippers confess their sins as we have just described, over other sacrifices, could have no difficulty in understanding the allusion of the words, "The Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all." He who had seen many a sinner for whose sin no

special sacrifice was appointed, or who had failed to offer one, obliged meanwhile to "bear his sin,"* would realize more easily than we what a crushing load would come upon him who had to "bear the sin of many." He knew how far from peace many a guilty soul wandered, till such a time as the sacrifice could be offered for his cleansing; and would easily understand the preciousness to us, and the pain to the Servant of Jehovah, when "the chastisement of our peace was upon him"; and when "his soul" was made "an offering for sin." We know that it was a Jew that wrote (using the very word the Septuagint had used), "He made him to be sin for us, who knew no sin; that wə might be made the righteousness of God in him."

But surely the Jewish worshipper must have felt something more. He must have felt the inadequacy of the sacrifices and offerings offered under the law, and as soon as he heard the words of Isaiah, his heart must have leaped within him; he must have been ready to exclaim, "Above all that I could ask or think"; a real sacrifice, a true victim, the very offering I wanted, but did not dare to hope for! There is such an One then, he is really coming; "O, that I knew where I might find him;" O, that he were already come! And God has reserved some better thing for us. The Servant of Jehovah, in whose life gloom and glory so strangely meet, has come. His death, so pathetic, so tragic, has been the gate into life, a life as mighty and exalted as that which preceded the death was low and abject. If, concerning that life on earth, we are constrained to acknowledge that it is the subject of this prophecy, then, concerning that death, we must equally acknowledge that it was sacrificial and vicarious. Whether by substitution, or imputation, or identification, Jesus died for others; this is the doctrine of this chapter, to this give all the prophets witness. We must extract the eleven expressions that denote his bruising for us, must mar and mangle the record even as he was marred, ere we can discredit this conclusion, or disprove this inference.

But sound reasoning is one thing, experimental knowledge is another. There are many who can follow all these arguments, who could even frame them, who yet have never felt the benefit of his sprinkling, the healing of his stripes; what more do they need? They need not only to bring the mind of little children to accept God's revelation, but the hearts of sinners, sensible of their sin, to accept his salvation. "The sixth verse," says one, "begins with 'all' and ends with 'all;' what we have to do is to go in at one all and come out at the other: to go in at the "all" of condemnation, and own that we are the sheep that went astray, and come out at the "all" of justification, and own that the Lord hath laid our sins on Jesus Christ. The writer of these lines knows one to whom that verse came as an illumination, and

"In that light of life' she'll' walk
Till travelling days are done."

now

From "Emmanuel," by J. B. Figgis.

shall

"And if a soul sin, and hear the voice of swearing, and is a witness, whether he hath seen or known of it; if he do not utter it, then he shall bear his iniquity be unclean and guilty. Though he wist it not, yet is he guilty, and shall bear his iniquity."-Lev. v. 1, 2, 17.

AS

66

Satan and the Sunday School.

66

S a young lay-worker, I was addressing a congregation in Eastern Connecticut, urging an increase of effort in behalf of the unevangelized border-districts of the country towns of that State. I told of the many children there who were yet outside of the Sunday School, and, in pressing the importance of reaching out after them, I said, "If the church of Christ doesn't look after these children, the devil will." When I had concluded my appeal, the pastor of the church, a quaint old preacher, rose and seconded my call to renewed and enlarged activity. But there's one thing more," he said: our young brother says, that 'if the church does not look after these children, the devil will.' I tell you that if the church does look after the children the devil will. The devil doesn't let go of a child just because the church takes hold of it. The devil doesn't turn his back on Sunday School children. If you think that the children are in no danger from the devil because you've got them into the Sunday School, you are making a great mistake. The work of the church for the children hasn't ended, it has just begun, when they are fairly in the Sunday School."

DR. H. C. TRUMBULL.

Sport and Stirring.

A PRAYER-MEETING TALK. BY C. H. SPURGEON.

ID you observe, last Sunday, a notice at the bottom of a street, at the back of this Tabernacle, warning us in large letters against a terrible monster? Thus ran the oracle,

BEWARE OF THE STEAM-ROLLER.

I always feel inclined to turn down a side street when I see the red flag and that admonitory sentence; for useful as the steam-roller certainly is, I cannot persuade horses to believe that it is their true friend. On this particular occasion there was no cause to fear the steam-breathing, coal-consuming leviathan, for its fire was out, its steam was a thing of yesterday, and the creature rested in perfect quiet, under cover of a tarpaulin. It is quite right that even engines should have their Sabbath. I thought, as I passed it,-a steam-roller at work is the pattern of what a church ought to be; but this particular steam-roller is a type of what many churches are. A church should be "terrible as an army with banners," but oftentimes it is not. "BEWARE OF THE STEAM-ROLLER!" seemed rather a humorous notice, under the circumstances. Why, a kitten need not be afraid of the huge machine, or its big wheels, when the fire is out. Satan, who is said to tremble at the sight of a single praying man, might laugh in the presence of some of our churches, for there is no fear of their doing any harm to his kingdom. We must have the steam up if we are to crush the granite, and prepare a highway for our God. The weight of our numbers, and the excellence of our machinery, will go for nothing unless the inward fires are glowing, turning lukewarmness into heat, and

impelling every wheel to strong, all-subduing motion. The steam-roller could do nothing without the stoker, and his coals and fire; and a church can do nothing if love, and fervour, and enthusiasm are not produced in it. It is my longing desire that we may ever be filled with the divine energy. I see in our congregations, and in our societies, the altar and the wood; but what sacrifice can we offer to the Lord if we lack fire? One of the great uses of a prayer-meeting is to keep the fires burning. By earnest pleadings we heap on the fuel, and the Holy Spirit comes to us as a heavenly wind, and makes the fire burn vehemently. There may be wild-fire about, and, if so, I deplore it; but as far as my observation and experience have gone, I am more afraid of the want of fire than of the excess of it. The majority of our brethren are in no danger of becoming fanatical; the danger lies in the opposite direction: they are more likely to have their boilers cold, and their wheels rusted, than to burst with excess of force, or fly to pieces with perilous velocity. At any rate, let us cry for the fire to-night.

At the same time, we must not be satisfied with heat; for a steamroller needs weight, or it will accomplish no useful end. As a church we need sound doctrine, or else our ministries will be mere sound, and nothing more. We need to be taught of God ourselves, that we may be able to teach others. Go a-head, my young and fervent brethren; but as you run mind that you have a message to carry, or to what end will you run? You must have something to tell the people, and real instruction to impart to them, or your zeal will be "much ado about nothing." If you gather the people together, or call at their houses, or talk to them individually, you must have precious truth to impart. Clouds are well enough; but clouds without rain are disappointing. Any mother will tell you that it is a very bad thing for a baby to suck an empty bottle; if it gets no food from the bottle, it sucks down a deal of wind, and does itself hurt. Beware of giving an empty bottle to those whom you desire to benefit. I am afraid that in many exciting meetings there is more clatter of plates, and rattling of knives and forks, than anything else. Men may bawl and stamp, but if they do not teach the gospel, they are doing no more good than acrobats in a circus. The babes of Christ need the unadulterated milk of the Word, that they may grow thereby; and if they do not get it they will starve, even though you try to amuse them with rattles and corals. I will accord you great liberty as to how you shall say it, but there must be something in what you say. Why, in certain evangelical meetings, if you listen to one address, you have heard all that you are likely to hear if you wait for half a century. Under a prosy minister, a little boy once turned to his father, and said, "Father, what are we all sitting here for?" And a similar question might be asked when earnest ignorance repeats its common-places till they are as well known as the street cry of "scissors to grind."

We must have something to communicate, or we shall be like a gun which has plenty of powder in it, but no shot; we shall make a great noise, but produce no result. Better to teach the simplest truth with great quietness than to make a great fuss and teach nothing. The steam-roller needs the fire; but if it were itself light as a feather, however fast it moved it would never crush down the stones, and prepare