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bewitched you ?" "He that endureth to the end, the same shall be saved." “Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life." It is through faith and patience that we inherit the promises.

5. He must also have good hope through grace. His hope must be lively and animating. "We are saved by hope." He who has no expectation of winning the prize will not run long. A sneer, a temptation, or opposition will check him in his course. It was this hope that animated Paul when, notwithstanding his trials and, in his esteem, his low attainments, he said, "Not as though I had already attained, either were already perfect; but I follow after, if that I may apprehend that for which also I am apprehended of Christ Jesus. Brethren, I count not myself to have apprehended; but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before-I press toward the mark [the goal, appointed mark] for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus." He hoped to the end.

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Will not those who have not begun the Christian race listen to the word of exhortation, and now begin the race? Surely it is high time to awake out of sleep. Yonder is the crown. It is offered to you. It is offered by the Lord. Thousands as weak and sinful as you have seen their wretched state, have begun the race in much trembling, yet have sought and gained help from God, have finished their course with joy, and are now at rest in heavenly glory.

Nor is the Scripture silent as to those who did at one time seem to run well, and something has hindered them. God says, "If any man draw back, my soul hath no pleasure in him." Oh ye loiterers by the way, shake off your sloth, and view the perils you are in and the hope set before you ! Deal with yourselves honestly, and deal not treacherously with Christ. Look not back, except to see the danger behind you; press forward; run with patience.

1 Phil. iii. 12-14.

Perhaps you are an old racer. You have run long. You still find the way difficult. But you know in whom you have believed, and in whom are found righteousness, and strength, and wisdom, and sanctification, and redemption. Keep your eye steadfastly on Him.

It may be but a few days till you will be permitted to shout: "I have fought a good fight; I have nnished my course; I have kept the faith; my work is done; I am going to Jesus. Glory to God in the highest!"

The Sorrows of Christ.

HESE Sorrows Christ suffered, and the benefits He purchased, are equally beyond description. Though we describe His hands and His feet mangled and

pierced, who can describe, how in one hand as it were He grasped multitudes of souls ready to sink into ruin, and in the other hand an everlasting inheritance to give them; or how these bruised feet crushed the old serpent's head, and trampled on death and hell, and sin the author of both? We may describe the blood issuing from His body, but not the waters of life streaming from the same source, oceans of spiritual and eternal blessings: we may paint how that blood covered His own body, but not how it sprinkles the souls of others, yea, sprinkles many nations we may paint the crown of thorns He wore, but not the crown of glory He purchased . . . . Notwithstanding the gloomy aspect of Christ's death, it would discover such transcendent majesty as would make all the glory in the world lose its relish with us: we should see, then, indeed, the awful frowns of justice; but these frowns are not at us, but at our enemies, our murderers, that is, our sins. The cross shows Christ pitying His own murderers, but shows no pity to our murderers, therefore we may see the majesty of eternal justice tempered with the mildness of infinite compassion: infinite pity is an object worth looking to, especially by creatures

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in distress and danger; there death doth appear in state, as the executioner of the law, but there he appears also deprived of his sting with regard to us; there we may hear also the sweetest melody in the world to the awakened sinner ; that peace-speaking blood, that speaks better things than that of Abel; the sweetest and loudest voice in the world, louder than the thunder on Sinai; its voice reacheth heaven and earth, pleading with God in behalf of men, and beseeching men to be reconciled to God; speaking the most comfortable and the most seasonable things in the world, to objects in distress and danger, that is, salvation and deliverance.

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Waiting.

LONG for household voices gone,
For vanished smiles I long;
But God hath led my dear ones on,
And He can do no wrong.

I know not what the future hath
Of marvel or surprise,

Assured alone that life and death
His mercy underlies.

And if my heart and flesh are weak
To bear an untried pain,

The bruised reed He will not break,
But strengthen and sustain.

And so beside the silent sea

I wait the muffled oar;

No harm from Him can come to me

On ocean or on shore.

I know not where His islands lift
Their fronded palms in air;

I only know I cannot drift

Beyond His love and care.

And, O dear Lord, by whom are seen
Thy creatures as they be,

Oh, give me grace, in faith to lean,

My human heart on Thee!

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HE sun had set, and the warrior reposed, the wigwam was secured against beasts of prey, and night reigned over the pine forest of the west.

A hunter, late in his return to the village, and occupied in the disposal of the spoil, looked out from his hut before lying down to sleep. Something caught his attention; he sniffed and peered among the trees, and then

climbed one in haste. One look was enough; he rapidly descended with a whoop of alarm that upstarted neighbouring sleepers.

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'Up, up, for your lives !" and a spear was darted at the door of a hut, caught again, and the speaker passed on, to repeat the cry wherever appeared trace of human habitation.

A sleepy squaw starts, and mutters indignant annoyance, as she sinks to repose again.

""Tis but some benighted hunter wantonly disturbing the peace," suggests a warrior chief, turning on his mat, and resisting the desire of his sons to be up and after him.

"Is the enemy upon us ?" whispers another, alert at the thought of a hostile tribe, suspected to be lurking in the forest.

Spears are clutched, quivers shouldered, bows strung instantly, and they wait and listen.

Again footsteps come, not with a stealthy tread, but quick and heedless, like the flight of the panic-stricken. Men, women, children, warrior, huntsman, mother, babe, on, on, gathering in numbers as they rush along, never stopping to look back or ask questions, for the danger is too sure and visible now.

Forth from hut or wigwam, forth from bush and brake, on, on they go. Who will not believe the danger, who will not hurry from it, must be left behind to perish.

"To the river, to the river! There is no safety, no rest, until we reach the river!" shout the foremost on the way. Hope reanimates the drooping, strengthens the fainting, drives back only despair, and they gain a little on the foe, pursuing them with horrible eagerness.

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For behind, lighted, perhaps, by some careless hand, all unconscious of the great matter" that " a little fire kindleth," in one wide amphitheatre of flame, wreathing columns of smoke into the dark sky, and roaring like a winter blast, comes the prairie fire, stalking in its majesty of power, and bearing down all before it in one mighty sweep of destruction!

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