their apprehensions silenced, their anxiety at an end. Where was their faith at this trying juncture? Where their confidence in him who had been with them, watched over them, and shown them such wonderful miracles? They yielded to fear; they forgot the Rock of their salvation; they lost the anchor of their hope; they were in deep distress.

Even so it is with many of God's dear children in seasons of heavy affliction and sore trial. For lack of faith they are overwhelmed, and cast down by reason of the weight and burden within, and are full of anguish and sorrow, as if all their hopes were perished. The lesson we learn from this instructive narrative is, that without we have the presence of Christ with us in all our journeyings through life, and by faith realize his nearness to us, we shall inevitably sink deeper and deeper into trouble. His presence alone will smooth every difficulty, sustain under every trial, comfort under every perplexity, and cheer the drooping spirit in the moment of deep sorrow. In a world where all is uncertain, where each coming hour may usher in some sudden, some unforeseen calamity, where the heavy stroke may fall and crush the fondest hopes of life, we require a refuge, a hiding-place, a retreat, where we may obtain a sure, a certain support in the trying hour.

The more intimate our communion with Jesus, the closer our walk with him, the more prepared shall we be to draw from the everlasting source the very supplies of grace we so urgently need. To live, therefore, in the Divine presence is a privilege we may all enjoy; and in proportion as we dwell in the secret of his pavilion, and are hid in his tabernacle, will be our strength and consolation when the winds of the desert blow with fury over our heads. In Jesus alone must be our retreat in the season of affliction. He is touched with a feeling of our infirmities, and, therefore, is able to help to the uttermost all who come to him. He is a tried friend, a brother born for adversity. He is the God of all consolation. He comforteth those who are cast down. He pitieth them who fear him. His ear is open to the cry of the poor, the needy, the helpless, the sorrowing, the distressed; and never does he hear in vain: "When my soul is overwhelmed within me, then will I look

to the rock that is higher than I." This was David's experience, and it applies to all God's children. When the soul is so utterly prostrate, by reason of some sore distress or agonizing trial, what a relief to hear the whisper of the still small voice, "It is I; be not afraid."

The presence of Jesus is the sunshine of the soul in the day of the darkest trial. When he speaks, all is resignation, where before all was disquiet, fretting, murmuring, discontent, unbelief. The mind left to itself is like a ship without an anchor, at the mercy of the billows; but when abiding in, and resting by strong faith in Jesus, all is well. Where before all was fear, anxiety, terror, so that nothing could be felt but one continued cloud of midnight gloom, that moment faith is exercised in the Saviour is the rising beam of light irradiating all within. In the Christian's experience billow may follow billow, storm may follow storm, and he may conclude with Jacob, "All these things are against me," and unbelief may so far gain the ascendancy as almost to make him hesitate whether his name is written in the Lamb's book of life. Let him wait, however, more constantly, more intensely, on his God, like Jesus, who, being in an agony, prayed yet more fervently to Him who was able to save, and he will find that all is right, all is doing the work so needful, so required to fit him for his place at the right hand of his Saviour. Is there a trial? God is in it. metal does not yield without the heat of the furnace, to leave its dross behind, and come forth pure, bright, and shining, fit for use. In the Christian's journey, nothing happens by chance; all is foreseen, all is designed, all is overruled. The Divine government is perfect, is complete, is fraught with the most consummate wisdom. Nothing can be altered, nothing set aside, nothing out of place.

The

Is the stone to be polished for the building? Then there is to be the chiseling, the hewing, the friction to render it adapted for its peculiar place. It is not to be a work of chance, of mere accident; but the workman must do it, must shape it, must prepare it, must fit it, that it may look to the eye in perfect symmetry with the architectural design. Even so the Lord of the temple, the great Master Builder, will prepare, polish, and fit each living stone separately, to form a part in the

structure to be raised hereafter as the eternal monument of his grace, in the mansion of unclouded light and glory. God only knows what we most require to keep us humble, lowly, prostrate, and in our right place before him. He teaches us a daily lesson that without him we can do nothing, hear nothing, attempt nothing. We must wait on him continually. We must not be strangers, but, like children, always coming to our Father for wisdom, guidance, counsel. "Abide in me, and I in you," was the command of him who knew how indispensable it was to our growth in grace that we should be as closely united to him by a living faith as the branch is to the vine. And here is to be found the secret of our fruitfulness, abiding in him; and then, if we ask anything in his name, he I will do it for us: "If ye abide in me, and my words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done for you."

Here is a wonderful declaration, disclosing to us the secret of prayer being answered-close living, close abiding, close walking with God. And hence it is that the more we seek the presence of Jesus, the less anxious shall we be about the affairs of this life, however perplexing, however complicate, however difficult they may be. We shall hear the voice of Jesus, as we walk along the path, each day of our earthly pilgrimage whispering, "It is I; be not afraid." Amid storms, clouds, and threatening billows, we may lift up our head and feel all is safe, all is well, all is right, all is needful. The bark may be tossed about on the raging waves; but Jesus is near; he is walking on the mighty deep, and hastens to our relief. He speaks, "It is I," and behold there is a great calm. He appears, and all fear is hushed to silence. He comes, and behold the shadows of the night are followed by the bright sunbeams of peace, joy, and love in the trembling, sorrowful, stricken bosom, heaving with anguish and dismay. Under every cloud, however dark, let us trust him implicitly, steadily, and with unwavering constancy; then shall our peace flow as a river, calm and serene. Tiverton, May, 1857.

F. S. G.

THE LAST HOUR. "The night is far spent, the day is at hand: let us therefore cast off the works of dark

ness, and let us put on the armour of light." -ROMANS xiii. 12.

THE sands of the hour-glass are fast dropping; the shadows of life are rapidly receding; the last moment has at length arrived, and the soul is ushered into the unseen world-and then, what is its condition, its eternal destiny? How solemn is the thought, how momentous in its consequences! How, then, is it, the question may be asked, that the eternal state, with all its vivid realities, has so little influence in producing a calm, sober, and thoughtful reflection on the human mind?

Every individual knows that he stands on the brink of the invisible world each passing moment he lives; that he is exposed to the casualties of life, sickness, disease, accidents, which may at any period snap asunder the thread of his existence, and usher him into the presence of his Maker. Uncertainty marks his every step, and he cannot tell, when he rises in the morning, that he shall live to see the conclusion of the day. And how often do we hear of sudden and unexpected death? how frequently do we listen to the thrilling account of some painful dispensation of Providence depriving the family circle of one of its hopeful and brightest ornaments? No sooner, however, is the event over, and the heart-rending scene, with all its sad realities passed, than all is soon forgotten, as if nothing momentous had occurred. Thus it is that the visitations of God, however striking and awful, are too often received with cold indifference and apathy. All, however, must be traced up to the true source, to the sin of unbelief, and its deadening power on the human heart. It is this principle which destroys the happiness of life, mars its joys, and crushes the brightest hopes. Unbelief is deeply rooted in the human bosom, and is manifested by a secret and most determined opposition to the revelation of God in the volume of inspiration.

How needful is the lamp of life to throw its light on the dark recesses of the soul, to illumine all within, to reveal the pathway to heaven and glory! The mind, left to itself, gropes in midnight darkness, without a single ray of hope, without the least gleam of sunshine to irradiate its gloom. It may be compared to a fearful dungeon, where all is dreary, cold, cheerless, like

the shadow of death. Infidelity is the greatest curse which blights, withers, and prostrates the finest feelings of the mind, clouds the understanding, destroys hope, and fights against God. It is, therefore, the mighty principle which must be vanquished, which must be dethroned, by the greater power of Divine grace, before the heart can be surrendered to God with an entire consecration to his service. There is decay within, even at the root, and the will is so corrupt, so alienated from God, so opposed to his law, so determined to resist the entrance of every holy thought and desire, that, left to itself, it sinks deeper and deeper into the mire of infidelity.

This state is not rectified by time, by any period of life, by circumstance, by condition, by education, or by moral training. There do exist different degrees of unbelief; but the principle in all is the same, hatred and opposition to the Divine will. Is there not a voice addressing you, unbeliever, by Him who sees impenitence stamped on your heart, "Awake, thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee life?" He has made the discovery that you have been unprofitable, unholy, living in folly, blindly and madly pursuing the inclinations of a perverse nature, and hardening yourself against his invitations of love and mercy. He has warned you by the upbraidings of conscience, by his frequent visitations, by the light of Divine truth, by the sacred majesty of his law, by the awakenings of inward conviction, by the power of truth, by the terrors of an approaching judgment, to flee from the wrath to come. And yet you have stoutly resisted his will; you have shut the eye of the mind to the clear light of the truth; you have determined to oppose the entrance of his word into your heart, lest you should believe the records of his blessed Gospel. He has pointed you to the cross, shown you the agonies of the august Sufferer expiring for your sins, heaving, in all the keen anguish of his sorrowing spirit, to rescue your soul from eternal woe; and yet you have remained dead, lifeless, unconcerned, reckless.

And is this the preparation for the "last hour," which is approaching with the rapidity and flight of time? Is unbelief sufficient to sustain you in the day of his appearing, in the moment

of dissolution, in the presence of Him who is to judge you at the great assize of the universe? Infidelity, however bold and unblushing, will be silenced when the first glimpse of the great white throne shall burst upon your disembodied spirit. Nothing will be concealed, nothing forgotten, nothing lost. All things will be naked and open to the eyes of him who searcheth the hearts and trieth the reins. There will be no refuge of lies, no counterfeit, no vain excuses allowed for past, wilful, open sin, and contempt of his word. Like the ray of light which suddenly breaks in through the crevice into the chamber of darkness, discovering innumerable particles of dust floating in the air, which before were imperceptible, so will be the sins of the past, when the light of the judgment day shall unfold the tale, the history of a life spent in opposition to the Divine will.

The unbeliever may glory in his shame, speak hard and contemptuous words against his Creator, revel in his wickedness, boast of his fearlessness, and sternly defy all warning and reproof. It is only for a season,-" For all these things will I bring thee into judgment." You may glory in your shame, you may go on in a seemly prosperous course with a full tide in your favour, you may have wealth, honour, fame, all contributing to your temporal enjoyment, you may hold your opinions, and propagate them without one adverse check, and you may conclude that you have built your nest on high, that you are fixed on a solid foundation, that nothing can move, or unsettle, or terrify you. But in a moment, without forethought, the little dark cloud appears in the horizon, the sign of an approaching storm is at hand, alarm is felt, the countenance betrays the working of inward anxiety, you are troubled, depressed, dejected, for the message of the Son of Man is at hand. Sudden as the swift arrow which strikes its victim, you feel smitten by the fell hand of death, you sink beneath its blow, you feel the certainty of its stealing on with all its horrors, and then like a flash of lightning, the scenes of the eternal world open before you in dread apprehension. Infidelity quails before the light which breaks in upon the mind, trembling on the verge of the invisible world, and you hear the sound, like the loud roar of

thunder bursting on your awe-stricken conscience, "He who is filthy, let him be filthy still," for ever.

Reader, is this a fiction? is this a dream? is it the fancy of a disordered imagination? It is not. It is sober reality; it is too often the bitter experience of the gay, voluptuous, careless youth, of the sinner advanced in criminality, and steeped in the mire of unhallowed pursuits. Be warned, while the lamp of life still burns, to escape for ever this awful condemnation. Despise not reproof, cast not aside the admonition which sounds the note of approaching danger. Take the Bible, and deeply consider its claims, its instruction, its precepts. It may be that you have never read it earnestly, attentively, prayerfully. If not, you are not a judge of its truths, its holy doctrines, its hallowed principles. If you die in unbelief, without an interest in Christ, in the great salvation wrought out by him for you, you are lost, for ever lost. Oh the depth of the meaning of these words! what language shall describe the lost soul? It is a fearful thing to fall into the hand of the living God. A single step in folly, dissipation, or sinful practices may prove your nal ruin. The pebble thrown or hurled down the precipice stops not until it reaches the bottom. Investigate candidly, honestly, and perseveringly the importance of Bible truths, and rest not content until you feel that you are ready to welcome the "last hour" when your spirit shall leave the frail tabernacle to enter the glorious inheritance above. Tiverton, May, 1857.

eter

F. S. G.

ON THE TWOFOLD LOVE OF GOD. THE inspired writers speak of the love of God in such very different ways, that it must necessarily be understood in different senses. Sometimes they speak of it as the cause of all the blessings enjoyed by us; and at other times as the effect of certain principles and dispositions found in us. These two ideas are perfectly reconcilable, and a few remarks may serve to make the whole quite plain.

In many passages of Scripture where the love of God is spoken of, we understand the sovereign love of God, or his love of compassion; in other cases, we understand his natural love, or his love

of complacency. If we keep this distinction in view, we shall find it easy to reconcile those portions which at first sight may seem at variance with each other. We shall now quote a few passages which relate to each of these views.

First, we quote a few texts in which the sovereign love of God is referred to:"I have loved thee with an everlasting love, therefore with loving kindness have I drawn thee."-"But God commendeth his love towards us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us."- "But God, who is rich in mercy, for his great love wherewith he loved us, even when we were dead in sin, hath quickened us together with Christ."'-"Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?"-" For I am persuaded that neither death nor life-nor things present, nor things to come, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord."

In all these passages, and many others of a similar character, it is evident the sacred writers are speaking of God's sovereign love, or love of compassion: that love which he has toward his people in their fallen state, which he had toward them from all eternity, and which is the fountainhead and spring of all the blessings they enjoy both now and hereafter. The apostle tells us that "the saints are blessed with all spiritual blessings according as they were chosen in Christ before the foundation of the world." But why were they chosen or ordained to these blessings? because they were the objects of Jehovah's sovereign unchangeable love. Hence says the apostle, "In love having predestinated us unto the adoption of children: " that is, to all the riches of grace and glory.

Now let us look at a few passages which relate to God's natural love, or love of complacency. By this we mean the love he has toward his people as his people, in their regenerate state, as partakers of his own image. "The

Lord taketh pleasure in them that fear him, in those that hope in his mercy."

"I love them that love me, and they that seek me early shall find me."-"As the bridegroom rejoiceth over the bride, so shall thy God rejoice over thee." This means that God views with delight and complacency his own spiritual children. Then again, in John xiv. we read, "He that hath my

commandments and keepeth them, he it is that loveth me, and he that loveth me shall be loved of my Father, and I will love him, and will manifest myself to him." It is quite clear, that in these passages the writers speak of God's love of complacency; of that love he has toward his people because they bear his image, and walk in his ways. As a Being of perfect holiness, he must necessarily love those who are like himself. They are his own workmanship, and as such he loves them with the love of complacency. But he must have loved them before, with a love of compassion, or they had never been in this state. His love of compassion led him to provide a Saviour for them to reveal the Gospel to them -and then to make it effectual to their salvation. God's sovereign love to his people is the love of their persons, and is the moving cause of their regeneration and salvation; but his natural love, or love of complacency, is the love of their characters-the effect of his own gracious work in their hearts.

Let us sum up the matter in a few words:-God rejoices over all his works because they are good; but especially over his redeemed and regenerated people, for they are his brightest works. It is God's greatest work to make sinners into saints-to cast out Satan-to set up his throne in the hearts of men, and reign without a rival there. Then it will follow, as a necessary consequence, that he must love those whom he has thus transformed into his own blessed image, and who are daily bringing forth the fruits of righteousness. But he must have loved them before, or they had remained enemies to him by wicked works-dead in trespasses and sins. John tells us plainly what is the cause of our love to God: he says, "We love him because he first loved us." sovereign love, or love of compassion,

His

is the cause of that gracious change in our hearts which has brought us to love him. Yes, he loved his people with a sovereign love ere time began, gave his Son to die for them, and in due time calls them by his grace: then, beholding the fruits of his own work in their holy walk and conversation, he looks upon them with the highest complacency, and will rejoice over them for ever. Whenever, therefore, we read in the sacred Scriptures of God's love to his people, let us ask the question, whether it means his sovereign love, which he had toward them in their fallen state, or his natural love which he has toward them in their renewed state, as children of his family and heirs of his kingdom? If we keep this distinction in view, we shall be able to understand all the passages which speaks of his love with perfect ease; but if we lose sight of it, we shall not unfrequently find ourselves utterly lost and confounded.

Now for a very simple illustration of our subject:-A certain king has a rebellious subject; he is charged with a serious offence, and condemned. But intercession is made for him, and the king pardons him: this is the love of compassion. Then suppose this man becomes a thoroughly reformed and interesting character, and, possessing some high mental as well as moral qualities, is recommended to the monarch to fill an important station. He is appointed; and, after a while, the king, finding him to be an intelligent, faithful, upright servant, is led to che rish towards him the strongest affection: this is the love of complacency.

Let us admire the love of God for all the riches of his grace towards us, and let us try to love him more and more, that he may delight in us as his spiritual children, and heirs of his everlasting kingdom.

Ledbury, Aug. 18th, 1857.

H. BIRCII.

DR. YOUNG.

Dr. Young was once on a party of pleasure with a few ladies, going up by water to Vauxhall, and he amused them with a tune on the German flute. Behind him several officers were also in a boat, rowing for the same place, and soon came alongside the boat in which were the doctor and his party. The doctor, who was never conceited of his playing, put

up his flute on their approach. One of the officers instantly asked why he ceased to play, and put up his flute? "For the same reason," said he, "that I took it out-to please myself." The son of Mars very peremptorily rejoined-That if he did not instantly take out his flute, and continue his music, he would throw him into the Thames. The doctor, in order to allay the fears of the