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way of saving sinners. I prayed with him and I prayed for him. He

went away, and carried with him all his load of sorrow.

When left alone, I was the subject of hope and fear, with respect to the result of G- M's present anxiety of mind. It must be, I thought, the work of God; and the thought dictated the prayerO Lord, carry on thy work and finish it! Then I could not but entertain the fear—perhaps he may be suffering some temporary punishment for some excess to which he has run, and when that punishment is removed, his penitence, real as it may seem, may pass away like the morning cloud. This, however, was not the case.

On Monday, and every night during the week following, he came to converse with me. He told no one else. He concealed from his associates, with whom he wrought, the cause of his sorrow. They supposed him to be unwell, and some suggested the propriety of calling in medical advice. "I cannot work," said he, "and I dare not go to sleep lest I should wake in hell." In this state of indescribable mental anguish he passed ten days. Never have I witnessed a case where the power of conscience was so great. The only fear I entertained, after the first day or two, was, that he would destroy himself. Not a single ray of hope could be got into his mind.

He still came. It was Wednesday night. I shall never forget it. "I fear," said he, "that God does not mean to save me. I must be lost. My sins! my sins! You see, Sir, they are not like other people's sins. My case stands alone. Nobody has been like me. I cannot be saved." I assured him that the penitent, self-condemned, self-distrusting, helpless, and believing soul has no cause to fear acceptance at the hands of God. The self-righteous and boasting Pharisee, who desires to stand before God on the ground of his own merit, and not on the merit of Jesus Christ, may fear, but not the penitent. He still feared that his present state of mind was but the prelude to more intense pain in the fires of perdition. Wishing to impress upon his mind that God had thoughts of mercy towards him, I presented to him the case and conversion of Manoah and his wife. "If the Lord had been pleased to kill us, he would not have told us such

things as these." I said, "if God had meditated your destruction, he could have accomplished that in a thousand ways, and instantaneously. If he had meant to have destroyed you, he would never have convinced you of sin, he would never have given you such a view of yourself as he has given you of late. The design of God, in giving you such deep and profound views of sin in general, and of your own sin in particular, is, that he may show to you the greatness of his mercy in your salvation from such a depth. There can be no doubt of that at all." He understood what was said, and the Divine Spirit applied it to his heart. He exclaimed "I see it, Sir! I see it, Sir!" God spake peace to his soul. His fears were all gone. He had the assurance that his sins, which were many, were all forgiven him. He

went away rejoicing in a pardoning God. Much had been forgiven him, and he loved much.

He no longer concealed the state of his mind from his fellow-workmen. He told everybody he met with what God had done for his soul. The change produced in his character and conduct became the subject of general talk among the men; and, strange as it may appear, not one of them ever attempted to ridicule him on account of his religion. He now constantly attended the house of prayer on the Sabbath. He was often to be heard singing the songs of Zion. His external appearance rapidly improved. He lived much in prayer. He kindly and modestly offered caution and advice to any of his companions who happened to be doing wrong. He would frequently, in the evening, go out into the fields alone to meditate. He prized very highly "Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress," and "James's Anxious Enquirer;" but above and beyond every other book he valued his Bible, and often have I seen him reading that precious book while the big tear has run down his sun-burnt face. He became a new man. Such was the christian!

The grace of God can melt and change the hardest and most depraved heart, as well as the blood of Christ can cleanse from the foulest sins. Is anything too hard for that grace? It met this man a drunkard; but it did not leave him a drunkard. It met him a swearer; but it did not leave him a swearer. It met him a Sabbathbreaker and a fighter; but it did not leave him such. It changed his heart, and thus purified and regulated his outward man.

May he long live to adorn the doctrine of God our Saviour! Doncaster.

JOHN WESSON.

THE TWO DEATHS.

"Ay, but to die, and go alas,

Where all have gone and all must go,

To be the nothing that I was,

Ere born to life and living woe."

Such is the strange and melancholy exclamation of one who had spent his life in seeking fame, and who had reached the grave without the hope of life or immortality beyond its dark confines. His days and nights had been spent in the distractions of his vacillating hopes and fears. Despair had come upon him in all its mysterious and terrific power; life had lost its fond dreams and gay shows to his soul; the thick shadows of the future came stealing over him, and he wished himself alone and sleeping in the land of darkness and forgetfulness. Yet, in the midst of his despair, there comes a breathing of strange mistrust, and yet a stranger clinging unto life. To live was no desire of his; but to die—that, too, could not be entertained by

him. No, though neglected and despised here, he was not ready to plunge into the uncertainty and gloom of an hereafter.

How different he whose life has been devoted to God, and who, though despised and neglected by the world, comes down to the grave, prepared for the awful change which is about to pass upon him. He might have wished in life to have gained honour and wear the wreath of immortality; but he never reached the one, nor felt the other circling his brow. And yet because of his failures and disappointments, he laid himself not down to repine and despair. Even with life's lamp just going out, and death's mandate sounding in his ear, he could feel no fear of the future. The honour of the world was nothing to him then. Faith had opened the vista to a brighter world. The light of that world had entered and illumined his heart. Pain, and weariness, and disappointment, and death, he had almost forgotten, in anticipation of the glories about to be revealed. "Even so, Father, for so seemeth it good in thy sight," escapes from his lips, while his features reflect the divine love which he contemplates. Now the hectic flush is on his cheek, and death is at his heart, but no fever of the mind disturbs his deep tranquillity. Look, look, and see him, as he leaves "This earth's sepulchral clod, The dark'ning universe defy To quench his immortality,

Or shake his trust in God."

Varieties.

THOU HAST DESTROYED THYSELF.-Consider, where will you lay the blame of your destruction? You cannot lay it upon God; for he gave Christ to redeem and save you. You cannot lay it upon Christ; for he "would have gathered you and you would not;" he never cast you off till you cast him off. You cannot lay it upon the Spirit; for he would have convinced, and converted, and sanctified you, and you have resisted, and quenched him. You cannot lay it upon your ministers; for they have set before you life and death, and declared to you the danger of sin, and the necessity of holiness; but you would not believe their report. You cannot lay it upon your ignorance; for either you do know your duty, and then your disobedience is inexcusable, or you might know it if you would, and so your ignorance is inexcusable. You cannot lay it upon your want of leisure and time; for you have time to spare for your sports and pastimes, and pleasures, and why not for Christ? You can lay the blame nowhere but upon a cursed, corrupt heart; "Thy destruction is of thyself."-Matthew Mead.

WHO IS YOUR MASTER?. There are but two masters, strictly speaking, and all the world is found in the service of one or the other.

ever.

There is Satan, and his service is sin. The great majority serve him. But did you ever consider what are his wages? "The wages of sin is death." That is separation from God, happiness, and heaven for There is God, his service is holiness. Only a few really serve him. No one can serve God until he believes in Christ, submits to his righteousness, seeks and receives his Spirit. The service of God is irksome and unpleasant to the carnal mind, but it is pleasing and delightful to those who receive grace for the purpose. The servants of God are honoured now, for God is with them, and manifests himself unto them; but they will be more highly honoured by and bye, for then their Lord will say unto them before angels, men, and devils, "Well done, good and faithful servant, thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things, enter thou into the joy of the Lord." Reader, are you a servant of God? Do you love his service? If you are not the Lord's servant, you are the

servant of Satan.

They

HAVE YOU A SOUL? Perhaps you may think this a strange question, but many live as though they had not. They never think of its state, or enquire what will be its doom. They live in sin, lying, swearing, drunkenness, Sabbath-breaking, and other crimes, and never trouble themselves about the consequences of such a course. are thoughtless, prayerless, and therefore hopeless. Now we may well ask a person who lives such a life, HAVE YOU A SOUL? If you have, what will become of it? Reader, you certainly have a soul, and a soul which must live for ever. You are a sinner, and all sinners are condemned. You are unholy, and without holiness no one can see the Lord. You must soon die, perhaps you may die suddenly in a moment. If you should, what will become of you? There is pardon for sinners, but only through Jesus Christ; and only for such as believe in him, repent of their transgressions, and walk in newness of life. Faith in Christ brings pardon, and pardoned sinners always repent and turn from sin. Without pardon, there can be no holiness; and unless we are holy, our sins are not blotted out. May you feel that you are a lost sinner, flee to the Lord Jesus Christ for salvation, and so inherit everlasting life.

A LOST SOUL. What, if it be lawful to indulge such a thought, what would be the funeral obsequies of a lost soul? where shall we find the tears fit to be wept at such a spectacle? or, could we realize the calamity in all its extent, what tokens of commiseration and concern would be deemed equal to the occasion? Would it suffice for the sun to veil his light, and the moon her brightness; to cover the ocean with mourning, and the heavens with sackcloth; or were the whole fabric of nature to become animated and vocal, would it be possible for her to utter a groan too deep, or a cry too piercing, to express the magnitude and extent of such a catastrophe?— Robert Hall.

THE APPEAL.

"WHY. SIT WE HERE UNTIL WE DIE ?"

Why sit I here? My sins are numerous. They baffle the power of numbers; arithmetic, with her trillion of trillions, is lost for figures. I stand without a reckoner, when my sins appear as countless as the stars of heaven.-Why sit I here? My guilt is great. I have sinned without a cause—in the face of warning and remonstrance—against infinite goodness and love-and under the eye of the cross of Jesus.— Why sit I here? My condition is miserable: diseased, blind, deaf, without strength. Behind me is a life of sin,-upon me is a load of guilt, before me is a consuming fire. I have no peace. Why sit I here? My state is dangerous. Any moment Justice may seizestrike the fatal blow-cut in pieces-and cast me into outer dark

ness.

Why sit I here UNTIL I DIE WHY? Already the clouds are gathering blackness;-even now surcharged with fire, hail, and brimstone. Why sit I here UNTIL I DIE? WHY? Already I hear the sounds of the howling tempest, and the loud, the fearful peals of thunder; the vivid lighting strokes are ready to strike terror and death. -Why sit I here UNTIL I DIE? WHY? Already Justice has whet her sword;-white and glistening, with edge sharp and strong, it wounds, and none can heal,-kills, and none can make alive.—Why sit I here UNTIL I DIE? WHY? Already the Avenger of blood is near; and, seizing, there is no escape from his powerful grasp.-Why sit I here UNTIL I DIE? WHY? Even now Hell has made herself ready her mouth is open-and any moment I may become her prey. -Why sit I here UNTIL I DIE? WHY? The Lion of the tribe of Judah may soon appear on his own mountain, in his natural dress, when Justice shall have her chains and golden fetters taken off— "then justice shall strike, and mercy shall not hold her hands; she shall strike sore strokes, and pity shall not break the blow."-Why sit I here UNTIL I DIE? WHY? The door of the ark of safety is not yet shut; the gates of the city of refuge are still open.-Why sit I here UNTIL I DIE? WHY? When God has said, “As I live, saith the Lord God, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but rather in his life; turn ye, turn ye, why will ye die?" WHY? When Christ exclaims, "Look unto me, and be ye saved; for I am God, and there is none else." WHY? When "the Spirit and the Bride say, Come, and take the water of life freely." Let me be wise, and place myself within the soft folds of Jesus's arms;-let me, even now, take my stand within the circle of love and mercy,-lie at the foot of the

cross.

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