without delay. Then this would be the happiest, the most memorable day in your life. Then there would be extraordinary joy in heaven; for angels, those holy and benevolent beings who have watched you while in your course of sin and folly, would rejoice in the presence of God over your repentance. Then there would be new joy on earth as soon as it was known, for every believer who heard of it would glorify God on your behalf.

Here is Felix listening to the servant of Christ. He is attentive. He is interested. He is affected. He trembles. He realizes something of the solemnity of eternity. He feels concern, but it is not deep enough, therefore he says, "Go thy way for this time." He does not positively refuse, but he postpones the matter. He thought there would be a more convenient time, but there never was; and Felix has had nearly eighteen hundred years to rue his folly in hell, he is regretting it at this moment, and he will regret it for ever. Many have imitated his conduct. Many are doing so now. They say to God's ministers, "Go thy way for this time." That is, "I love sin. It is my element. It is my delight. I cannot give it up just now. The dance, the glass,-the jovial party,—the customs of the present world, these are things that I like. I am not prepared to part with them, and embrace the gospel you preach. 'Go thy way;' I had rather remain as I am, at least a little longer. I do not wish to be saved at present. By and bye, when I am too old to enjoy sin, or when sickness has made me too weak to follow any carnal pleasures, then, at this convenient season, I will send for thee."

Oh, sinner, sinner, and will you put from you God's gracious invitation, will you turn a deaf ear to the message of mercy, and thus judge, or pronounce yourself, unworthy of everlasting life? Will you persevere in sin until you lie down in black despair? Will you go to hell close by the gates of heaven? Will you perish in your own deceivings? Have you no fear of God? Have you no dread of eternal torments? Have you no wish to escape from the wrath to come? What will you do in the day of visitation, when death arrests you, when Satan seizes you, when the just Judge passes sentence upon you, when hell moves itself to meet you at your coming, and when the gates of the infernal pit close upon you for ever? What will you do? What can you do? To whom will you flee for help? How will you, how can you, escape? Alas, escape then will be impossible! "Behold, now is the accepted time. Behold, now is the day of salvation." Then the door of hope will be shut. Then the way of escape will be closed. Then the Son of God will have risen up from the throne of grace, and prepared his throne for judgment. Say not, then, "Go thy way for this time;" but rather say, "I will hear what God the Lord will speak; I will seek the Lord while he may be found; I will call upon him while he is near." Surrender the citadel of thy heart at once. Receive Christ this mo

ment. Look unto him and be saved instantly. There is redemption in his blood, even the forgiveness of sins. There is mercy with him that he may be feared. There is salvation of free and sovereign grace, and whosoever will may come and take it freely.

Reader, you will either receive or reject it; you will either embrace Christ, or say, "Go thy way for this time." Which will it be? Ah, which?

Byrom-Street, Liverpool.

JAMES SMITH.

"RIPENING FOR GLORY."

Some time ago I was walking with a minister of the gospel across a heath in Suffolk, when we passed an old man, who was mending the fence next the heath. "There,” said the minister, "is a man ripening for glory." Ripening for glory, thought I; and many times since then have those words recurred to my mind.

What do they include? Not merely that he professed christianity, as thousands do; not merely that his name stood in the church-book, and in a judgment of charity it was hoped he was a christian, as it is of thousands; but it implied that he was a growing, active, humble christian, ripening, or, in other words, "meetening, for the inheritance of the saints in light." Oh, what an unspeakable privilege! Though a poor labourer earning his bread by the sweat of his brow, he was a king in disguise, going to his kingdom as fast as time could carry him; though poor and unknown in this world, he humbly hoped his name stood in the Lamb's book of life, with the excellent of the earth; though he could leave his children no earthly substance hehind him, he could leave them that which is of greater worth-the testimony of a good name, and that he was gone to be with Jesus.

And shall we notice the process through which he had, together with every like individual, been brought into this enviable situation? First, then, he had seen himself a lost, undone, hell-deserving sinner, exposed to the vengeance of a justly angry God, and in the anguish of his heart had said, "What must I do to be saved ?" In this state he had been directed to Jesus; and, washed in his precious blood, he received joy and peace through believing, and was enabled to go on his way rejoicing, and, at the time I saw him, was looking for the mercy of God unto eternal life.

And may I ask, Of how many of those who read "The Appeal" may it be said they are ripening for glory,-glory, the purchase and free gift of Jesus,-glory beyond imagination, for "eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive it?" Oh, my dear fellow-sinners, let us seek Jesus no, who alone is the way, the truth, and the life,—who alone can cleanse our guilty souls,-who alone can give us peace and joy,—and who

will, if we believe in and love him, make us happy and useful here, and give us everlasting happiness in the world to come. May it be yours and mine to feel our awful disease by nature, and hear him say, “Behold, I will give you health and cure;" and having received him as the great Physician, his Spirit will carry on the work, so that we shall indeed be "ripening for glory."

Swaffham, Norfolk.

H. V.

THE CRUCIFIXION.

City of God! Jerusalem,

Why rushes out thy living stream?
The turbanned priest, the hoary seer,
The Roman in his pride, are there!
And thousands, tens of thousands, still
Cluster round Calvary's wild hill.

Still onward rolls the living tide:
There rush the bridegroom and the bride;
Prince, beggar, soldier, Pharisee,

The old, the young, the bond, the free;

The nation's furious multitude,

All madd'ning with the cry of blood.

Still pours along the multitude,

Still rends the heavens the shout of blood;

But on the murderers' furious van,
Who totters on? A weary man;
A cross upon his shoulder bound_

His brow, his frame one gushing wound.

Yet who the third? The yell of shame

Is frenzied at the Sufferer's name;

Hands clenched, teeth gnashing, vestures torn,
The curse, the taunt, the laugh of scorn,

All that the dying hour can sting,

Around thee now, thou thorn-crowned King !

Yet cursed and tortured, taunted, spurned,
No wrath is for the wrath returned,
No vengeance flashes from the eye,
The Sufferer calmly waits to die:
The sceptre reed, the thorny crown,
Wake on that pallid brow no frown.
At last the word of death is given,
The form is bound, the nail is driven:
Now triumph, Scribe and Pharisee !
Now, Roman, bend the mocking knee!
The cross is reared. The deed is done.
There stands Messiah's earthly throne !
Still from his lip no curse has come,
His lofty eye has looked no doom;
No earthquake burst, no angel brand
Crushes the black, blaspheming hand.
What say those lips by anguish riven
"God, be my murderers forgiven !"

Rev. Geo. Croly.

Narratives, Anecdotes, &c.

THE DOOR WAS SHUT.

Our compassionate Redeemer was ever the most faithful, as well as the wisest of instructors. Perfectly understanding the nature, the responsibilities, and the destiny of his creatures, on all these solemn and important subjects, "he spake as never man spake." The happiness of the righteous in the heavenly world was ofttimes the theme of his discourses; but while, by the exhibition of eternal blessedness, he sought to allure his hearers to its pursuit, he not unfrequently quickened their diligence, and aroused their fears, by a description of the miseries of the lost. And while the most delightful strain of all his ministrations was the gracious freeness of the offers of mercy, he did not hesitate to warn of a time when they should be heard no more, to point out a period when the only way of access would be closed, the communication cut off, the door shut.

About midnight, some nine or ten years ago, I was startled from a restless slumber, by what seemed to be an individual knocking for admittance. Probably this had been continued some time before I became conscious, for in a few moments the noise ceased, and every appearance of a human being had vanished. The feelings attendant on so unlooked-for an awaking scarcely invited or allowed an imme diately renewed repose; and, perhaps, it is not in any very great degree undesirable to pass such a season in communion with one's own heart and God. The sound of the latest passenger had long since died away; nature herself seemed to have sunk into a deathly sleep. I felt admonished, by the silence of the hour, to stand prepared for that awful night when the noise of this busy world shall at last be hushed,-when the course of nature shall at once be arrested,—and the rolling earth pause in its swift career, stayed by that almighty power which bid it move. Especially was I reminded of that to me infinitely more solemn and decisive-moment, in which I should wake from the dream of life to everlasting glory or contempt,-of that voice calling me hence, less loud and terrible than that which shall raise a slumbering world, but equally powerful in its energy and inexorable in its decree.

Weary humanity was just sinking into welcome rest, when the knocking before alluded to, was repeated with increased and now desperate vigour. Such urgency could hardly fail to overcome the greatest or most reasonable reluctance. In less than two minutes I was at the door. A half-clad and wretched-looking child importuned me, without delay, to see her still more miserable mother. The hovel she called a home, to which she was about to lead the way, was

situate at the extremity of the town, some distance from other habitations. I soon ascertained, what a secret misgiving had at first convinced me of, that this was the second time within a few hours she had trodden the dreary mile that separated our abodes. Despairing of rousing the inmates, she had once returned, and endeavoured to persuade the dying woman to wait till the morning light. It was only as urged by a quenchless affection, and almost terrified by her mother's convulsive entreaties, that she again hurried along the now still more gloomy path. It was one of those intensely dark nights, common about the close of the year, when it is all but impossible to discern the least sight or shape. The cold damp wind moaned through the trees it had already stripped of their sere and yellow leaves. I confess, had not my mind been entirely taken up with the wretched errand on which we went, and had I not been shamed by the fearless devotion of my young companion, thoughts not the most cheering might have disturbed my own tranquillity and self-possession.

However, we quickly reached the place of our destination, guided through pools of water and over heaps of stones, by a faint light glimmering through the narrow casement. The poor woman seemed a little revived on my appearance, and, as she declined any bodily refreshment to alleviate her pains or support her drooping spirits, I concluded that her object in requiring my presence was of higher and spiritual moment. She seemed at a loss to converse, though evidently oppressed with overpowering emotions. I spoke of the Saviour as a friend in need, as ready and able to save, though at the eleventh hour, and of the encouragement we have to trust in him, in the darkest day and under the greatest difficulties.

For a long time she made no reply, except by occasional marks of assent to what was uttered. At length, the unhappy creature seemed to summon her remaining strength, to give emphasis to her last words. Her life was now told by moments; none seemed more conscious of it than herself. The work of dissolution had evidently begun: her frame shook violently, and seemed quivering beneath the stroke of the Angel of Death. Reason, too, plainly reeled; but only to add to the truthful horrors of her dying moments. I found she had been brought up in a Sabbath-school, and there taught the holy lessons of eternity and God, by pious and affectionate teachers. Like many others, who grieve the hearts of such faithful labourers, she had ever disregarded their counsels and reproofs, and early wandered from the path of duty. But through years of sin and folly, of misery and despair, their words still sounded in her bewildered heart. In the depth of her dissipa tion and shame, when the voice of the preacher was no more heard, or the Book of God opened, memory would recall the scenes of comparative innocence and long-lost happiness, and with them the appeals and admonitions to which she had turned a listless ear in years gone bye; and now, through months of wasting sickness, they had filled her