really need a religion, and Christ is the real satisfaction of that need. A creature who lives at most but three-score years and ten, yet, unless his whole nature be perverted, unavoidably longs for immortality,— who is conscious that he has violated the law of his own nature, and sinned against the conscience which his Maker has assuredly given him; a creature who, beyond any other, can imagine and enjoy happiness and pleasure, yet is continually liable to sickness, sorrow, and every form of affliction,-such a creature needs a power to ensure him a triumph over the grave, to empower his feeble will to struggle with temptation, to give him a peaceful hope of reconciliation with the Author of his being, and to whom he can look as a kind parent employing indeed salutary discipline, but not chastising him in anger; one "who does not willingly afflict nor grieve the children of men." Such a power, such a Saviour, the believer in the gospels knows of in Jesus of Nazareth; and can it be ALL cant that thousands, deeply feeling the wants we have mentioned, and feeling, in the holy and lovely adaptation of Christ to those wants, the self-evident proof of his divine mission,-is it, can it be, cant that such men should, by persuasion, by argument, by love and meekness, urge on their fellow men to recognise their wants too, and Him who they know can so fully satisfy them? We appeal to all that is truthful, all that is manly, all that is kind in the heart of any man, whether it be fair to brand with the justly odious name of cant, every sincere effort (or the majority of such efforts) to lead men to Jesus, as the satisfaction they have themselves found for the deepest wants of their hearts, the most earnest cravings of their nature. If I love Jesus Christ, I love one who hated and bitterly denounced all cant and hypocrisy while on earth, and who will assuredly One Day appear as its unsparing Judge; but equally will He, equally must He, judge without mercy those who have made hatred of cant a pretence for hating all religion, -whose professed hatred of cant was in fact but the cant of scarcely concealed dislike to religion.

PREPARED FOR THE WORST.

"I am prepared for the worst," said a young man, as he went off on a journey, with his great coat, wrapper, and umbrella. And in the sense in which he used the words, he was, as he only referred to a little cold or rain. But the words may be taken in a much more important sense, and even then there are some who can say, "I am prepared for the worst." What is the worst ? and what is it to be prepared for the worst? These are very important, interesting, and

solemn questions. Let us look at them for a few moments.

DEATH! Is that the worst? So perhaps some would think. It is the most solemn event that can happen to us in this world. It has

been called "the king of terrors," and "of all terrible things" it has been said to be "the most terrible." Well, death, in one view of it, is a bad thing. It is the enemy of our nature. We cannot love it. It makes wives widows, children fatherless, and affectionate husbands unhappy. It has caused floods of tears to flow, and human nature to shudder. But it is most terrible to ITS VICTIM. It terminates his mortal course. It ends his existence in the present state. It introduces him to an unseen world, to an unknown state of existence. It terminates his plans, schemes, and pleasures, and puts his purposes and pretensions to the test. It is very solemn. Are we prepared for it? Except our sins are pardoned, our natures are renewed, and our souls are reconciled to God, we cannot be. Sin is the sting of death. It gives it power to injure us, to wound us, to destroy our brightest hopes. If it reign in us, it will ruin us. If death finds us in an unpardoned state, it will be dreadful. But if, through faith in Jesus, our sins are all forgiven us,-if, by the operation of the Holy Spirit, the stony heart has been taken away, and the heart of flesh given,-if we are reconciled to God by the death of his Son, and are at peace with Him, we are prepared for death. It may seize, but it cannot hold us; it may lay the body in the grave, but it cannot touch the soul. Its very nature is changed to us, and instead of injuring, it only lays the body to sleep in the grave, and introduces the soul to God and glory.

JUDGMENT! Is standing before the judgment-seat of Christ the worst? So some would say. And it is enough to awaken the most serious thoughts, and arouse ten thousand fears. To appear before Divine justice, represented by the Son of God, whose eyes are as a flame of fire, to give an account of our conduct, or rather misconduct, for twenty, or forty, or sixty years,-how solemn! how fearful this! To account for sins against the best of Beings, against the plainest precepts, for so many years, and to feel that we have not the least excuse to offer for our conduct! He never provoked us by his conduct towards us, or injured us in his dealings with us. We sinned just because we would sin, and we persevered in sin because we perversely preferred doing so, to obeying his wise and holy precepts. He has commanded us to prepare to give an account in his word, He apprehends by his officer death, and He will summon us to appear before his bar by the sound of the archangel's trumpet. Are we prepared for this? We may be, but are we? If so, we have embraced the Saviour, and are justified through his finished work. We have sought and received the Holy Spirit, and are sanctified by his power, grace, and ind welling. We have come to the Father through his Son, and He has blotted out all our sins in his precious blood. But is this the case? If we have only one sin to answer for, we are undone. We might have obtained a pardon, we were promised one, if we applied for it while Jesus was on the throne of grace; but we neglected or refused, and now the door of hope is shut, the throne of grace is vacated, and

mercy has given place to justice. That we have one sin laid to our charge, to be accounted for by ourselves, is wholly and entirely our own fault. God was ready to pardon. Jesus was exalted to give repentance and the remission of sins. We were assured again and again, that by Him all that believe are justified from all things. But if we would not go unto Him that we might have life,-if we refused to receive the pardon presented, or to seek the reconciliation promised, who is to blame? We might have been pardoned; but we would not stoop to accept it. We might have been justified from all things, in the finished work of the Lord Jesus; but we would not embrace that work; and now our pride and self-sufficiency have brought us low. If one sin is charged upon us, it is because Christ Jesus has been rejected by us.

HELL! This is the worst. Nothing can be compared to hell. What is it but the wrath of God endured, the endless lashings of a guilty conscience experienced, the desert of sin inflicted upon the sinner? In hell, black despair reigns, remorse is eternally felt, and pain and agony must be eternally endured. In hell, justice appears in all its terrible majesty, mercy is for ever excluded, and sinners are left to torment themselves, and to be tormented by Satan and his angels without end. Reader, are you prepared for this? Can thine heart endure, and can thy hands be strong, in the day that God shall deal with thee? Will you go to hell? This question is proposed to you every time you hear the gospel. Will you go to hell? This question I most solemnly ask you now. You need not, for there is a way of escape. You need not, for God is good, and ready to forgive. You need not, for the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin. You need not, for the Spirit and the Bride say, "Come, and take of the fountain of the water of life freely." But if you refuse to come, I protest unto you that you shall surely perish. If you reject the Saviour, I ask you in his own words, "How SHALL YOU ESCAPE THE DAMNATION OF HELL?" Are you prepared to linger eternally in endless pains? Are you prepared to dwell with devouring fire, to languish in everlasting burnings? Are you? Can you be? Let me beseech you with all earnestness, with all tenderness, to lay these to heart. Flee, flee at once to Jesus. Receive him into your heart by faith. Renounce all your refuges of lies, give up yourself to Him, and spend your remaining days for Him; so will you be prepared for the worst. Yes, then you may look through time and all its changes, and into eternity with all its solemnities, and sing,

Shrewsbury.

"Now let the wildest storms arise,
Let tempests mingle earth and skies;
I'm safe in Christ the ark of grace,
And soon shall see him face to face."

JAMES SMITH.

4

C

FORGIVE AND FORGET.

When streams of unkindness as bitter as gall,
Bubble up from the heart to the tongue,
And meekness is writhing in torment and thrall,
By the hands of ingratitude wrung,—
In the heat of injustice, unwept and unfair,
While the anguish is festering yet,

None, none but an angel or God can declare,

"I now can forgive and forget."

But if the bad spirit is chased from the heart,
And the lips are in penitence steeped,

With the wrong so repented the wrath will depart,
Though scorn on injustice were heaped;
For the best compensation is paid for an ill,
When the cheek of contrition is wet,
And every one feels it is possible, still,
At once to forgive and forget.

To forget! It is hard for a man with a mind,
However his heart may forgive,

To blot out all perils and dangers behind,
And but for the future to live;

Then how shall it be? for at every turn,
Recollection the spirit will fret,

And the ashes of injury smoulder and burn,
Though we strive to forgive and forget.

Oh, hearken! my tongue shall the riddle unseal,
And mind shall be partner with heart,

While thee to thyself I bid conscience reveal,
And shew thee how evil thou art:
Remember thy follies, thy sins, and thy crimes,
How vast is that infinite debt!

Yet Mercy hath seven by seventy times
Been swift to forgive and forget.

Brood not on insults, or injuries old,

For thou art injurious too;

Count not their sum till the total is told,
For thou art unkind and untrue;

And if all thy sins are forgotten, forgiven,
Now mercy with justice is met,

Oh, who would not gladly take lessons of Heaven,
Nor learn to forgive and forget?

Yes, yes, let a man when his enemy weeps,

Be quick to receive him a friend;

For thus on his head in kindness he heaps

Hot coals, to refine and amend;

And hearts that are christian more eagerly yearn,

As a nurse on her innocent pet,

On lips that, once bitter, to penitence turn,

And whisper," Forgive and forget."

Narratives, Anecdotes, &c.

DELAYS DANGEROUS.

On the afternoon of one of the days of our Lord, in the summer of 1845, I left my residence in Birkenhead, to commune with a church in Liverpool. When I reached the Woodside slip, the sun, which for a moment or two had hidden its face behind a fleeting cloud, which it silvered by its smiles, unveiled itself again, and hastened to recompense the earth for its momentary withdrawment, by scattering its glittering rays in more lavish profusion. The noble Mersey, reflecting the gladsome cheer, rolled its massy waves, with snowy crests, against the dock preparations in the pool of Wallasey, and over the beaten rocks and scattered stones in the direction of Monks Ferry. Looking out to sea, merchant vessels might be seen, black specks in the far expanse; whilst, in all parts of the river, steam-boats were plying, and light skiffs gently yielding to the wind that whispered in their canvas. Whilst viewing the different objects around me, and contemplating the varied anu magnificent works of man, and the still more varied and magnificent works of God, the bell rang for our departure, followed by the command from the captain, and the motion of the vessel, "go ahead!" At this moment, I observed two men come running down the slip, "navvies," in the prime of life, strongly built, happy looking, and ruddy. "Too late!" I said to myself,→ "Too late!" shouted the man at the helm,-"Too late!" echoed the passengers. "Be not so rash as to jump! stay-stay-stay!" exclaimed all; but they made the attempt, and one clung to the side of the vessel, and one was buffeting about in the briny deep. All efforts to save him were insufficient; every attempt to render him assistance, from one cause or other, was rendered useless; and though twice I saw his hands, and once his head and shoulders, rise in the foam, and all was done that could be done to snatch him from death, he sank beneath the wave, he struggled with death amidst the great waters, and we saw him no more.

Dear reader, I do not wish needlessly to alarm you. Far be from me the desire to discompose your quiet without a cause. But if you have not yet set about preparation for heaven, did the thought ever cross your mind, you might possibly put it off until too late?

Listen to me. Varied are the paths of life; diversified are the scenes through which we now pass; and though the total amount of happiness enjoyed by one, during his sojourn here, may be vastly greater than that enjoyed by another, never was there so solitary a wanderer amongst us, but what had some drop of joy to mix with his cup of sorrow,-some short respite from the howlings of the storm and the chilliness of the cold, in which the sun shone upon him, and his