heart was glad,—some kind friend to cheer his loneliness, and bear him company in this world of strangers. No,

"Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,

Is our destined end or way."

We all know what it is to experience both; for all there is a time to laugh, as well as a time to weep. This, however, will not last long. In the world to which we hasten, there will be no more a contrariety of sensations and emotions, than of motives and tendencies. Not truer is it that life is a compound, than that eternity will be a simple. As we shall love God perfectly, or hate him perfectly, as we shall never act upon or have a single motive or tendency to holiness, or never act upon or have a single tendency to sin; so shall we never have a single moment's misery, or a single moment's happiness,— never have a thought to cross our minds calculated to disturb, or never be blessed with one suited to soothe,-never have a tear even through eternity to bedim the eye, or there never be a moment in which the scalding lava flows not down our cheeks. "These,” saith the book of God, "shall go away into everlasting punishment, and those into life eternal." Some portion of the human family must endure an eternity of woe.

Listen to me again. Unless you have already embraced the way of escape from that endless misery, there is no certainty of your not being amongst that number. I know you think it will not, cannot be, though you still delay; that you shall still have the time and opportunity to do all that is necessary to avoid it, though you put it off still longer; that, whatever may be the case with others, for you there will be a more suitable time in the future than the present; for not only do "all men think all men mortal but themselves," but they will dare to think all things else, however certain and definite their course when they have reference to others, lose their precision in working and fixedness of result with reference to themselves; and that they may delay matters, however important, without a fear, though it were perfect madness were it done by their neighbours. But why should every one else be liable to be called away suddenly, and not you? Why should delays be dangerous to all but yourself? Why should every other mortal be vulnerable at any point, and at any time, and not the reader? God has not said, or in any other way indicated, that you shall be governed by other laws than those by which he regulates his procedure to your fellows. And your conviction that you have long to live, and that there are more opportunities for you in the future, are worth nothing, and should not influence in the least your procedure. Every soul that ever was warned, and intended in the future to flee from the wrath to come, and yet is now doomed to perdition, was ruined by the very conviction you now possess: and there were no such thing as sudden death, were we conscious of its approach, and did not believe the monster distant. Besides, who told

you opportunities were as lasting as life, and the doom of mortals only fixed at their death? Not the Bible; nothing that dares speak authoritatively upon the subject. It says, to-day the blessing must be sought; that now is the accepted time; and that he who by his delays hardens his heart, exposes himself to the danger of "I sware in my wrath he shall never enter into my rest." It is true, that whilst there is life there is hope; but not that there is certainty. It is only the things we wish we hope for; and what we suppose lies within our power, and we intend, that we expect by us to be brought to pass; but as we have not the control over all the circumstances that will in the future have reference to us—and yet our intention must be based upon the supposition of a certain state of things existing in the future they may be so arranged, and we so miscalculate, as to ensure our eternal ruin. Why, the man was as certainly lost, after a certain moment, when in his house purposing going by the vessel, as when he was making the fatal leap. After he had delayed preparations beyond a certain point of time, and which was unknown to himself, he was as inevitably doomed to death amidst the waters, as though he were already struggling in their grasp. Some time before he ceased to think upon, to purpose, and arrange things dependent upon his journey, his delay had decreed he should never take it.

Will you, therefore, attempt to calculate how long you may put off preparation for heaven, and yet be secure? Will you attempt to estimate how long you may reject the overtures of mercy, and yet not be too late? Will you dare to risk the salvation of your soul upon your discoveries of how far you may provoke the Almighty, ere he will slay you for your presumption? Dear reader, by your delay you are tempting the Almighty to destroy you; you are provoking his ten thousand thunders to alight upon your devoted head; you are calling aloud for his awful vengeance to vindicate the majesty of the Most High, by consigning the offerer of such insults to remediless misery and woe. And if procrastination has not already numbered you with those who shall never taste his grace, how much further you may go, or whether any,-how much longer you may slight the offered mercy and be safe, or whether one moment's more delay may not fix your destiny amongst the lost, must, to you, to me, to all, remain alike unknown. Let me, then, oh, let me warn you of your folly; let me move you to consider your perilous condition; let me influence you to immediate action. To be one moment too late, is to miss of everlasting life, and ensure eternal woe. By the smiles of a benignant Father, and the frowns of an angry Judge, by the everlasting love of the Saviour, and the eternal hate of the most foul demon, by the holy calm that reigns in heaven, and the fiendish fury that dwells in hell,-by the blessedness of the saved, and the misery of the damned, I conjure you, no longer delay, but prepare to meet your God.

"I'LL SEE ABOUT IT."

Some five years ago I was a teacher in a large Sunday school in the west of London, and among my boys was a lad called Charles Ingles: he was one of the incorrigibles; he had been shifted from class to class; had been treated with severity and with kindness; his pride, his fears, his love of approbation, his sense of duty, and of right and wrong, all had been appealed to, but seemingly in vain.

On a burning afternoon in August, while creeping along under cover of the scanty shade towards the school, I saw this lad coming towards me, and crossed the street to speak to him. "What, Ingles !" I cried, cheerfully, "why, you have your face turned the wrong way, man! the school is behind you!" He muttered a few inaudible words in reply. "Come," I said, "it is close upon the half hour; we shall be too late to answer to our names." "I ain't coming to school this afternoon, teacher,' was his rejoinder. "Why not?" I enquired; and addressing two boys of his own age who were with him, I asked whether they went to any school; and finding they did not, proposed they should all come in together. It was in vain,—the two boys passed on laughing, and stood against the rails at a little distance from us.

"Ingles, those are not good companions for you; better turn with me to the school. I understand now why you have not been in class for two Sundays." "I can't come this afternoon, teacher." "Why not? Where are you going?" "Well, I'm going to the Park." "The Park!" I said, "to break the Sabbath, with boys like those! The turf and sunshine will be pleasant enough to-morrow; but you will be happier to night if you give up your run and come to the school." My remonstrance was useless. "Come along, Charley," shouted his companions, and he made a move to rejoin them.

Any kind of constraint with him, and in so public a thoroughfare, was out of the question; so I only added, as I stood before him, "Well, you will be wiser, I hope, some day; but I shall look to see you the earliest in the class next Sunday." "I'll see about it, Sir." "No, but promise me you will come." "I can't tell; I'll see about it."

"Come along, Charley; I shan't wait no longer," cried a voice. He made another move, but I put my hand on his shoulder, and said, "You have not promised yet." "Well, well, perhaps I shall, teacher, if I can ;" and wriggling from my grasp he once more used his favourite phrase, "I'll see about it," and darted after his companions.

The next Sunday morning came; I was at the school-room in good time, but several of my class were before me; I could see by their looks that something had happened, and as I sat down more than one said, "Have you heard about Ingles, teacher ?" "No, what of him ?" "He is dead." "Dead!" "Yes." It was even so; the Sunday morning was come, but Ingles could not "see about it;" the after

noon class gathered, but the same hour saw his corpse buried in the crowded grave-yard.

From my class, and by a visit I afterwards paid to the widowed and bereaved mother, I learnt the particulars. He had gone to the Regent's Park after breaking from me, and had been racing about there till five o'clock. The tea hour then warned him home; but in their way his companions and himself had been practising the common trick of knocking at a door or ringing a house bell, and then running off. They had done this several times to their great enjoyment, when they were observed by a policeman, who gave chase; he probably had no idea of taking them into custody; but Ingles, thoroughly alarmed, sought safety in headlong flight, and did not stop till he had rushed up-the dark stairs and shut himself in his mother's room. He threw himself panting into a chair, but the next minute he fell forwards under the grate, uttered a faint, "oh, mother!" and all was silent. His rapid race, and the mounting the stairs, had probably occasioned the rupture of a blood vessel on the brain.

Three hours previously I had invited him to the things which make for eternal life. He refused me that he might enjoy the pleasures of sin, which are but for a season. I had urged him to come on the succeeding Sabbath, and could only extract the procrastinating speech, "I'll see about it." No, he was not allowed to see about it; the opportunity was snatched from him.

But Charles Ingles is not the only one who deceives himself with this speech. The pastor, the teacher, the tract distributor, is not met with reproaches and refusals: it is evermore that same word, "I'll see about it." "You speak truly, I will attend to it in another week; another month; another year." Oh, fools, who know not what another day may bring forth. You will see about it? Yes; but perchance not until perdition opens your eyes once and for ever, to see your folly.

:

Reader! procrastinator! I made some remarks of this kind to my class, as I sat that morning among them; and I noticed one lad looking at me with a steady and serious eye; I believe that at that minute he made a resolve to seek the kingdom of God and his righteousness; I know that from that day his conduct and character altered. In about twelve months he joined the church from my class; in another year he, at my desire, became himself a teacher in the same school; three more years have passed, during which he has continued labouring, steadfast in the faith. A few days since he addressed a letter to me, thanking God that he made a profession early as he did, and reminding me of this true history, which I have here written, as I hope, to your benefit. Will it produce the like effect on you?

Remember, that Philip, Nathaniel, Andrew, the woman of Samaria, Zaccheus, the dying thief, Saul, the eunuch, Lydia, the jailor, the thousands on the day of Pentecost, perhaps we might say, every

case mentioned in Scripture, needed only a few hours, a single sermon, one speech, to bring about conversion. Why do you need, why do you delay, weeks and years? Strive instantly! Now!

Varieties.

THE DOWNWARD COURSE.-No man becomes wicked all at once. The way of a sinner in his career has been compared to the course of a stone down a steep hill, the velocity of which is accelerated by every revolution. The heart does not offend, and shock the judgment, by asking for too much at first; it conceals the end of the career, and lets only so much be seen as is required for the immediate occasion. When the prophet of the Lord disclosed to Hazael his future enormities, he exclaimed, "Is thy servant a dog, that he should do this?" The exclamation was perfectly honest. At that time, no doubt he was incapable of such wickedness, and it was a sincere revulsion of nature which prompted the expression of his abhorrence. But he knew not his heart. Little by little he was led forward in the course of iniquity, and at length exceeded by his wickedness the prophet's prediction. Habit renders all things easy, not excepting the most atrocious crimes. Men have often done that without reluctance or remorse, which, at one period of their lives, they would have shuddered to contemplate. Many have committed forgery, who, at one time, could have been persuaded by no arguments, nor induced by any motives, to wrong an individual of a farthing; and the murderer, whose hands are stained with blood, would, probably, a few years or months before, have trembled at the idea of destroying an animal. "When the heart of man is bound by the grace of God, and tied in the golden bands of religion, and watched by angels, and tended by ministers, those nurse-keepers of the soul, it is not easy for a man to wander, and the evil of his heart is like the fierceness of lions' whelps. But when he has once broken the hedge, and got into the strength of youth, and the licentiousness of ungoverned age, it is wonderful to observe what a great inundation of mischief, in a very short time, will overflow all the banks of reason and religion.”—J. A. James.

PREPARATION FOR DEATH.-A state of preparation is far from being a state of inquietude and gloom. It need not disturb one joy of life. It ought rather to enhance them all. Nor can there be any gloom, where Christ truly abides. His presence disperses all terrors. Unhappy is he who prepares not; and postpones from time to time the security of the Saviour's companionship. It is he who is exposed to the terror by night, and the arrow by day. It is he whose condition is gloomy. It is our only safe course to engage the Saviour to abide with us constantly, as if it were always toward evening, and the day far spent. Dr. Greenwood.