thought and feeling, such as later hymns abound in, we may see, it is believed, no remote likeness to those "spiritual songs," songs in very deed coming from the Spirit who taught men to cry, Abba, Father, which were at once the expression and the food of the ecstatic love and adoration of the new-born Church of Christ."

Curb for the stubborn steed,
Making its will give heed;
Wing that directest right
The wild bird's wandering flight;
Helm for the ships that keep
Their pathway o'er the deep;
Shepherd of sheep, that own
Their Master on the throne;
Stir up Thy children meek
With guileless lips to speak,
In hymn and song, Thy praise,
Guide of their infant ways.
O King of saints, O Lord,
Mighty, all-conquering Word;
Son of the highest God,
Wielding His wisdom's rod;
Our Stay when cares annoy,
Giver of endless joy;
Of all our mortal race
Saviour, of boundless grace,
O Jesus, hear.

Shepherd and Sower Thou
Now helm, and bridle now,
Wing for the heavenward flight
Of flock all pure and bright,
Fisher of men, the blest,
Out of the world's unrest,
Out of Sin's troubled sea
Taking us, Lord, to Thee;
Out of the waves of strife
With bait of blissful life;
With choicest fish, good store
Drawing Thy nets to shore.
Lead us, O Shepherd true,
Thy mystic sheep, we sue.
Lead us, O Holy Lord,

Who from Thy sons dost ward,
With all-prevailing charm,

Peril, and curse, and harm;

O Path where Christ hath trod,

O Way that leads to God,
O Word, abiding aye,
O Endless Light on high,
Mercy's fresh-springing flood,
Worker of all things good,
O glorious life of all

That on their Maker call,
Christ Jesus, hear.
O Milk of Heaven, that prest
From full, o'erflowing breast
Of her, the mystic Bride,

Thy Wisdom hath supplied;
Thine infant children seek,
With baby lips, all weak,
Fill'd with the Spirit's dew
From that dear bosom true,
Thy praises pure to sing,

Hymns meet for Thee, our King,
For Thee, the Christ;

Our holy tribute this,
For wisdom, life, and bliss,
Singing in chorus meet,
Singing in concert sweet,
The Almighty Son.
We, heirs of peace unpriced,
We, who are born in Christ,
A people pure from stain,
Praise we our God again,
Lord of our Peace!

THE OUTSIDE PASSENGER.

Some years ago, a young lady who was going into a northern county in England, took a seat in a stage-coach. For many miles she rode alone; but there was enough to amuse her in the scenery through which she passed, and in the pleasing anticipations that occupied her mind. She had been engaged as governess for the grand-children of an earl, and was now travelling to his seat. At mid-day the coach stopped at an inn, at which dinner was provided, and she alighted and sat down at the table. An elderly man followed, and sat down also. The young lady arose, rang the bell, and, addressing the waiter, said: "There is an outside passenger! I cannot dine with an outside passenger!" The stranger bowed, saying: "I beg your pardon, madam! I can go into another room," and immediately retired. The coach soon afterwards resumed its course, and the passengers their places. At length the coach stopped at the gate leading to the castle to which the young lady was going; but there was not such prompt attention as she expected. All eyes seemed directed to the outside passenger, who was preparing to dismount. She beckoned, and was answered: "As soon as we have attended to his lordship, we will come to you."

A few words of explanation ensued, and to her dismay she found that the outside passenger, with whom she had thought it beneath her to dine, was not only a nobleman, but that very nobleman of whose family she hoped to be an inmate. What could she do? How could she bear the interview? She felt very ill, and the apology sent for her not appearing that evening was more than pretence.

The venerable peer was a considerate man, and one who knew the way in which the Scripture often speaks of the going down of the sun. "We must not let the night thus pass," said he to the countess. "You must

send for her, and we must talk to her before bed-time." He reasoned with the foolish girl respecting her conduct, insisted on the impropriety of the state of mind it evinced, assured her that nothing could induce him to allow his grand-children to be taught such notions, refused to accept any apology that did not go the length of acknowledging that the thought was wrong, and when the right impression appeared to be produced, gave her his hand. That man was a nobleman.

THE DAY OF HOLY REST.

BY THE EDITOR.

The temporary rest from labor which the Sabbath affords, is not its chief good. It is the rest of the soul which the Sabbath contemplates. This is what is meant by keeping it holy, viz., to secure quiet for the soul. To keep it holy, is a spiritual, not a bodily exercise. To keep it holy, does not mean that there is any thing to be associated with the time, as being more holy than other time, but that that time is to be spent in holy thoughts and acts.

To keep it holy, requires a holy position of soul. Bodily rest cannot be secured, unless rest exists in the Spirit. Hence, to keep the Sabbath holy, is to cultivate holy quietness of spirit, and to rest with all our spiritual energies in God. Hence, too, the wicked man cannot keep the Sabbath strictly holy. He may cease from labor, but he cannot rest; for there is no peace to the wicked. A tumultuous spirit will not let the body rest. The inward rankling and conflict will make the eye weary and the cheek pale. But he whose spirit is calm, to whom Jesus has said, "Peace, be still," to him there remaineth a Sabbath. And only to him there is one: this rest of spirit is a type of the eternal rest.

How low and earthly is the Sabbath to him who looks upon it as only a cessation from labor! If the Sabbath were properly kept, it would be the celebration of a new creation in our hearts, a complete freedom from the dark Egypt of sin, and, at the same time, a foretaste in the soul of heavenly rest. How grand and sublime is the prospect which here opens up before us! What we here see of the Sabbath, is like a tranquil stream, calmly flowing, and still spreading wider, as it flows on until it becomes a boundless ocean of quietude and bliss, where we may

Bathe our weary soul

In seas of heavenly rest,

And not a wave of trouble roll
Across our peaceful breast.

This typical character of the day of holy rest is, to the devout heart, its principal charm. It directs our minds to something still better beyond itself, and is in this respect a shadow of good things to come.

The Sabbath is typical in its being a cessation from toil and sin. It is

emphatically a season of quietude and peace, from all toil, and as such, it is the welcome solace of the poor and weary. In this characteristic much of its beauty consists. It is an ark for the heavy laden, which God himself has launched upon life's troubled waters. The tyrant-ridden menial has this day a jubilee, and to any one who may presume to demand his hours, he can say, in defiance: Here your authority rests-This is the day the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it."

But from the bondage of sin, this day also serves to make free all those who properly use it. In the eternal Sabbath all toil will cease; the slavery of sin will be at an end. The tyrant, who carried our souls into bondage, is shorn of his power. The spoiler himself is spoiled. The work of redemption is wound up, the captives are released, the weary are at rest; and God and Christ and angels and saints enter upon an eternal jubilee.

Its typical character appears, also, in its being a season in which to learn God and his ways. This is a prominent characteristic of the Sabbath. In it we learn to know God. His eternal counsels are unfolded to us so far as they are practically related to our redemption. For this it affords delightful time and means. No care to disturb our minds, we can open the volume of His word, and see with open face those mysteries into which angels so eagerly look. In like manner, the eternal Sabbath will no doubt be employed in learning to know God. Now we see only in part, and know in part, but then face to face. It will be our delightful privilege to learn new wonders, to behold new manifestations of God, and to receive new and increased capacities for happiness. Who can tell the boundless destiny of a ransomed Spirit? If a few short Sabbaths on earth can prepare it for the company of angels, what must be the rate and extent of its development, when, free from all sin, under the influence of a heavenly Sabbath, it shall commence its career of immortality? We lose ourselves in the blissful vision, and yet faith and hope are permitted to climb, with steady step, that awful, glorious Mount of God.

Its typical character appears in its holiness. It is the holy Sabbathevery thing about it is holy; and those who remember it aright, will remember to keep it holy. It requires holy engagements, holy affections and feelings, holy thoughts and holy desires. It requires holy worship, amid holy ordinances, in a holy temple, and to a holy God. In all these respects, it is a fair type of the eternal Sabbath. But as the fulfilment is always more full and perfect than the antitype, so that will be more gloriously holy than this. That will be in every respect a holy Sabbath, for holiness must be written on every heart before it can see God. There the worship of angels and saints is the same. Their language is, "Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty, which was, and is, and is to come." Holy saints, holy angels, a holy God, a holy city, a holy mountain. How grand and excellent and glorious! That feature of holiness which seems to be impressed upon every exercise of the Sabbath, is a faint, but fair type of that which ornaments the very gates of the heavenly city.

How excellent and grand is the Sabbath in its typical character! If we cherish a plant which we know will produce a flower, how should we honor and love the Sabbath, which is destined thus to unfold itself in excellence and glory, world without end!

Finally, its typical character appears in its quietude and serenity. Can we adequately describe the white-winged peace and holy serenity which comes like angel-visits on this day to the care-worn and disquieted heart?

After the vexations of a week of toil and business, there comes at last a
day of rest. On this day God comes down to dwell among men, and let
all the earth keep silence before him. This is the day on which Zion
holds her solemnities; and God has declared that it shall be a "quiet habi-
tation" to all who will sit down in her midst. Here, in these courts, God
gives peace and quiet. Here He speaks his balmy promises, so as none
other can speak them. Here, on this day, no one shall molest the contrite
worshipper. God himself is around us, as the mountains are around Jeru-
salem, and He is the glory in our midst, like that which dwelt between the
cherubim. His arms of love are around His saints, and the bow of the
covenant spans
the altar. Here is security and quiet. Even the sparrow
has found a house for herself, and the swallow a nest, where she may lay
her young, even thine altars, O Lord of hosts, my King and my God.
Are not those who put their trust in God, of more value than many spar-
rows, O ye of little faith? Here is quietness, nestled, as the saints are,
under the shadow of His covenant-

"Not walls, nor towers could guard so well
Old Salem's happy ground."

But this serenity and quietude is only a type of that which shall be. This is only a foretaste; the full fruition is yet to come. Those waves of bliss which often steal so sweetly over our hearts, amid the silence of the Sabbath, are brought to us by a returning breeze from the shores of CaThe type is dear to us-it is excellent and grand; but the antitype is what the unquenchable ardor of our souls is longing for. In the language of pious hope, we sing:

naan.

"Was ist das Leben dieser Zeit,

Ich sehn' mich nach der Ewigkeit;
Denn hier auf dieser rauhen Bahn,
Ist Nichts, das mich erquicken kann."

HERDER ON THE DEATH OF HIS MOTHER.

FROM THE GERMAN, BY THE EDITOR.

Upon a cloudlet, illumined with the golden glory of the setting sun, the shining Cherub descended to tell my mother that she is to appear before God. She was no more alarmed by this message, than would a young hero be, who, when he has made himself a victor by noble deeds, should be called by the king into his palace, to receive from royal hands the crown of laurel.

Joyfully she left the body; and her Spirit, still hovering around it, said: O, my faithful companion, we must part at last! Thou, my poor tenement, who hast shared this sinful world with me, now thou art prostrated! Thou, my earthly tabernacle, how has the world battered thee, till thou wast at last brought to the ground!