rounding throng, "I ask for his death no more, only give me his life." It needed a higher than a heathen's firmness to resist the impulse of a father's love.

"He can give up his god for thee," said the old man to Alboin; "but thou hast One for whom a father must be forsaken."

'Oh, let the blow be struck," cried Alboin, "before I see yonder grey head come nearer; for I fear to fall."

"Grace is strong," said the old man, as Alboin meekly bent his head to receive the fatal blow.

"Honour, home, father, life itself, I willingly give to Christ," said the youth, as the blow of the executioner released the soul of the hero to join the noble army of martyrs.

JOHN HENRY PARKER, OXFORD AND LONDON.

Tracts for the Christian Seasons.

ST. THOMAS'S DAY.

ST. THOMAS Was doubtful of our Lord's resurrection. He would not trust the Apostles' words when they said, "we have seen the Lord." He thought that it could not be. He would only be convinced by sight; it was to him a thing incredible; it seemed to him as though they had been deceived, and had merely seen some vision or some similitude of our Lord; it could not have been, in his judgment, his very Lord, the Master who had given up the ghost upon the cross, and whose body had been lain in Joseph's tomb, stiff and cold and motionless, really and truly dead. He had not understood what our Lord had said concerning His resurrection before He suffered. When he found Him betrayed, given up into the hands of wicked men, dragged to judgment, scourged and spitted on as a deceiver of the people, nailed upon the cross, dying with

the dying thieves, and submitting to all this shame and violence, to the suffering of such a death, without any show of power or resistance, without any struggle to escape, he then doubtless gave up all hope of His being the Messiah: all in his eyes was over then; our Lord seemed to him as no more than a man; the cross staggered him; all his expectations were dashed to the ground; his high golden hopes of being in the train of a mighty Prince and King were scattered to the winds; the bright dream was at an end; and however warm his personal love for our Lord, he never thought to see His face among men or to hear His voice. The scene of His burial had followed the scene of the cross, and that quite quenched every little remnant of hope; the great stone that was rolled in front of the tomb seemed to shut the sight of Christ's Body for ever from his eyes; the last look had now been taken; the last office of love was now fulfilled; all was over, as he thought; the grave had taken possession of the Body of his Teacher and his Friend; he expected that the grave would soon do its work, so that ere long corruption would spread its blackness over the flesh of Jesus till it left no more than a little dust in Joseph's tomb.

Now we must confess that there was much to

stagger the Apostle; it is easy for us to wonder at his doubt, for we do not stop short at the cross, but have been wont all our lives to look farther on, even to the glorious Ascension of our Lord into heaven. But just place yourselves in the Apostle's position at the time of Christ's burial. He had believed in Christ; he had expected to see the clouds of reproach clear away, and his Master confessed as the true Messiah, the Hope, the King of Israel; he had been bearing with the dark times of the earlier parts of our Lord's pilgrimage, in the hope of seeing His Majesty break forth and shine as the sun in the fulness of its strength. He had beheld at last the apparent beginning, the day-break of His glory, when the crowds spread branches in the way, when the whole city came forth to meet Him, when He rode in triumph into the royal city as the Son of David the expected King, when the loud Hosannas filled the air, and joyful shouts stirred his heart, as though the time were come, and his Master was about to sit on Judah's throne with Judah's sceptre in His hand.

With what a changed spirit then must he have seen the rapid ebb of that stream of favour, the rapid clouding over of that bright and hopeful sky, the rapid darkness that succeeded

that brief burst of light. Instead of "Hosanna," the Apostle hears the altered cry of "Crucify Him;" instead of branches strewn in His Master's way, the short-lived tokens of short-lived honour, he now sees the trees plucked to yield Him a crown of thorns. Nor is this the worst; then comes the hour of shame, of agony, of suffering, of death, of the bitterness of the most bitter death, of burial in the grave. How can this have been-did the desponding and dismayed Apostle ask himself-how can this have been the Messiah, the Prince, the Royal Deliverer, the mighty King, the Conqueror that was for to come ?

We must thus endeavour to trace all the Apostle had seen and felt; we must place ourselves in his mind; we must follow his train of thought as he thought of Christ on the cross and in the grave, in order to understand the doubt and unbelief that so strongly possessed his mind when the great, the startling, the unexpected tidings came, that the Lord was " risen indeed." In this way only can we see the trial that his faith had to undergo, a trial greater than we are wont to think who have had all the truth concerning Christ from our youth up, who have ever been spoken to of Christ, not only crucified, but risen,