sheds upon me his warm beams, and whilst I bask in his light and heat, as try to persuade me that there is no divine reality in the Bible, whilst its doctrines quicken me, its promises rejoice me, its precepts purify me, its hopes animate me, and the Saviour reveals is all and in all to me."

Never, however, can this living demonstration be yours, except through the power of the Holy Spirit who inspired the Bible. The record must be studied as itself prescribes. The Divine Teacher must be sought in lowliest prayer. "No man can say that Jesus is the Lord but by the Holy Ghost." No man, herefore, has fairly proved the revelation, who has ot, in all sincerity and earnestness, sought from the Spirit of God.

Let me, for a little, exhort you further. Whilst you hide the word of God in your hearts, take heed that you do not hide it in your lives. Let the lighted candle be in the candlestick, and burning brightly there. Let the Bible have a living commentary in your daily walk and conversation. Be witnesses for Christ. Be" epistles of Christ, known and read of all." Some young men here are not, perhaps, acute at reasoning; others may have defective memories, and be unable readily to recall arguments with which to meet the sceptic; others may have scanty leisure for mastering the more abstruse evidences of the Bible; but there is not a young man here, however low his sphere, however small his measure of capacity, however stinted his education may have been, who cannot furnish in his life one of the strongest and most irrefragable proofs of the truth of the Scriptures -a demonstration more convincing than any ever furnished by the most learned theologian who ever wrote on the evidences, himself devoid of the evidence supplied by a character beautified, exalted, and transformed by the living efficacy of the Gospel of God.

There is no eloquence so persuasive as that of eximple-no logic so convincing as that of the life; it is so plain that a child may comprehend it, and yet so incontrovertible that the infidel is unable to elude its force.

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it for thousands of years, but they have only shown on the one hand the impotency of their fury, and on the other the impregnability of the foundation against which they have broken. We have no fear for the Bible.

We appeal to the past. There were men, in former days, who fancied that the Bible was nearly overthrown. Paine, in his wretched ribaldry, once said, "I have gone up and down, through the Christian's garden of Eden, and with my simple axe I have cut down one and another of its trees, till I have hardly left a single sapling standing." Infatuated boaster! there was one tree against which thy axe had no edge. Thou mightest cut down the trees of man's planting; but against the tree of life, in the midst of the garden-that tree which Omniscience planted, grace waters, and Omnipotence protects-against that tree thy wretched axe had no power; thy strokes recoiled on thyself, and thou diedst like the apostate Julian, crying out in effect," O crucified, thou hast triumphed!"

And then there was another-Hume, the prince of philosophical infidels-he who struggled hard in his dying hour to disguise, by cold, daring blasphemy and miserable trifling, the terrors which he could not escape-for such is the fact on authentic evidencehe vain-gloriously boasted, "Methinks I see, and I rejoice to see it, the twilight of so-called Christianity and self-styled Revelation. They are fast fleeting away." Ah! deluded sophist! He did see the twilight, but he was mistaken in its character. It was not the dim twilight of eventide darkening into night, but the rosy twilight of the morning breaking into the glorious and perfect day. We have as yet had but the twilight of Christianity. Dark clouds have hung round it; its false professors have to a large extent obscured it with the mists of their miserable perversions, and the vapours of their gross inconsistencies. As yet we have had but the twilight of that glorious latter day which is now drawing nigh! Yes, and welcome the storms which are sweeping away the clouds; for these storms are the harbingers of the outburst of that day when Revelation shall triumph over every conscience and enshrine itself in every heart, and when the God and Saviour of his people shall be confessed by every tongue and adored by every knee.

There was in the last century another miserable infidel, who anticipated the downfal of Christianity

Let me add, "Be not soon shaken in your minds." We feel no consternation whatever respecting the issue of the great conflict which is thickening around us. Inconsiderate good people sometimes exclaim, "Oh! what harm that sad book, Vestiges of Creation, will do!" Others, "Oh! what mischief Strauss's Life of Jesus will effect!" Others, "Oh! these geological discoveries and chronological calculations!will they not damage the Bible?"

Damage the Bible? No; we have not such an opinion of the Bible. It cannot be shaken. Heaven and earth shall pass away, but the word of God shall not pass away. What! have you no more confidence in Holy Scripture, than to fear that it may be unsettled, than to tremble at the result of any discovery? Afraid we may be of the influence of sceptical sophistry, or vain, ungodly, creedless men; but we are not afraid for the Bible itself. It stands like the rocks which buttress our shores. The billows of error, superstition, and infidelity, have dashed against

"Crush the wretch!" He, too, found that the stone which the philosophical builders, as well as the pharisaical builders of former times, rejected, had become the head stone of the corner, and that whosoever fell on that stone was broken, but on whomsoever it fell, it ground him to powder. Let the horrible agonies of the dying blasphemer bear witness-agonies which seemed to forestall the worm that dieth not, and the fire that is not quenched. So terrible were they, that the nurse who tended him would never afterwards attend a dying man till she had first ascertained that he was not an infidel.

A word, ere we close, on our national condition. Let us not congratulate ourselves unduly, in England, on the measure of faith which still distinguishes us as a people, nor point the finger of scorn at hapless France or hapless Italy. Let us not forget that, in regard to Italy especially, our judgment ought to be lenient. Hard measure has been dealt to those who are struggling there for their freedom. It should be borne in mind that there is an infidelity which is the result of the repudiation of darkness, and there is an infidelity which is the result of the repudiation of light. The former is guiltless in comparison with the latter. It is the child of ignorance rather than of

obstinacy; its cause is negative rather than positive. Now the poor Italians, and to some extent the French, are sceptics, because they have recoiled from a foul caricature of Christianity, without having the pure original on which to recoil; their guilt, therefore, is light when weighed against that of our Anglican infidels. Infidelity with us must generally arise from the rejection of light; for we have Christianity, not as caricatured by priestcraft and Popery, but simple and unsullied as delineated by the Spirit of God in the pages of his own Word. Thank God, that Word is more than ever prized amongst us; and the ninetyfive thousand copies of Holy Scripture bought and purchased by the working men of Manchester, in the course of seven months, tell most nobly-whatever sneering sophists may vauntingly affirm about the religious instinct, as they speak, waxing weak and wearing out, so that Mohammedanism has relaxed its spell, and Hinduism become but a gigantic mummy, and all the various forms of superstition throughout the world are fading away, and Christianity itself, as one of the developments of the religious instinct, must also be expiring-that the pure faith of the glorious Gospel is expanding in our own blessed land. All other religious systems are indeed tottering, because there is no life in them; but simple Protestant Christianity, even amid the storm and earthquake of nations, is striking deeper into thousands of humble hearts, which are preparing for conflict and for victory. We are persuaded that there is more of vital godliness in old England, at this juncture, than there has been at almost any period since the glorious Reformation. "This is the Lord's doing, and it is marvellous in our eyes." Yes, we do not hesitate to affirm that living religion is gaining ground in Great Britain. God will not leave himself without a faithful host in the evil day. If the devil is mustering his forces, the Captain of our salvation is not disbanding his. And what an illustrious practical exemplification of the benign efficacy of Scriptural religion on the temporal affairs of nations does England present at the present crisis! To what do we owe her calm amid the storm, her stability amid the shock of nations? Why is it that, whilst Italy, Hungary, Austria, Prussia, and France, have all been convulsed, and reeling to and fro like a drunken man, England has sat serene-menaced, but not alarmed-assailed, but not injured? What has been her palladium? what the secret of her tranquillity? The Bible-the Bible acknowledged as the word of God by the mass of the people-the Bible, which proclaims in their ears, "Fear God; Honour the Queen!" Hence, Britons have had no heart to cabal against their Sovereign. Hence, they have been bold as lions in the maintenance of law, order, and authority-dastardly as deer when moved to lift their hands against God's ordinance and God's anointed.

Not to our fleets, however matchless-not to our armies, however indomitable-not to our laws, how ever wise, free, just-not to those, but to the Word of God we owe our peace. Tell it out among the nations, the Bible is England's strength and stay. And has not our beloved Queen given a pledge to the nation, that she owns and honours the Bible as the stability of her times and the pillar of the throne, by allowing herself at this juncture, in the face of Tractarian antipathies and Papal denunciations, to be announced as patroness of the Windsor branch of the British and Foreign Bible Society, and as a contributor to its funds? How modestly, how gracefully done! Had she given her name to the parent society, in her capacity as Queen, it might have been interpreted as a merely official act; but doing it quietly and privately, at what may be calied her own parochial town, there was more of the woman and less of

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the queen in the deed. It more unequivocally bespoke her personal sentiments, the feelings of her Pardon the digression if I add, that prizing the Bible for herself and her people, she naturally desires that others should possess and prize it too; and as a consequence, she, in conjunction with her noble consort, has just presented £100 to the Church Missionary Society and sure I am there is not a largeminded Dissenter who does not hail the boon as warmly as though it had been bestowed on the London Missionary Society.

Finally, brethren, how glorious it is to behold the Bible converting every thing into fresh evidence of its own truth. Its mockers verify its predictions, and its enemies accomplish its purposes; the revolutions of empires, the madness of the people, the machinations of heresiarchs, and the gates of hell, alike do homage to its authority. It writes its truth on the ruins of dynasties and the fragments of cities. Egypt, Assyria, Jerusalem, Babylon, all avouch the verity of the Bible; and so shall France, and Italy, and Antichrist, and every land and every adversary. "Heaven and earth shall pass away," but "the word of our God shall stand for ever."

DEATH UPON THE OCEAN,

BY D. C. BARTLETT.

UPON a recent voyage from Liverpool to New York, I became intimately acquainted with a young man, a fellow-passenger, who was going on a visit to America. When I first saw him, I was struck with his appearance. He was of slender make, with a fine" forehead, and eyes of delicate blue, and his counterarely found. We were introduced, and from some nance expressed a nobility and frankness that is cause became quite intimate. I soon found that we possessed mutual friends in England. He had come from one of the best families of the upper stratum of what is called the middle class of English society. It is not strange that we became intimate, for I loved his native land, and he loved mine. Upon the pleasant moonlight nights, we sat upon the quarter-deck conversing; and often the unwelcome sounds of the midnight bells broke upon us ere we had finished our conversation, so pleasantly had passed the evening away. He was not long in gaining the friendship of all his fellow cabin passengers.

After we had been out a few days, I missed him one morning from his accustomed place at the breakfast table. I did not see him on the deck during the morning, nor at the dinner-table. When I visited his state-room, to my surprise I found him lying on his berth quite ill, with the surgeon in attendance. He had experienced in the night a severe attack from a dangerous disease, and was already very much prostrated. He was glad to see me, and seemed to be in good spirits. Tears came into his eyes when I took his hand, and he wished a fellow-passenger, who was a minister, to read a portion of the Scriptures to him. It was the first time I had seen him low-spirited, and it was the last. The minister came and read and prayed to him, and his sadness left him—even he was joyful-hearted.

The next morning I was stunned by hearing the surgeon say that he could not live forty-eight hours.

feels wanton and childish cravings? Who is too soft to bear any of the hardships of life? Who broods over every little vexation and inconvenience? Who not only increases real, but conjures up imaginary evils? and gets no sympathy from any one in either? Who feels time wearisome and irksome? Who is devoured by ennui and spleen? Who oppresses others with their company, and their questions, and censorious talk? The active only have the true relish of life. He who knows not what it is to labour, knows not what it is to enjoy. Recreation is only valuable as it unbends us; the idle know nothing of it. It is exertion that renders rest delightful, and sleep sweet and undisturbed. That the happiness of life depends on the regular prosecution of some laudable purpose or lawful calling, which engages, helps, and enlivens all our powers, let those bear witness who, after spending years in active usefulness, retire to enjoy themselves. Prayers should always be offered up for their servants and wives-and for themselves :00. They are a burden to themselves.

It is the language of the wicked. Not always, inleed but much oftener than they are willing to own. It may not come from them in the circle of their companions; but it is sighed out in private, when the charm of amusement has ceased, and conscience tries to be heard. They may pretend (for hypocrisy is not confined to religion) to be peaceful; but they know that one thought of God is sufficient to destroy all the calm. They may profess to admire the world; but they know it affords them no satisfaction. They know they return jaded from all their excursions of avarice, ambition, and sensuality, still asking, Who will show us any good? They know that, in this uncertain state, they are always trembling for the idols of their hearts: that they look for no support in trouble; and dread the approach of death, to the fear of which they are all their lifetime subject to bondage. Sin and sorrow are inseparable. God himself has told us that the way of transgressors s hard, and that there is no peace to the wicked. Many sins bring their own punishments along with them. Envy is the rottenness of the bones. "Pride is restless as the wind." What a torment is the spirit of revenge! What must be the apprehension of the thief? and the terror of the murderer? What the remorse of a villain who has seduced a fellowcreature from the path of virtue, and made her ignominious and wretched for life! What the feelings of a drunkard, who has ruined his business, and covered his wife and children with rags! How often does the sinner become the contempt of the neighbourhood! How often does he contract infirmities and diseases, which lie down with him in the dust! Yes; he may well say, I am a burden to myself! and, to get rid of the intolerable load, he not rarely lays violent hands upon himself; saying, with Cain, My punishment is greater than I can bear.

It may be the language of the godly. We mean, not only or principally as they are afflicted-then they ould coinci le with the first class of complainants. Many indeed are the afflictions of the righteous, and they are not required to be insensible under them. But there are things which they feel more painfully

than outward trouble. The temptations of SatanA world lying in wickedness-The imperfections of their graces-The remains of corruption within them -Wanderings in duty-An evil heart of unbelief— Distrust of their best friend-The grievings of his Holy Spirit. Another cannot enter into all this; it! requires the feelings of a renewed mind: but this induces the believer to say, "I loathe it, I would not live always." O wretched man that I am! said Paul, who shall deliver me from the body of this death?

Is there any relief? The very experience is a token for good. Your case is not peculiar. All your brethren, while in this tabernacle, groan too, being burdened. You will not be a burden to yourself always. You now say, Behold, I am vile: wherefore I abhor myself in dust and ashes. But you will soon be reconciled to yourselves, without pride. Your knowledge will be without obscurity. Your services without imperfection. Your pleasure without pain. And He who is now keeping you from falling, will present you faultless before the presence of his glory with exceeding joy.-Morning Exercises.

A PRETENDED MIRACLE. IN the year 1559, public notice was given by the friars, that they intended to perform a miracle at the chapel of the Virgin Mary, in the neighbourhood of Musselburgh, upon a young man who had been born blind. On the day appointed a vast concourse of people assembled from the three Lothians. The young man, accompanied by a solemn procession of monks, was conducted to a platform erected on the outside of the chapel, and was there exhibited to the multitude. Many of them knew him to be the blind man whom they had often seen begging, and whose necessities they had relieved; all looked on him and pronounced him stone blind. The friars then proceeded to their devotions with great fervency, invoking the assistance of the Virgin, at whose shrine they stood, and of all the saints whom they honoured; and after some time spent in prayers and religious ceremonies, the blind man opened his eyes, to the astonishment of the spectators, whose alms he went down from the platform to receive. It happened that there was among the crowd a gentleman of Fife, Colville of Cliesh, who, from his romantic bravery, was usually called Squire Meldrum, in allusion to a person of that name who had been celebrated by Sir David Lindsay. He was of Protestant principles, but his wife was a Papist, and had sent a servant with a present to the Virgin. The Squire was too gallant to hurt his lady's feelings by prohibiting the present from being sent off, but he resolved to prevent the superstitious offering, and, with that view, had come to Musselburgh. He had witnessed the miracle of curing the blind man with distrust, and determined if possible to detect the imposition. Wherefore, having sought out the young man from the crowd, he put a piece of money of considerable value into his hand, and persuaded him to accompany him to his lodgings in Edinburgh. Taking him along with him into a private room, and locking the door, he told him plainly that he was convinced he was engaged in a wicked conspiracy with the friars, to impose

on the credulity of the people, and at last drew from him the secret of the story. When a boy he had been employed to tend the cattle belonging to the nuns of Sciennes, in the vicinity of Edinburgh, and had attracted their attention by a peculiar faculty which he had of turning up the white of his eyes, and of keeping them in this position, so as to appear quite blind. This being reported to some of the friars in the city, they immediately conceived the design of making him subservient to their purposes; and having prevailed on the sisters of Sciennes to part with the poor boy, lodged him in one of their cells. By daily practising he became an adept in the art of counterfeiting blindness; and after he had remained so long in concealment as not to be recognised by his former acquaintances, he was sent forth to beg as a blind pauper, the friars having bound him by a solemn vow not to reveal the secret. To confirm his narrative he played his pavie' before Cliesh, by flyping up the lid of his eyes, and casting up the white, so as to appear as blind as he did on the platform at the chapel of the Virgin. The gentleman laid before him the iniquity of his conduct, and told him that he must next day repeat the whole story publicly at the Cross of Edinburgh. And as this would expose him to the vengeance of the friars, he engaged to become his protector, and to retain him as a servant in his house. This the young man did, and Cliesh, with his drawn sword in his hand, having stood by him till he had finished his confession, placed him on the same horse with himself, and carried him off to Fife. The detection of the imposition covered the monks with confusion, and had, it is to be hoped, the effect of opening the lady's eyes to the true character of their religion. This effect it had on one who was destined to become a distinguished preacher and promoter of the faith he was at that time seeking to destroy. This was John Row the reformer, whose third son was John Row the historian. The night on which Cliesh arrived at his house in Fife, he found Mr Row there on a visit. Next morning Cliesh introduced the subject of religion. "Mr John Row," said he, "you are a great scholar and lawyer, you have been bred at the court of Rome, where there is both learning and policy enough. I am but a country gentleman, without any learning, Iand have never been abroad. I will not therefore enter the lists to dispute with you, for I would be foiled, and what is worse, in this way wrong my religion, yet let us talk in a friendly way about the points wherein you and we differ." Mr Row said he was very willing to do so. "Let me ask you then," said Cliesh, "If you hold that the Pope and his clergy can in these days work a true and real miracle? "There is no doubt," said Row, "but they can." "Have you heard," said Cliesh, "of the miracle wrought lately at St Lareit's chapel ?" "O yes," replied Row," and what can ye say to it? What can any man say against it, that a man born blind has been restored to sight?" "But," said Cliesh, are you sure that the man was blind?" "Has he not," said Row, "begged through Edinburgh and Musselburgh, all his days being a blind man ?" "Mr John," said Cliesh, “ I am sorry that an honest man like you

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is so pitifully deceived by false knaves, deceivers of the souls of men." He then told him how he had detected the imposture, and that the very man was in his house, whom he called in, and who revealed in Row's presence the whole matter. "Now," said Cliesh," Mr John you are a great clergyman, a great linguist and lawyer. But I charge you, as you must answer to God at the last day, that you do not reject the light, but that, as soon as you have entered your study, you will shut the door, and taking your Bible, earnestly pray to God that you may understand the truth revealed in it, and that in His light you may see light. Read 2 Thess. ii., and if you do not there see your master the Pope to be the great Antichrist, who comes with lying wonders,' as hig deceiving clergy have lately done at Musselburgh, you may say Squire Meldrum has no skill." Mr Row, with great ingenuousness, said he would do as Cliesh desired. He did so, and it pleased the Lord by this means to convert him from Popery to the truth. He became the intimate friend of Knox, and knowing the errors of Popery better than many others, he was of great service in promoting the Reformation.Anderson's Scenes and Stories, &e.

THE JUDGMENT OF THE PAPACY. and that God will remember her iniquities. He will We know that her sins shall yet reach unto heaven, reward her even as she hath rewarded others, and double unto her double according to her works; in the cup which she hath filled, he will fill to her double. Great Babylon shall yet come in remembrance before God, to give unto her the cup of the fierceness of his wrath. He will yet prove himself to be the Lord God, holy and true, by judging and avenging upon her the blood of his saints. When he maketh inquisition for blood, he cannot overlook a system in whose skirts is found the blood of prophets and of saints, and of all that were slain on the earth. Having shed the blood of saints and prophets, nay, having been drunken with the blood of the saints and with the blood of the martyrs of Jesus, she shall have blood given her to drink, for she is worthy. In these holy and equitable retributions, who would not feel satisfaction? Not to do so were to contravene an express command of God, and to prove ourselves disqualified for engaging in the lofty ascriptions of heaven. You need not therefore be deterred from the exercise in question by any apprehension of its unsuitableness to the Christian character. The command of God and the example of the company on high may well relieve you from every scruple of this kind.

Nor may you be in any degree restrained by a dread of disappointment. No. We are well assured that Babylon's "plagues shall come upon her in one day, and that she shall be utterly burned with fire; for strong is the Lord God who judgeth her." Mark, for your encouragement, the expression, "for strong is the Lord God who judgeth her." Rome is strong, but there is a stronger than she. She may yet increase her zeal and redouble her activities; nominal and faithless Protestants may give themselves over to supine indifference, and even lend their aid to advance her interests; Oxford, forgetting the purpose for which its schools are upheld, may become Romanised; the court of Britain may form diplomatic relations with the court of Rome, and may even with perfidious and suicidal inconsistency pension the priesthood of the Man of Sin.

But the result of al!