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has been "given in the behalf of Christ, not only to believe on him, but also to suffer for his sake." The afflictions which he has endured, have been more efficacious of good to his own soul and to the souls of others, than they have of sorrow to himself. Cut off from the ordinary means of education, and furnished with hardly any instruments of doing good but his "thorn in the flesh," and his desire to be useful, he has been a messenger of mercy to many souls. The world has hardly seen him. He has passed along in life under the shadow of a great affliction, and in this shade has been hidden from all but heavenly beings. Yet I believe that not a few will rise up and call him blessed for his labours of love to their souls. He seems never unmindful that every one with whom he meets has an immortal spirit to be saved by grace through righteousness. Hence every where he tells about Jesus, and tries to make others love his Saviour.

I will give but one instance of his usefulness. And this is one which never could have happened but for his infirmity. His sickness once seized him suddenly in the street. He was carried insensible into the nearest house. Now see what God had prepared for him to do in that family. It was a household of unbelievers. Religion was hated there. Bibles and good books had no welcome there. Christ and his cross were foolishness there. As this pious boy came to himself, he saw bending over him a girl of about his age, who, as it afterwards appeared, was afflicted with a similar infirmity to his own. This striking coincidence, which was the result of a divine plan, was a key to open the heart of that girl to the things of Jesus, which he soon began to lisp in her ear. The boy returned to his home; but he had done a work which neither angry men nor devils could destroy. His influence was blessed to that girl's conversion. After enduring a course of severe threatening and persecution from her friends, she became a member of the church. The last time I heard from her, she had herself been the means of plucking several brands from the burnings.

Thus the work is still going on. God only knows how great will be the harvest. That chastening is lready yielding "the peaceable fruit of righteousness" to many souls. hope to know in eternity, how many will praise God for those blasted hopes and that thorn in the flesh. How it will delight those parents, who once grieved so bitterly, to count the scores, or hundreds, or thousands who may be saved through these very sorrows. Such an idea is not irrational, for the seed of divine truth often yields one hundred fold.

The principle illustrated here is, that sufferings no less than actions are the appointed means of doing good. The thorn in the flesh is often a sword in the hands of the Spirit, sharper and more efficient than learning and eloquence. The strength of some lies where Paul's did, in his weakness: for he said, "when I am weak then I am strong." To serve God, some of us must suffer. Nor is this an inferior post. God does not honour more the active than the patient, nor the strong than the humble. Action is more conspicuous, and has more éclat in the eyes of the world, than suffering. Action is easier than suffering. It requires less grace. It blends more easily the feelings of nature and of grace. We can be very active with very little religion. But suffering demands strong faith. It deprives us of natural, and forces us to depend on supernatural strength. Suffering does not usually stimulate pride, or native energy, or love of applause, or any of the ordinary alloys of Christian character. It can be alleviated, and cheered, and sanctified only by true religion. Let us, therefore, bear patiently every cross and every

infirmity, knowing that hereunto are we called. These are the talents which we are to improve.-N. Y. Evangelist.

THE SINNER'S END.

SURELY, if the saint shall have a glorious entrance into the kingdom of Christ, the sinner shall have a dismal entrance into the everlasting kingdom of darkness. Whatsoever might sweeten his condition formerly shall then embitter it; his comforts shall be shut out; his great estate brings him in a poor revenue of joys, to think how many thousands he had, and that all cannot purchase him one moment's ease; the sweetness of his estate is turned into bitterness, when he is forced to have leisure now, in spite of his heart, to sit down and consider what a poor, insignificant, unprofitable thing he ventured his soul for. His old companions are now shut out: he could be glad at heart to bid them farewell to eternity. This is all the poor help of his friends, that they stand by, bewailing his departure, and not one of them can speak one word of comfort to him without hazard to its own. It is but sorry relief to him to look upon this and that person, and to think, I must either part company for ever, or meet at the dreadful place of execution. It may be the faithful minister may be shut out, lest he should tell him plainly what his case is. O what a sad case must the sinner be in! All help and hope is shut out; and instead of plays, friends, pleasures (all which he must take his leave of for ever), he beholds a dreadful door opened, and in comes God's sergeants to apprehend him, and no bail can be taken. And when the door is once open, O what a flock of unwelcome guests come in! Now conscience will give him a visit whether he will or no, and tell him such a story as makes his heart ache? Then how doth the guilty sinner tremble! The indictment the law brings in is black, the witnesses many and clear, and the sinner is condemned for his life, and soul for eternity. His sins stare him in the face, and wrath and vengeance are just ready to seize him; he feels now that sin and hell, which he made so light of, are no jesting things. Which way soever the man looks, he sees nothing but horror, misery, ruin. If he look backward, what hath he left to comfort him, but the sad remembrance of his past enjoyment, for which he must now give an exact account? and sin and pleasure in the review upon a death-bed is another kind of thing than it was in the committing. Now farewell fine houses and gardens, farewell hawking and hunting, farewell taverns, plays, vicious company! And if he look forwards, what doth he behold that can yield him any great content? One of the most desirable and pleasantest sights that he sees before him is the grave, and if that were all, it were well though he were buried in a dunghill. I will not say how dismal that dark vault is to him that was all for his liberty, and wont to take his rest on down, and stretch himself upon a bed of ivory-for him that was wont to fare deliciously every day, to be food for vermin-for him that had his constant attendants about him, to have none but a few worms to wait on him. But pain, sickness, death, corruption, are the least of those evils that he sees before him: the prison were not so dreadful were it not for the Judge, assizes, and execution. O how dreadful a sight must it be to see the dreadful lake burning with fire and brimstone, into which he must be cast! How strange a prospect to see, instead of flattering attendants, the devils ready to seize upon his trembling soul, and hell opening its mouth ready to receive him, and to shut the door of hope and mercy upon him for ever! to look up and see an angry God, who is able to pass that irreversible and terrible sentence upon

SOW WITH PRAYER; REAP WITH PRAISE,

him, "Depart, thou cursed!" and to see Christ accusing him, while he pleads for and acquits those whom he hated and persecuted! and to look round about, and to see none that hath one word to speak for him, none to pacify the Judge, divert or prolong the sentence or execution, none to mitigate his torments! Will the sinner then make a laughing business of damnation? Will God's judging his soul be a small matter then? Will the precise and diligent saint be then called or esteemed a fool, a madman? Will not the thoughts of these things upon a death-bed cool the sinner's courage?

And what hath he now to bear up his sinking pirits? What is there to support him from crying out n horror and despair? What is it that can make man in this case lift up his head with any comfort or content? What remains now but a fearful expectation of fiery indignation? And hath not this man some of the sparks of hell flung into his conscience? -doth not the never-dying worm begin to gnaw?-is not the fire already kindled that shall never be quenched? And what provisions are now laid in to ive upon? What must be his food, what his drink, what his clothing, his inheritance, his lodging, his employment, his companions? Must he not feed upon the fruit of his own folly? Must he not drink of the cup of God's wrath? Must he not lodge in a bed of flames? Shall not his employment be to reap the crop of sorrows for ever which he sowed in time? Are not the devils and damned like to be his companions for ever?-Janeway.

NEVER PROCRASTINATE.

'You will please not to forget to ask the place for ne, sir," said a pale blue-eyed boy, as he brushed the coat of the man of leisure at his lodgings.

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Certainly not," said Mr I. "I shall be going chat way in a day or two."

"Did you ask for the place for me yesterday?" said the pale boy on the following day, with a quiverng lip, as he performed the same office. "No," was the answer. "I was busy; but I will to-day."

"Heaven help my poor mother!" murmured the boy, and gazed listlessly on the penny Mr I laid in his hand.

The boy went home. He ran to the hungry children with the loaf of bread he had earned by brushing the gentlemen's coats at the inn. They shouted with joy, and his mother held out her emaciated hand for a portion, while a sickly smile flitted across her face. "Mother, dear," said the boy, "Mr I thinks he can get me the place, and I shall have three meals a-day-only think, mother, three meals! and it won't take me three minutes to run home and share them with you."

if

57

leisure," but the place in Mr C's shop was filled yesterday."

The boy stopped brushing, and burst afresh into tears. "I care not now," said he, sobbing; 66 we may as well starve. Mother is dead." The man of leisure was shocked, and he gave the boy a crown.-Tract Magazine.

SOW WITH PRAYER; REAP WITH
PRAISE.

Ir is God that giveth the increase, for he alone has
said of every plant, that its seed is in itself, and he,
alone, also blesses the springing thereof.
works in nature; and of the same kind, also, are his
Thus He
gracious dealings with men. It is his right alone to
create, and to give fruitfulness: blessed is the man
who knows this truth, believes it, and relies upon it.

It was the season of spring, and in the fields which
the plough had prepared, the sowers were casting
the corn into a thousand furrows, and already their
hopes looked forward to plentiful harvests. An aged
labourer, on the edge of a small plot of ground, was
preparing to scatter his handful.
and asked if the land which he cultivated were
I accosted him,
fertile. "Sometimes it bears more, sometimes less,"
he answered," that depends on the weather and the
"Above all," I answered seriously, "it
depends on the blessing of Him, to whom belong the
land, and the corn, and the sun, and the rains, in
every place."

season."

in vain we work unless God blesses our fields." "You are right," said the labourer; "indeed it is "Well," said I, drawing nearer to the old man, "have you prayed to God before you began to sow? have you asked from him that blessing, which his goodness will not refuse to his children? Are you about to sow your field as a Christian should do, or as too many labourers do, without thinking of our heavenly Father, who gives us all things through Jesus Christ his Son, that he may be glorified?"

"I had not thought of it," said the old man ; "perhaps I was wrong."

"Should you like me now to do it with you?" I God of heaven will hear and answer us, for the sake inquired. "We will do it from the heart, and the of Jesus Christ." The old man thanked me. prayed to the Lord to bless the springing of that seed, and I took leave of the labourer.

We

Days and nights followed: the blade sprang and grew, the ear appeared, and the full corn ripened; and the man, who, whilst the Lord was working, had gone backwards and forwards, had slept and forgotten his field, when he saw it white for the harvest, came and brought his family to gather the sheaves. At that time, I again passed the field of the old man, and he then called to me, and, showing me the plentiful rich crop which covered his land, said to me, with earnestness, "You see, our prayer has not been useless, I have never yet had so large a crop: this year, God has greatly blessed my field; we prayed together, now let us give thanks together." And as I continued my walk, I thought to myself, how often the word of God speaks of the sowing and reaping of the earth, to give men instruction as to heavenly things; and, in particular, to encourage the Christian, and especially the minister of the "It is very thoughtless in the boy to be so late," gospel, in his work of faith and labour of love, in the said Mr I. "Not a soul here to brush my coat." midst of his field-the world. It is said, "Pray ye The child came at length, his face swollen with the Lord of the harvest, that he would send forth labourers into the harvest." Pray, then, that the weeping. seed of the kingdom may prosper. Pray in the "I am sorry to disappoint you," said the man of morning, and withhold not your prayer in the evening.

The morning came, and the pale boy's voice trembled with earnestness as he asked Mr I he had applied for the place. "Not yet," said the man of leisure," but there is time enough."

The penny that morning was wet with tears. Another morning arrived.

.

Cast thy bread upon the face of the waters, in the name of the Lord, and wait upon him that your labours may be blessed.-Rev. C. Malan.

THE TWO DEATH-BEDS.

SAID a dying youth to his weeping friends: "I am entering upon my last journey, which, so far from being terrible, is inviting and delightful. I feel the infirmities of nature, but my sense of pain is lost in my ardent hope of salvation. I have heartily repented of all my sins, and firmly believe, through the mercies of my God and the redeeming merits of my Saviour, that I shall be numbered with the chosen of God." And he died.

Said another, in his dying moments, without God nd without hope: "My life has been spent-foolshly spent-because it never yielded one hour of olid happiness. I have lived without thinking of rod, and why should he now think of me, except it e to judge and to damn me? God will not, cannot, orgive me." And he died.

young.

away their time than to redeem it, prodigal of their precious hours, as if they had more than they could tell what to do withal: our season is short, and we make it shorter. How sad a thing is it to hear men complain, O what shall we do to drive away the time?

Alas, even Sabbath-time, the purest, the most refined part of time, a creation out of a creation, time consecrated by Divine sanction-how cheap and common is it in most men's eyes; while many do sin away, and the most do idle away those hallowed hours! Seneca was wont to jeer the Jews for their ill husbandry, in that they lost one day in seven, meaning their Sabbath: truly it is too true of the most of Christians, they lose one day in seven, whatever else; the Sabbath for the most part is but a lost day; while some spend it totally upon their lusts, and the most, I had almost said the best, do fill up the void spaces and intervals of the Sabbath from public worship with idleness and vanity! But oh! when trouble comes, and danger comes, and death comes; when the sword is at the body, the pistol at the breast, the knife at the throat, death at the door, how precious would one of those despised hours be! Evil days cry with a loud voice Reader, like the above-named persons. you may be in our ears, Redeem the time: that caution was written from the tower in Rome. Like the latter, you may be fond of the "Redeeming the vorld. And if so, listen to the words of the inspired threatening dangers, when God threatens, as it were, time because the days are evil," Eph. v. 16. In lifebenman: "Rejoice in thy youth, and let thy heart that time shall be no more, Rev. x. 6, then we can heer thee in the days of thy youth, and walk in the think of redeeming time for prayer, for reading, for vays of thine heart and in the sight of thine eyes; meditation, for studying and clearing out our evidenut know thou, that for all these things God will ces for heaven, for doing and receiving good, accordring thee into judgment." As if God should say in ing to opportunities presented; yea, then we can gather up the very broken fragments of time, that he midst of your pleasures, Go, if you will, and nothing may be lost. Then God teacheth the soul ningle in the scenes of the world-go to the place of what a choice piece of wisdom it is for Christians, ⚫xciting amusement or revelry-go to the card-table if it were possible, to be beforehand with time; for and the ball-room, the dram-shop and the theatre- usually it comes to pass, through our unskilfulness ssociate with the thoughtless and sceptical, violate and improvidence, that we are surprised by death; he Sabbath and reject the Word of God, till all the to come, have not, possibly, so many hours to make and we that reckoned upon years-many years-yet nildness, all the ingenuousness, all the simplicity and ready our accounts. It may be, this night is the nnocence of youth, is lost in the wreck of vice; but summons, and then if our time be done, and our arry with you the overwhelming thought, that for work to be begun, in what a case are we! The soul ll these things God will bring you into judgment. must needs be in perplexity at the hour of death, Yes, trifling as you suppose your sins may be, God that seeth the day spent, and its work yet to do. A traveller that seeth the sun setting when he is but vill bring you into judgment. A trifling sin is entering on his journey, cannot but be aghast: the rifling with the eternal God. Triflers in youth, or evening of our day, and the morning of our task, do nanhood, or age, will stand before a tribunal where not well agree together; that time which remaineth rifles will assume a solemn reality. In the sufferings is too short to lament the loss of by past time. By of Jesus Christ on the cross, you behold not only an such hazards God doth come upon the soul as the fecting exhibition of God's mercy for the guilty. sides, bids us rise up quickly, and gird up ourselves, angel upon Peter in prison, and smites upon our but also the clearest evidence of his abhorrence of and bind on our sandals, &c., Acts xii. 7, that we sin. Deal not in little sins, lest the blood which was may redeem lost opportunities, and do much work "shed for the remission of sins," become a 66 in a little time; it is a pity to lose any thing of that of death unto death."-Family Visiter. which is so precious and so short, 1 Cor. vii. 29.

savour

TIME-REDEMPTION. TIME-redemption is one of the lessons which God teacheth those whom he corrects. In our tranquillity, how many golden hours do we throw down the stream which we are like never to see again; for one whereof the time may come, when we would give rivers of oil, the wealth of both the Indies, mountains of precious stones, if they were our own, and yet neither would they be found a sufficient price for the redemption of any one lost moment! It was the complaint of the very moralist, and may be much more our complaint, Who is there among us that knows how to value time, and prize a day at a due rate? Most men study rather how to pass

BREAD FOUND AFTER MANY DAYS.
AN ANECDOTE RELATED BY THE REV. ROBERT YOUNG.

WHEN I was in the West Indies, I heard of a poor
soldier who had been condemned to die, and I wished
to see him in his condemned cell. On applying to
the gaoler, he allowed me to do so, on condition that
I should be enclosed in the dungeon during the inter-
val of meals, for some hours. That, in a West India
dungeon, was not a very agreeable thing. However,
as I had a sincere desire to talk with this man, I sub-
mitted to the condition, and was shut up with him.
I found him an interesting young man; and, to my

MOROSENESS.

surprise, his countenance indicated pleasure rather than grief, when I presented myself before him. I began to enquire relative to the state of his mind, and, to my astonishment, he told me that he had obtained salvation through the Lord Jesus Christ. He went on to detail, in a most interesting manner, how he had found his way to the Redeemer. Knowing that no pious person had previously visited him, I wished to be informed how he had obtained his light, when he gave me the following narrative :—“ Oh! sir," he said, "I was a scholar in a Sabbath school at Nottingham. I was a very bad boy. I was expelled from the school twice in consequence of my conduct. I cherished evil principles in my heart, because I was an exceedingly dissipated young man. In a fit of intoxication I enlisted as a soldier, and, in a few days, left my native town. Soon afterwards I was sent out to this country; and I fear my conduct has broken the heart of my widowed mother. After I had been in this country some time, I did not like the army, and deserted. I was apprehended, and flogged. I deserted again. I was betrayed by a companion, apprehended, and am now sentenced to die. When I came to this loathsome place, I was as dark and as ignorant of God as it was possible for any sinner to be. I meditated vengeance against the person who informed of me, and against my judges, and I thought that I would be amply revenged if I could but escape from my place of imprisonment; but, when left alone to my own reflections, I thought of the Sabbath school at Nottingham, and all at once the instructions which I received there flashed upon my mind. I wept, I prayed; my heart was broken, and I found my way to that Saviour who had been so often named in the school to which I refer; and, blessed be God," said he," he has manifested his love to my heart, and saved me from the fear of death." The time came when he was led forth to be shot. When he arrived at the place of his execution, his conversation, and the whole of his proceedings, indicated the tranquillity of his mind. He then knelt upon his coffin, prayed for himself, for his regiment, for his mother, if still alive, and expressed himself in terms of confidence and hope. The commanding officer appeared deeply affected, and evidently felt much reluctance in performing his painful duty. At length, however, in a tremulous voice, he said, "Make ready!-present !-fire!"-and in a moment that soldier lay a bleeding and lifeless corpse. Now here was bread found after many days. That Sunday-school teacher at Nottingham had no idea that he had done any good to this young man; when he left the school he had no hope concerning him; and yet the seed which had been scattered in Nottingham, produced glorious fruit in a West Indian dungeon.

THE GOSPEL GIVES A MAN A HEART. THERE are some people who look with a languid eye on every thing; and there are others who have an interest in nothing which does not contribute to their own comfort. There are some absolutely joyless spirits from which every particle of zest has evaporated-who lag through life so listlessly that nothing makes them smile, and nothing makes them

59

weep-and merely to look at them is enough to give you wintry sensations on a summer's day. Then there are others who have some evident joy of existence, but who are as evidently their own all in allrounded-not troubled with any tendrils-any outtrim and tidy souls, like a box-tree clipped and going affections or redundant emotions-snug, comfortable people, who carry their universe in a carpetbag, who love some people very dearly, but who also love with the same sort of love the velvet cushion or the easy chair which fits their dispositions and accommodates their varying fancies. It is not good to have no heart at all, or a heart only for one's self. There is no need to be in such ignoble case. The gospel not only says, “ My son, give me thine heart,' but it gives the man a heart to give. The moment its joyous life wells up in a weary soul, the desert blossoms like the rose. Seeds of unsuspected gladness are quickened into life, and existence begins to wear a face of interest and gaiety, which perhaps it did not wear even when viewed over the cradle's merry edge. And the churl's heart grows bountiful. The little self-contained soul of the worldling ex pands till it comes in contact with a broad surface of existence, and wonders to find so much that is kindly and forthdrawing in objects which he formerly dreaded or despised; and in the dilatation of his delighted heart-in the ready rush of his bene volent and compassionate feelings, and in the newlytasted luxury of doing good-he enters on a domain of enjoyment, whose existence he formerly regarded as a hyperbole or a fairy tale. But, above all, per fect peace casteth out selfishness. The joy of ar ascertained forgiveness-the happy outset on a Zionward pilgrimage-the felt shining of God's uplifte countenance-it gives the man all the generosity of excessive gladness, the comprehensive good-will of peace which passeth understanding—that eye-kind ling, lip-opening gratitude, which relieves itself in. doxologies of brotherly kindness, in deeds of tender mercy; and the love of God shed forth abundantly, teaches the man the new lesson-to love his brother also.--James Hamilton.

THE YOUNG SWEARER REBUKED. A MINISTER sailing up the Hudson river in a sloop, some forty years since, was pained by the profaneness of a young man. Seeking a favourable opportunity, he told him he had wounded his feelings by speaking against his best Friend-the Saviour. The young man showed no relentings, and at one of the landings left the boat. The minister was pained, and feared that his labours were in vain. Seven years after, as this minister went to the General Assembly at Philadelphia, a young man accosted him, saying, he thought he remembered his countenance, and asked him if he was not on board a sloop on the Hudson river seven years before with a profane young man. At length the circumstances were called to mind. "I," said he, "am that young man. After I left the sloop, I thought I had injured both you and your Saviour. I was led to him for mercy, and felt that I must preach his love to others. I am now in the ministry, and have come as a representative to this Assembly."

MOROSENESS.

LET us take heed of a morose, sour, natural disposi tion. If it doth not hinder many fruits of love, yet

it sullies the glory of its exercise extremely. Some good persons have so much of Nabal in them, that them. It is soured with something of an ill disposition, that hath no life or beauty in it. It is a great mistake to believe that grace only subdues our carnal corruption, and doth not change our natural temper. I believe grace changes the natural temper, and ennobles it. It makes the "leopard to lie down with the kid," and "the bear to eat straw with the ox," as it is promised. It makes the froward meek, the passionate patient, and the morose benign and kind. And we are to apply grace to these ends and purposes, and not to humour and please ourselves, as though such things are our natural disposition. Grace comes to alter our natural dispositions that are unsuited to love, and indispose us for it. We are apt to excuse ourselves and one another, and hope that Christ will do so too, however this or that is much from (contrary to) our natural temper. Pray let us not act thus; our natural tempers are to be cured by grace, or it hath not its perfect work upon us.-Dr Owen.

it blasts the sweet fruit of love which comes from

TWO SWEARERS CONVERTED BY MEANS
OF A TRACT.

A GENTLEMAN, resident in Longton, employed a
Christian man to circulate religious tracts. The fol-
lowing statement, showing the usefulness of his la-
bours, has been given :—

guineas; the probability is, that, with his well-known disregard of money, it was invaluable. The tradition in current vogue used to be, that, when young Miller was in India, he heard that, in the court of Tippoo Saib, an exquisite instrument was in use by one of the Sultan's band; and, having pushed his way to Seringapatam, he so enchanted the sovereign by his performances, as to obtain possession of the prize. Whatever may have been the means by which he came to be possessed of it, he acquired it in India. That which is the instrument of happiness, or glory, though in itself unimportant, becomes interesting to its possessor, and often the fond object of superstitious affection. The horse which carried Alexander through his wars, was next to deified by the hero. Mr Miller's violin had more than carried him to the height of his fame and popularity; it had been the companion of his wanderings in a foreign land; it had soothed his hours of weariness on board ship; and it had given life to, and made vocal, the deep, tender, enthusiastic, and melancholy emotions of his inmost soul. When, however, Mr Miller was brought to feel the necessity of a perfect decision in

religion, he found that this instrument stood in his way; it was the idol of his heart; he was perfectly wedded to it; and he felt it to be a great snare. "With almost unexampled firmness and resolution," adds his biographer, "he laid it aside-though at the time he was esteemed the second, if not the first, performer in England-with the purpose never to touch it more; and he kept his resolution to the day of his death."

STRANGERS AND SOJOURNERS.

Am I a stranger and a sojourner with God? Let me realize, let me exemplify the condition. Let me look for the treatment such characters commonly meet with. Like widows and orphans, they are often imposed upon, and wronged, and injured. They are turned into ridicule and reproach, because of their speech, their dress, their manner, and usages. And

About six months ago, in the course of his interesting employment, he called upon a poor afflicted female; he immediately entered into conversation on religious subjects, and was pleased to find she was not a stranger to the hope of the gospel. She gave him to understand that she was the subject of painful trials, and had to suffer much from the violence of a "wicked, swearing husband." To use my informant's own words: "Before I left her, I presented her with a tract called 'The Swearer's Prayer;' but she had no hope that her husband would receive it. I then directed her to lay it in his way, that he might meet with it by accident; thinking with her, that he might pay more attention to it than if pre-Christians are a peculiar people. They are men sented in the ordinary way." She acted according to the direction given, and in a short time the tract met the husband's eye. He read it over, and ap peared agitated; he read it over several times, and became greatly alarmed; he saw his own spiritual character so strikingly set forth, that a deep anxiety for his spiritual interests, and an ardent desire for salvation, were awakened. In the midst of these impressions he sent for a companion in iniquity. They both read the tract together, and it produced similar results in the second instance. The awful statements of that tract were like "a nail fastened in a sure place." From that time they began to attend a place of worship; they yielded to the impressions of Divine grace; and both became united to a Christian church, in which they remain.

SELF-DENIAL.

THE late Rev. W. E. Miller, before he devoted himself to the Wesleyan ministry, was an eminent musician in Sheffield. He possessed a violin which, it is said, he estimated at the value of three hundred

wondered at. The Saviour tells them not to marvel if the world hates them, for they are not of the world, reality, a privilege rather than a matter of complaint. even as he is not of the world. This treatment is, in It is when I am admired and caressed, and I find every thing agreeable in my circumstances, it is then I feel something of the settler. But the disadvantages of my state make me think of home, because this is not my rest.-Jay.

ADVANTAGE OF AFFLICTION.

IF the storm-beaten, benighted, and weary traveller, instead of tramping along a miry road on foot, travelled in a coach and six on the turnpike road, and had every comfort around him, do you think that he would fully enjoy the friendly hearth and the happy home at the end of his journey? O no! It is the wind and the rain, the rough path, the cold, the darkness, and the toil, that makes his fireside brighter, and the comforts of his habitation doubly sweet to him. Pilgrim to Zion think of this! vious, yet what a value do they give to our heavenly Earthly trials and afflictions are not joyous, but grie expectations? While called to bear the cross, let it remind us of the crown!

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