on old ocean's shore, there are times in which we are puzzled to say whether his waters advance or recede; oft, when flowing, we think they ebb: so it may be with our impressions in this matter. There are great depths and mysterious eddyings, even in the heart of Christ's Church; undercurrents of faith, love, and hope, which are rushing toward him with prodigious power, while on the surface we may be more tantalized by its billowy heaving and yawning than cheered by the dashing and lofty crests of the noble estuary.

Be this as it may, let us thank God for those grand specimens of Christian liberality which, standing out and up from this lower firmament, serve as laws of gravitation to the entire body of Christian sacrifice, secure regularity in its motions, prevent declensions from the appointed orbits, and apply that centripetal force which makes every light in that spiritual canopy seek its way to the grand orb, "the Lamb that was slain." Who can tell what mighty impulses have been given to the large heart of the Church by the story of the widow's mite? That mite has brought forth its thousands and tens of thousands of gold and silver to the Lamb. Who can tell how much more he has received from his inscription on that woman's monument who anointed his head with costly ointment?

For the purposes alike of fertilizing and beautifying our earth, give me those deep but pure and gentle streams that ooze up from the hidden fountains and everywhere permeate our valleys, rather than the impetuous mountain-torrent that carries all before it tumultuously to the ocean. The one is unheard-of, but, like all the healthy processes of nature, it silently and surely does its work; the other commands the wonder of the tourist and the naturalist, and no doubt serves its own end among physical phenomena; but few there be that know, and fewer still that experience, its blessedness. He, then, would be the best friend of Christian enterprise, who could fix the eye of the Church on the duty of greatly enlarged offerings to the cause of Christ, and persuade her everywhere to reduce the polities and practices of her manifold associations to such a system, as would have all the effect of a legislative tax, with none of its obnoxious elements. He who would do so, must not be ashamed of “small things;" he must be a believer in the omnipotence of principles. Science tells us that the most potent forces in nature are the simplest that one spark of electricity in a moment communicates mind to mind, however far asunder. Chemistry tells us that the implements of explosive power need not be monstrous, and that the instruments of death may almost be infinitesimally small. It is not the arsenal, it is not the magazine of gunpowder, that does the work of war it is the skillful selection of thousands of lesser weapons, and their dexterous aims. And so it is in the kingdom of grace. One sound principle, calmly but securely at work in every Christian heart, would speedily level the dynasty of Satan and win the battle for Christ. We

have such a principle in the worthiness of the Lamb to receive riches. O that this principle were to go down into and through the entire Church of God! Then would spring forth streams in the desert, and fountains of perennial peace would be poured out on a thirsty world; the plethoric Church would be greatly relieved, but not impoverished in any sense, and the anthems in heaven would be gladly re-echoed in the symphonies of earth.

DISCOURSE XLVIII.

JOHN CUMMING, D.D., F.R.S.E.

THIS famous Anglo-Scottish divine has been for twenty-four years one of the most celebrated preachers in London.

His present charge, the Scottish National Church, Crown Court, Covent Garden, was assumed in 1832. It is his first charge, and has been eminently successful. The Church, which has arisen from a small body, now embraces about eight hundred communicants. The congregations, made up in great part of the élite, are often larger than can well be accommodated. It is no rare occurrence for hundreds to go away without gaining admission, although the house is of fair dimensions.

In personal appearance, he is described as of middle height, and slenderly made, well-formed features, with an intelligent expression of countenance, dark and lustrous eyes, and a well-developed forehead. He always wears glasses, and in the pulpit is never seen without his "clerical robes." His discourses are not pronounced from a manuscript, generally, at least; but a man is often seen sitting at the left hand of the pulpit, taking them down in short-hand, and so, with a revision by the author, they are as readily printed as if fully written out. This explains, in part, their frequent publication; for, as all the world know, Dr. Cumming is often seen in print.

As a prolific author, Dr. Cumming has few equals among the men of his age. His "Apocalyptic Sketches," "Lectures on the Parables," "Benedictions," "Signs of the Times," "Voices of the Night," etc., etc., have been, most of them, republished in the United States; and, taking into view both countries, their circulatior has been immense.

We should say that Dr. Cumming could not lay claim to depth and originality as a preacher and writer; but still he need never be tame or feeble. It is said that he is a man of exceedingly pleasing pulpit address, and that his preaching is remarkable for its equality; rarely dazzling by its brilliancy, and never falling below mediocrity. His chief fault must be that he is too gaudy and diffuse. Dr. Cumming is quite noted as a platform speaker; and whether here or in his pulpit, he is never more in his element than when making some onset upon Romanism, which has often and keenly felt the edge of his blade. His readiness of utterance is truly wonderful; and from the moment he commences an address or discourse, until its conclusion, the current of his eloquence is said to be almost always calm and untroubled.

Dr. Cumming is now about forty-eight years of age, having been born in 1809, in Aberdeenshire, Scotland, of a good father, bearing the same name, and a very devoted and cherished mother. He was educated at King's College University of Aberdeen. At our request he has made his own selection in the discourse for this work. He is not responsible for the title.

THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION OR NO RELIGION.

"Then said Jesus unto the twelve, Will ye also go away? Then Simon Peter answered him, Lord, to whom shall we go? thou hast the words of eternal life."-JOHN, vi. 67, 68.

JESUS seeing the multitude retire and leave him, the faithful and the living expositor of eternal truth, because the truth did not square with their previous prejudices, nor gratify their groveling appetites, turns and appeals to the apostles, and asks, "Will ye also go away?"

Ye, whom I have nursed as a hen her brood—as a mother her children, whose infirmities I have borne with, whose necessities I have supplied, whose sins I have forgiven, whose professions I have heard-will ye also, like the rest of the world, go away and leave me, your Master, your Saviour, your Redeemer, and your Lord, alone? When Jesus spake thus, he appealed to their convictions, and substantially said, "I do not wish you to remain unless you are satisfied, deeply and truly satisfied. I do not ask the blind and irrational obedience of the brute, but the enlightened subjection of the man. I ask you not to come round me as the slaves of a tyrant, that dare not think, but to listen to me as the intelligent pupils of a loving and an affectionate and a faithful teacher." Christianity from first to last is the religion of conviction. It strikes its roots in the mind as well as in the heart. It bids you follow because you are persuaded, and accept because convinced; and you show it the greatest respect when you refuse to follow because you have failed to arrive at a sincere and earnest conviction. It holds out to its followers no tempting earthly and alluring inducements; it has no offer of a Mohammedan license upon earth, and it presents no promises of a Pagan elysium or Paradise beyond it. It seeks the conversion of your hearts through the enlightenment of your minds, and as soon as they are convinced it insists on hospitality; it asks the loyalty of your hearts and the homage of your intellects. It will not deceive you; it holds out no false bait; it candidly tells you bonds and imprisonment await the faithful. "Through much tribulation ye must enter into the kingdom of God." "In the world ye shall have tribulation, in me only ye shall have peace."

When Peter hears this appeal, ever the first to speak forth his convictions, sometimes when ill-conceived, and necessarily transient, and at other times when they were deep, enduring, and divine, he exclaims: "Lord, to whom shall we go?" What are we to do if thou leavest us, and where shall we go if we desert thee? Every man has a god that he worships; every one a prophet he learns from in the prospect of heaven. It is not really a question, Will you worship? the question is, Will you worship the only true and living God? The miser worships the gold in his coffers; the ambitious man the dazzling objects of his aspirations in the distant horizon; the enthusiastic scholar adores learn

ing, the statesman sets his heart on fame. That which is uppermost and first in your morning thoughts, which is deepest and dearest in your mid-day anxieties, which is last, most lingering, in your evening reflections, that is practically your god; that you really deify, to that you burn the incense of the heart, to him you give the homage of your soul. Peter felt that he could not live without God; that as a creature he must have a Creator to look up to, as a sinner he must have a Saviour to lean on. He felt that no man on earth is the illimitable and inexhaustible fountain, but that each is rather the cistern that needs to be filled from the fountain, and even it is very often dry; that he is not himself original and underived, but has a borrowed life dependent on a source that is above him, cut off from which he must fall like a withered branch, or become as a broken cistern that can hold no water. Peter therefore appeals to Christ in language extremely touching and beautiful: "Blessed Lord, what master will be so kind to us as thou; what teacher so patient, so tender; what Saviour so able, so willing to help us; weary and heavy laden, where shall we get rest; guilty and sinful, where shall we get pardon; ignorant and blind, where shall we learn the truths and the lessons of everlasting life? To whom, blessed Lord, shall we go? Thou only hast the words of eternal life.”

Let us, also, ask the question of ourselves, partly as bearing on our own relations at this moment, partly as identifying ourselves in spirit and feeling with those who first gave utterance to these words. If we do not go to Christ and living Christianity, to what source shall we go in order to find a better, a more satisfactory or joyous religion? Shall we, if we desert the blessed Saviour as our Priest, and Prophet, and King, fall back into the freezing void of atheism? Shall we plunge into that emptiness and desolation in which no wing can soar, no spirit can breathe, and no heart can beat or cherish one bright and weighty hope? Shall we fall back into that wretched state where the darkness is so great that vice and virtue are undistinguished, and confounded together? Shall we conclude with the atheist, that there is no immortal and soaring soul to leap from the wreck which we leave behind us in the grave? that there is no eternity beyond the confines of time, to be to us a blessed and a happy and everlasting home? that there is no God that made us, as the creatures of his world? no precious Redeemer who has died for us? that we are like the brutes which perish-with this disadvantage, that they do not know their approaching doom, and therefore have no fears within, nor fightings without; while we know and see the annihilation that yawns before us, and recoil in horror from so hateful an issue, so terrible a catastrophe? Surely, surely, the prospect is too dreadful to be true; we can not prevail on the heart to entertain it for a moment. To think that this orb in which we live is moving without a governing, a controlling, and a guiding hand; that all the events of life are the random shots of irrational chance; that in futurity there is