together." "Now unto Him that is able to keep you from falling, and to present you faultless before the presence of His glory with exceeding joy, to the only wise God our Saviour, be glory and majesty, dominion and power, now and ever. Amen."

"Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take:

The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.

"Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust in him for grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.

"His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;

The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.

"Blind unbelief is sure to err,

And scan his work in vain ;
God is his own interpreter,

And he will make it plain."

WHAT WILT THOU HAVE ME TO DO?

"Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?"-ACTS ix. 6.

NOTHING can be more strange than the transformation achieved in the mind, or more unexpected than the new influence superinduced upon the heart of Saul. The once ruthless persecutor becomes the eloquent and untiring apostle, and the successful preacher of the truth as it is in Christ Jesus. In the midst of the overwhelming splendour that seems to have dazzled the outer eye, whilst it opened the inner, Saul exclaimed, "Who art thou, Lord?" Tell me who thou art? Against whom am I perpetrating what thou callest persecution? Who art thou that darest to remonstrate with me for the course which, under the authority of the Sanhedrim, I am now pursuing? The Lord explained that he was Jesus of Nazareth, the once-crucified, and now the Lord of glory in the skies, whose name he was attempting to erase from the earth, whose faith he was toiling to extirpate from the hearts of them that adored him and cherished it. Overwhelmed, struck down, the thick mists of his Jewish prejudices dissolved, his

fierce passions that had raged like a volcano quenched, he asks with all the anxiety-the submissive anxietyof one whose every argument was met, whose every difficulty was overcome, whose inner eye was opened to see all the blackness of the past, but yet not insensible to the hopes of the brightness of a future, "Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?"

This question, short and simple as it is, is eminently a practical one. "What wilt thou have me,"— not to think, however important,—not to speak, however useful; but, "What wilt thou have me now, Lord, to do?" I am ready to suffer, to sacrifice, to toil, to spend and to be spent for Thee; I am longing to redeem the time; I need but thy command to specify the mission that fits me, and, at whatever hazard or sacrifice, I am prepared at once to undertake it. What a change does this question evince! What a conquest must have been achieved over the hard and sanguinary passions of this great persecutor of the church!

But not only was this question practical, but it was eminently expressive of submission to Christ. What after all is Christianity? Submission to Christ in all his offices, the accepting of him as he is, desirous that our will may be so melted into His, that we can most freely and fully say, "Thy will be done on earth as it is done in heaven." Here Saul lies at the feet of Him he once persecuted; here he submits, as an ignorant pupil, to be taught by Him whom he denounced as an impostor, whose disciples he persecuted as fanatics: he appeals to Him in these humble words, "Lord, what wilt thou have me to do? and Thy will shall be my

will, and thy precepts shall be my preference and choice."

This question of Saul's was eminently personal. A mere curious, inquisitive person, without deep emotion in his heart or an earnest sense of responsibility in his conscience, would have asked some curious or critical question: Nicodemus merely said, "We know that thou art a teacher come from God: for no man can do these miracles that thou doest, except God be with him;" but he ventured no nearer. Peter asked, to gratify curiosity, "And what shall this man do?" and got the answer that he richly deserved and no less. needed-"What is that to thee? Follow thou me. But when Saul was struck down, overwhelmed with a sense of sin, penetrated with fear and alarm, conscious of guilt, he asked no inquisitive, curious question about others, but earnestly about himself, "What wilt thou have," not Barnabas, not Peter, not Ananias; but "What wilt thou have ME to do?" How personal, how submissive, how teachable, is become this once cruel, proud persecutor, fresh from the lessons of Gamaliel the Pharisee! This question too was most instant and urgent. No temporising, no procrastinating was here he was too much in earnest, too deeply impressed for that. Whenever a man begins to ask, "How can you reconcile election with free will?" you may be sure that there is something troubling his conscience, though it has not yet penetrated deep enough to make him thoroughly in earnest, and irresistibly bent on attaining rest. Whenever one is thoroughly in earnest about his soul and its safety, he neither procrastinates, nor cavils, nor rationalizes; he asks the nearest

and first that can tell him what is the way in which he ought to walk, what and where is the will which he ought to obey. And the simple expression of duty is enough; he stands with his loins girt and his lamp burning, and his sandals on his feet; and ready at once to go forth and face all man dreads, and forsake all man loves, that he may secure the safety of his precious soul, and serve Him who is dearer than father, or mother, or sister, or brother, or any relation upon earth.

Having seen what this question implies, and what is its character, let us look at it, first, on its negative-side. "What wilt thou have me to do?" I do not say that our Lord expressed the negative: but you can well conceive that a very conclusive and decided positive included, and necessarily suggests, many negatives. "What then," some one asks, "wilt thou have me to do?" Certainly not to persist in your present course; it at least is ruinous; its sure issue is everlasting perdition, its result is inevitable banishment from the presence of the Lord. If any sinner, thoughtless and ungodly, is now asking in thorough earnestness, "What wilt thou have me to do?" my first prescription would be, at least not to persist in that course of life which is without God, and without Christ, and therefore without hope in the world; the end of which is death. If, as will be the case, another asks the question, "What wilt thou have me to do?" I would answer, not certainly to stand still; or to remain unconcerned about your soul and its everlasting well-being; not to remain just where you are, under the idea that you may be carried to heaven against your will, or without