is said of the jailer that he took the apostles and washed their stripes; brought them into the house, set meat before them, and rejoiced, believing in God with all his house. How long did it take the jailer to be saved? Not ten minutes. How long was it before he went away rejoicing? Immediately. Then there is not one Gospel for Philippi, and another for London; it is the same Saviour, and you may this day eat your bread with singleness of heart; rejoicing that you the lost are found, and you the dead have become alive.

Time is rushing fast into eternity. The day of grace is ebbing away into that great sea, out of which it rose. Are we safe? Have we fled to this Saviour for forgiveness? Have we, under a deep sense of our ruin, and apprehension of judgment, bowed our hearts before Him, and earnestly implored His glorious absolution? Is our peace apathy, or is it the peace of God? Is our freedom from fear the fruit of want of thought, or of faith in the atoning death and meritorious righteousness of the Son of God? Have we entreated the Holy Spirit to teach us? Has He endeared Christ to us? If this tract has given any light to our minds, any consolation to our hearts, the least we can do is to send it to others, that they too may ask the urgent question, and learn the blessed answer.

Very soon all that now fascinates and delights will fade away, and the recollection will be that of a vision which has left nothing but responsibility behind. Are we treasuring up truths, and thoughts, and hopes, that time can neither waste, nor wash away? Are our

affections growing in attachment to Christ, or in adhesion to the world? Have we secured a place of safety and of shelter from which we shall never be removed? These are questions that demand, not echoes, but answers. May He who illuminates the mind, and inspires the heart, guide us to the best and wisest decision.

HOW SHALL WE ESCAPE?

"How shall we escape, if we neglect so great salvation?"-HEBREWS ii. 3.

It is proposed, in dependence on the aid of Him who inspired the question, to turn attention to the responsible and solemn position of those that hear not the notes of a trumpet of jubilee, that are soon to die away and to be forgotten, but the proclamation of a joyful sound, that becomes to every one that hears it either the savour of life or the savour of eternal death. We will not dwell upon the salvation which is the substance of the jubilee sound, but rather on our responsibility as acquainted with the tidings of a salvation, unprecedented in its grandeur, and incomparable in its magnificent and glorious results.

The first idea suggested in the question is, that of danger. Why speak of escape, unless there be a peril from which we are to flee? What means this peril, are we involved in it? Is there any danger in our condition, any risk in our present place, any evil so imminent, so terrible, that it is our instant duty to make an effort to escape? There is. Man has sinned, in thought, in word, in deed; in his going out, and in his coming in. God's holy law exists; our sins have not repealed it, - God's mercy has not diluted it. It

still speaks with all the emphasis of its first utterance, "The soul that sins shall die!" This now is the universal state; like the great ocean of atmosphere, it envelopes us. All have sinned, all are therefore under the curse. It is a very strong thing, it may sound to many a very awful thing; but our real inquiry should be, Is it a true thing that every human being born into the world is born under the curse? We are children of wrath, even as others. All have sinned, all are condemned; in the language of the apostle, shut up or imprisoned in a cell, or prison of condemnation, from which we cannot deliver ourselves. Let us try to realize this state. The most illustrious intellect, who strikes out brilliant discoveries, that startle mankind by their splendour, is under the curse. The fairest and the loveliest form that bursts upon the entranced vision is under the curse. The young, the old, the royal, the plebeian, all, without exception of any sort or of any degree, are born far from God, and under the curse of a law which has been broken-the issues and the consequences of which I do not stop to discuss, whether they be right or wrong, whether they be severe or light; it is the record of Scripture. The worst sin of all is that of those who say, notwithstanding, "Peace, peace, when there is no peace." Now remember, this state is not a matter of feeling- not a matter of discussion. It is revealed by God, in his holy Word, that all have sinned; that all, left as they are, must endlessly and hopelessly suffer. And, in order to bring the matter still more home, it is of us that this is written. It is just as applicable to us this year, 1854, as it was when it was first written: "How

shall we escape, if we neglect so great salvation?" It is the singularly practical character of Christianity, that it leaves the discussion of transcendental problems afar off, and concentrates man's fears, hopes, anxieties, upon himself. We are all apt enough to say, as one said of old, "Lord, are there few that be saved?" but we often forget the practical reply, "Strive to enter in at the strait gate." We are all willing enough to say with Peter, "Lord, what shall this man do?" but we forget the answer that is given, "What is that to thee; follow thou me." So the question before us here is not, How shall the Hebrews, to whom the epistle was originally addressed, escape if they neglect so great salvation? but it is, How shall we escape? Our first question ought to be, "What must I do to be saved?" the second, ever second, ought to be, "What shall I do to save, or to do my brother good?" And, when you go into the sanctuary next Sunday, each should feel as if he were alone, and the preacher speaking to him as if none else were present within reach of his voice. Insulate yourself in the sanctuary; try to feel there as you will feel at the judgment-seat, in that vast crowd which gathers, like a gigantic cloud, from every point of the horizon to the great white throne. Though there be myriads and myriads, that no man can number, yet each will be so absorbed with the recollections of his past, and the anticipations of his future, that he will feel as much alone as if there were not another human being in the universe beside him; so dreadful will be the silence, that each will hear the beatings of his own heart, and long for a voice or sound to break it; so transparent will every one be