dent of time and circumstance than a faculty which hath no root in itself? than a merely visionary principle? Be just to the mind of man, do homage to the power of God, and you will be constrained to admit that the statesman, the soldier, the citizen, the man of many duties, the woman of many cares, the servant, nay, the very slave, may have his "conversation in heaven,"-his treasure there, his heart there, his eye there, whilst your fancied being of intellect and meditation, shall be far beneath him in spirituality and in acceptance. Look once again at the only perfect character the world ever did, or ever will see. In the very nature of things, his mind was essentially, exquisitely contemplative. What similarity, what sympathy could exist between this wretched sinful world, and Him who came from the bosom of the Father? He listened to the sounds of vanity and sin, with ears that had been filled with the melodies of seraphs; he beheld earth's loathsome spectacles, with eyes yet beaming from the glories of heaven? When we paint Christ, when we write, and when

But

we think of him, we imagine a being of pure, unmixed thought. Our fancy flies unconsciously to the gardens of Plato, and depicts some philosophic sage, with the lineaments, but not the heart and habits of a man. when we turn to his history, and read his description in his life, we are conscious of change, of contradiction, of disappointment. The Christ of the gospel is not the Christ of the human imagination. The simple phrase, he "went about doing good," destroys our air-built fancies in a moment; we find his being's law, his whole course of existenceactive, practical.

dearest

And now, my let us strive to learn the lessons suggested by these considerations; let us seek to realize, as well as acknowledge, the truth, that our life is simply a season of discipline, a period of probation. This world is only melancholy when we cease to regard it as the vestibule to another. It is only dangerous when we are unwilling so to regard it. But the error of supposing it our sole dwelling place, and our ultimate place of rest, is twined round the very fibres

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of the human heart: why else have we the anomaly of Christians overwhelmed with affliction? of Christians puffed up in prosperity? Let us beware next, that the world in its best possessions, in "the grace of the glory of the fashion of it," does not bind us to its folly and its sin; yet, withal, let us take heed that in our grief for its iniquities we sorrow not as those without hope.' Even sorrow for sin "worketh death," if, in the place of energetic benevolence, it induce morbid, reckless melancholy. As a mourner said to a friend who wept but did not speak, weep words;" so must we, in a world that lieth in wickedness, weep actions. "Is it," says God by his prophet Isaiah, "such a fast that I have chosen? a day for a man to afflict his soul? Is it to bow down his head as a bulrush, and to spread sackcloth and ashes under him? wilt thou call this a fast and an acceptable day to the Lord? Is not this the fast that I have chosen, to loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke? Is it not to

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deal thy bread to the hungry, and that thou bring the poor that are cast out to thy house? when thou seest the naked, that thou cover him; and that thou hide not thyself from thine own flesh? And if thou draw out thy soul to the hungry, and satisfy the afflicted soul; then shall thy light rise in obscurity, and thy darkness be as the noon-day. the Lord shall guide thee continually, and satisfy thy soul in drought, and make fat thy bones and thou shalt be like a watered garden, and like a spring of water whose waters fail not.

Admitting, my dear

And

applied these verses by accommodation, they surely afford satisfactory proof, that he shall flourish most in his own soul, who is most active in the service of others.

And now I must bid you farewell. I have written to you at great length, but I have not written to you fully: I could make my letter twice as long, and still I should be dissatisfied. Meditate for yourself on these things; not for the mere pleasure of medita* Isaiah lviii. 5—7, 10, 11.

tion, but that when your heart is enkindled by holy musing, you may be led to say, "Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?" I would not have you think less of heaven, only think soberly-be willing to labour in the vineyard, before you repose in paradise. I cannot wish that your sun should go down at noon. My heart's desire and prayer for you, more than almost any one beside, is, that long life and great grace may be given you, that you may manifest, by continued consistency of conduct, the reality of the principles you now profess; that you may be the means of cheering and strengthening many of your fellow-creatures; of leading little ones in the way to Zion, of teaching them what God has enabled others to teach you. Rest not satisfied with being safe and happy yourself; every effort to render others so will strengthen that safety, will increase that happiness.

Again, my love, farewell. May it be a triumphant, though a far distant day, wherein you shall be summoned to the land, for which even now you long. May you then