faith and hope the old man lay down here in his grave. His faith was firm as a rock, and so on a rock he has inscribed his testimony. When, centuries hence, all coffins and monuments made of wood shall have mouldered away, and the most highly-finished ones of stone become defaced and disfigured, still this piece of mosscovered rock shall stand as to-day, and speak to the traveller its deeply-engraven message. Many, like myself, will linger by this stone, and think of the old man's last words, and become richer in faith and hope. . . . .

The birch tree above my head sighed in the breeze, and reminded me that the cold evening hour had come. I went away. . . .

....

In a church of the United Brethren I found what greatly impressed me. On the wall of a light porch was a painting of the dying Saviour, and above the cross the words, "Copiosa redemptio ;" on the opposite wall a large marble tablet, with the inscription, "Here rest, awaiting the resurrection of the dead,” and under this the names of above twenty Brethren, with space left to contain many more. In this simple porch I saw faith in the Redeemer, hope of the resurrection, and brotherly love, in beautiful union. I have gazed without emotion on the splendid mausoleums of kings and emperors, but in this simple building I felt deeply moved.

Ah, such is sometimes the vanity of man that it has not room enough to expand in the place of the living, and must extend itself even to the churchyard! Of that I have seen many proofs. I have found marble tablets, inside and outside of church walls, containing nothing but such long titles of the dead that there was no room left for more sacred words. Surely these people must have thought that at the resurrection the titles would be required, in order to awaken the "most illustrious" lords! Ah! in the city of the living they may be necessary-we must have distinctions there; but in

the kingdom of the dead they are heard no longer. All these should be laid aside, and nothing recorded there except that the man was a Christian, and expected the resurrection. The highly-born noble must have as long patience in the grave as the poor day-labourer. The voice of the Son of God shall at once awake them both.....

See, I am standing beside a lowly grave, where flowers are springing among the grass. On the mound is erected a plain cross of red marble..... It is the grave of a mother: her son placed the cross there, and planted the flowers. In the earliest hour of dawn, while the stars are still shining, I have seen the faithful son already at the grave; and also in the latest evening twilight. One night, when he believed himself quite alone, I was seated on the wall, behind an elder bush. Then I heard him say-" In my heart, beloved mother, I have raised for thee a fairer monument than I could do here. I am poor, indeed; but in my heart, dearest one! thou hast the best room, where thou ever dwellest. No, thou art not dead to me-thou livest with me still; for all thou hast ever said still lives in my heart, and I feel sure that thy spirit is still near to mine. Here, on this sacred altar, on thy grave, dearest mother! I vow once more to obey all thy counsels, and to live a holy life, that I may come to thee again. I have a ceaseless longing after thee, for thou hast loved me as no other can love me on earth; and were I sure that God loves me as thou hast done, then would I be the happiest man alive."

I came afterwards to know this son. He was a grave man, who stood all day behind a counter, and spoke little. He did not fritter away love, as many do: it had all been concentrated upon his mother. . . . . Reader, if your loved mother rests in the grave, you may be able to understand him.

H. L. L

AVA

HEN Blind Bartimeus, sitting by the highway side, heard from some of the multitude that Jesus was passing by, he cried out, in his darkness and helplessness, 66 Jesus, thou Son of David, have mercy upon me!" Then he whose very mission it was to open the blind eyes, and to give light to them that sit in darkness, immediately stood still, and commanded him to be brought. We are told in another gospel how those acted who obeyed this command. "They call the blind man, saying unto him, Be of good comfort; rise, he calleth thee;" and then it is added, "He rose and came to Jesus."-Doubtless, as he passed along with outstretched hands in the direction of the gracious voice he had just heard, those kindly helpers who had sought to comfort him by the assurance of the Master's welcome were on the watch

to aid him in his coming; now removing stumblingstones out of the way, and now giving him a guiding touch, when he swerved aside from the right direction. Doubtless, too, they watched with lively and sympathizing interest the meeting of the two, and rejoiced with great joy when the blind eyes were opened, and Bartimeus looked up with adoring love and gratitude into the gracious face of the wondrous Son of David.

It is even so now with those whom the Lord has called to be fellow-workers together with himself, and whom he deigns to use as instruments in opening the blind eyes, and turning from darkness unto light. When he lays his command upon them to bring some blind but seeking soul to himself, they can only do it by repeating to the anxious one His own precious words— the calls and invitations of the gospel, which are to

"every creature" under heaven. And when still in darkness and uncertainty, the blind one for himself begins to feel after Jesus, having no right sight of knowledge of him as yet, but only that in him alone can belp be found-what blessed work it is for those whose own eyes have been already opened to see his glory and to know his grace, to clear all difficulties out of the way, and to guide the stumbling footsteps of the soul towards Him with whom each must have to do for himself. For when the Saviour and the sinner are brought together, there is cause for rejoicing indeed; for then the blessed work is done. It needs but the touch of his own hand, and the blind eyes are opened, the dead soul quickened, and the lame man leaps like a hart. Those who would fain be helpers are, after all, little more than on-lookers, or the mouth-pieces by whom his messages are sent, the hands by whose gentle drawings the blind ones are guided to Him who is the source of light and healing. What strength and support this gives Christ's servants in their work! Not their power, nor might, nɔr skill, but his own, through and by them. "Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, saith the Lord."

66 As the Father hath sent me into the world, even so send I you into the world;" and as he said to Paul, "The Gentiles, to whom I send you to open the blind eyes, and turn them from darkness unto light, and from the power of Satan unto God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins, and inheritance amongst all them that are sanctified by faith that is in me."

Are we willing to yield ourselves to him to be his instruments? We may be sure he will use us; not, however, to work according to our own will, but his. The more honest our heart's desire is, "Lord, what wilt thou have me to do," the more meet we become for the Master's use. A pliable instrument, that bends and yields itself to the mind and hand that uses it, how desirable it is! The glory of the work accomplished belongs to the worker, not to the tool; and in the conversion of souls, the praise and glory is to the Lord, and the Lord alone, and deeply are his unworthy instruments made to feel and acknowledge this.

The Lord knows where there are blind souls sitting in darkness, and crying to him, though it may be but vaguely and ignorantly

"Like children crying in the night, Like children crying for the light, And with no language but a cry!"

and in his all-wise providence he can command them to be brought to him. He brings them under the notice of some of his children, and then they cannot but seek to bring them to him.

Such an one was T- M.

"Be sure to go into the side room of such a ward," said the Scripture reader one day; "for I think the young man there is in some anxiety of mind." I went in, but the occupant of the solitary bed lay in a deep sleep. So I went to my work in the outer ward,

with no intention of returning that day at least; but before I had been there long, the sound of a violent fit of coughing from the little room told that the sleeper. had been rudely awakened. I therefore soon went in again and addressed him. He lay with his face turned toward the wall, and only once or twice during my visit glanced round with a piercing look at me. His manner was abrupt and short, and would have been repelling, had I not soon found out that he was remarkably candid and honest, and that his spirit seemed sore and discouraged. He had been a long time anxious about his soul, he said, and had earnestly sought salvation, reading the Bible and praying, but was none the better of it, but rather the longer the worse. It was plain from what he said that he was altogether in the dark with regard to the gospel plan, God's only way of peace; and opening my Bible, with prayer for the Spirit's guidance, I sought to set this before him. I told him what God's thoughts of him were; that he was past mending. That what he needed was not reformation but a new creation; and, moreover, that he was already under condemnation for the sins of his past life; and so sought to shut him up to Jesus, whose blood cleanseth from all sin, and whose Spirit alone can quicken and renew. I set Christ forth as God's gift to a world of sinners, and urged him to receive Him who was so freely offered. I said he had spoken as if he had long been pleading with and seeking to persuade an unwilling God to save him, but that the Bible view of things was quite different. "All things" were there declared to be "ready," and God, in Christ, beseeching sinners to be reconciled to him. He seemed much impressed, and acknowledged that the Word of God must give the true view; at the same time confessing he could not see things in that light. I spoke then of our natural blindness and ignorance, and need of divine teaching, and of the god of this world blinding our minds by unbelief, and hiding Jesus from our view. He was not angry, as persons sometimes are when convinced of their own lost condition and inability to help themselves, but with a solemn and humble air he turned to me and said, "How am I to get rid of my blindness and unbelief?" I pointed him to Jesus as the Author and Finisher of faith, and read the invitation in Proverbs, "Turn you at my reproof; behold, I will pour out my Spirit upon you; I will make known my words unto you." I had noticed an open volume lying on his bed, which he seemed to have been reading. I don't remember what it was, but at the time it struck me as unsuitable for one whose days were numbered, and who had as yet no good hope for eternity. His eye now fell on it, and without one word of remark he closed it and flung it from him. The gesture was to me significant. It seemed to say, "One thing is needful, and one thing will I now seek after. Every weight will I lay aside, as blind Bartimeus cast aside his garment when he rose and came unto Jesus." The man's whole soul was moved. He would scarcely let me leave him, and, holding fast my hand in his, he warmly thanked me for

coming in to see him. As I lingered for a few minutes in the outer ward, I heard sounds as of one in deep distress proceeding from his room; but as doleful cries are not uncommon in hospital wards, no remark was made on them. But from that hour, during the few days he remained there, T―'s distress and anxiety could not be concealed, and attracted the attention both of nurses and patients. A few days after, when I returned, the chaplain told me this, and also that Thad left the hospital and gone home. It was to a distant part of the town; yet I could not but go after him, if haply the Lord might enable me to speak a word in season to his weary stricken spirit. I found him weaker in body, and deeply anxious in mind. Night and day, his sister said, he was praying and asking her to read the Bible to him. I spoke of the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and said if he only knew it, he could not but trust him and commit the keeping of his soul to him; adding, that if he could trust me, almost a stranger to him, why not trust One whose name and whose words were faithful and true? "Ah, but," said he, "I know what your character is, and I can see you." "Well," I replied, "you know what the character of Jesus is, and what he said to your namesake Thomas, 'Blessed are they that have not seen and yet have believed.' Why, the very work of faith is to lay hold on that which is unseen-'the Saviour, whom not having seen ye love; in whom, though now ye see him not, yet believing, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory.' "Oh, pray that he would open my blind eyes," he asked, as I took leave of him.

it

This was often his request afterwards, and, no doubt, was even then being answered, although at first he did not recognize the light, showing him, as it did, more of his own darkness and ignorance. His views of divine things were confused and distorted; for as yet, like the other man whose eyes were opened, he only saw "men as trees walking." He was more inclined, too, for a time, to dwell upon his own faith, than upon faith's glorious object, and to look within for some felt change than to obey the command, "Look unto me, and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth." In reading and conversing with him, therefore, I rather sought to turn away his thoughts from the exercises of his own mind, and to dwell upon the finished work, the person and offices, of the Lord Jesus Christ-the Father's beloved Son, in whom he is well pleased, and well pleased with all who make hing their refuge and their hiding-place.

But still, whilst there was much to make us glad about T, and to warrant the hope that, in answer to the life-giving call of the Son of God, he was slowly and gropingly coming to Jesus, we could not be satisfied till, beyond a doubt, his blind eyes were opened to behold "Jesus only" as all his salvation and all his desire-till he could say, like the men of Samaria, "Now we believe, not because of thy saying, for we have heard him ourselves, and know that this is indeed the Christ, the Saviour of the world."

About this time I heard a sermon preached, representing anxious souls as "the daughters of Moab by the fords of Arnon-as wandering birds cast out of the nest"-poor, anxious, perishing souls at the boundaryline of the kingdom, longing to pass over, feeling there was no safety, no refuge, no hope elsewhere, and yet powerless to cross the fords till the Lord speaks the word. Ah! thought I, as I remembered Twhat doubly anxious work it is, when the poor soul, trembling by the fords of Arnon, and looking with anxious eyes across to Immanuel's land, hears the sullen roar of the Jordan sounding in his ears, and trembles lest its swelling waters should carry him away before he has reached the hiding-place!

I had to ferry over a wide river every time I went to, or came from, his house; and as I stepped into the boat, and rested quietly, whilst another put forth his strength to carry me to the other side, I used to think of the poor half-witted man's three steps to heavenout of self, into Christ, into glory; and how, when the sinner ventures wholly upon Jesus, commits himself unreservedly to him, he is thus at once translated from the kingdom and power of darkness into the kingdom of God's dear Son.

At this time Thomas suffered much in body, and was often tempted to impatience and discouragement, because the relief from pain which he sought was withheld. The truthfulness of his character, which was very marked, led him always to give expression to the real thoughts of his heart; and desirable and satisfactory as this was, it startled one sometimes to hear almost the very words of Job and Jeremiah, not quoted, but flowing freshly from a sorely-tried human spirit. He grieved me much one day by a sorrowful outburst of complaints and lamentations, and I saw how the enemy can take advantage of weakness and pain, and tempt to hard thoughts of God and his dealings. I read about the Lord's prayer in Gethsemane, and part of the third chapter of Lamentations; and when he got a little relief, he acknowledged the mistake he had been making, praying for deliverance from pain instead of strength to suffer what the Lord willed, and not giving thanks for relief when granted. After this his sufferings were not so great, and his spirit humble and thankful. It was sweet to minister the consolations of Christ to him; he received all with such a docile, meek, childlike spirit, thanking God for relief from pain, so that he could listen, and adding, "I hope He'll give His blessing with your words." He seemed now to be looking trustfully and expectingly towards the Lord Jesus, for that sight-giving touch on the eyes of his soul which none but he could give-for that spiritual revelation of his glory to which Job refers when he says, "I have heard of Thee by the hearing of the ear, but now mine eye seeth Thee;" and that personal assurance for which the Psalmist cries, "Say unto my soul, I am thy salvation."

At length I found him one day lying very easy-free