It is hard for the Christian to die daily to the world, to the flesh, and to every false way; but who can tell how hard it is to sail through the tempestuous ocean of death, with NO CHRIST in the vessel?

My reader! my soul! what will death be to thee?

I went into the city on business; a note was waiting for me there; it read like this,

"MY DEAR SIR,-I am sorry to inform you that my dear sister is very bad indeed; and as she much wishes to see youcome as soon as you can," &c.

I went. A young woman was on her bed. She had been near to death more than once; and my convictions led me to believe that ere very long she would be "Going Home." But she was calm and quiet; she had no fears, no dark clouds, no racking and tearing of soul and spirit. Nay, I saw in her the truth of that line of the poet

"The soul that on Jesus hath lean'd for repose,

I will not, I cannot desert to its foes;

That soul, tho' all hell should endeavour to shake,
I'll never, no never, no never forsake."

I found her heart was stayed upon the LORD; in prayer I left her in His hands, and was assured all must end well with one who doth in the Lord believe.

On my way home I bought Mr. James Wells' sermon upon Ezekiel's Vision. He has preached and published three on that interesting scene; but the closing of the last one is so good I must quote a few lines. He is proving one fact: it is this; when the Scriptures speak of the Lord's people in Christ as being in heaven, they speak of them "apart from their faults." It is said of old serpents that they squeeze themselves between two rocks, and so turn off and leave behind them their old skins, and come forth in their shining new ones which have grown underneath. There are some rough old ministers and professors as hard and ugly as the old serpents' skins, of whom we may say it will be well for them to leave their skins behind. These are Mr. Wells' words,

Is there a Christian that does not love Solomon's Song? And

why do you like Solomon's Song? Why, say you, because it tells me so much of what I am in Christ, and not of my faults; that is why I like it. And why do you so like the seventeenth of John? Oh, say you, because it describes the work of the Holy Spirit in receiving and abiding by the truth, and does not reap up old grievances, or new ones either. That is it. And why do you like the seventh of the Revelation? Oh, because the people appear in white robes, and palms in their hands, and have come out of great tribulation, and are without fault before the throne, and are represented by what God has done for them, and what God has constituted them; not a word about their faults. And why do you so like the fourteenth of Revelation? Oh, say you, because the same people that are spoken of in the seventh chapter as clothed in white robes, and palms in their hands, and without fault before the throne, are standing on Mount Zion in the fourteenth; not one word about their faults. And why do you like the twenty-first of Revelation so well? Oh, say you, because the Lamb's bride appears there without any one of her faults, not a fault attributed to her; nothing said of her but that which is good; all sorts of good things are said of her; clothed in white on the King's right hand, and the most magnificent city for her to dwell in that ever was known or ever can be known. And so, what are these things for but to inspire us, and keep us from a slavish terror, and to make us serve the Lord our God cheerfully?"

I ran into an omnibus to get home. There was a captain of the navy; one who had sailed over the seas many times; and he commenced a converse with me which helped me over the tedious omnibus journey to this dear " Old Ford," where now my lot is cast. Of course my good captain talked something about Going Home!" He was wondering how Bishop Colenso would go home" after his dreadful denial of the inspiration of the blessed books of God's Bible; and this led him to relate the following circumstance to me,

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"I once carried over the seas a gentleman and his lady, and their only daughter. The gentleman was an infidel; the lady a pious believer. The daughter was quite the father's idol; of

his child he was exceedingly fond. One day the girl was seized with death. All means failed. She was fast dying. She called her father to her bed-side, and said,

"Father, tell me! which am I to believe-You, or my dear mother?'

"Oh! for God's sake,' said the father, 'believe your mother." How spontaneously his natural convictions of the being of God overcame his infidel principles when he saw death taking his child into an eternal world. Where the soul of the idolised daughter went I know not, but I would hope the mother's prayers were heard, and answered, too, by that GOD whose mercy endureth for ever. Although, not like Dale did she sing as she passed away

"When the pangs of death assail me,

Weep not for me;

CHRIST is mine; He came to save me;

Weep not for me.

Yes; though sin and doubt endeavour

From His love my soul to sever,

JESUS IS MY STRENGTH FOR EVER;"
Weep not for me."

Cornelius Elven says,

"If the message of Jeremiah to Hananiah, This year thou shalt die,' were authoritatively announced to any one, what consternation it might produce; yet that decree may go forth concerning us It is manifestly, therefore, the part of true wisdom immediately to regard the revealed injunction, 'Prepare to meet thy God.' The present life in itself is truly but a vapour; but as preparatory to an endless existence, who can estimate its value? Mountains of pearls and precious stones, worlds of gold and silver, are not to be put in comparison with it. Here the momentous question is to be decided of eternal happiness or unending woe:

Lo! on a narrow neck of land,

"Twixt two unbounded seas I stand,

Yet how insensible!

A point of time, a moment's space,
Removes me to yon happy place,
Or shuts me up in hell!'

And is it so? Then let the Psalmist's prayer be ours, Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.' To the cross of Jesus may we fly, and find refuge there. Trusting alone in a Saviour's blood and righteousness, realizing the often expressed wish of friendship, and in the higher heavens above begin to enjoy a happy new and endless year.'

Some bonnie Scotch poet has given in Messrs. Heaton's Baptist Reporter, some nice stanzas on Home, of which the following is part

"I'm far frae my hame, an' I'm weary oftenwhiles

For the langed-for hame-bringing, an' my Father's welcome smiles; I'll ne'er be fu' content until my een do see

The gowden gates o' heaven, an' my ain countree.

The earth is flecked wi' flowers, mony-tinted, fresh and gay,
The birdies warble blithely, for my Father made them sae;
But these sights an' these soun's will as naething be to me
When I hear the angels singing in my ain countree.

I've his gude word of promise, that some gladsome day the King
To his ain royal palace his banished hame will bring;

Wi' een an' wi' hearts running owre we shall see"

The King in his beauty, an' our ain countree.

My sins hae been mony, an' my sorrows hae been sair,

But there they'll never vex me nor be remembered mair;
His bluid hath made me white, his hand shall dry mine ee,
When he brings me hame at last to my ain countree.

As I think upon this " Going Home," questions of immense and of mighty moment crowd in upon me: What is it that does go Home? How can we be prepared for that Home? What is there in that Home? But I have no room here for answers at present. The Lord Himself reveal them to you all, dear readers, and when you reach those ever-spreading scenes of glory, may you there, in adoring thankfulness, meet

THE VILLAGE PREACHER.

THE SAINT'S REST.

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"I

HERE on that death-bed lies a saint; no gloom is on his brow, no terror on his face; weakly, but placidly, he smiles; he groans, but yet he sings. He sighs now and then, but oftener he shouts. Stand by him. My brother, what makes thee look in death's face with such joy ?" 'Jesus," he whispers. What makes thee so placid and calm? "The name of Jesus." See, he forgets everything! Ask him a question; he cannot answer it-he does not understand you. Still he smiles. His wife comes, inquiring, "Do you know my name?" He answers, "No." His dearest friend requests him to remember his intimacy. know you not," he says. Whisper in his ear, "Do you know the name of Jesus?" and his eyes flash glory, and his face beams heaven, and his lips speak sonnets, and his heart bursts with eternity; for he hears the name of Jesus, and that name shall endure for ever. He who landed one in heaven, will land me there. Come on, death. I will mention Christ's name, and tell thee to thy face that I fear thee not! O grave! this shall be my glory, the name of Jesus! Hell-dog! this shall be thy deathfor the sting of death is extracted by Christ our Lord.-Spurgeon.

JOHN HARDIE'S SWEET COMMUNION HYMN.

[How deeply sanctified, and how richly filled with love to CHRIST, that heart must be which can send forth utterances like the following:]

0

MY God, Thy face unveiling,
Thou hast turned my night to
day;

Jesus, fount of grace, unfailing,
Thou hast wash'd my sins away.
Peace with God is mine for ever;
Lamb, Thy blood was shed for
me;

Wrath and condemnation. never

Find the souls who cling to Thee!"

Holy Spirit, make me holy,

From all dross my soul refine;
Make me wise, and pure, and lowly,
Make, O, make me wholly Thine!
Come, Thy power and grace reveal-
ing,

Teach my heartfelt thanks to flow;
In the depths of thought and feel-

ing,

Deeper love I long to know.