sinners, lost sinners, undone, and cannot come to God, but through Jesus, His beloved Son: and grace sufficient is offered to every one of us, in order that we may come. None can be "ready" unless they have "washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb:" unless they feel their hearts renewed, and their sins forgiven, for the sake of Him who died on Calvary: unless they have conscious acceptance "through the Beloved;" and these alone can be said to be "ready," waiting till their change come.

"For in such an hour as ye think not the Son of Man cometh." His coming shall be sudden and unexpected. None knoweth its time; "not even the angels which are in heaven, but my Father only." It may find some in the ballroom, threading the mazes of the dance, and hurry them away to the depths of an unseen, unthought-of eternity. Others

it may find in the ale-house, drinking perdition to themselves, and often to their families also; and these may only awake from their sleep to find themselves the prey of "the worm that dieth not, and of the fire that is never quenched." And now, look inside this little chamber, and behold a fair young form stretched on a bed of languishing; and hear from those pallid lips such words as these, "I know that my Redeemer liveth." Death comes there too; but O, how gently, how softly, he places his cold hand on the pale brow, and the spirit passes away to that God who gave it! Or, again, look at that venerable old man, whose limbs have refused to support the feeble frame, and whose every breath seems as though it would be the last hear what he says,"Though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God whom I shall see for myself, and mine eyes shall behold, and not another." And then the aged pilgrim sinks to rest on the bosom of his Lord. O, may I die the death of the righteous, and may my last end be like his! Christians the hour of death, though it may come unexpectedly, is a blissful hour; for thenceforth they shall be for ever in heaven.

To

And now let me address a word to the gay and thoughtless, to the lovers of pleasure more than of God. Would you like your call to come when you are in the height of mirth and excitement? Would you not, if you saw the grim form

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of death advancing, flee, crying, "I am not yet ready?" Would you like to see him come, when in the midst of your revelry? would not your cry be, "I am not yet ready?" Pause then, pause, and think. Death will wait for no man. He calls, and you must go. O, tremble and prepare! What will it avail you in the last great day, to say, "It was so sudden that I had no time?" No time, sinner! What! many long years for mirth, and yet no time! Prepare to meet thy God." "Be ye also ready for in such an hour as ye think not the Son of Man cometh.' Let me earnestly entreat all those who read these lines, and are still unsaved, to make sure work for eternity. And you who know Jesus I would encourage to press forwards; for there are heights and depths still unknown, even to you. And may we all remember the words of our Saviour, when he said, "Watch therefore: for ye know not what hour your Lord doth come;"-whether "at even, or at midnight, or at the cock-crowing, or in the morning. And what I say unto you I say unto all, Watch!" E. M. B.

BASKET OF FRAGMENTS. THOSE pay dear for pleasantry who joke at the expense of truth: others are very apt to conclude that if they disregard it in jest, they will also in earnest.

To judge by externals, is to test gold by the glitter; when, in truth, the refiner's crucible is the only place for proving the pure metal.

The moment a sapling becomes united to Christ, that moment the sapling becomes a fruit-bearer; and, if you are trees of the Lord, do not be surprised if you feel His pruning-knife-all his fruit-bearers feel

it.

Suppose the greatest sinner on the face of the earth were to come in here. Do you ask me what he must have done in order to have become such? O, he must have heard of the Gospel's salvation, and despised it!

To return the love of friends, is the charity of publicans from the compact of advantage; but to be well-minded towards enemies, is among the heights of the Christian law, and an imitation of the Godhead.

Be great students of the cross of Christ: it is the great means of resisting Satan.

GOD'S CARE OVER A MISSIONARY.

THE promise, "Lo, I am with you alway," doubtless includes protection from danger. The Missionary company which left Leith on the 7th of September, 1820, experienced a manifold fulfilment of this promise. There were together Sultan Katte Ghery, a descendant of the royal family of the Crimea, his wife, a daughter of a respectable gentleman in Edinburgh, myself, and one or two other passengers. After traversing the German Ocean a few days, with a favourable wind, a Sabbath occurred. As we were all suffering from sea-sickness, there was no public service; but in the evening we made an effort, and held a social meeting in the cabin, after which all went on deck, and continued to walk about till near nine o'clock, when there was a general move towards their respective berths. The Captain, too, retired; and only the Mate, myself, and two or three seamen, remained on deck. Again and again I resolved to retire to my cabin, but still continued alternately to recline on a bench, and move about on the quarter-deck, till it approached the hour of midnight, and I began to take myself to task for such unaccountable conduct. When these thoughts were passing in my mind, I looked across the quarter-bows of the vessel, and observed the high and rocky coast of Denmark, apparently within a few hundred yards of us. The alarm was instantly given; the Mate gave an immediate order to put the ship about; and the Captain, aroused by the bustle and noise, came on deck. After making inquiry as to the manner in which our danger was discovered, he observed, that if we had kept on in the same course a few minutes longer, we must all have perished. The vessel was sailing at such a rapid rate, that she would have gone to pieces by the first stroke against the rocks; and there was such a surge produced by the high wind lashing the sea against them, that all the boats must have been swamped, while to scale the precipices would have been impossible. On inquiring of the Captain why he had not been keeping a better watch, he informed me that, according to his reckoning, he was still fifty miles from land; and that there must have been a strong current in the ocean, occasioned by the prevalence of a westerly wind, which had impelled us onward much quicker than the log indicated. I looked back with a thankful heart upon the dreadful peril from which a merciful Providence had delivered us, and could then understand the reason why I had been prevented from retiring at my usual hour of rest. Eternity will never efface the impression made upon my mind by this manifest interposition of a kind Providence.

On that spot I dedicated myself anew to my kind Preserver, who had thus so wonderfully "delivered my soul from death."

I must add, as another instance of God's mercy, and the fulfilment of His promise, a second deliverance, but accomplished by other means. In the autumn of the year 1821, when I was living in a Russian fort, in the midst of a mountain-tribe called the Inguish, I was subject to repeated attacks of intermittent fever, which caused some alarm to the Russian officer who commanded the detachment of the army stationed there. He repeatedly invited me to occupy one of the two chambers of which his cottage consisted; supposing that the dampness of the subterranean residence which I occupied was the cause of my sickness. At last, finding that I should rather gratify than inconvenience him and his wife by my compliance, I removed to the Captain's house. The hovel which I quitted was formed by digging a space about twenty feet by twelve out of the brow of the hill, and throwing the earth over the precipice, which formed one side of the fort: this was boarded up on three sides, so as to prevent the soil from falling in, and a wooden front, with one or two small windows, formed the remaining side of the structure; to which a path from the hill above led through a cockroom on one end of the dwelling. The covering was composed of beams laid across, which supported an immense mass of earth, so solid, that the roof was in a line with the open space of the fort, and, indeed, formed part of the promenade. During the summer, I observed no dampness, and the beams appeared so strong that I felt no suspicion of danger. In the course of about a week after I had removed to the Captain's house, my servant came into my apartment at an early hour, and, with a very sad countenance, asked me to accompany him to see something which had arrested his attention. I followed him to the spot where a few days before my dwelling stood, the beams of which had given way, and the whole mass which they supported, enough to bury a hundred men, had fallen in; and the largest portion of it lay on the very spot where I used to sleep. I had often accounted my fever an affliction; and one night felt so ill, that I attempted to rise and write to my friends, informing them that, if found dead in the morning, they might know that sickness, and not violence, was the cause. Now, however, it appeared that this fever had been sent, not to destroy, but to save my life; for, if I had continued in my former habitation, it must have inevitably become my grave. I will neither attempt to recall nor to describe the feelings which I experienced on witnessing this desolation,

but have often reflected with gratitude upon my preservation, and have felt rebuked when disposed to distrust the kind

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providence of God over myself and family. -Rev. George Blyth, of the United Presbyterian Church.

THE MOTHER'S MISTAKE FATAL. WHO among the children of men requires so much wisdom as the mother of a family? The statesman requires wisdom that he may so advise or direct as to secure the happiness or prosperity of the nation; but should one statesman act unwisely, another may step in to repair the evil, and so his country may be saved from impending ruin. The merchant needs wisdom and skill, foresight and tact, that he may guide his affairs with discretion; but should all his plans be frustrated, and riches make themselves wings and fly away at one period of his life, he may have them restored at another; so that at the close of his life, he may leave his family in ease and comfort. farmer needs wisdom in cultivating his land and arranging his stock, so as to bring him the best return for his labour and toil; but, should he fail one year to realise his hopes, the next may make up the deficiency. The navigator needs wisdom to

The

guide his frail bark over the trackless deep, so that he may escape the rocks and whirlpools which may lie in his way; but, should he be unfortunate, and become a wreck, he has a chance of being saved by holding on by the rigging or in his boat, and in this painful situation he may find timely help from another voyager. But the mother !-if she make a mistake in her mighty work, the probability is that it will be fatal. Her little bark, which has just been launched in the ocean of life, will find many rocks and quicksands and whirlpools in its way; she, the mother, is to be the pilot for the most important part of the voyage; and, if she fails to guide it aright, dreadful will be the wreck, when it dashes over the precipice of time into eternity. There will be no kind hand to help, no returning seasons to repair the injury the work is done, and done badly; and eternity will echo and re-echo the dreadful tale of a child lost through a mother's neglect.

THE FAREWELL,-A PARTING
ADDRESS TO SERVANTS.

BY THE REV. DAVID HAY.

No doubt the time and place are fresh in your recollection, when you bade farewell to your parents and your home. On that day your heart overflowed with feeling, and your eyes with tears. While you were preparing to depart, you were sometimes excited by the prospect of the new circumstances in life in which you were about to be placed; and, at other times, you were depressed at the thought of the separation which was at hand. All this was natural; and had it been otherwise, there must have been either a sad fault in you, or in your home. But there was one who felt the pang of separation more keenly than even you. was not grief so much, as affectionate anxiety for your welfare. Your mother knew that she could no longer retain you; that it would not be for your advantage to do so; that this step was absolutely necessary in the circumstances of the family; yet she could not but feel much at parting with you, and with trembling apprehension she saw your frail bark launched on life's rough sea. She knew how many rocks are there! and how vast the number of those who have,

Yet it

in one or other of its tempests, suffered shipwreck in their reputation, and with it have perished life's fairest prospects. Perhaps the painful and distressing case of the child of some friend or neighbour was present to her mind, and her soul trembled, lest the same evil should befall her daughter also. If she were a religious mother, she not only gave you the warnings of experience, and the advices of affection, but pointed you especially to religion as your only safeguard, and commended you in prayer to the God of providence and grace. Though distant from her, she knew that you might ever find your heavenly Parent near; and to Him she would direct you to look, and in Iim to put Whether this were so or not, your trust. and whatever may have been your conduct to your Father who is in heaven, He it is who has preserved and delivered you. You owe your life and safety to His protection and blessing. May you serve Him in the spirit of grateful love on earth, and eternally adore your redeeming God in the society of the glorified, where farewells are never heard!

In this world, we must expect our intercourse to be often interrupted. From those in whom, by frequent association, we have become interested, we must part. You and

I have had some fellowship of late, but the time has come for me to bid you farewell. Before I do this, allow me, once more, earnestly and affectionately to address you. I must confess that my interest in you has increased with my effort to do you good, and I will not abruptly withdraw. I have been reviewing the subjects which have been brought under your consideration; and the more carefully you weigh them, I am sure you will be convinced, that you have been furnished with counsels and cautions which have a direct bearing upon your interests and happiness. I am most anxious, both for your own sake and that of the families in which you may live, that you should practically carry out the suggestions which have been offered. Do not be content to remain just what you

are.

--

Whatever excellencies you possess, you may greatly improve. You may yet learn much from your own experience,from your observation of the conduct of others, from the suggestions of friends, -and also from the remarks of those who are unfriendly to you.

1. Your past experience should teach you some valuable lessons. You have no doubt had occasion to mourn over inconsiderate, and even sinful, acts. One hour's folly has made a week bitter, and, in some instances, life itself less sweet and joyous. And are these things to be lost upon you? Are you to go on inflicting upon yourself and others troubles and sorrows, which a proper regard to the past might prevent? Surely not; rather let your bygone errors make you more watchful for the future, and avoid the evils from which you have suffered. It is an old and familiar proverb, that "a burnt child dreads the fire;" it is made cautious by the pain it has suffered and shall not the smart of past imprudence make you more careful in time to come? You have also had an experience of another kind. You have proved that a correct and sincere deportment has always yielded you comfort in the end. There is always an advantage eventually in doing what is right. Just in proportion to your diligent and honest performance of the duties of your station, you have found satisfaction. Then do not be allured by any tempter or seducer to leave a good path and a right way.

2. You may learn from the conduct of others, how you may best regulate your own. You will observe the ways of those around you, and especially those with whom you have intercourse. Instances of exemplary virtue will come before you, which you will do well to imitate. And because they have served others well, they have effectually served themselves. You have seen the opposite of these. Cases have come under your observation in which the parties have yielded to indolence, deceit, and treachery; and as they have sown, so have they reaped. Their reward has been accord

ing to their deeds,-first disgrace, then ruin. Take warning from such, lest you should be entangled by their sins, and caught in the snare of your great and fearful adversary, who goeth about seeking whom he may devour.

3. Take good heed to the advices, cautions, and even reproofs, of those who sincerely seek to promote your interests. If marking serious defects in you, they point them out, do not be offended, or suspect, on this account, the genuineness of their friendship. If, in consequence of your inexperience, they see you exposing yourself to danger, reject not their kind and earnest caution, though your proud and foolish heart incline you to resent the interference. And should you have fallen into error, and even into sin, and they reprove you, do not hesitate to confess your fault, and never attempt a justification in which your conscience will not support you.

4. And you may also learn valuable instruction from those who have never showed a friendly disposition towards you, but the contrary. There is often truth in their remarks, though made under the influence of an unkind feeling; and their very rancour and bitterness may be turned to good account. And, at any rate, the animosity of such is far less dangerous than the seductive flattery of the selfish and the insincere. From their society no advantage can be gained, but much evil may result. It appears, therefore, that from every circumstance in life you may learn something that may be of service to you; and that you may be always increasing your knowledge, and practically applying it to the duties of life.

And now, in conclusion, I ask you to reconsider the various subjects which have been brought before you. I have admitted that many servants go out into the world under great disadvantages, with scarcely any preparation for the duties of their station. But I have reminded you that, however uninstructed you might be, God has provided you with an infallible standard of duty in the Bible, in which you, as servants, are fully taught the nature and spirit of your duties. When you enter into an agreement as a servant, you are responsible to your heavenly, as well as your earthly, Master. Take care that you act so as to please God, and secure the approbation of your conscience.

I have endeavoured to impress upon your mind the value of a good character, and pointed out the way in which you may secure it. Never be indifferent to this Your respectability, if not your bread, depends upon it. A good character is a treasure to any servant; while the loss of it will involve her in poverty and shame.

And, further, I have directed you to religion, as the only source of true happiness. Whatever respect you may secure in conse

quence of your activity, ability, and integrity, you can only find satisfaction in loving and serving your God and Saviour. On that important matter, I hope you have already decided. You have abandoned the service of the world and sin; and in a denial of yourself, and a taking up of the cross, you are resolved to follow Christ. Having passed the strait gate, let me exhort you to walk in the narrow way, which leadeth unto life. You have tried the pleasures of sin, and proved them vain and delusive: you will find it better to suffer affliction with the people of God, knowing that there is a final recompense of reward.

Take care where you take up your abode. Always give the preference, if you have a choice, to a place in a religious family. There are families so worldly and so wicked, that you ought on no account to enter hem; yet, if your lot should ever be cast among those who are not followers of the Saviour, be mindful to witness a good confession. This you can only do by a life consistent with the religion you profess. Live with your fellow-servants in peace. In seasons of domestic sickness, do all in your power

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to diminish the burden of suffering and trial: unkindness and incivility, at such times, are cruel inflictions.

I have now briefly touched on those matters on which I have offered the best and most suitable advices in my power. I press them on your serious and careful attention. I have aimed at your profit. I am fully aware of your trials, dangers, and disadvantages; and this is not the least, that when perplexed, you have so seldom a judicious adviser at hand. Those to whom you are most disposed to listen are generally the most incompetent to guide you; while those who are best qualified you regard with distrust. The question is not what advice pleases you the best, but what advice is best for you to follow.

And now it only remains that I should commend you to God, and to His grace, praying that you may be willing to be guided by His counsel; and that, in every period of your life, acknowledging Him in all your ways, He may direct your paths, and finally bring you to a city of habitation. And with this prayer, I bid you FAREWELL.