or less definite of a mode of reconciliation or redress. We know that the earliest traditions of heathen nations refer to the great fact of a Coming Mediator, and in accordance with this view, we find the Saviour of the world announced in prophecy-not as the desire of this or that people-of this church or that--but as the Desire of Nations-the Sun of Righteousness, whose beams were for the healing of a world-wide malady.

With what intensity this feeling seized upon the human mind we may learn from the expression of it by Balak, king of Moab, "Wherewith shall I come before the Lord, and bow myself before the High God. Shall I come before him with burntofferings, with calves of a year old. Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams, or with ten thousands of rivers of oil. Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression-the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul." (Micah iv. 6.)

Can any one read this touching outery-and it is the outcry of all heathendom by the mouth of Balak—without asking of the conscience-stricken king, "Who told thee that thou wast naked ?" Yet it is evident from the reply of Balaam, that his conscience, which told him he was wrong, would have led him right, had he allowed it full play-" He hath told thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the Lord require of thee but to do justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?" The heart was at fault, and no outward rites could speak for that. The intellect might tax its ingenuity to discover new forms and modes of approach to God, or to multiply the cost or enhance the value of its sacrifices: but without humility and contrition, a lowly walking before him in the exercise of justice and the love of mercy-these services were an abomination in his sight whose favor they were intended to secure.

The king of Moab was but a type of the heathen world of antiquity. Not only were all people conscious of a fall from original righteousness, but many of them possessed a vague idea of the mysterious circumstances by which that lapse into sin had been brought about. The mystic Tempter that old Dragon, the serpent-was the theme of all, from the wild hunter Indian of America to the polished Greek, who, crowned with serpents, yelled out the name of our common mother Eve in the mad orgies of Bacchus. Their earliest fables speak of rebel

L

giants daring to defy Omnipotence; of mighty dragons wrestling with the sun himself, or watching with eyes of fire the golden apples in the garden of the Hesperides. "The mystic serpent," says Mr. Deane, "entered into the mythology of every nation, consecrated almost every temple, symbolized almost every deity, was imagined in the heavens, stamped upon the earth, and ruled in the regions of everlasting sorrow.”

Nor was this general belief inoperative. Sacrifices were largely offered, and yet the fury of this want was not appeased. The choicest gifts were laid upon the altar, the son was immolated by his father, and yet the heavens appeared to be as brass, resonant only with mourning, and lamentation, and woe! The world realized but one half of God's great scheme of salvation. They felt that all were included under sin; but they knew not that this was done that God might have mercy upon all. They were not prepared for this. Free, full, unpurchased, unconditional, mercy was the last thing they looked for, and the last they found. Conscious that they were naked, they nevertheless thought to work out for themselves a tissue that might serve them in their utter need, instead of that humble and contrite spirit which alone could give value to their multitudinous offerings.

This then seems to have been the state of the world without the Bible. All were not only sinners, but thoroughly, painfully, conscious of sin. But it was a consciousness that served only to fan into a flame the embers of self-righteousness within each heart. It made them desperate in their attempts, if not to work out their own salvation, at least to do all they could towards it. That sin should qualify them for mercy, they never could, and never did, imagine. But God's ways are not as our ways; and passing by the righteous, he has given us his Son to call sinners to repentance. "Come now, and let us reason together saith the Lord, though your sins be as scarlet they shall be white as snow, and though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool."

The cold, stern-hearted Deist, may talk as he will of the dignity and nobility of human nature. He may reject the Bible because he is convicted by it; but he cannot so easily get rid of the fact-a fact written like the poet's awful vision, with

a pen dipped in the gloom of earthquake and eclipse-that the whole world is against him. He must cleanse it of its mysterious, and significant, and costly rites, ceremonies, and sacrifices -he must sweep away all the hideous imagery of heathen mythology, before he can make out a case in favor of this theory of human uprightness and integrity, for its testimony in all ages. has been, now is, and ever will be, that "man is very far gone from original righteousness, and is of his own nature inclined to evil, so that the flesh lusteth always contrary to the spirit, and therefore in every person born into this world, it deserveth God's wrath and damnation."

Before Deism, or Pharasaism, or Socinianism were invented, the world was not only sinful, but self-conscious of sin. To deny the universal prevalence of this malady, appears to be a heresy of comparatively modern times. All the nations of antiquity, savage and civilized, had given in their consent to this doctrine, not only by a passive acquiescence in it, but by a consentaneous -a tremendous-an unwearying-an indomitable effort-an agony which might remove mountains-to be freed from its awful and crushing penalties. The whole creation groaned and travailled to throw off this mysterious and intolerable burden, and the shout went up from all heathendom to its gods many and lords many-"How long shall I cry, and thou wilt not hear, even cry out unto thee of violence, and thou wilt not save!" (Hab. i. 2.)

(To be concluded next month.)

THE LAST WORDS OF FIFTY ONE.

(From "Little Henry's Records of his Life Time."*)

The voice of "Old Eighteen-Fifty-One" had been faltering very much during the last part of his discourse; and his

By the author of "Pleasant Pages."-London, Houlston & Co. We have so often had the pleasure of commending Mr. Newcombe's writings to the favorable notice of our readers, that any comment on this pretty little work might appear superfluous. It is an admirable and engaging Year Book f r 1851—smart, lucid, and significant of sound and healthy progress. But let our readers, by wisely expending the small sum of one shilling, judge for themselves. We avail ourselves of this opportunity heartily to thank Mr. Newcombe for his acceptable "Pleasant Pages" which continues the leading favorite of our little folks.

memory seemed to fail him. His ideas, too, were getting confused, and he expressed himself in lengthy sentences. Indeed he seemed to be aware of this. "Dear children,” he continued, "I am afraid to venture any further; it would be better not to describe anything now, for fear I should not speak the exact truth--a weakness of vision has come over me, so that I cannot see far back into my memory.

“You have heard very little about foreign countries, but the Author who is going to make my tale into a book has called upon me very suddenly. I would advise you, when you make arrangements with Eighteen-Fifty-Two, to agree that he shall give you an account of the whole world, and shall begin to take notice at the beginning of his life.

"But I am an old year. Ah, I am getting very old! Twelve long months! think of that! I feel certain signs within me which I do not like—I see the threatening face of yonder clock, with its minute-hand moving on to twelve. But pray, hear the voice of an old year once more! Children, look forward—you may see the death of twenty more years. And when Eighteen Hundred and Seventy-One shall talk of the people of this world, whom will he speak of? He will perhaps speak of YOU. You may then be part of the men and women of this world. "What will Eighteen-Seventy-One' say of you?

"Will he say that you learned something from EighteenFifty-One?

"Will he say that you learned something from EighteenFifty-Two?

"Will he say that you learned something from EighteenFifty-Three, and from every year up to his time? or will he that you still spend your years as a tale that is told?

say

"Speak! Before I go, tell me! Will you not learn from each year TO LIVE AND DO GOOD? Have you not seen how men do good by helping the progress of intelligence; by helping to improve the health of their neighbours; by helping 'sanitary reform'? Some, too, have helped the social progress of the world. In how many ways may we help if we live to do good! "Do good-any way!

"Live to-"

Burr-r-r-r-r-r-BANG! and here a great stroke from the clock

in the hall struck Old Eighteen-Fifty-One, and shook his feeble frame. It was the first stroke of his death-knell; it seemed to strike him back; so far, that the dim month of January was lost sight of altogether; still he spoke

"LIVE!" he cried, "as much as you can; even to help on the progress of intelligence."

Burr-r-r-r-r-r-r-BANG! sounded forth the clock, and knocked the month of February clean out of sight. But Old EighteenFifty-One heeded it not; he spoke while he could.

"LIVE! as much as you can; progress of men."

even to help the sanitary

“Burr-r-r-r-r-r-r-Bang! donged forth the timekeeper, and Old Eighteen-Fifty-One shook again; the month of March was shaken into pieces, and it sank deep into the past, out of sight. Still Old Eighteen-Fifty-One lived.

"LIVE!" he cried, "if only to help in the social progress of the earth."

Burr-r-r-r-r-r-r-Bang! grumbled forth the clock, with an angry face, and struck Old Eighteen-Fifty-One so far back that even the showery month of April was not left to weep for his fate; but the undaunted old fellow kept on.

'LIVE! children. Live as much as you can; for in the progress of temperance you may help.”

Burr-r-r-r-r-r-r-Bang! through the ears of the children, right in his face, growled the stern tell-tale of time, with a still darker look. So, even "smiling May" shrunk from his frowns, and Old Eighteen-Fifty-One seemed another month shorter than before.

"LIVE!—as much as you can," he cried ; "that you may be free, and teach freedom of the person, freedom of spirit, freedom of thought, freedom to do all that God does not hinder-then will your life help the progress of 'anti-slavery' amongst men.

Burr-r-r-r-r-r-r-BANG!—with a thundering swoop, did the unwavering clock strike six, and swept the month of June, with all the flowery ornaments which in her love she had encircled about the old year. But he looked not to himself-the good old year wished to teach! Remembering the words, "Be ye kindly affectionate one to another," he sang forth his dying song