of true sanctifying grace at all: every drop of water is water, and every grain of gold is gold; every measure of grace is precious. But, who is there, that, when he is dry, would take up with one drop of liquor, when he might have more? or, if covetously minded, would sit down content with one dram of gold? in such cases, a little doth but draw on a desire of more. It is strange to see, that, in all other commodities, we desire a fullness we would have full dishes, full cups, full coffers, full barns, a fullness of all things; save the best of all, which is, the Holy Ghost. Any measure of spiritual grace contents us; so as we are ready to say with Esau, I have enough, my brother. There is a sinful kind of contention, wherewith many fashionable Christians suffer themselves to be beguiled, to the utter undoing of their souls: for, hereupon they grow utterly careless to get, what they think they have already: who cares to eat, that is full crammed? And, by this means, they live and die graceless: for, had they ever tasted how sweet the Lord is in the graces of his Holy Spirit, they could never think they had enough; and, while they do think so, they are utterly incapable of either having or desiring more. As there is a sinful, so there is a holy covetousness; which, the more it hath, the more it affects. Lord, make me thus covetous, and I cannot choose but be rich.-Bishop Hall. THE GOSPEL OAK. (See the Vignette.) THE old tree which forms the subject of our Vignette, besides its extremely picturesque character, derives some interest from the name locally bestowed uyon it. It is called the "Gospel Oak" from a tradition that it formed a natural pulpit for some earnest expounder of the truth, in days when "the word of the Lord" was emphatically "precious," in consequence of prevalent persecutions, or the limited knowledge which obtained relative to the glad tidings of salvalion. Similar names are not unfrequent; but truth compels us to believe that in most cases they have given birth to the traditions associated with them simply as a means of explaining why such titles were bestowed. POETRY. ANSWERS TO ENIGMA. Although the bowers of Eden ne'er This first and last of human foes Still 'tis a curse,-and what we fear, 'Tis truly said in Eden's ground Your dreaded presence was not found, No gloomy being had its birth; M. W. When called to meet thy cold embrace, And meet thee with a smile, 0! Death. I could not dwell in Paradise, But when, to seek in this dark world And infant child, and hoary age, With pain must yield their breath, But yet to some it has been given, To view in Death a welcome friend BIRTHDAY THOUGHTS. My Birth-day! how that gladsome sound Comes freshly o'er my memory now, A father wreathed around my brow. ELIZA. A. E. G. Dear mother! thou art left me still, With Mary, at my Saviour's feet, Waiting to sit, from year to year, Within Thy vineyard, helpless still, Wearisome days and nights of pain, Emerging from the wintry gloom, E'en now I mark the length'ning day, I hear a voice from nature's tomb, Which 'midst Hope's twilight seems to say,— "Grief may endure throughout the night, My Birth-day! Lord to thee I raise "WORK WHILE IT IS CALLED TO-DAY." Work for the world as one that hopes Yet will not rest therein, For all its upward strains and steps Work as thou can'st in field or fane, With hand or thought with speech or pen For woe is wide, and wrong is old, Work for thy soul, and bring not down Why shouldst thou serve the dust? But watch the wheat, weed out the tares, Life hath this glorious task for thee. Work bravely, with a heart made rich The hindrance may be praise and gain, That summoned thee to seek and save, "Work cheerfully! the thorns and briars A worker with the tried and true With prophets, saints, and angels too, Was it not told the☺ in his sight How precious seemed the widow's mite? |