came to me, still full of distress. The Word of God pierced her heart, and it was sharper than any two-edged sword. Again she exclaimed, "It means me! It means me! It was not your voice, sir; it was the voice of God. He has given me space to repent, and I repented not." I never witnessed a deeper sense of sin, nor more brokenness of heart on its account in the first exercises of Christian life. I heard all she wished to say, and gave the best counsels I could, and directed her to see me again. "Once more she came from the distance of her house; but it was the last time. That interview gave me much pleasure. She sickened after this; and having lingered some weeks in weakness and suffering, she was called to another life. One of my deacons gave her kind attention to the last; and he has assured conviction of her sincere repentance and faith in Christ. She was not spared publicly to profess his name on earth; but we trust that she is "written amongst the living in Jerusalem." She seemed to have been brought on a visit of three days to this neighbourhood for the purpose of her conversion before she died, after having lived seventy-two years in negligence of the means of salvation. "Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire ?" THE BIBLE ITS OWN WITNESS. WOULD you know the qualifications of a physician, you will doubtless inform yourself of his country, of the universities in which he has studied, and examine the testimonials by which he is recommended; but when he shall come and speak of your most occult ailments, and define to you all the symptoms of your malady, when he shall tell you of feelings, of which, though vaguely felt, you had the conscious reality, and especially when he administers to your lips the only medicine which has ever given you relief. Oh! then, would not such experience bespeak his skill far better than his diplomas. Well, this is the advice which we venture to give to all those of our readers who have acquired any knowledge of sacred criticism-Read the Bible, study the Bible in itself, and for itsef; inquire if you will, where it has taken degrees, and in what schools its writers have studied, but come to its consolations like a sick man, eager to be cured; take as much pains to understand its words as you would to understand its credentials, its history, and its language; and then not only will you be cured (which is not here the question) but you will be enlightened; "He that healed me, said unto me, 'Take up thy bed and walk.'" "Whether he be a sinner or no, I know not; one thing I know, that whereas I was blind, now I see." The author would here remark that he had a thirst for apologetical books during his early studies; that Abbadie, Leslie, Huet, Turrettin, Grotius, Littleton, Jennings, Reinhardt, and Chalmers, where the authors whom he habitually read; and that amidst a thousand doubts he was eventually convinced and satisfied only by the word of Scripture itself. Scripture is its own witness-not only by its assertions, but by its effects, such as light, heat, life, and health; for its rays bring health, life, heat, and life. It may be proved to me by accurate calculations, that at this moment the sun ought to be above the horizon; but what need have I of this, if my eyes behold it, and my frame is animated by its genial beams?— Gaussen. PRACTICAL MATERIALISM. BEWARE of practical materialism. There is a theoretic materialism amongst us. There are men and books which deny the existence of spirit, and regard all life as mere organized matter. You are perhaps afraid of that; you argue furiously against it, and brand its advocates with infamous stigmas. I share your repugnance to it; but I participate not in your fears. An unsound theory can be shivered by argument: and a theory which clashes with the instinctive beliefs of humanity is too impotent to awaken rational alarm. But the materialism before which I confess my spirit cowers is that of professing Christians-the materialism that holds spirit in its creed—that prays for spirit in its prayers-that appropriates to itself the devoutest language of the Spiritual Book; but which gives to matter its chief sympathy, thought, labor and time. It is that which holds in theory that the sources of true greatness and happiness are within the soul itself; but whose practical aim is to extract both from matter. It is that which with solemn face will say that "one soul is of more value than the whole world,' and will grudge one day in any attempt to rescue a lost one; but readily devotes long years, and compasses sea and land in order to get gain. This is the huge sin not merely of our country, but of our churches. It is swallowing up all that is spiritual in human thought and feeling-it is veiling the Great Eternity from men.-Rev. D. Thomas's New Year's Address. Enquiries and Correspondence, NEW ENQUIRIES. Hereticks. DEAR SIR,-We find in Titus iii. 10, the following words : "A man that is an heretick, after the first and second admonition reject." Supposing we are acquainted with an heretic, and find that after admonishing him two, three, or even more times, he continues indifferent, are we to give up that man as hopeless? Your's very truly, Psalm ii. 9.-Revelation ii. 27. WILLIAM S. SIR,-Will you permit me to apply to you for the solution of a difficulty which has beset me? In Psalm ii. 9, it is written, "Thou shalt break them with a rod of iron ;"-the original Hebrew word used, expressing, as I understand, shivering into atoms-utterly destroying. Now, in Revelation ii. 27, John quotes this very passage, but in doing so, uses a Greek word, simply signifying to shepherd or rule over with a rod of iron, in allusion to a shepherd's crook,-one text implying destruetion; the other, care. How can this apparent contradiction be explained? Dublin. JOHN S. TRUE WORTH. THE value of every man consists in what he does well.Arabic Proverb. POETRY. CHANTREY'S SNOW-DROPS. MARVELS of sleep, grown cold! Who hath not longed to fold, With pitying grief, forgetful of their bliss, With none to watch them nigh, Or touch the silent lips with one warm human kiss? What! they are left alone All night with graven stone, Pillars and arches that above them meet; While through those windows high The journeying stars can spy, And dim blue moonbeams drop on their uncovered feet! Oh cold! Yet look again; There is a wandering vein Trac'd in the hand where those white snow-drops lie. Let her rapt dreamy smile, The wondering heart beguile, That almost thinks to hear a calm contented sigh. What silence dwells between Those sever'd lips serene, Revealing how her dream most sweetly flows! What trance-like peace is shed On the reclining head, And e'en on listless feet what languor of repose! Angels of peace and love, Lean towards her from above, And talk with her of sweet and wondrous things; Tell of the golden gate That, opened wide, doth wait And shadow her dim sleep with their celestial wings. Hearing of that blest shore, She thinks on earth no more, Contented to forego this wintry land: Yet turns, with meek caress, The sister form to press, And hold the snow-drops pale that blossom in her hand. Lay thy head down in peace, And take thy fill of ease, As on a pillow well beseeming it; Thou hast nor thought nor care, But to rest calmly there, Nor rouse thy sleepy eyes from that long dreaming fit. But on the other face Broodeth a mournful grace, She had foreboding thoughts beyond her years As, sinking to this sleep, She saw her mother weep, And could not lift her hand to dry those heart-sick tears. Could not-but failing, lay, Sighed her young life away, And let her arm drop down in listless rest, Too weary, on that bed To turn her dying head, Or fold her little sister nearer to her breast. Yet this is faintly told, On features fair and cold A look of calm surprise, of meek regret, As if with sleep oppress'd She turned her to her rest, And in an endless dream her mother watch'd her yet. How wistfully they close Those eyes to their repose! How quietly declines the placid brow! The young lips seem to say, "I have wept much to-day, "And felt some bitter pains, but they are over now." |