"Tell me, I pray you, do you not consider such treatment heathenish and shameful?" "Assuredly," said he, casting one of his serious glances on me; "but I think it will be better that we should resume this subject by and by. You might not be able to bear it just now." ing the University, I had myself entirely laid with a bang behind me. I immediately sought aside the evil habit. Anxious, moreover, to out my uncle, that I might relieve my overengage the man's attention upon subjects of burdened heart. When I had concluded my higher consideration than the every-day con- narrative, he looked straight before him, withcerns of life, I laid down my pipe, and without saying a word. This silence pained me uplifted warning finger began to lecture him terribly. seriously and solemnly on the sin and danger of the God-dishonouring practice of swearing. The smith listened with evident indignation; his wife blushed up to the ears; and he soon got into such a passion that his eyes shot fire. "Reverend sir," said he in great excitement, "I believe I am old enough, and of sufficient understanding, to know what I ought to say, and to leave unsaid. This is a custom I have had from childhood, and which gives me little thought; I do not intend thereby either to dishonour or to offend the Lord; the word, in fact, passes my lips before I am aware. "That may be,” replied I, with fervid zeal, "but do you not know that we have to do with an Almighty God, whose very name is thrice holy, and who will not be mocked?" "Mocked!" exclaimed the smith, striking the table with clenched fist, "Do you take me for a mocker? I have as much reverence for God as you have, although I may not make so long a face about it." "No, indeed;" added the wife: "my husband may be what else you will, but a mocker he is not, and you must not think him so. We have always been honest people, and pay every man his own!" "True," continued he: " and if a man does let fall a hasty word occasionally, he need not be so severely reckoned with, if in the main he be honest and respectable." "What!” cried I indignantly, "that is your opinion? then I assure you that your eyes will tell another tale at the day of judgment. You will then learn that 'our God is a consuming fire,' that your righteousness will burn like chaff, for His wrath shall flame forth" "Why not?" "Because you are still so wearied with your work, that you should first rest yourself." With these words my uncle took his stick, and ere I could stop him, he had left the room. "Wearied!" repeated I to myself, for upon that word my uncle had laid peculiar emphasis; and I felt that he was right, for I sank worn out and sad upon a chair. By degrees I regained my tranquillity, and began to reflect seriously upon God's dealings with me in the recent interview. "You might certainly have made a better beginning," said I to myself; "your onslaught was rather too precipitate. The man was scarcely prepared for such a sudden attack. He deserved, however, to be rebuked for his sin; and he is so rough and uncivilised, such a hard mass, that it would take many a blow of the hammer to make even a slight impression on him." There I sat, still absorbed in thought, when my uncle returned from his walk. He seated himself on an opposite chair, looked at me kindly, and said: "Now you seem rather more composed, the sweat has dried upon your brow, and your cheek is less flushed than when I left you." I did not answer; for I knew not what reply to make. I scarcely knew how I felt. My uncle could not doubt that I had been zealous for the glory of God's name; but there was something in his words that irritated me, and "My discomposure must have attracted your peculiar attention, my dear uncle!" "Flames and fire!" roared the smith: "I am content with those in my workshop. II said at length :know not whether I am such a fagot as you would make me out; but this I do know, that it is highly unbecoming in so young a man thus to fall foul of older and more sensible people than himself, on account of a few hasty words, and to make as long a face the while, as if you had been blowing the bellows in my workshop for a day at least. If you have no more agreeable message to bring than this, the carpenter has left a passage for you, and the sooner you go through it the better, if you were a thousand times a minister." "I shall not be long of doing that," said I, highly offended: "and I shake the dust off my feet as a testimony against you; but rest assured that God will soon find you out, and teach you what it is to fight against Him!" “It did, indeed," replied he in a serious tone: "I always feel compassion for those who work so hard that they eat their bread in the sweat of their brow. They remind me that it was otherwise in the garden of Eden. It is only since man fell from his allegiance to God, and has tried to work independently of Him, that his labour has become so grievous. All work is easy when we have God as our helper; but it is in such circumstances alone that we are told, 'Ye shall run and not be weary, ye shall walk and not faint!"" were Now, indeed, "the pointed things as sharp arrows to me. I became much annoyed. With these words I seized my hat and "What!" exclaimed I; "do you think that hurried out at the door, which the wife shut | I was not working for the Lord?" THE PASTOR OF GEGENBURG. "I willingly believe," replied my uncle kindly, "that you were working for the Lord; but whether you were a fellow-worker with the Lord, is quite another question. Tell me, have you never been guilty of the sin for which you very properly rebuked the smith?" "Yes, alas!" said I; "it was but lately that I confessed it to yourself." "And who released you from the wicked custom?" "It was the Lord that released me,” replied I, much moved: "one day when I was recounting the great and numerous benefits which a glorious and holy God was daily showering down upon me, I was brought to feel my vile ingratitude in taking His blessed name in vain. Since then I have been enabled entirely to lay aside the wicked habit; and I thank Him for giving me the grace to do so." "And with good reason; for it is a blessing He has conferred on you in preference to many others. But it was, like all His blessings, freely conferred, and if you had bethought yourself of this, you would surely have offered it freely also to the smith." "Which I certainly desired to do!" said I impatiently. "Did I ask anything of him in return?" "I think you did; and a great deal too. You demanded instant conversion, a deep sense of guilt, fear and trembling, and spared neither the thunders of the law nor the lightnings of eternal damnation, to reduce him to the required condition. Did the Lord deal thus with you, when He awakened you to a sense of the same transgression? Did He threaten you at once with death and hell, eternal vengeance and damnation? Did He visit you with horror, trembling, and despair, before He led you into the right way? Ah no! He spoke to you of His wondrous grace and truth, and quenched your opposition by the prevailing might of His love. Why did not you go and do likewise to your fellowsinner?" Meanwhile, this report of my interview with the smith made a great noise in the village. The whole population were angry and excited; and even the children brought sparks from the fire which had been kindled by their elders. The schoolmaster, our good friend Philip, suffered severely in connexion with it; and the young people generally took evidently increased delight in cursing and swearing, and taking the name of God in vain. The friendly countenances which we had been wont to meet upon our walks now wholly disappeared, and visiting the cottages became altogether out of the question; if we ventured to knock at a door, we were immediately answered by a voice from the window, announcing that there was no one at home. Í preached on Sunday to nearly empty benches; and the few who did attend service seemed rather to stare compassionately at the preacher than to 89 listen devoutly to his discourse. The publichouse, on the other hand, was fuller than ever; and as I returned in the evening from my walk, I never passed a group of children on the road, that they did not salute me with some species of impertinence. This state of matters lasted for many weeks. I became very impatient and downcast; the more so that my uncle scarcely ever left his bed-chamber, and maintained a deep and torturing silence on the subject. I endeavoured occasionally to engage him in conversation, bitterly lamenting the unhappy circumstances in which we were placed, and the evil spirit by which the people seemed to be possessed. The only answer he ever gave was, "It cannot be otherwise, 'because the law worketh wrath."" I perceived, however, that the old man suffered bitterly; and at length discovered the nature of his occupation in his solitary chamber, when one day he said to me,"Benjamin, much prayer will be necessary to set this affair to rights!" I felt the force of the remark, and had, indeed, myself prayed frequently for an alteration in our circumstances. But my prayers were of no avail,and no wonder, seeing that I prayed for a change in the hearts of the adversaries, forgetting the renewal which was equally necessary in my own. The law had assuredly worked wrath in me also; in order to pray aright we need not the spirit of the law but the spirit of grace; for the spirit of grace is also the spirit of supplication. About a month after, our village was visited by a deadly fever. Scarcely one family escaped, and the mirth of the Gegenburgers was turned to mourning. As the church-yard filled, the public-house was gradually emptied. One morning the smith sent for me in haste; he had been seized with the fever, and desired to speak to me. My heart, which had been deeply solemnised by the prevalence around me of death, that stern preacher of the truth, had been deeply humbled before God, and emptied of self-confidence. I received the message with thankfulness, and in a few minutes was seated by his sick-bed. "Dear sir," said the poor fellow, "can you forgive my wickedness? I treated you most shamefully!" "Welker," I answered, "I on my part ought to ask your forgiveness! I told you indeed the truth, but I did not tell it to you in love. I ought to have spoken_gently and kindly to you; instead of which I roused your indignation by severity." "Oh, do not speak so!" replied the sick man, "I would only be assured that you forgive me." Freely, and with all my heart," said I. Ah, then I am content to die! I would not willingly have left the world with the sin upon my conscience of having insulted a servant of the Lord." "We, then,” said I, "are reconciled.” "Now, my friend," I continued, "may I speak further with you?" "Oh, the more the better!" "You believe you are going to die! Have you then reflected in whose presence you are about to appear?" "Yes; I am about to appear before an almighty God." "And is it then sufficient to secure your peace in such a prospect, that the difference which had arisen between you and me has been adjusted? Have you no sin upon your conscience that makes you dread to see the face of God?" "Ah!" replied he, "I have so often thought of that fire of which you spoke to me, and have made a mock at it; but, yesterday, when I felt the pain of fever steal through every limb, I said to my wife, 'Can this be the beginning of the fire of vengeance?"" "Well," said I, "let us not speak just now of that awful fire. We know that the Lord will not be mocked, and that it is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God. But let us not seek to measure the tortures of those whom the flames of His wrath shall consume; let us rather seek to discover whether there may not be a way of escape. I fear it would scarce be well with you, if in your present condition you were to enter on the future life." The sick man was silent, and regarded me with an expression of anxious inquiry. I continued :—“I am a sinner like yourself; and when but lately I reviewed my past life, and anticipated death and eternity, I felt that all was not well with me, and trembled at the thought of the dark future. I was not long of discovering the source of my uneasiness. From my infancy a gracious God had cared for and protected me, and showered on me His choicest blessings; while I, instead of thanking, have forgotten and forsaken Him, have shewed myself most perverse and ungrateful. Upon this arose the question,Who will atone for my guilt, and save me from damnation? and who will give me a new heart, which shall take pleasure in the love and service of my God?" Behold, the gospel of Jesus Christ informs me, that He both died and rose again for me-died for my offences, and rose again for my justification, and thus wrought out for me an everlasting righteousness. This Jesus of whom I speak to you, has released us from the unquenchable fire, and shields us from the vengeance of the holy Judge. He came to save sinners; and if you desire salvation, you have but to cast yourself as a sinner at His feet, confessing that you have deserved death, and that you look for life in Him alone. That, at least, is what I have done, and have thereby found for Jesus has given to me the pardon peace; of my sins, has taught me to walk in the light of His countenance, and to serve Him with my whole heart and soul." Such was the tenor of my conversation with this poor sick man, who listened with evident and fixed attention, until the fever rose so high, that it became imprudent to prolong the interview. Pressing the hand which he stretched out with tears, I left him, praying inwardly for his eternal welfare. The smith's illness was not unto death. His recovery was slow; but he at length regained his wonted strength-and what is of still more consequence-the course of his life henceforth was as a rising from the dead. His conversion proved a blessing to the neighbourhood; and although when the disease forsook our borders, it had brought numbers to the grave, many dead souls had thereby been aroused to newness of life. DAYBREAK. A WIND came up out of the sea, ་་ And said, "O mists, make room for me!" It hail'd the ships, and cried, "Sail on, And hurried landward far away, It said unto the forest, "Shout! It touch'd the wood-bird's folded wing, It shouted through the belfry-tower, -Longfellow. AN EVENING MELODY. OH that yon pines which crown the steep Pale poplars on the wind that lean That yon white bird on homeward wing Beyond our sight might never flee, Pellucid thus in golden trance, Deliverance? She dreams of that New Earth divine, Conceived of seed immortal: She sings, "Not mine the holier shrine, But mine the cloudy portal!” THE CHURCH IN THE HOUSE. 91 AMBROSE'S HYMN, COELESTIS URBS JERUSALEM." CELESTIAL seat, Jerusalem, Blest vision of unfailing peace, Built up of living stones, by them Thy walls to starry skies increase: O thou espoused with richest dower, O beauteous Queen! betrothed, yet free: Resplendent city! blest above, With Christ our Prince in nuptial love. Here spread the ample portals fair, To all aspirants open'd wide; And rich with pearls and jewels rare, The chisel's oft-repeated stroke, Urged by the mallet's ponderous power, The stone's rough stubborn substance broke, And fashion'd thee on high to tower; And fitly shaped, and firmly joined, Was all by skilful hands combined. Let glory, praise, and honour due Be to the Eternal Father paid; And to His sole-begotten true, Amen. -F. C. H. in "Notes and Queries." THE CHURCH IN THE HOUSE, WITH LIVING PREACHERS. DILIGENCE IN THE USE OF THE MEANS OF GRACE. LUKE XIII. 10-17. WE see in these verses a striking example of diligence in the use of means of grace. We are told of a 66 woman which had a spirit of infirmity eighteen years, and was bowed together, and could in no wise lift up herself." We know not who this woman was. Our Lord's saying that she was "a daughter of Abraham" would lead us to infer that she was a true believer. But her name and history are hidden from us. This only we know, that when Jesus was "teaching in one of the synagogues on the Sabbath," this woman was there. Sickness was no excuse with her for tarrying from God's house. In spite of suffering and infirmity, she found her way to the place where the day and the word of God were honoured, and where the people of God met together. And truly she was blessed in her deed! She found a rich reward for all her pains. She came sorrowing, and went home rejoicing. The conduct of this suffering Jewess may well put to shame many a strong and healthy professing Christian. How many, in the full enjoyment of bodily vigour, allow the most frivolous excuses to keep them away from the house of God! How many are constantly spending the whole Sunday in idleness, plea sure-seeking, or business, and scoffing and sneering at those who "keep the Sabbath holy!" How many think it a great matter if they attend the public worship of God once on Sunday, and regard a second attendance as a needless excess of zeal akin to fanaticism! How many find religious services a weariness while they attend them, and feel relieved when they are over! How few know anything of David's spirit, when he said, "I was glad when they said to me, Let us go into the house of the Lord"-"How amiable are thy tabernacles, O Lord of hosts!" (Ps. cxxii. 1, Ps. lxxxiv. 1.) Now what is the explanation of all this? What is the reason why so few are like the woman of whom we read this day? The answer to these questions is short and simple. The most have no heart for God's service. They have no delight in God's presence or God's day. "The carnal mind is enmity against God." The moment a man's heart is converted, these pretended difficulties about attending public worship vanish away. The new heart finds no trouble in keeping the Sabbath holy. Where there is a will there is always a way. Let us never forget that our feelings about Sundays are sure tests of the state of our souls. The man who can find no pleasure in giving God one day in the week is manifestly unfit for heaven. Heaven itself is nothing but an eternal Sabbath. If we cannot enjoy a few hours in God's service once a week in this world, it is plain that we could not enjoy an eternity in His service in the world to come. Happy are they who walk in the steps of her of whom we read to-day! They shall find Christ and a blessing while they live, and Christ and glory when they die. We see, secondly, in these verses, the almighty power of our Lord Jesus Christ. We are told that when He saw the suffering woman of whom we are reading, "He called her to him, and said unto her, Woman, thou art loosed from thine infirmity. And he laid his hands on her." That touch was accompanied by miraculous healing virtue. At once a disease of eighteen years' standing gave way before the Lord of Life. "Immediately she was made straight, and glorified God." We need not doubt that this mighty miracle was intended to supply hope and comfort to sin-diseased souls. With Christ nothing is impossible. He can soften hearts which seem hard as the nether mill-stone. He can bend stubborn wills which "for eighteen years" have been set on self-pleasing, on sin, and the world. He can enable sinners who have been long poring over earthly things, to look upward to heaven, and see the kingdom of God. Nothing is too hard for the Lord. He can create, and transform, and renew, and break down, and build, and quicken, with irresistible power. He lives who formed the world out of nothing, and He never changes. Let us hold fast this blessed truth, and never let it go. Let us never despair about our own salvation. Our sins may be countless. Our lives may have been long spent in worldliness and folly. Our youth may have been wasted in soul-defiling excesses, of which we are sorely ashamed. But are we willing to come to Christ, and commit our souls to Him? If so, there is hope. He can heal us thoroughly, and say, "Thou art loosed from thine infirmity." Let us never despair about the salvation of others so long as they are alive. Let us name them before the Lord night and day, and cry to Him on their behalf. We may perhaps have relatives whose case seems desperate because of their wickedness. But it is not really so. There are no incurable cases with Christ. If He were to lay His healing hand on them, they would be "made straight, and glorify God." Let us pray on, and faint not. That saying of Job is worthy of all acceptation: "I know that thou canst do everything" (Job xlii. 2). Jesus is "able to save to the uttermost.” Rev. J. C. Ryle. THE CHIEF OF SINNERS. WAS Paul then really the chief of sinners? Perhaps not. In a preceding verse, he tells us that he had been "a blasphemer, and a persecutor, and injurious," but he was all this "ignorantly, through unbelief;" he did not know what he was doing; nay, "I verily thought," he says in another place, "that I ought to do many things contrary to Jesus of Nazareth." It was all a mistake. And nothing else but this could be laid to his charge. | His life was irreproachable. "Touching the righteousness which is in the law," he declares he was 66 blameless." And yet, brethren, look here this very Paul, this erring but yet zealous and apparently blameless man, says, "Of sinners I am chief." And what has led him to say this? The reception of this faithful saying has led him to say it. He never said it nor anything like it, till he became a believer in Jesus Christ. This is one of the many blessed but strange fruits of a cordial acceptance of the gospelit lays a man down. And it is the only thing that can lay a man down. We never see much of our own sinfulness, till we look at our sinfulness and Christ together-till we begin to view it in the light which Christ's incarnation, and Christ's humiliation, and Christ's death, and Christ's continual intercession, throw on it. We see the magnitude of the evil in the magnitude of the remedy provided for it, and in that only. The living God uniting Himself to man; "the high and holy One that inhabiteth eternity," dwelling, and dwelling for years, in a world like this; the God who is so high that He is said to humble Himself even when He bends down to look on the things in His own lofty heavens, yet coming down among, and actually becoming one of, the things of earth, were this all God has done to save us, there is enough here to make us feel-what? that He is a God of stupendous goodness, of the most wonderful mercy? that we owe Him more praise, more thankfulness, love, and service, than we can ever pay Him? Yes, and to make us feel still more strongly that sunk and lost indeed must we have been, to render such wonders of grace needful for our deliverance. It is a mistake to suppose that the man who hopes in Christ only for salvation makes light of sin; He is the only man in the world who does not make light of it. And the more we see of the riches of God's mercy towards us in Christ Jesus, the more shall we see of our own guiltiness. The clearer and more affecting our views are of the one, the deeper and more abasing will be our sense of the other. And this will account for the strange language of the apostle. He saw, perhaps, more than any other man ever saw on earth, of "the length, and breadth, and depth, and height" of the love of Christ; and that led him to see within himself more iniquity and evil. It made him, with his noble intellect, and high attainments, and unexampled labours and honours, one of the very humblest of the sons of men. Hence he speaks of himself, not perhaps as he really was, but as he appeared to himself to be, "less than the least of all saints," the very chief of sinners. And in the verse following the text, he goes further. He represents himself as a spectacle of mercy, -as having obtained mercy of the Lord, not from the Lord's compassion to himself, but in compassion to all other sinners, that they might see in him, the greatest of sinners, how much guilt the Lord can pardon, and what enormous transgressors He can save. ever. Happy is the man who thinks and feels thus! Is there a man among us who feels thus? God grant that so you may feel for It is Christian feeling. It is a proof that the gospel of Jesus Christ has not only reached your ears, but entered your mind and heart. You will carry that feeling with you to your Master's feet in heaven. When there, you will think yourself one of the greatest wonders there. You will say, "I was the very last to be looked for here. The chief of sinners was I. And now what am I? Happy as the happiest, high almost as the highest, a wonder to myself, a wonder to my fellowsinners around me, a wonder to angels, and, I could almost think, a wonder to my God. It is true, true indeed, that Christ Jesus went into the world to save sinners, for here am I saved and blest.” Oh for something of this spirit among us now! a lowly, self-abasing spirit! It is one of the best preparations we can have for a heaven of glory. It is one, too, of the sweetest feelings we can carry about with us in our way to that heaven. The more we have of it, |