whatever we do, we shall do all to the glory of God." If our religion be anything, it must come to this. Faith turns the whole life into one continued sacrifice to God. If we can call God our God, then in any trouble we can say, as Luther used to say, "Let us sing the forty-sixth psalm." But if any be without this refuge, what will they sing when trouble comes? To what refuge will they fly? A LOVING HEART. UNNY eyes may lose their brightness; Like that charming little flower, So when outward charms are gone, Ye, in worldly wisdom old; Grant me, Heaven, my earnest prayer, THE TWO SONS. (READ MATT. xxi. 28-32.) HIS parable is not difficult to understand, for it is one of those which our Lord Himself explained. He had been speaking to the chief priests and elders about John the Baptist. Now many open sinners had repented at the preaching of John; but the priests and elders had not repented. The son who said, "I go, sir, and went not," represented them; the other son, who at first refused to go, but afterwards repented and went, represented the penitent sinners, the publicans and harlots. These last had lived in wilful sin, making no pretence of obeying God, but saying by their conduct, "I will not." The Jewish rulers on the other hand professed to serve God, and, whatever their lives might really be, probably kept up a decent outward appearance. But they did not really serve God : their hearts were not given to Him; they said, and did not. When John came preaching repentance, and preparing the way of Christ, they did not believe or repent; and even afterwards, when they saw numbers turned to God by his means, they still remained impenitent. Thus the despised publicans and harlots entered into the kingdom of God before the proud scribes and Pharisees. But though this was the first and direct application of the parable, it may properly be applied more widely. There are still sinners who repent at the preaching of the Gospel; and there are still people answering to these Jewish priests and elders, professing godliness, but in reality far from the kingdom of God. Our Lord does not here justify sinners, as sinners; He takes these publicans and harlots in their changed condition, after they have repented and believed, and then declares that they find admittance into the kingdom of God. If they had remained impenitent, they must have perished. The son in the parable was wrong to say, "I will not," though his conduct afterwards was right. Nor does our Lord condemn a profession of religion, as such, but only a vain and empty profession. The other son was right in what he said, though wrong in what he did. Many people excuse themselves thus for an ungodly life, "I make no profession." ought to make a profession, only it should be a real and true profession. We It is not clear that these Jewish rulers were all hypocrites, though probably many of them were. Some perhaps mistook profession for reality, and flattered themselves that they were in the right way, because their lives did not show those gross sins which appeared in many around them. There is much danger of this. A gross sinner, when he thinks at all, must know that he is in the wrong, and that he stands in need of a great change. A man of a decent and moral life, on the other hand, who lives in no open sin, and attends to the outwards parts of religion, is apt to think that no such change is required in him. His eyes are not opened to see what sin is in its spirit; and, abstaining as he does from its grosser forms, he thus keeps conscience asleep. But sin has many different forms; and who shall venture to say which is the most offensive in the sight of God! We see two men, one leading a life of gross sin, the other living decently, though showing no sign of spiritual religion. Without giving much thought to the subject, we set down the gross sinner at once as the worse man of the two. But is that judgment certainly right? There are what may be called smooth sins, as well as rough sins; and if that man of decent life be covetous, extortionate, unmerciful, proud, or self-righteous, who can say how God looks upon him as compared with the other? Sin of every kind is con demned in Scripture, and condemned equally, though fessors, before those who say and do not, before those man has made distinctions. The great practical point for each to consider from the parable is this: What is my religion? Is it a mere profession, a decent life, an abstaining from gross sin? Is it no better than the obedience of him who said, "I go, sir; and went not?" Is it a name or a reality?a thing of the heart, or a thing of the tongue only? who have a name to live and are dead. Great and awful is the danger of all sinners; but that man seems in greatest danger who is priding himself on a moral life, and wrapping himself up in the fancied security of his own merits. God's grace can change any heart; but, humanly speaking, the gross sinner, who knows himself to be in the wrong way, is more likely to be He reserveth unto us the appointed weeks of the harvest.-Jer. v. 24. They joy before Thee according to the joy in harvest.-Isa. ix. 3. Has any change taken place in me, any repenting, any believing, any coming to Jesus, to that very Saviour to whom John the Baptist pointed? They are very solemn words of our Lord,-words that should raise serious thoughts in many a heart : "Verily I say unto you, That the publicans and the harlots go into the kingdom of heaven before you." Before whom? Before hypocrites, before mere pro brought to God than the smooth offender who fancies himself in the right way already. For both there is but one way, the Living Way, Jesus Christ. His grace can reach all, His blood can cleanse sinners of every shade. He has opened the gate of mercy to publicans and harlots, to self-deceivers, yea, even to the self-righteous, if they will cast aside all other dependence, and simply look to Him. A SERVICE IN THE FACTORY. ARLY in the year visited Leeds. 1839, Mr. Knill He was the guest of an influential magistrate in that borough. During the winter of 1838, the Rev. John Ely had been making an effort to promote the revival of religion among the people of his charge, and a great awakening had taken place in both the Church and congregation. Drawing-room and kitchen meetings were held from house to house, at which persons of all classes were assembled-the Scriptures expounded, religious experience given, and free prayer united in. These were hallowed seasons. Breaking in upon the ordinary festivities of the winter, no opportunity seemed to be left for mere evening parties; for the families were all concerned in higher and more important interests. Among the inquiring people, John Ely was like an apostle; and Winter Hamilton and Thomas Scales rejoiced in the proofs of usefulness by means of these holy and prevailing influences. At this time, Mr. (now Sir Charles) Reed had the charge of a large factory in the town, where many hundreds of young people were employed. "I was led,” he says, “amidst much discouragement, to attempt something for their religious welfare. Most of the families employed in Britannia Mills were Irish, and of these most were Romanists. No difficulty, however, had arisen in setting on foot a good library of books for circulation; and classes for instruction had been arranged. The great difficulty seemed to be the connecting with the scheme a religious service, which it was desired by some of the pious workmen to hold at least once in the week. On a certain Wednesday evening, the experiment was to be made; and in the face of some open contempt, and much more apathy, we had issued the notice that the works would stop an hour earlier than usual on that evening. I believe it was in answer to prayer that, on the very night when this notice had been posted on the outer gates of the mill, and we were questioning the policy of the act, a stranger came into the town. Quite unexpectedly to me, I met him at the house of our mutual friend; and, before he knew my name, or I was acquainted with his, my eye had met his searching and affectionate look, at the startling question, "What are you doing for the Saviour?" I hesitated; and our host said, "Oh, Mr. Knill, he is at work in a corner of the vineyard which you must see." From that moment he was my friend. He fell in my way in a time of sore trial; and he no sooner heard of our plans and difficulties than he entered into them with the greatest interest. He offered to go with me to the houses of some of our people; and while he astonished them by the suddenness and pointedness of his questions, he won their respect by his kindness and essential goodness. Thus I remember that he went with me from cottage to cottage, and, standing by the looms, his wonderful tact broke through all the obstacles which had barred my effort to be useful. The poor people were all delighted, and through the day the principal topic of conversation in the factory was the visit of the Russian missionary. On the morning of the day in question, a great event happened. Mr. Knill visited our works, and so great was his popularity, that people, not unused to stand by their machines while peers and nobles passed along, were with difficulty kept at their work while he visited the various departments. He was received in all the rooms with great manifestations of interest by the groups surrounding him; and the strong men in the forge, the dye-house, and the engine-room, vied with the little children piecing the endless threads in soliciting the tracts, hundreds of which he distributed during his visit. With his own hand he wrote a notice, and posted it in the principal entrance-"Mr. Knill will give an account to-night of A Yorkshireman's Funeral." I shall never forget the scene. The great bell rang out at seven o'clock, the last beat of the throbbing engine was heard, the gates were thrown open, and the people were free to go or to remain. In one room, of immense proportions, a platform was raised, and on that platform stood a home-made pulpit, fresh from the carpenter's shop. Rushing in like a mighty tide came the congregation. Pious Sunday-school girls led the way; old women, to whom the blessed word had long been a strange story; little children, attracted by the novelty of the scene; and behind them all a compact body of men. Catholics, and plenty of them--infidels, and not a few-men of every creed, and more, I fear, of none-mingled in that promiscuous throng. The magic power of love had won that congregation. The proprietors of the mill were punctual in their attendance; the cashier, the book-keepers, and clerks; the gate-keeper and the call-boys-all were present; indeed, I believe few were wanting when the whole company stood to sing that hymn of praise, "Come, let us join our cheerful songs." It was an impressive sight, even to Mr. Knill, accustomed as he was to popular gatherings. I watched his face, and saw that emotion was busy there. The tenderness of a loving spirit betrayed itself in those large expressive eyes, and the words faltered on his lips-'Jesus is worthy to receive,' etc. All eyes were turned on him as, rejecting the pulpit, he stood against one of the columns, and raised his voice to address that crowd of busy workers, in the life of daily toil, and in their own workshop. Aptly suited to the circumstances of the people, and having a local interest of so powerful a kind, his address was listened to with profound attention. I may not say what good resulted from this effort; but if sighs, sobs, and exclamations (quite unusual in that part of the country) are proofs of feeling, and that feeling was sincere, surely that night was one in which the angels of heaven rejoiced over the faithful proclamation of the heavenly message of peace and salvation. It was the beginning of a good work; a nail had been fastened in a sure place; a regular prayer-meeting was instituted, and several persons were received into Christian fellowship." CLOTHED UPON. 2 COR. v. 2. UR earthly house" must pass away, And fashioned with such wondrous care- This frame, so wrought with perfect skill, With life-blood flowing warm and clear. And then we shall be "clothed upon;" 66 "We have a house not made with hands," Built by our God, eternal, fixed, Sure as His word of mercy stands. Oh, not "unclothed," but "clothed upon," "Building of God!" be mine the prize; Yes, "clothed upon" with His dear love, Safe in the shelter of that home, My wandering feet no more will rove. NE A DARK DAY. summer's day, when I was about ten years old, I was with my father in his work-room, when we heard footsteps on the stairs. There was a gentle tap at the door; and at my father's "Come in!" our old friend Mr. Osborne entered. "Brother Leslie," said he, with unusual solemnity, as I thought, "excuse my intrusion; but I could not rest without seeing you. There is a sad report in the town, which at first I could not believe; but I find it is true. Perhaps you have heard it already; and, though true, it may not directly affect you." My father looked up inquiringly. "Ah! I see you have not heard it: the Skipton Bank has stopped payment!" My father started, threw down his work, and repeated the words "Stopped payment!" in an anxious tone. "Are you sure of it, sir?" he asked, looking our minister full in the face. "There is no room to doubt or dispute it," returned the minister. "I met Mr. Holby as I was coming hither; and he confirms the report, and says it will be a sad blow to the town." "Sad!" exclaimed my father; "why, it will be ruin-ruin to hundreds! But I cannot understand "No one seems to understand it, Mr. Leslie. Yesterday, as Mr. Holby tells me, the bank was considered as firm as the Bank of England. There has been no run upon it, no suspicion breathed against it; and the news falls like a thunderbolt on the whole town." "And is nothing known of the cause?" continued my father. "There are different reports, brother Leslie. Some say that the partners have absconded with all their available assets; others, that they have speculated with their customers' money in foreign funds to an enormous amount; but all agree, so far as I can learn, that it is a very bad affair; and that there will not be a shilling in the pound to pay the creditors." "We shall see," said my father, calmly enough; but I noticed a convulsive, involuntary movement of the muscles of his countenance, which almost brought tears into my own eyes. The agitation was only momentary, however. "We shall see," he repeated; "and it is early yet to form an opinion as to the extent of the mischief." Mr. Osborne could not judge, he said; he could only repeat what he had heard, that the partners must have been in desperate circumstances to account for such a step as suspension of payment. "I hope, however, that you will not be injured," he added, kindly. "It is a vain hope, Mr. Osborne," said my father; "all my Arnold, my boy," he added, hastily interrupting himself, and laying his hand on my head, "you had better run into the garden for a few minutes." I obeyed; and when I returned to the house half an hour afterwards, the kind-hearted minister was gone, and my father and mother were in earnest conversation in our little parlour. My mother's cheeks were wet with tears, and my father was unusually grave. I observed, too, that he had on his walking shoes and overcoat; and his hat was on the table. "Arnold shall go with me," he said; and at his bidding I put on my hat, and we walked out together, hand in hand. "Father, what did Mr. Osborne mean by the bank stopping payment?" I asked, as we went along. "It means that the bankers have failed in business, my boy: they cannot pay their creditors." |