ousness procured it for you, and all the wise arrangements of his providence, and all the present rich displays of his grace, converge, like rays of light, to one point, and that point is heaven. All work together to fix you there. The God of all grace calls you to glory-to eternal glory-to his eternal glory, by Jesus Christ.- Pet. v. 10. O wonderful declaration! How strange the grace displayed! How inconceivable the treasure given! Can you think coldly or seldom of a rest which the blessed God most highly values, and which it is even his good pleasure to bestow? O "let Jerusalem come into your mind!"

3. Further, Christian pilgrim, consider what you are to be when you reach your future home. How different from what you are now! No longer occupied with the trifling cares of time, but surrounded by the blissful realities of eternity not on earth, but in heaven- not

among imperfect mortals, but in the presence of the great and blessed God - how altered will be your thoughts, your feelings, your employment, your worship, your praise, from any experienced here! How different the society, and all the scenes around you and before you. Think of all this," and let Jerusalem come into your mind."

4. Reflect, moreover, how long that country will be your abode. Death soon removed those the prophet addressed from the beloved land they sought; but there is no death in the heavenly country. They who are welcome there shall go out no more. Once admitted as a dweller in that land, it will be your dwellingplace for ever and ever. O those awful but delightful words for ever! Would you number the years of that long for ever? Impossible -more easy were it to count the blades of grass that clothe the green earth, and then to number the dew-drops of the morning, than to count the years of eternity. But eternal life is the gift of God. His redeemed will abide for ever in their Father's house. O let that Jerusalem come into your mind!

guage of one expressed the feelings of multitudes; "As sorrowful, yet always rejoicing, as having nothing, and yet possessing all things." -2 Cor. vi. 10. "For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us."-Rom. viii. 18. In that blessed hope there is consolation for all the suffering followers of the Lamb. Are you struggling through poverty and want, or encountering sickness and pain?-Look forward to heaven, and reflect: There I shall not be poor and afflicted. No poverty will harass me-no wants||| distress me-no pains torment me—there. The inhabitant shall not say, I am sick.

"There shall I bathe my weary soul

In seas of heavenly rest,
And not a wave of trouble roll
Across my peaceful breast."

Christians should remember their home.
2. For their encouragement.

When you encounter the enemy by the way, "let Jerusalem come into your mind."

Amidst conflicts with foes without, or foes within, amidst fears and doubts, or lamented imperfections, think of your rest: No tempter shall assault me there-no corruptions grieve me there, nor any doubts distress. All coldness and deadness-all fears and doubts-all corruptions and defects—all temptations and conflicts, shall be left behind for ever when I enter the Jerusalem above. No servant of God there gazes on his glory, and then in alarm and distress, exclaims, "Woe is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips."— Isa. vi. 5. No troubled saint there complains, "When I would do good, evil is present with me. O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?"— | Rom. vii. 21, 24. There full deliverance is enjoyed. Then fight on, my soul; the warfare may be sharp, but the victory is sure, and the triumph everlasting.

3. The heavenly rest should be kept in sight as a safeguard against the cares and allure

1. To promote their comfort.

"Let Jerusalem come into your mind," to cheer you on your way to that city of the living God. That sweet prospect cheered the suffering saints of God in ages long past. They took cheerfully the spoiling of their goods, knowing in themselves that they had in heaven a better and an enduring substance.-Heb. x. 34. The lan

when the cares of this world would choke the Word of truth, and render you unfruitful, then let the Jerusalem above come into your mind. Would the ills of poverty check your progress, or damp your ardour?-Reflect: Shall I let caresabout the things of a moment make me unmindful of that better country, that everlasting inheritance, where I expect durable riches and righteousness? Or are you surrounded by the snares and allurements of wealth; and

HYMN FROM SONG OF SOLOMON.

THE BELOVED.

THE bride is sitting lonely,

In the absence of her Lord; This cheers her heart-this onlyHis bosom-treasured word,

"I quickly come."

She trims her lamp to meet him,
And clasps her garments white,
And thus prepares to greet him,
Soon as he comes in sight,

To fetch her home.

Pure, faithful, love-inspiring,
Her spirit she adorns,

In holiness attiring;

A lily among thorns,

She blooms alone.

The world that lies beneath her
Has not a charm for her;
Beyond the Mounts of Bether,
'The fragrant hills of myrrh,
Her heart is gone.

She sighs for his appearing,
Through the long shadowy night,
His nuptial chaplet wearing,
Bringing her joy and light
To earth again.

She lifts her eyes to heaven,
Those dove-like virgin eyes,
And longs to see it riven,
And her Day-star arise,
Healing all pain.

Yet through her night of watching,
Her vigil dark and long,

A beam from glory catching,
She pours her hopeful song-
Her turtle's strain.

"Beloved, my heart is waking,
Help me to watch and pray!
Till, morning lustre breaking,
I rise and come away,
By thee embraced.

"See on the mountains leaping,
How the young hart is fleet;
Oh! thus to end my weeping,
Swift be thy beauteous feet:

Make haste! make haste!"

And does her Lord forget her,
While dwelling thus apart?
No! he hath fondly set her
A seal upon his heart,

In suffering traced.

"Wait on, hope on, my fairest,
The marriage-feast is nigh;
Soon ev'ry grief thou bearest
And ev'ry cloud shall fly,

At my glad voice.

AFTER a public service, on a week evening, several years ago, while walking from the place of worship, with part of my family, I was accosted rather hastily by one of my congregation, who called me aside, and told me there was a neighbour at a little distance who had a daughter very ill, and in so distressing a state of mind that they knew not what to do for her or with her; and that he had obtained permission for me to pay a visit to the cottage. "I will go," said I," with you immediately."

We, therefore, directed our course to the house, and though my strength was somewhat exhausted, and I was faint and languid, it being in the height of summer, yet I entered the afflicted cottage with readiness, and with a deep feeling of interest in the case of the young woman, with whom and her connections my companion had made me somewhat acquainted in the course of our walk. I learnt before I reached the neat little garden in front of their dwelling, that the parents, who were doatingly fond of their daughter, were decent churchgoing people, who maintained a fair character in the humble line of life in which they moved, but that there was little reason to think they knew anything of spiritual religion. "Well," said I, "then there is the more room for us to try what can be done for them, as well as for their child. Perhaps if our visit is not blessed of God to the one, it may be to the other." And with this we entered the house. We were immediately ushered into a little back chamber, where I saw, as soon as the door was opened, the sickly daughter, seated in an old chair, and propped up by pillows; the mother, an active woman of about five-and-forty, endea vouring to persuade her child to take some little refreshment, which she was offering her.

The young woman appeared about the age of eighteen, a fine interesting girl, with that peculiar beauty of complexion, softness of feature, and glassiness of the eye, which are the frequent attendants of consumption, and which, in the present case, were all heightened in their effect by the hectic flush on her cheeks, and the great ardour of feeling which in each feature seemed to be labouring for expression.

I soon seated myself beside the sufferer, in whose agitated face I saw, in an instant, the deep and strong workings of the soul within. "Pray," said I, "take the refreshment your mother offers, and I will talk to you after- | wards."—"Oh, no," said she, "I want not this -I want to know what will become of my poor soul-Can I be saved ?—Oh, what shall I do to be saved?—I am a sinner-Oh, I shall die, and I know I shall be lost!-Is there mercy?"

247

that there was not something excessive and unnecessary in her daughter's grief.

"My dear mother does not understand it," said the afflicted girl: " she does not know what I feel-she does not know what an evil heart I have;" and with that she gave a deep and convulsive sigh, which seemed to tell me that the burden of her sin was too heavy for her feeble nature. "O is there salvation? Is there any hope for me? Do tell me, for you are a minister-may I expect to go to heaven? I want to hear of mercy."

I now found myself called upon to perform the most delightful part of a Christian minister's work-to speak of the unsearchable riches of Christ to a soul that longed to possess them.

By any brother minister, accustomed to weep and mourn over the insensibility and want of emotion among his hearers, and in the Church at large, I shall be well understood, when I say, these inquiries were so strange to my ears, and the manner in which they were put so touching to my heart, that I felt carried back to those times when the hearers of the apostles were pricked in their hearts, and cried out, Men and brethren, what shall we do? I had not been prepared for such a scene. I had not expected such strong and decisive marks of the inward and striving power of God's Spirit; and I found myself sinking into a sort of mazy reverie, almost like a man lightly stunned, wondering what it could mean, or ready to chide myself for yielding so readily to an impulse or paroxysm of emotion, which, in too many former cases of apparent conviction, have proved delusive, by inspiring hopes I had never seen realized. This latter thought checked the flow of joyful emotion I had felt, and calmed me down to a state of mind better adapted to the discharge of the solemn duty to which I was now called.

"My dear creature," I heard the mother exclaim, just as I began again to apply my mind to the situation of the daughter, 66 My dear creature, don't take on so; you know you have been a very good girl; why should you be so distressed? Indeed, sir," turning to me, "she has always been a good child; read her Bible, and kept from all wicked company: I can't think what she means by being in such distress." Ah!" said I, "I am glad to see it; she feels she is very ill and dying, and she ought to be concerned above all things for the salvation of her soul. My good woman, she will find comfort, and you ought to rejoice to see her so eager for salvation; it does my heart good, I so seldom see anything like it."

With that the mother seemed a little abashed, and sat down quietly in a chair on the other side of the fire-place, but with all the tender feelings of a mother who could scarce believe

of God, the worth of the soul; but I found my young friend was so alive to all these, that it was needless to add anything, and that all she wanted was to be directed to the Lamb of God. I opened the doctrine of the Saviour, and spoke of the great salvation. I endeavoured to exalt the grace of the mighty Deliverer, and I saw the poor convinced sufferer drinking in my words with an eagerness and a joy that I shall never forget. "Oh!" said she, as I told her of a Saviour's love, "that's what I want, that is exactly what I have been seeking, and nobody about me could tell me of it."

It may easily be supposed that I did not quit the subject till I had imparted some few glimpses of spiritual comfort to her anxious heart. Long I spoke, and spoke with unutterable delight; and longer I should have spoken, but I found the heat of a small sick chamber, on a summer's evening, with several persons in it, without any access of fresh air; the agitation of my own feelings, together with the exhausted state in which I had entered the apartment—all admonishing me that I had forgotten the lapse of time, and must soon withdraw. The tears of an overflowing joy were now falling from the eyes of the interesting young sufferer, and when I turned to look at my friend, who sat by me, I saw that smile of delight shining through tears of sympathy, which bespeaks a heart dilated and elevated beyond its ordinary sphere. I then took up a Bible which lay on the table, and read a portion of Scripture; after which we lifted up our hearts in solemn and earnest prayer for divine grace, to enable the afflicted young woman to commit her spirit into the hand of Jesus the Saviour. She entered with great interest and emotion into every petition which was put up on her behalf, and expressed, at parting, great delight in the seasonable truths which had been unfolded to her. As I and my friend withdrew, she said, with much earnestness, "I hope you will come and see me again very soon." "Yes, certainly," said I, "it will give me pleasure to come and talk more to you about the Saviour's love. We then left the house.