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down, or to destroy' the thrones and kingdoms of the world; pretending to release and absolve the subjects of their oaths of allegiance to their lawful sovereigns -I never expected to have seen this vicar of Christ brought down to such a state of apostasy as openly to adore the wood of the cross. 'Behold the wood of the cross. They would not say it was the cross, lest we might suppose that it was the doctrine of the cross they were worshipping; whereas, it was the wood of the cross' they were adoring, and this they adored with far more of reverence, and awe, and profound abasement than they exhibited the very same day, and in the very same place, in the adoration of the host. I can speak only of the outward act; and there certainly was more of reverence, and awe, and abasement of manners at the adoration of the cross, than in the adoration of the host."

LEADING CHILDREN TO GOD.

A MOTHER, sitting at her work in her parlour, overheard her child, whom an elder sister was dressing in an adjoining bed-room, say repeatedly, as if in answer to his sister, "No, I don't want to say my prayers, I don't want to say my prayers."

"How many Church members in good standing,' thought the mother to herself, "often say the same thing in their hearts, though they conceal, even from themselves, the feeling."

"Mother," said the child, appearing in a minute or two, at the parlour door; the tone and look implied that it was only his morning salutation.

"Good morning, my child."

"I am going to get my breakfast." "Stop a minute, I want you to come and see me first."

The mother laid down her work on the next chair as the boy ran towards her. She took him up. He kneeled in her lap, and laid his face down upon her shoulder, his cheek against her ear. The mother rocked her chair slowly backwards and forwards. "Are you pretty well this morning?" said she, in a kind, gentle tone.

"Yes, mother, I am very well."

"I am glad you are well. I am very well too; and when I waked up this morning and found that I was very well, I thanked God for taking care of me."

"Did you?" said the boy in a low tone-half a whisper. He paused after it-conscience was at its work.

"Did you ever feel my pulse?" asked his mother, after a minute of silence, at the same time taking the boy down and setting him in her lap, and placing his fingers on her wrist.

"No, but I have felt mine."

bosom here and in your arms, and all over you, and I cannot keep it beating, nor can you. Nobody can but God. If he should not take care of you, who could?"

"I don't know," said the child, with a look of anxiety, and another pause ensued.

"So when I waked this morning, I thought I'd ask God to take care of me. I hope he will take care of me, and all of us."

A long pause ensued. The deeply thoughtful and almost anxious expression of countenance showed that his heart was reached.

"Don't you think you had better ask him for

yourself?"

"Yes," said the boy readily.

He kneeled again in his mother's lap, and uttered, in his simple and broken language, a prayer for the protection and blessing of Heaven.-Christian Guar dian.

RELIGIOUS ULTRAISM.

ITS Sources are-1. An ardent temperament. 2. Mistaken views of religion. 3. A restless desire of change. 4. The love of distinction. 5. The force of external circumstances.

Its Elements are-1. Self-righteousness. 2. Censoriousness. 3. Disingenuousness. 4. Inconsistency. 5. Fanaticism.

Its Manifestations.-It manifests itself-l. In respect to that which is wrong, by opposing it with an improper spirit. 2. In respect to that which is comparatively indifferent, by urging it beyond its real claims. 3. In respect to that which is right, by promoting it at the expense of integrity and charity.

Its Tendencies.-1. It has a tendency to throw open opposite extreme of inactivity and formality. 3. To the flood-gates of error. 2. To drive many into the weaken the moral energies of the Church. 4. To' supply to the careless world an apology for the neglect of religion. 5. To absolute infidelity.

The Remedies.-1. Careful discrimination. Moral courage. 3. Eminent piety.

Fragments.

2.

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REGENERATION.-A dead fish will swim with the

"Well, don't you feel mine now-how it goes stream, whatever be its direction; but a living one beating?"

"Yes!" said the child.

"If it should stop beating I should die." "Should you?”

'Yes, and I can't keep it beating."

"Who can?"

"God."

A silent pause.

will not only resist the stream, but, if it chooses, it can swim against it.-Cecil.

THE MALIGNITY OF SIN.-The heinousness of any sin is not to be judged of by the magnitude of the object about which it is conversant, or the grossness of the outward action. When the Lord expressly says, "Thou shalt not," and his rational creature say, "I will," whether the contest be about "an apple or a kingdom, it is stubbornness and rebellion.

"You have a pulse too; which beats in your Scott.

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THE CHRISTIAN TREASURY.

529

A TRIED CHRISTIAN.

IN a miserable row of cottages, which I frequently passed, one attracted my attention, from the evident effort made, amid decay and ruin, to retain the appearance of neatness. A honey-suckle and a rose were neatly trained over its front, and the path-way that led to the door was always perfectly clean. Entering one day, I found the interior entirely corresponding with what had at first attracted my attention without. The rough unplastered walls, and the roof, which consisted only of unhewn branches of trees, laid close to each other, were alike beautifully white. The wooden beds had neat cotton curtains hung in front; and the finely polished mahogany drawers, tables, and lookingglass, at once revealed to me that their possessor had not always dwelt in so mean an abode. By the fire sat an aged female, busy at her wheel, dressed with great simplicity, but extreme neatness; and near the window a young woman, superiorly attired, and in the dress of a widow. She rose from her seat as I entered, but scarcely raised her eyes; while her mother | cheerfully welcomed me, and set me a chair. | When seated, the young woman still stood, as if half unconscious of having changed her attitude; and her tall emaciated figure and pale countenance deeply excited my interest. begged her not to stand, remarking that she seemed very unable for any exertion. She 'slowly seated herself, but neither looked at me nor made any reply. The old woman, however, in answer to my remark, said, she was, indeed, very frail, and she feared not likely soon to get better. This led me to make some inquiry as to the nature of her complaint; to which she replied, that it seemed like a decline; but, indeed, she might say it was just a broken heart. "Two years," she added, " have not yet passed, since she left me strong and well, and a braw young man wi' her; but the Lord saw fit to part them, and I fear she hasna learned to bide his will." "The Lord," I said, "afflicts not willingly; but it is sometimes hard to learn the purposes of mercy that are hidden underneath his rod." For the first time the young woman now raised her eyes and looked towards me. "I know," she said, "that God is merciful, and that I have deserved his chastisements, because I have worshipped the creature rather than the Creator; and I think if I had seen him die, I No. 45.*

I

| could have borne to part: but when I think of the wild deep swallowing him, and the stormy waters dashing to pieces his fair form, I cannot bear it. O-if I had but laid him in our own kirk-yard, I could be well contented!" I would have said that these aggravations of her sorrow were alike the appointment of God with that decree which had bereft her of all on which her heart had been too fondly set; but the consciousness, that I had never experienced that which alone can make any to comprehend the desolation of a bereaved wife, kept me silent, and I sat for a moment too deeply affected by what she had uttered to make any reply. Her mother, whose beautifully meek countenance bore traces of many a deep sorrow, looked very tenderly at her, and said: "I thought na trial could ere be sa sad as my ain, Jenny; but I had that satisfaction which has been denied to you. I did a' for him that woman's hands could do, and I laid him where I hope ere lang to lie mysel'."

There was something in the calm and solemn voice with which she uttered this that deeply touched my already excited feelings, and I felt, if I would maintain the composure I wished to preserve, I must, for the present, leave them; but I did so with the determination soon to make myself better acquainted with two individuals, whose history, little as I knew of it, had already so intensely drawn forth my sympathy. I did return soon, and frequently; and many a profitable and interesting hour I spent in listening to old Margaret's details of the Lord's providential dealings with her in days that were past.

I found that early in life her beauty (of which, even when approaching fourscore, strong traces yet remained) had attracted the admiration of a person much her superior in rank, and that he had sought to marry her; but the feeling, that when placed among those she had been accustomed to regard as her superiors, she could not so conduct herself as to entitle her to expect they would treat her as an equal, so strongly possessed her mind that she resolutely resisted every entreaty, determined, as she said, never to marry any but a man in her own station.

The vexed pride, natural to a person who felt he had greatly condescended in making such a proposal, and other feelings, perhaps, even

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worse, expressed themselves in a line of conduct towards her father's family, which forced them at last to leave the place, where, for generations, they had resided; and thus she, who might have become the channel of worldly advancement to all, was made the occasion of their peculiar trial. With many a painful and bitter feeling she went forth with them; and hoping to lessen their burden, and add to their comfort, she shortly after went to service.

him to the ground, and the loaded cart passed over him. He was thus found on the way-side by one of his fellow-workmen, who was now conveying him, in a state of insensibility, to the dwelling he had so lately left in perfect health. He still breathed, but there was no other indication of life; he heard not, saw not, nor seemed to feel. Medical aid was soon procured, but all in vain. No human aid could help; and ere another morning dawned the voice which had so often caused these walls to resound with praise, and which had with such peculiar fervency (as if in presentiment of soon leaving them) so lately commended those dear to him to the especial care of God, was for ever silent in death. It was then she had been made to feel that sorrow than which she thought there could be no greater; but then, also, she had learned, as she never knew before, what it was to rest on the naked arm of the Almighty, and to experience the blessedness of laying bare before the eye of this compassionate Father of the fatherless, and Husband of the widow, all | her griefs, and wants, and cares; and that God | to whom she had been taught to look, did indeed cause her to know that she needed not to fear being cast on his care. Through many trials, and anxieties, and labours, He had sustained and prospered her, till those for whom she had long toiled were now able and willing to support and succour her. She saw in the comely form of a son, now grown to manhood, the living image of the husband she had so long mourned, and her widowed heart seemed ready once more to sing for joy.

In this situation she, ere long, met with a person to whom she could give her affections, and in whom she saw all she had desired as essential to her happiness. They were married, and for some years lived happily. His situation was not one that commanded many of the luxuries of life, but his employment was secure; and being blessed with health, they had all that was needful to comfort; and, above all, they possessed that godliness which, with contentment, is great gain. Year after year had rolled peacefully away, and five happy children now surrounded them. These they sought to train in the fear of the Lord; and early as a labouring man must leave his home, their father never left his without asking for them the guidance and protection of their heavenly Parent during his absence. One morning he seemed to do so with more than usual fervency; and as he embraced them, and parted with his wife, a faint misgiving crossed her mind, and she hastily followed him to inquire what work was that day to occupy him, thinking it was some apprehension of being exposed to danger that had so moulded his manner towards them. "Just my ordinary work," he replied; "but we are always in the Lord's hands, to take or to leave, and we can never know what a day may bring forth; but dinna ye fear, Margaret,” he said, “ye have a better husband than me to look to; thy Maker is thy husband, the Lord of hosts is his name." More deeply affected than before, but fearing to pain him by further expressing it, she returned to her house to prepare her children for school, and make ready the breakfast, to which she hoped her husband would return. Having accomplished her task, with a baby on her knee she sat thoughtfully by the fire, wondering if the hour when he usually arrived were not already come, when the sound of a cart ap- He had been in every thing concerning this proaching roused her. He was often employed world all that his mother's heart could wish, in carting, but not in that direction. What and she had fondly flattered herself, that such could it be? Alas! the cause was too soon fair fruits could only grow where grace had revealed; the horse which he drove, becoming watered the soil; but when laid on a bed of restive, and he endeavouring to seize it by the sickness, by his own confession he had not in head, the furious animal plunged forward, threw | health sought the God of his fathers, and amid

But, alas! this goodly gourd was not long to shelter her, and in the blasting of it, the bitter waters of her youth seemed again mingled for ¦ her, and all the fountains of past sorrow opened up anew.

In the vigour of youth, proud of his manly strength, he had over-exerted himself, in his ordinary calling, and after struggling on in much pain for some weeks, in consequence of some internal injury, he returned to his mother's dwelling, not again to leave it. His illness, however, was not rapid, and month after month he lingered on, until reduced to extreme weak

ness.

THE OLD YEAR AND THE NEW.

much suffering he ceased not to testify of the grace of God in thus giving him space for repentance; nor did he depart hence until his eyes had seen the salvation of the Lord.

The sorrowful mother again committed to the grave, in hope of a glorious resurrection, her dearest earthly joy. Thus the pangs of separation were mixed with the assurance that it was well with him for whom she mourned, and the confident expectation of again meeting him when her trials too were past, sustained and comforted her broken spirit; and she mourned not as those who have no hope, but calmly and meekly bowed herself before the will of God. Another ray of hope had once more brightened her horizon, when she saw the youngest and favourite daughter happily married to a man in all respects worthy of her; but that bright ray had risen only to set; and as she watched the daily declining strength, and marked the hectic flush which illumined the pale and wasted countenance of her child, her heart too surely foreboded the dark cloud of sorrow through which this setting ray foretold she must yet pass.

In these circumstances I first visited poor Jenny, and each time I returned I could mark the rapid advance made in the work of decay; but I marked, too, with joy, and her mother ceased not to give thanks continually, for the advance of the work of grace in her heart.

One evening I had sat by her for some time. She spoke with calmness, and even joy, of the prospect of deliverance before her. "It is not," she said, "only that I find nothing worth living for because that on which I have so idolatrously set my heart is taken away-that did destroy the joy of living, but it never removed the terror of dying, and in the house, when I lamented most rebelliously, I also trembled most fearfully-but the sting of death is now taken away, and I look forward with joy to meeting that long-suffering Saviour, who has so graciously redeemed me from going down to the pit."

Thinking that there was something peculiar in her appearance when we parted, I again visited the cottage early the following forenoon. I entered quietly. The aged widow was seated, as I had often found her, by the bed-side of her daughter. She did not observe me entering, and when I stood beside her I started to find that she did not minister to the living, but gazed on the lifeless form of her child. I looked round the room-everything seemed as I had left it, and she apparently more calm and un

moved than before.

531

She marked my surprise,

and said: "My own hands have washed her,
and dressed her, but I have never shed one
tear; and I have given her back this day to her
Maker, with as much joy as I took her from
She was a
His hand the day He gave her me.
desolate, feeble thing, and what could she have
done without me; and shall I ever cease to
praise His name, that it was me, not her, He
left to mourn?"

So she praised God in the midst of her desolation, and she seemed for a time to gain strength by the very energy of her thankfulness; but the trial of her faith having wrought patience, and patience having indeed accomplished its perfect work in her, it pleased God to take her speedily to himself. A stroke of paralysis, a fortnight after her daughter's death, laid her powerless; and after lingering in a state of insensibility to all outward objects for a few days, her emancipated spirit took its flight to those blessed regions where, in contemplation, she had so long already dwelt.

THE OLD YEAR AND THE NEW.*
BY JAMES BUCHANAN, D.D.

THE year is past, but not its uses: its events
are now numbered among the things that have
been, but its lessons remain, as a precious lega-
cy, or rather as the fruits of a dear-bought ex-
perience. Having the capacity of recalling
them to your recollection, and dwelling on
them in reflective thought, you may be said to
have the power of extracting wisdom from
them, as one extracts odour and sweetness from
withered flowers; and this is the only use you
can now make of them-the only method by
which you can turn them to good account.

Take, then, a deliberate review of the past year; study it in the light of God's Word, and seek to convert its varied experience into wholesome nourishment, or salutary medicine for your souls. Consider the changes which the past year has witnessed; how, as it ran its silent and rapid course, one after another in the circle of your friends disappeared from the scene-how many, who were alive and active when it began, are now dead and buried-how some, then in perfect health, are now pining in sicknesshow others, then in affluence, have been reduced to unexpected poverty-how others still, then glowing with high thought and intellectual energy, are now moping in solitary sadness, or confined to a lunatic cell: think of the changes which have thus passed on individuals-the bereavements which have occurred in families the vicissitudes which have affected whole cities or kingdoms; and thus considered, the

From a paper which appeared some time ago in the Free Church Magazine,

year that is now past will still be greatly useful, if it teach you the vanity of the world, and the necessity of a better and more enduring portion than any that the world can give. And remembering that, while all else is changing, one, and one only, is unchangeable-that while the world is passing away, God remains ever the same-God, and that by which God maketh himself known, even his imperishable Worddo you not feel that God only can be the adequate and permanent portion of your soulthat his Word alone can be its anchor both sure and stedfast, entering into that which is within the veil and that it is your highest wisdom to lay fast hold of the Eternal amidst the fluctuations of Time? "All flesh is grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass; the grass withereth, the flower fadeth, but the Word of the Lord endureth for ever; and this is the Word which by the Gospel is preached unto you."

you every month, or week, or day; have you conquered it now; is it dead and buried; or at the least, is it undergoing a slow but sure crucifixion? The recollection of these infirmities and sins may be painful, as it must be deeply humbling; but, for the same reason, it is eminently salutary; and it will be greatly useful, if now, at the close of the year, it serves to imbue you with a spirit of self-abasement, and leads you to cast yourselves with simplicity on the pardoning mercy of God, that, by a renewed application to the Fountain which he has opened for sin and for uncleanness, you may be "washed, and sanctified, and justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God."

Consider, again, in what state the departing year has left you-in a state of peace or enmity with God? of wrath or reconciliation? of nearness or estrangement? of spiritual health or sickness of growing advancement or sad decline? Had life terminated with the year—|| were you ready to appear before God; or would you have been disposed to welcome the messenger which summoned you away? And is it right, or can it be safe, to allow one year after another to pass away, while each leaves you undetermined in your choice-unresolved as to your state-unprepared for eternity!

*

Consider, again, the sins, whether of omission or commission, with which you have been chargeable during the past year; review the course of your inward experience, and your outward life; inquire what has been the general frame or prevailing habit of your thoughts, affections, and desires-what the grand end of all your pursuits-what the source and nature of your sweetest enjoyments. Have you been living for God or no? Have you been consciously seeking to advance his glory, to ascer- The eve of the new year is generally regardtain and obey his will, to enjoy his fellowship, ed. as a season of cheerfulness; and, except in and to obtain his blessing? or have you been those cases where the recollections of sad "lovers of pleasure more than lovers of God?" changes in the past are painfully revived, and Have you spent the past in heart-idolatry? cast their sombre shade over a reflective and Have you been giving those affections to Mam- bereaved spirit, it is seldom otherwise spent mon or the world which God claims as exclu- than as a time of merry-making and joy. It sively his own? You may discover as many may seem strange, at first sight, that creatures vicissitudes of inward feeling as changes in so short-lived, and yet so fond of life, should be your outward circumstances; have you been ad- glad when so large a term of it has passed vancing or declining on the whole? Are you away-that creatures so averse to death and more disposed and better qualified for carry- the grave, should find themselves by one long ing on God's service on earth, and enjoying stage nearer to both, and yet make this an ochis presence in heaven, at the close of this year, casion of mirth; but the fact is certain, that than you were at its commencement? Ask cheerfulness and gaiety are blended with all these and similar questions of yourselves, and our observances at this season, and that the press them home in serious, searching self-in-usages of society are fitted to give visible form quiry; for there are seasons when God calls you by his providence and Word "to consider your ways," to review the path you have been pursuing, and the progress you have made; and this is emphatically one of those seasons, since it reminds you of the rapid and irretrievable flight of time, and of the items which have been added to your last account. You cannot thus review the past year without discovering, in the records of your experience, innumerable instances of shortcoming in duty, and even of positive transgression, which have retarded your progress, and often disturbed your peace. You may be able, perhaps, to single out some one sin, which doth so easily beset you that it has followed you with its allurements throughout the entire currency of the year, and assailed

and expression to these feelings.
I speak
not of the revolting riot, or the madness of in-
temperate mirth, which may well be regarded
as a sort of infatuation, by which the most care-
less and wretched are annually seized, and hur-
ried on to celebrate the obsequies of the expir-
ing year with orgies worse than those of
Heathenism, in a Christian land-an infatua-
tion which reminds us only of a maniac danc-
ing in his chains, or a condemned malefactor
stilling the cries of conscience, and stupifying
the fear of death by anything that will drown
reflection before his awful change; but I speak
of the more sober and chastened, yet real and
lively, cheerfulness which diffuses itself at this
season through all our families, and enlivens
our mutual fellowship with friendly greetings

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