our sins in his own body on the tree." The Lord laid there on him "the iniquity of us all." And now 66 all that believe, are justified from all things." "They shall not come into condemnation, but have passed from death unto life." There is in fact "no condemnation" for them. Here then, reader, bring your sins. Come and cast them on the Lord Jesus Christ. Just as the guilty Jew confessed his transgression and put them upon the head of the scape-goat; so draw near in penitence to this far nobler sacrifice and by a simple faith in the efficacy of his blood lay your sins on him. He will bear them all away, carry them into a land of oblivion, where they shall be remembered against you no more. In this work the Redeemer delights. He is more willing to receive your iniquities, than you are to receive his mercies, than the readiest beggar would be to receive your gold. Nay, collect all the treasures which the earth contains, no miser would grasp them with half the joy with which the blessed Jesus takes the curse of a transgressor's sins. With him their bitterness is passed. It was finished with his last dying cry. They can wound him no more. But they can wound you. Refuse to lay them on him and they will pierce your inmost soul. They may sting you almost to madness before you die; but when you die, their work of misery will indeed begin. They will overwhelm you with awe, a horror, and a despair, which will make you a spectacle of terror to heaven and to hell. TO-MORROW. A FRAGMENT. WITH all the bitterness of self reproach, I lately turned my steps towards the house of a Christian friend. On entering the abode where I had ever been greeted with smiles, I was surprised to find nothing but sadness. Conscious guilt suggested the suspicion, that they knew and reproached me for my neglect; but my friend soon poured into my bosom her lamentations for the loss of an only child.-"Alas," cried she, "my Henry is gone; but three days ago he was in full health, and he has this morning breathed his last!" I struggled with myself, summoned up resolution, and made an awkward attempt at consolation, while my own heart hung heavy in my breast; but I was struck dumb when the afflicted parent, fetching a sigh from the bottom of her heart, exclaimed, "Ah! Sir, these consolations might assuage my grief for the loss of my child, but they cannot blunt the stings of my conscience, which are as daggers to my heart! It was but last week I was thinking my Henry is now 12 years of age; his mind is now rapidly expanding: I know he thinks and feels beyond the measure of his years; and a foolish backwardness has hitherto kept me from entering so closely into serious conversation with him as to discover the real state of his mind, and make a vigorous effort to lead his heart to God. I then resolved to seize the first opportunity to discharge a duty so weighty to the conscience of a Christian and the heart of a parent; but day after day my foolish and deceitful heart said, 'I will do it tomorrow,' till the very day he was taken ill. I had resolved to talk with him that evening, and when he first complained of his head, I was half pleased with the thought that this might lead him to listen more seriously to what I should say. But O, Sir, his pain and fever increased so rapidly, that I was obliged to 100 A CHRISTIAN MINISTER'S SOLILOQUY, ETC. put him to bed; and as he seemed inclined to doze, I was glad to leave him to rest. From this time he was never sufficiently sensible for conversation; and now he has gone into eternity, and left me distracted with uncertainty concerning the salvation of his precious soul. I know he had arrived to the period when he must be judged as an accountable creature; for I have several times observed in him such efforts of reason and conscience as surpassed many who had seen twice his years. I recollect the favourable symptoms I have discovered, and for a momeut hope that the good Shepherd has gathered the lamb into his bosom. But then, again, I cry, if it should not have been so! That thought again plunges me back again into the depths of distress. Dilatory wretch! had it not been my own sin, I might now have been consoling myself with the satisfactory conviction of having discharged the duty of a Christian parent, and enjoying the delightful assurance of meeting my child before the thione of the Lamb! O! the sin of procastination! O! the delusion that lurks in the word TO-MORROW." The Pearl of Days. A Christian Minister's Soliloquy on his Way to the Sanctuary. I AM now going to the sanctuary-going to meet God-going to engage in his worship-going to preach his word—that word by which both myself and all my hearers must be finally judged. I shall soon be surrounded by a number of beings, whose existence is never to terminate, but who, after millions and millions of ages, will be still immortal. Either the Bible is untrue, or every man, woman and child among them, will dwell in everlasting misery or joy. As soon as they have passed the bounds of this life, they must rise to the companionship of the highest order of beings, or sink to the doom of the lowest. Providence has appointed me to declare to them the misery of their condition as sinners, and to direct their attention to that blessed way, which infinite Mercy has opened for their complete restoration and happiness. I am to represent to them the character of a Saviour, who is waiting to be gracious. I am to show them the utter impossibility of their being saved by any other means. I am to watch for their souls; to labour that I may be instrumental in their everlasting welfare; and when I have finished the short period allotted for me on earth, I am to appear before the tribunal of my Creator, to give in my account; to say how I have used, and how I have improved my talents-what exertions I have made in the office I sustain, and what effects have resulted from them. What responsibility attaches itself to my situation! If I am not faithful to the cause I have undertaken, how shall I appear at the solemn season? If I am ashamed of the faces of men, I am assured I shall be confounded before them; and, what is still more awful, shall be rewarded with the Divine displeasure, and perhaps with misery in my own soul. The condition of my hearers may be various: some will need comfort and encouragement; some may have backsliden, and will require admonition to return; some may be less attached than they should be to the rules of moral obligation; some may be questioning the evidences of Christianity; some may be discouraged by a thousand doubts and fears; some may be very much exposed to the agency and the artifice of the devil; and some may have their hearts and their affections in heaven, and be waiting for fresh discoveries of the love of Christ to their souls. To all these I must administer a portion of meat in due season. Some, perhaps, will be wishing for doctrinal discourses-some for the practical parts of religion-some for experience. If I am very practical, many may think I am legal: if I am pretty general in my invitation to sinners, some may be weak enough to imagine that I set aside the necessity of the influence of the Spirit in conversion: many may differ from me in the shades of these views of the gospel. But if these things move me, or make any alteration in my public addresses, I am not a faithful servant of Christ: I shall then appear to be guided by the opinions of men. It will seem as if they weigh DROPPINGS OF THE SANCTUARY. more with me than the Bible: I shall expose myself to the everlasting censure of my conscience, and perhaps to the curse of God. I will, therefore, endeavour to follow the directions of the highest authority. If I please, I shall share in their pleasures; if I do not, I shall yet have approved my self to my own conscience. Whatever may be the result, I will strive to be faithful to my own views, and to truth, and leave the event with God. I will exert myself, to the utmost of my power, to turn sinners from darkness to light. I know that the co-operation of Divine influence is necessary to make my exertions effectual to any good end; but I recollect that all means are to be employed, while the effect rests upon the sanction of Heaven. Perhaps, before another Sabbath-day, some that hear me this day, will have removed to their long home: they may have appeared before their Maker-they may have given in their account. Why, if it should be said by any, that I have been accessary to their damnation, that I had not reproved, that I had not admonished, that I had not instructed them! What, if they should to eternity be heaping curses upon my head, for my luke 101 warmness and inattention! Or perhaps, Droppings of the Sanctuary. Affliction is favourable to religion: it abstracts, it softens, it awes the mind; it stripes the world of its at tractions, and starves us out of the creature into God.—Jay. Science may rise us to eminence, but religion alone can guide us to felicity. Anon. An hypocrite is all joy and no grace, like a green bough tied to a dead tree. He is a giant in joy, and not so much as a dwarf in grace. He is in the highest form of joy, and not so much as the lowest form of grace. -Calamy. True grace is of a spreading nature, and is therefore compared to leaven, which diffuseth itself into the whole lump, and to salt, that seasoneth all things with which it is mingled. A true Christian is like a needle touched with a loadstone. A needle thus touched draweth another, and that will draw another, and that another, and they others. Whoever has his heart truly touched by the grace of God, will labour to convert others. Phillip will draw Nathaniel, Andrew will draw Peter, and Peter being converted, will labour to "strengthed his brethren." True grace is not only communicative, but assimilating in its nature.-Ibid It will do you no good to be of the right religion, if you be not zealous in the exercise of the duties of that religion.-Baxter. Faith is a burning glass, which receives the beams of God's love, and inflames the heart with love to him again; till, mounting up in fervent prayers, love reaches its original, and rests for ever in love.-Ibid. No man is past hopes of salvation until he is past all possibility of Re 102 REV. JOHN FLETCHER, M.A. pentance, until he is absolutely hardened against all gospel corrections.-Owen. Prosperity best discovers Vice; but Adversity best discovers Virtue. The corruption of humon nature is a poison so subtile, that it pierces into all the powers of the soul; so contagious, that it infects all the actions; so obstinate, that only Omnipotent grace can heal it. Bernard Gilpin. There is a dignity, sanctity, and authority in the words of the Holy Ghost, which impart elevation to the noblest sentiments, and elegance to the most beautiful. It is the legitimate style of the pulpit, and the cannonical robes of her divine instructions. Pulpit Anecdotes. BERNARD GILPIN narrowly escaped martyrdom during the reign of Mary of England; but, in the year 1560, he was offered the bishopric of Carlisle, and urgently pressed by the Earl of Bedford and other persons of distinction to accept it. He chose, however, to continue in the situation of what would now be called a missionary or an itinerant preacher, distributing his labours throughout the counties of Northumberland and Durham. Once, when Mr. Gilpin was setting out on his annual tour through Tynedale, the bishop summoned him to preach before him. Mr. Gilpin excused himself in the gentlest way he could, and proceeded on his journey; but, on his return, he found himself, for the crime of contempt, suspended from all ecclesiastical employments. Some time after, the bishop sent for him suddenly, and commanded him to preach. He obeyed, but selected, as the topic of his discourse, the high responsibility of a Christian bishop; and having exposed the corruptions of the clergy, he boldly addressed the prelate himself in these words: "Let not your lordship say, 'These crimes have been committed without my knowledge,' for whatsoever you yourself do in person, or suffer by your connivance to be done by others is wholly your own; therefore in the presence of God, angels and men, I pronounce your fatherhood to be the author of all these evils; and I and this whole congregation will be witnesses in the day of judgment that these things have come to your ears." At the close of the service, the bishop, thanked him for his faithful reproof. Rev. John Fletcher, M.A. DURING the early part of his residence at Geneva, his sister, Madame de Botens, who had taken a house in that city for the convenience of her brothers, was visited by a widow-lady from Nyon. This lady was accompanied by her three sons, who were not the most happily disposed, and whose improper conduct at this time, provoked her to so uncommon a degree, as to extort from her a hasty imprecation. Our pious young student was present upon this occasion, and so struck was he with the unnatural carriage of this exasperated mother, that, instantly starting from his chair, he addressed her in a very powerful remonstrance, from the following scripture-"Parents, provoke not your children," &c.: he reasoned with observed and lamented the difficulties of her in an affecting and pointed manner: he her situation; but entreated her to struggle against them with discretion, end not with impatience: he exhorted her to educate her children in the fear of God, and to second such education by her own pious example and after assuring her that her conduct, the utmost horror, and that he could not on the present occasion, had filled him with but tremble for the consequeuces of it, he concluded his address by alarming her fears, lest the imprecation she had uttered should be followed by unexpected family affliction. That same day, the widow, on her return to Nyon, emburked upon the lake, where she was overtaken with a tremendious storm, and brought to the very point of perishing. In the midst of her danger, the words of her young prophet (as she ever afterwards termed M. da la Flèchere) were deeply impressed upon her mind. But they ble manner, with the melancholy intellishortly returned upon her in a more forcigence, that two of her sons were lost upon the lake, and the third crushed to death at one of the gates of Geneva. Friendly Monitions to Parents. Home, a sacred Place. Oн, how sacred is that home where every word is kindness, and every look affection! Where the ills and sorrows of life are borne with mutual effort, and its pleasures are equally divided and each esteem the other more worthy. Where a holy emulation abounds to excel in offices of kindness and affectionate regard. Where live long day, the week, the month, the year, is a scene of cheerful and unwearied effort to swell the tide of domestic comfort, and overflow the heart with home-borh enjoyments. That home may be the humblest hovel on earth; but there heart meets heart, in all the fondness of a full affection And where ever that spot is found, there is an exemplification of all that is lovely and of good report among men. It is heaven begun below. The real character at Home. "WHAT a truly interesting character," said Mrs. as the door closed on the polite Mr. : "what a treasure must his family possess in him! His wife must be one of the happiest of women! His house a little paradise; made up of innocence and love!" 66 Yes, indeed he is," replied many voices, whose discordant harmony, was disturbed by the following observation from a grave old gentleman, who formed one of the party: we dress for company; but at home we appear in our deshabille. In company we assume an artificial appearance, at home we appear in our real character." 66 The love of fame, which originates the great and splendid acheivements of history, very often give a false complexion to the human character, by inducing many to display virtues, pro tempore, which form no essential part of their moral constitution. Hence arises the extreme difficulty of ascertaining the real character of a man from the casual intercourse which we may have with him, in the commerce of social life, as he usually attires himself in his best style of manner and dispositions, when he goes forth to show himself in the circle of friendship. There he is polite and fascinating; he gives way to the pleasantry of his nature; no sullen gloom hangs over his brow; no anger flashes from his eye; no bitter, no cutting words, pass from his lips; he looks, he speaks, he acts, as a man of sense, as a man of kindness, and as a man of the most refined and delicate sensibility. But if we could follow him home, where he throws of his visiting dress, and appears in his accustomed habits, what a change should we too often behold! The faceitous companion is sullen as soon as he is seated by his own fire-side; the amiable and the mild associate degenerates into the cruel oppressor when at home; and he who can excite general admiration and esteem, when abroad, becomes an object of terror amongst the members of his own family. Hence as Dr. Johnson very justly remarks, "it is at home, that every man must be known by those who would make a just estimate either of his virtue or felicity; for smiles and embroidery are alike occasional, and the mind is often dressed for show in painted honor and fictitious benevolence." Perhaps there is no vice held in more general abhorrence, than the vice of hypocrisy. It is condemned by the good and the bad, by the learned and by the illiterate; by the aged and by the young, and yet, what vice more common! "For every man must have found some whose lives, in every house but their own, were a continual series of hypocrisy, and who concealed under fair appearances, bad qualities, which whenever they think themselves out of the reach of censure, break out from their restraint, like winds imprisoned in their caverns, and whom every one has reason to love, but they whose love a wise man is chieflly solicitous to attain. But happily there are others, who, without any show of general goodness, and without the attractions by which popularity is conciliated, are received among their own families as be. stowers of happiness, and reverenced as instructors, guardians, and benefactors; and of this we may be assured that a man is in reality what he is in his own family— whether vicious or virtuous, tyrannical or mild, miserable or happy." An Exhortation to Parents. THERE is hardly any thing of greater importance than the bringing up of children in the way they should go. This is a duty which cannot be undertaken too early, nor too strictly performed. The minds of children must be engaged. As soon as reason begins to dawn, the mind begins to expand, and cannot remain unemployed. If good things are not carefully instilled, it will occupy itself in trifles. And when a child in |