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upon. In this the snow is but one when Christianity was in a minority exemplification of a great law always of one against the whole world; when at work. The most remarkable illus- it was to be found only in its great tration of it is afforded in the history | Founder, Jesus. There was, alterof God's spiritual connection with our | wards, a time when the Church conrace. Look at the revelation of divine sisted of but twelve members. Wat truth to men; it has ever been progres a striking consideration is that! What sive. Just as the orb of day bursts out a commentary on the language:suddenly upon the world, dazzling the “ The kingdom of heaven is like learea, vision of all created beings with an which a woman took and hid in the unexpected glory and an overpower measures of meal, until the whol ing magnificence, so the sun of truth was leavened,”-like leaven, whic has diffused its benign light in that assimilates the mass to itself br deproportion and at that rate justified grees and silently! It is equally si by the particular condition of hu with Christianity in the individual. manity at a given period. To thou It acquires its holy sway and obtains sands, besides the apostolic band, do its sacred power over us gradually. those words of the Saviour apply :-- Sanctification is not the work of 3 “I have yet many things to say unto moment. It occupies days, montes, you, but ye cannot bear them now." and years. Etfectually to maste: What wisdom and tenderness! This bad babits, overcome deprared prvbrief verse is the satisfactory answer pensions, and extinguish the longto the question, Why has God's reveal lingering fires of sin, requires tica ment of his will been so leisurely and It is the business, not of a small part. slow? It is because men could not but of a whole life. “Brighter ini “ bear” the full radiance of the truth brighter unto the perfect day;" "goall at once. The benevolent Father in ing from strength to strength;." heaven accommodated the manifesta “ waxing stronger and stronger ;” tion of Himself and his law to the “ growing in grace; "-these phrases, exact strength or weakness of his and many like them, indicate the earthly children's moral vision. He gradual nature of godliness. Tbear would not disperse every haze and dissi is large encouragement to the earnes pate each cloud immediately, for then disciple of Christ in this thought the radiance of the truth would blind When he sees how often his good te instead of blessing them. A careful solves have been broken, how frestudy of the Mosaic, the Prophetic, quently he has been overcome si and the Christian eras will evince the temptation, how much evil vet remalia correctness of our remarks. The in him, let him remember that it is by writer of the Epistle to the Hebrews degrees that he is to become holici. introduces the same fact: “God, who He must not expect to conquer all at in sundry places and in divers man once. It does not follow because be ners, spake unto our fathers by the | has yet much to lament in himci, prophets, hath in these last days spo that he has not also much, and ever ken unto us by his Son.” The prophets more, for which “ to thank God and and good men of times anterior to the take courage.” Forward, then ! ste? Gospel cast the torchlight of truth by step, day by day, and completa upon the world, each one exceeded the victory shall at last be ours in the previous one in strength and brilliancy, | land of triumph above. until at length He came who said, “I 4. The snow is under the immediut” am the truth.”
superintendence of God. In the preseri In like manner, it is well for us today there are two distinct notions as remember that the extension of prac- to the connection of the Creator with tical Christianity has been a gradual his creation. The first looks upon that work. There was, first of all, a time connection as past rather than present,
2.cording to it, God has little or, Just so with our eternal Friend. Away wthing to do with the material with the “science, falsely so called," Torld now, having, once for all, at | which would remove Him from us : the beginning of the world set in ope- | begone all pseudo-philosophies which sation a certain 'series of causes and seek to put Him at what John Howe
ets which preclude the necessity of sarcastically called “a respectful disfather interference. The other view tance.' that the Almighty One is now
“ God liveth ever! derting personally and immediately
Wherefore, soul, despair thou never! Forks. If we may use a common
Our God is good, in every place 129 illustration, some men regard His love is known, His help is found;
are as a watch which the great Ilis mighty arm and tender grace Lker wound up at its construction Bring good from ills that hem us round. a so much skill that it will continue
Easier than we think can He
Turn our joy to agony; borgo to the end of time; others regard
Soul, remember, 'mid thy pains, istire as superintended by God God'o'er all for ever reigns.” Tery day, hour, minute. It seems to
that the last of these doctrines Does the glance of one fall upon these 1** once more scriptural and more pages who has not experienced the satisfactory in its influence on us. power of Christ? We would, in closThat it is the view suggested by ing, remind such that the snow has tablical writers is obvious. They something to say to him. It speaks Iraniably speak of the vast ma of sin. At least, it did so to King Shinery of the world as under the David. When he looked forth from trent superintendence of Jehovah. his princely house of cedar on the pure Mark only the manner in which they | and white snow, it brought to mind advert to that phenomenon of which his own impure and black heart. TO DOW write: "He saith to the snow, Therefore he said, “Purge me with Be thou on the earth," not " said," hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me, tat "saith.” It is a thing now being and I shall be whiter than snow.” In Lune. “He giveth snow”-a present like manner, dear reader, let it fill you peration. And surely, this aspect of with earnest and anxious thought "he divine workings is the most cheer- concerning your own guilt and de23 that can le conceived. The cry of prayity. The snow speaks, too, of
nine piety is"Let me have a pardon. Did it only make us feel our mai who is near me. Tell me not of evil, it would not be a gladsome mesDe who has made the earth and then senger; but, thank God! it seems to at it. Speak to me of one in whom I catch the jubilant strain of mercy, strually live, and move, and have my | re-echoing the blessed promise — being! I want a present and a near “ Though your sins be as scarlet, they bred.” Any one that we much love shall be white as snow.” Go now to and greatly admire we like to have Him who has given this gracious assurDear us. The closer to us, the better. | ance, seek Him in penitent zeal, and
I have a faithful and true friend, your happy heart shall soon join in Let him not dwell in another land, or the thankful confession of all the remother town, or another street, or deemed : “ As far as the east is from apen another habitation, but, if pos- | the west, so far hath he removed our ble, let me have him in my house. | transgressions from us.”
THE TIME TO DIE.
“LET me die in the Spring,” said a sweet young girl,
As she looked on the valleys green: “ Let me die in the Spring,” and her check grew bright,
As she gazed on the joyous scene;
When the zephyrs in music sigh,
In the Spring-time let me die.”
“ Let me die, let me die in the Summer-time,”
Said the youth as he looked around
So still on the cool, damp ground.
With their rich and varied chime,
Let me die in the Summer-time.”
“Let me die, let me die in the Autumn-time,"
Said the strong man as he stood
Through the shade of the lonely wood;
When the flowers are dying fast,
Oh, then let me breathe my last.”
“ Let me die, let me die in the Winter-time,”
The wayworn pilgrim said,
And bowed his whitened head;
And clouds obscure the sky,
It is time for me to die.”
And smiled as the waves swept by;
Let thy suffering servant die;
To a fairer and brighter clime, e
Let me die in thine own good time."
Tales and Sketches.
JOHN GRIERSON'S | His loneliness grew insupportable. REPENTANCE.
He was ready, at last, to suffer any
penalty, bear any doom, if only he ONLY that one cabin in sight, in all could flee from the unseen terror of his Be green, level prairie. No foot came solitude. He made up his mind debre, -only God's winds and rains liberately. Not once had the foot buu it out, and the sunshine that l of another human being crossed his brukes no heart until the grave threshold. Lynx-eyed justice would Ears it. Alone John Grierson had never find him here. Here from all
#d out the logs of which it was human vengeance he was safe; and to Lude, and shaped the lonely dwelling; go home was to face death. He knew
there, face to face with his own where he had left the body of a murmal, he hid himself away, and almost dered man, still and ghastly in the ebeved that neither God nor man moonlight. The place drew him back bold and him. At first he had only with an awful fascination. He must Locht of safety. He had been ready go there yet once more, and then he
Femme solitude. But when a would deliver himself up to justice. be rear went by, and, save in his | If in the grave he could escape that 2014 secret journeys to the nearest Presence, he would be content to die. ariet-town, he saw no one, he began When he had made up his mind, he feel a growing, unutterable horror hurried off with feverish eagerness. the very isolation he had sought; He shut the door of his lonely cabindit seemed to him as if some mys the shelter where man could not find rious influence interfered to turn him; but where solitude had been his thy the steps of travellers from judge and the executioner of his sen#dwelling. Every day, and all the tence. He travelled night and day;
only his own shuddering soul for and at last he stood, at a high noon of mpany, until, slowly, he began to summer, in that spot where he had left I that God had found him, and to his brother lying in the moonlight, it conscious of a shadowy, accusing with the awful whiteness on his stil, Esence, grand and awful.
brow. He half expected to find therel I was in early summer that he felt even now, that upturned, reproachful Inst, -vaguely and at intervals in the face. Instead, soft green mosses carfurning, but soon constantly, and peted the spot; green-tree boughs, th a shuddering, nervous horror that | through which the sunlight sifted, Ter left him. He went out into the hung over it. It looked so strangely de expanse of prairie—with the blue, | peaceful that the very stillness shook ful sky above him, and the level him with his old vague terror; and d. which no house dotted, stretch- even here he felt the Presence, from
far and away-and it seemed to which he thought he had escaped ; and 1 the Presence filled the infinite heard the voice calling downward from Ibe around him full. From the still the sky, “ Where is thy brother?”
voice called downward, “Where and an echo, slow, wailing, unutterby brother ?” until he fled swiftly, | ably sad, sighed the question again & shut himself again into his lonely through all the tree boughs. vin, barring the door tight. And Fast as his trembling limbs would re, in his silent room, the Presence carry him, he turned and fled-but coded still, and night or day the not this time into any wilderness. He Ice was never silent.
walked through familiar ways, never
pausing to note any well-known scene, | You had better go home and see him. or watch any of the splendid tokens of You can't be arrested, you know, for summer along the highway. He hur- a crime that never was committed," ried on until he stood before the door of and then he was going to shut the the magistrate to whom his confession door. was to be made. And here, with his Grierson, too quick forbim, wrenched hand upon the knocker, his heart began' | it out of his hand, and stood face to to fail him. Even yet, he thought, he face with him in the passage. might go away and be safe. He saw, " Squire Granger," he said, with a as in a vision, his lonely cabin, stand- | steady earnestness which compelle ing in the midst of tall, rank grass, reply, “is it true that my brother and millions of gaudy flowers, the | James Grierson, whom I left for dead affluent vegetation of the prairie. | is alive and well ?"
For a moment he was tempted to go “He was this morning.” back; but the ghosts, as it seemed, of A sudden resolution gave force t his still days there rose before him— Grierson's manner. the white, frozen winter, with not a “ You were my father's friend," b sound save howling wind, or driving said, “and you have known me a storm, or the cry of some desolate bird your life. You must listen to an or beast-the summer when the still confession.” ness seemed yet more terrible, and the Silently Squire Granger opened th Presence had overshadowed him. No; door of a room at his right hand, an he might suffer anything else, but he motioned into it his strange gues could not go back into that prison, And there, in that quiet room, Joh where nothing human had been his Grierson told his story. gaoler. He raised the knocker and After his father died, he and his bro used it resolutely, and the man he ther had lived together, pleasanthy sought came himself to the door. enough, on the old place. They had
A light of neighbourly recognition even been fonder of each other, per gleamed in the magistrate's eyes, and haps, than the majority of brother with extended hand, and surprised yet until Olive Lansing crossed their track cordial air, he cried, cheerily,
and they both loved her. She was “That you, Grierson ? Come back, coquettish creature, with her dar eh, as suddenly and mysteriously as bewildering eyes, her syren voice, a you went away".
her piquant manner. If she prefern John Grierson did not answer the either of them, she let neither kno cordial greeting, or pay any heed to it; and they both went on loving the extended hand. His only, over more and more, and growing to ha powering thought was how to lay down each other. One night they methis burden-how to ease his tortured, the wood. By some strange fatalit remorseful heart-how to escape the John, with his gun on his should Presence that pursued him. He said, | was coming back from a day's huntin hoarsely
just as James was going gaily hop "I killed a man, and I am come to from a visit to her, with a rose she ha deliver myself up to justice. I am the given him in his button-hole. It murderer of my brother, James Grier a peculiar rose, which bloomed I son.”
where else in town save on the bu Squire Granger's face grew pale. that stood in her sitting-room windo He thought that he was talking with John recognized it at once, and an escaped madman; and began to stung almost to madness by that sig consider what he should do for self and his brother's gay air of satisfactic protection. He stepped a little farther There were a few wild words-passio back, and said, soothingly,
ate and unbrotherly on both sides “James Grierson is alive and well. ) and then John Grierson, always ho