The Ship of Heaven

The man was very poor, and one of those poor men who never make it any better. Always so laggard and so listless, he looked as if he had come into the world with only half his soul. Having no fondness for exertion, he had great faith in windfalls; and once or twice he was favored with a windfall; but as he took no pains to secure it and turn it to account, the same fickle element which brought it soon wafted it away. His character was gone; his principles, never firm, were fast decaying; and between laziness and bad habits, he was little better than the ruin of a man. He had a brother far away; but so many years had come and gone since last he was seen in those regions, that he was faintly recollected. Indeed, so long since was it, that this

ASTOR. IJiNOX AND FOUNDATIONS K L man had no remembrance of him. But one evening a messenger came to him, telling him that his brother lived, and in token of his love, had sent him the present of a gallant ship with all its cargo. The man was in a heartless mood. He was sitting in his dingy chamber; no fire on the hearth, no loaf in the cupboard, no pence in his pocket, no credit in that neighborhood, bleak weather in the world, bleak feelings in his soul. And as, with folded arms, he perched on an empty chest and listened to the news, he neither wondered nor rejoiced. Sure enough it was a windfall; but he was not just then in a romantic or wistful mood, and so he heard it sullenly. No; he neither danced nor capered, neither laughed nor shouted, but coldly walked away — scarcely hoping, scarcely caring to find it true. And when, at last, he reached the port, and espied the ship, it dispelled all his boyish dreams of eastern merchantmen. The masts were not palms, with silken cords furling the purple sails; nor did its bulwarks gild the water, and its beams of sandal scent the air. It was much like the barques around it — chafed, and weathered, and bleached by the billows, and bore no outward token of a gorgeous freight. But stepping on board, as soon as the master of the vessel knew who he was, he addressed him respectfully, and descanted with glowing warmth on the glories and generosity of his absent brother, and then invited him below to feast his eyes on his new possession. There was gold, and the red ingots looked so rich, and weighed in the hand so heavy; there were robes, stiff with embroidery, and bright with ruby and sapphire stars; there were spices such as the fervid sun distils from the fragrant soil in that exuberant zone, and dainties such as only load the tropic trees. Nor in the wealthy invoice had forethought and affection omitted any good; for there were even some herbs and anodynes of singular power; a balm which healed envenomed wounds; an ointment which brought back the failing sight; a cordial which kept from fainting; and a preparation which made the wearer proof against the fire. And there was a bulky parchment, the title-deeds to a larse domain somewhere in that sunny land; and along with all a letter, distinct and full, in the princely donor’s autograph. Of that letter, the younger brother sat down and read a portion there; and as he read, he looked around him to see that it was all reality; and then he read again, and his lip quivered, and his eye filled, and as the letter dropped upon his lap, he smote upon his breast, and called himself by some bitter name. And then he started up; and if you had only seen him — such an altered man; such energy, and yet such mildness; such affection, and withal such heroism as beamed of a sudden in his kindling countenance; you would have thought that, amid its other wonders, that foreign ship had fetched the remainder of his soul. And so it had. From that day forward, he was another man; grudging no labor, doing nothing by halves, his character changed, his reputation retrieved, his wbiole existence filled with a new consciousness, and inspired by a new motive, and all his sanguine schemes and cheerful efforts converging toward the happy day which should transport him to the arms of that unseen brother.

Reader, have you lost heart about yourself? Once on a time you had some anxiety about character. You wished that you had greater strength of principle, and that your moral standing were more respectable. You envied the virtuous energy of those friends who can resist temptation, and combat successfully the evil influences around them. You have even wished that you could wake up some morning and find yourself a Christian; and you have sometimes hoped that this happiness might at length befall you. But there is, as yet, no sign of it. Startling providences have passed over you, but they have not frightened you out of your evil habits; and, from time to time, amiable and engaging friends have gained ascendency over you, but they have not been able to allure you into the paths of piety. And now you are discouraged. You know that some vicious habit is getting a firmer and more fearful hold of you, and if you durst own it to yourself, you have now no hope of a lofty or virtuous future. You feel abject, and spiritless, and self-disgusted, and have nearly made up your mind to saunter slipshod down the road to ruin.

You do not remember your Elder Brother, for he had left those regions before you were born. But this comes to tell you that he lives and wishes you well. In the far country whither he has gone, he knows how you are, and is much concerned at your present condition. And he feels for you none the less, that in all that land he is himself the richest and the mightiest. And to show that, amid all his glory, he is not ashamed to be called your brother, he has sent you a noble gift — a ship freighted with some of his choicest acquisitions, and bringing everything good for a man like you.

And be not vexed nor angry when I tell you, that that ship of heaven is the Bible. If, instead of touching at every land and coming to every door — if only a few Bibles arrived now and then ready-made and direct from heaven, and each addressed to some particular person — and if none besides were allowed to handle their contents or appropriate their treasures — how justly might the world envy that favored (ew! But having purchased gifts for men while here among us, and being highly exalted where he is gone, the Saviour in his kindness sends this heaven-laden book, this celestial argosie, to all his brethren here below, and each alike is welcome to its cosdy freight. Despise it not! There is nothing dazzling in its exterior. It is plain and unpretending. No rainbow lights its margin, nor do phosphorescent letters come and go on its azure pages. But the wealth of the Indian carack is neither its timbers rHE SHIP OF HEAVEN. 33

nor its rigging; it hides its treasure in the hold. The wonder of the Bible is neither its binding nor its type — nay, not even (though these are wonderful) its language and its style. It makes God glorious, and the reader blessed, by the wealth it carries and the truths it tells.

To recite at full the letter, would take too long. A brother’s heart yearns in it all; but what a holy, and what an exalted brother! He informs you that all power is given him in heaven and earth, and that from his Father he has received such ample authority, that all throughout these dominions, life and death are in his hands. He says that he is grieved to know your wretched position; but he bids you not to lose heait, for if you only take advantage of what he has sent you, there will be an end of your misery. Aud he adds, that, freely and lovingly as he forwards these gifts, they cost him much; they have cost him labor and sorrow, groans and anguish, tears and blood. He begs that you will take frankly what is given kindly, and assures you that nothing will gladden him more than to hail you to his home and instal you in his kingdom. And lest there be any mattei which you do not rightly understand, and on which you would like fuller information, or more help till then, there is a very wise and much-loved friend of his, who is willing to come and abide with you until he and you shall meet again.

But, begging you to read the letter at your leisure, let us step for a few minutes on board. Let us glance at some of those costly gifts which the Saviour purchased long ago, and which, in this Book of Heaven, he sends to our island-planet, and to the several abodes of us sinners who inhabit it.

And, first of all, look at this fine gold. Among material substances, the one most prized is gold. Not only is it very beautiful, but it is the means of procuring each rare commodity. Hence, we call him a rich man who abounds in it, and him a poor man who has got none of it. And in the spiritual domain, the equivalent of gold is goodness. By holy beings, and by God himself, the thing most prized is not money, but moral worth; not gold, but goodness. And when God first ushered on existence his new creature, man, he gave him a portion of heaven’s capital to begin with: he gave him holy tastes and dispositions, a pure and piotip mind. But man soon lost it. He suffered himself to be defrauded of his orioinal righteousness; and on that dismal day, he who rose the heir of immorrality, lay down a bankrupt and a pauper. All was lost; and though he tried to replace it by a glittering counterfeit, the substitute had not one atom of what is essential to genuine goodness. It entirely lacked the love of God; and no sooner had -Jehovah applied the touchstone, than in grief and displeasure he exclaimed, “How is the gold become dim! how is the most fine gold changed!” And yet that gold was essential — nothing could compensate for it. No merit, then no reward; no righteousness, no heaven. And which guarantied a glorious immortality, man had lost the only thing which entitled him to the favor of God — the only thing It was then that his case was undertaken by a Kinsman-Redeemer. To a holy humanity he superadded the wisdom and strength of Deity; and divinely authorized, he took the field — the surety and representative of ruined man. In his heart he hid the holy law; and in his sublime fulfilment of it, he magnified that law and made it honorable. And between the precious blood he shed, as an expiation for sin, and the spotless obedience which he offered on behalf of his people, he wrought out a redundant and everlasting righteousness. It was tested, and was found to be without one particle of alloy. It was put into the balance, but the sin has never yet been found which could outweigh the merits of Iramanuel. The righteousness of Christ, as the sinner’s representative, is the most golden thing in all the gospel; and it is because of its conveying and revealing that righteousness, that the gospel is the power of God, and the wisdom of God unto salvation.* Be counselled to buy this fine gold, and you will be rich.t Accept, poor sinner, this righteousness of the Saviour, and you will be justified freely by a gracious God, through the redemption that is in Christ.f God will be well pleased with you because you are well pleased with his beloved Son; and will count you righteous for the sake of that righteousness which the Saviour wrought out, and which the gospel reveals, and which, thankfully receiving, you present to a righteous God as your plea for pardon, and your passport to the kingdom of heaven.

This is the glory of the gospel. It REVEALS A ;righteousness. And just as the man whose affairs are all entangled would be thankful for money sufficient to discharge his debts, and set him on a foot- Rom. i. 16, 17. f Rev. iii. 18. % Rom. iii. 20-26.

ing with his honest neighbors, so the man who knows himself a debtor to Divine justice would be unspeakably thankful for that possession, whatever it may be, which would cancel all his liabilities, and place him on a level with those happy beings who have never sinned at all. This possession is an adequate righteousness; and if the reader be anxious to enjoy God’s favor, he will hail the gospel, for it reveals that righteousness.

In other days, when men were in want of money, they sometimes tried to manufacture gold. The alchymist gleaned a portion of every possible substance from ocean, earth, and air, and put them all into his crucible, and then subjected the medley to the most tedious and expensive processes. And after days or months of watching, the poor man was rewarded by seeing a (ew frains of shining metal, and in the excitement of near discovery, the sweat stood upon his brow, and he urged the fire afresh, and muttered, with trembling diligence, the spell which was to evoke the mystery. And thus, day by day, and year by year, with hungry face and blinking eyes, he gazed into his fining-pot, and stirred the molten rubbish, till one morning the neighbors came and found the fire extinct, and the ashes blown about, and the old alchymist stiff, and dead, on the laboratory floor; and when they looked into the broken crucible, they saw that after all his pains, the base metals remained as base as ever.

But though men no longer endeavor to manufacture gold, they still try to manufacture goodness. The merit which is to open heaven, the moral excellence which is to render God propitious, the fine gold of righteousness, they fancy that they can themselves elaborate. As he passed along, the apostle Paul sometimes saw these moral alchymisls at work; and as he observed them £0 earnest for salvation — as he saw them casting into the crucible prayers, and alms, and tears, and fastings, and self-tortures, he was moved with pity. He told iO THE HAPPY HOME.

them that depraved humanity was material too base to yield the precious thing they wanted. He told them that they were spending their strength for naught; and that the merit which they were so eager to create exists already. He told them that if they would only avail themselves of it, they might obtain, without restriction, the righteousness of a Divine Redeemer. “I pray that you may be saved; I sympathize with your anxiety; I love your earnest zeal, while I deplore your deadly error. But ignorant of the righteousness which God has already provided, and going about to establish a righteousness of your own, you are missing the great magazine of merit — the great repository of righteousness — Jesus Christ. You need not scale the heavens to bring righteousness down; you need not dive into the deep in order to fetch it up; you need not watch, and toil, and do penance, in order to create it; for it exists already there. God has made his own dear Son the sinner’s rightiousness, and in the gospel offers him to all. The gift is nigh thee. It is at thy door; it is in thy hand. Receive it, and be righteous; receive it, and rejoice.”* And so, dear reader, if you are anxious for peace with God, accept God’s own gift — the peace-procuring righteousness. Present, as your only plea with a holy God, the atonement of his Son; despair of bringing merit out of vileness, or sanctity out of sin. With Luther, “learn to know Christ crucified; learn to sing a new song. Renouncing your own work, cry to Him, Lord, thou art my righteousness, and I am thy sin. Thou hast taken on thee what was mine, and given to me what was ihine; what thou was not, thou becamest, that I might become what I was not.”

But among the other precious commodities purchased by the Friend of Sinners, and floated to our world in that comprehensive ark, his gospel, we must notice a

PEACEFUL CONSCIENCE and A CONTENTED Rom. X. 1-12; 1 Cor. i. 30; 2 Cor. v. 21.

MIND. Should this be read by any one who has lately committed a crime, or by one who has newly discovered the holiness of God and the plague of his own heart, that reader knows the horrors of a troubled conscience. And no man can make it happy. We might put it in a palace. We might promote it to tread ankle-deep on obsequious carpets, or embosom it in balm and down. We might bid Araby breathe over it, and Golconda glitter round it. We might encircle it with clouds of hovering satellites, and put upon its head the wishing-cap of endless wealth. But if we have not taken the barb from its memory, the festered wound from the spirit — the pale forebodinf]:, the frequent gloom, the startled slumber, will pronounce these splendors mockery, and ‘all this luxury a glittering lie.

And even where there is not this sharp anguish, there is in the worldling’s spirit a secret wretchedness, and a prevailing discontent. He lonojs for something, he scarce knows what; and this dim craving degenerates to a depraved voracity. He feeds on husks and ashes, or even poisonous fruits. He tries to feast his soul with fame and glory, or satiates it with sensual joys and voluptuous revelries. But from the visionary banquet he wakens up, and still his soul hath appetite; or recovered from the drunken orgy, he recognises in his besotted self a fiend imprisoned — his guilty soul the demon, and his embruted frame the dungeon. And be the diversion what it may, nothing will make a godless spirit truly happy. Get an unexpected fortune, and rise to sudden grandeur; lounge away your mornings in sumptuous clubrooms, and flutter out your evenings at balls, and plays, and operas; roam through continental vineyards or over northern moors; dawdle the long day in Brighton newsrooms, or trip it on Ramsgate pier; gallop over Ascot, or yacht it round the Needles; and from each famed resort and costly recreation, the lover of pleasure must

Blill bring back a bollow heart and a hungry soul.

But tarry where you are — continue in your present toilsome calling; and pray that prayer, “There be many that say, Who will show us any good? Lord, lift thou up the light of thy countenance upon us, and put gladness in our heart, more than when corn and wine increase.” Learn, that for Christ’s sake God is reconciled to you, dnd life will wear another aspect. You will be like the primitive believers, after they received the remission of their sins. You will eat your meat with gladness, praising Cod. The same fir table is still your daily board, and from a homely trencher you still despatch your frugal meal. Work is still wearing, and winters are still severe, and siill there will come hard times and heavy trials. But with heavenly entertainment at each repast, and a divine assurance deep in all your soul; in covenant with the beasts of the earth, and in league with the stones of the fie! J, you will pass, a cheerful pilgrim, through a smiling universe, and enjoy on earth your first of heaven.

And if you ask, which package in the freight, which passage in the hook, contains this priceless blessing, there are many which only need to be opened in order to obtain it. “Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord: Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.” — “God is in Christ reconciling the world unto himself, not imputing their trespasses unto them; and hath committed unto us the word of reconciliation. Now, then, we are embassadors for Christ, as though God did beseech you by us: we pray you, in Christ’s stead, be ye reconciled to God. For he halh made him to be sin for us, who knew no sin; that we might be made the righteousness of God in him.” — “This is the record, that God halh given to us eternal life, and this life is in his Son. He that hath the Son hath life.”

“There is no condemnation to them who are in Christ Jesus.”* Here is the amnesty, and you, my dear reader, are invited to accept it. So far as you are concerned, nothing lies nearer the heart of Jehovah than your return to his fatherly bosom; and for this very purpose he has sent you the conditions of peace. These conditions have ah’eady been fulfilled by his own dear Son as the sinner’s representative, and to that red handwriting you have only to countersign your consenting name. And no sooner do you thus fall in with God’s way of saving sinners, than his beaming eye pronounces over you the benison which on earth Jesus so rejoiced to utter, “Go in peace: thy sins, which are many, be forgiven thee.”

Nor must we forget that possession as precious as it is unique, the New Heart.” A new heart also will T give you, and a new spirit will I put within you; and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, •Ifl.i. 18; 2Cor.v. 19-21; 1 John v. 1 1, 12; Kom.viii, 1.

and I will give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my spirit within you, and will cause you to walk in my statutes, and ye shall keep my judgments and do them.” Whenever a man believes the gospel, God gives him a loving, trustful, and obedient heart; and what was formeily irksome or odious, becomes to his altered views and feelings attractive and easy. The Lord not only delivers him from the slavery of sin, and transfers him into his own family, but gives him the cordial feelings and affectionate instincts of a son. And along with this, everything is changed. The great commandment, ‘’ Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy soul,” is no longer a flagrant extravagance but a gracious privilege, and the thankful spirit answers, “O Lord, thou art the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever.” Prayer IS no longer an infliction but an opportunity, and the sanctuary, from a prison or lock-up, is transformed into a happy homestead and endeared resort; while the sabbath, once so dull or so dissipated, smiles upon him in hallowed and delightful returns. His relation to the Saviour gives a new look to the holy law; and, receiving from the hand of a pardoning God, those requirements which he used to receive from a threatening Judge, the duties which frowned with prohibition, and coerced by penalties, become propitious and inviting. The prickly precept — “The soul that sinneth, it shall die” — the Saviour has deprived of its thorn, and along with Sharon’s rose, and blending their fragrance together, he gives it to each disciple, that he may wear it in his bosom. And the harsh and hispid law — the command, which, like the loaf still latent in the bearded corn, is insipid and repulsive in the shape of dry morality — he has relieved from its choking awns and encumbering chafT; and, sweetened with beatitude, it tastes like sacramental bread, while he himself says over it, “Eat, O friend; yea, feast abundantly, O beloved.” And as it was to his elder

Brother, it becomes to the adopted child of God like meat and drink, to do the will of his Father who is in heaven.

Bur, over and above its golden treasures and rich commodilies, this vessel brings some RAKE EXOTi,cs. Perfect only in that better land, there is a skilful Cultivator,* who even in these cold climes has cherished and carried through some glorious specimens. With snowy petals, and drenching all around in contagious sweetness, blooms that lily of our valley, Christian Love; and beside it, with ruby blossom, courting all the radiant firmament, holy Joy may be recognised. By its silken stem and subtle branchlets, hiding its florets from blustry weather in a pavilion of its own, Peace may be identified; while near it, Long-suffering strikes its bleeding fibres deeper, and with balm requites the hand that wounds it. As if from one source springing, Gentleness and Kindness twine together; while Faith, erect and heaven-Gal. V. 22; John xv. 26.

a pointing, bears them each aloft. Scarce opening its modest eye, but bewraying its presence in the scented air, Meekness nestles in the mossy turf; and Temperance reveals in its healthy hue the tonic hidden in its root. These flowers of Paradise are sent to grace the Christian and cheer his friends; and it matters not whether they adorn the pent-up attic or the rural mansion — the spiritual mind is their true conservatory. INIan’s first home was a garden, and the race seems to inherit the love of those gentle shapes and glorious tints which were his silent comrades in Eden; and wandering through the sultry streets on days like these, it moves a pensive smile to see in many a window the dusty shrub or the empty flower-pot — a memento of scenes which can never be revisited, and a protest for rural joys which must not be tasted again. But those exotics which we have just enumerated, are independent of atmosphere and latitude; and some of the most splendid specimens have been cherished in workshops and cellars, amid the dust of factories, the smoke of cities, and in the depths of airless mines. “Love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance,” — these are the brightest beauties and the most fragrant ornaments of any dwelling. Pray that the Spirit of God would transfer them from the Bible to your character, and that he would tend and water them there. For should these graces flourish, the frost upon the fields, and the snow-flakes on the gale, will never touch the fadeless summer of your soul.

And, to notice nothing more, we must mention, as included in this costly consignment, THE TITLE-DEEDS TO A GREAT

INHERITANCE. Before he left the world, the Lord Jesus said to his disciples, “In my Father’s house are many mansions. I go to prepare a place for you.” And the Bible gives us some hints, that we may know what sort of mansion it is. Sin and sorrow never enter it. Its inhabitant never says, I am sick. And from his eyes God has wiped all tears. No templing devil and no corrupting men come near it; but all is holy and nil is pure. Its sun never sets, for a present Saviour is its constant light; and its blessedness never ebbs, for God himself is the fountain of its joy. And there the redeemed of earth have for their company the mighty intellects and loving souls in glory. And all this the ►Saviour has purchased for his people; and all this, happy reader, will be yours if you belong to Jesus. Like the expiring negro, when a friend exclaimed, “Poor Pompey!” and he answered, “Me no poor any more, me King Pompey now,” I dare say thai you are poor, but I am sure that you are rich. You are going where your present rank will be no objection, and where your earthly privations will only make the transition more ecstatic. And, oh, my friend! look forward and look up! I wish I could add to your present comforts; but T know that if you had it, this blessed hope would often cheat your present miseries. One windy afternoon I went with a friend into a country ahnshouse. There was sitting before a feeble fire a very aged man; and the better to keep from his bald head the cold gusts, he wore his hat: he was never likely to need it out of doors. He was very deaf, and so shaken with the palsy, that one wooden shoe constantly pattered on the brick floor. But, deaf, and sick, and helpless, it turned out that he was happy. “What are you doing, Wisby?” said my friend. “Waiting, sir.” “And for what?” “For the appearing of my Lord.” “And what makes you wish for his appearing?” “Because, sir, I expect great things then. He has promised a crown of righteousness to all that love his appearing.” And, to see whether it was a right foundation on which he rested that glorious hope, we asked old Wisby what it was. By degrees he got on his spectacles, and opening the great Bible beside him, pointed to that text, “Therefore, being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ: by whom also we have access by faith into this grace wherein we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God.”* And, dear reader, the God of grace puts that blessedness within your offer. Embrace it, and you will be the happy man “to whom death is welcome, while life is sweet.”

“When I can read my title clear
To mansions in the skies,
I bid farewell to every fear,
And wipe my weeping eyes.”

And now, kind reader, have you understood these things? Over a few sentences of this address, I have cast a thin veil of metaphor; — but I shall be very sorry if it has obscured my meaning; for even in these humble pages, there are truths which, if you believe and embrace, you need envy no man’s millions, and many a wealthy worldling is poor compared with you.

The thing which I have been most anxious to show, is the kind tone in which Rom. V. 1, 2.

the Saviour speaks to you, and the boons which, in the Bible, he transmits to you. Judging by some sermons and tracts, you might fancy that the Bible is a severe and angry book — or, at the very best, that it is a book of good advices. This is a mistake. The Bible has many a solemn passage, and it abounds in good advices; but you miss the very best of it if you think that this is all. I shall suppose that a young man has left his home in Scotland or the north of England. He comes to this great London, and in a little while falls in with its worst ways. In the theatre, and the tea-garden, and the tavern parlor, he spends all his money, and gets deep in debt; and then he turns ill, and is taken to the hospital; and when there, he begins to bethink him of his foolishness: “I wish I once were well again. I wish I once were home again. But His no use wishing. I know that my father’s door is shut: they would not take me in; and if once I were able to creep about, they would have me up for debt. It would just be out of the hospital into the jail.” And, while bemoaning his misery, a letter comes from his father, telling him that he has heard of his wretched plight, and reminding him of the past, and all he had done for his wayward child; and, glancing his eye over it, the sick youth crumples it up and crams it away under his pillow. And by-and-by a comrade comes in, and among other things the invalid tells him, “And here is a letter of good advice just cotne from my father;” and that other runs his eye over it:” Good advice, did you say? I think you should rather have said good news. Don’t you see, he makes you welcome home again? and in order that you may settle your accounts, and return in peace and comfort, he has appended this draft for twenty pounds.’* Most people read the Bible carelessly, or with a guilty conscience for the interpreter, and they notice in it nothing but reproofs and good advice. They miss the main thing there. The gospel is good news.

It tells US that God is love, and announces to every reader that the door of the Father’s house is open, and that this very night he may find a blessed home in the bosom of his God. And as we have all incurred a debt to Divine justice, which, throughout eternity, we could never pay — and as it needs a riehteousness to recommend us to the favor of a holy God — in every Bible there is enclosed a draft on the Saviour’s merit, to which the sinner has only to sign his believing name, and the great salvation is his own. By exhibiting the cross of Christ — by directing to that precious blood which cleanses from all sin — and by presenting a perfect righteousness to every awakened conscience — the Bible comes a benefactor and a friend in need. And when rightly understood, the angelic anthem — “Glory to God in the highest; on earth peace; good-will toward man” — is the cheerful but stately tune to which the gospel goes, and to which in heaven itself they sing it.

And, reader, try to catch that tune. Pray that God would thb very niiht, by his own Spirit, teach it to you. Fear not to believe too soon, nor to rejoice in Christ Jesus too much. Let the love of God your Saviour tide into all your soul, and, as it makes your feelings happy, so will it make your dispo-mons new. Peace and joy will keep you from some sins, gratitude and loyalty will preserve yon from the rest. No cheerful glass will be needed to raise your spirits then; for a soul exulting in the great salvation forgets its poverty, and remembers its misery no more. No sinful lust nor forbidden joy will enthral you then; for you will have discovered deeper and purer pleasures. And there will be no fear of your growling and cursing through your daily task, or filling with consternation your cowering family; for the peace of God will make you pacific, and scattering on every side kind looks and friendly feelings, you will come and go a sunshine in the shop, a firelight in the home.

No: do not sit so sullenly. I am a stranger, but it is the truth of God I tell. In all your life you may never have got a costly gift; but here, at last, is one. It is the gift of God, and therefore it is a gift unspeakable; but, accepted as cordially as it is graciously offered, it will make you blessed now, and rich for all eternity. Oh, my dear friend, do not eye it so coldly; suffer it not so tamely to pass away. This night has brought you good news. It has told you of the Saviour’s costly purchase and wondrous present. Let it also bring good news to heaven; let it tell that the love of God has broken your heart, and made you sorry and ashamed for all your sins; let it tell that with tears of thankfulness you have surveyed the “unsearchable riches of Christ,” and have given yourself to Him who once gave himself for you; let it tell that your history has taken a new turn, and that, breaking off from your worthless companions and evil ways, you have begun in lowliness and love to follow Jesus.