good things in him,-a solid and even temper, a fairly obliging and friendly disposition, and an unexceptionable moral deportment; who had long made a religious profession by "sharing habitually in the most solemn ordinances of God's house;" who withal, was "not poor in good works," though "not rich" in them. What lacked he then? what at all events could the minister, with whom he was on terms of friendship and mutual serviceableness in worldly things, reasonably deem lacking in him?

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The minister was not satisfied. Being always sensible," he writes, "of his ability and worth in many respects, my great ambition in respect to him was to be useful to him as a Christian; and accordingly I used to make several attempts for his improvement, when he was in soundness of body, mind and circumstances: but to my great surprise and regret, I never had success in any proportion to my expectation or inclination. For some years past he was languishing under a painful disease, which greatly reduced him, and insensibly wore him away. I often threw myself in his way, and spent many hours of day and night with him in hopes that the mighty hand of God, which lay so heavy on him, would naturally make him fond of religious converse, and bring him in love with sentiments respecting that world into which he was posting in the opinion of everybody but his own. But how mortifying a consideration was it to me, that he did not relish those subjects, in any suitableness to his pining condition!.

"Some weeks ago he was seized with a distemper like an intermitting fever, which early affected his judgment, and made him talk and act inconsistently several ways. I was soon apprehensive of the event that has now happened, and so thought meet to discourse him gently as a dying man. But no hint of this kind was welcome to him, even before his delirium came to any height. Nay, though in some lucid intervals he talked somewhat sensibly on other affairs, especially of the worldly sort, nothing could prevail with him to think on death! In a conversation, ten or twelve days before his end, I found him, to my grief, so unconcern'd about another world, nay, somewhat averse from dwelling on the important subject of a change, that I expressed my great wonder that he did not bestow more time and talk upon the one thing needful: whereupon he said, with an air of dislike of my suggestions, 'That he looked on himself as prepared for death for many years past.' To this I answered, that I knew but of three states wherein one in his present circumstances could be, viz. in full and well-grounded assurance of future happiness, or in doubts accompanied with hopes and fears, or lastly in diffidence, bordering, perhaps, on despair:-in any of these conditions, then, that I could not understand how a man could be silent while power of speaking remained; since the first would afford sufficient grounds for full conversation; and, in either of the two last cases, questionary converse

would be requisite for adjusting matters of so great importance. This was the last conference I had with this man, before his weakness of body and mind became so low, that it was of little use to trouble him with religious matters:-and so I almost wanted a key or rule whereby to talk to him about God, or to speak to God concerning him: on which account, all that past on either side was but random shot. Yet, in some sallies of his returning senses, he spoke about other things with consistency and earnestness. A day or two before the end, after I had engaged in prayer (of which he seemed conscious) I made a last attempt to get him to think of death, and asked him, whether he looked on that disease as his deadill. His answer was, 'Honestly I do not!""

The good minister, in relating these disheartening particulars, asks himself the question, What can have been the cause of this strange aversion, on the part of a professing Christian, to hold converse on divine things during the years of declining health, or even on his death-bed to think and speak of the eternal world? And he makes the solemnly suggestive and instructive answer, "A consciousness of his wealth, and of the caresses of the great in our neighbourhood on that account, seems to have been at the bottom of his indolence in spiritual matters. He that received seed among the thorns, is he that heareth the word; and the care of this world, and the deceitfulness of riches, choke the word, and it becometh unfruitful (Mat. xiii. 22).”

"And now upon the whole," asks the minister, "what shall we say or think on such a case? Without questioning, or positively asserting, the eternal happiness of a man so dying, must not a spectator of the melancholy scene wish for a brighter exit out of this world? My earnest prayer to thy Majesty, to thy mercy and goodness, O! Lord, in contemplation of the calamitous lot of the man now gone out of our world, is, that I may be in better case to witness for Thee and my own interest in Thee, than he was in his last days! Let me be pain'd and tortur'd in body agreeably to thy will; but, O! let me not set under such a cloud as I have seen this man do! I remem ber with pleasure and gratitude, when threatened with the fatal stroke at in 1748, I was mostly taken up with the thoughts most suitable to the state into which I seemed to be entering, unweariedly talking of eternity, until my kind physician and my dear brother Mr.

said I did my body harm by an excessive regard for the better part of me. Lord! thou only knowest how matters shall be with me when the blow, then threatened, shall in reality come: but, in whatever case Thy wisdom shall see meet to put me at the end of my life, Thou wilt not be offended at my longing wishes and eager requests that I may pass out of this world in condition to think and speak well of Thee, who promisest to be with thy people going through the dark vale (Ps. xxiii. 4).

"Can it displease the good God whom I worship, whom I love, of whom I boast against sin and hell,

and with whom I expect to dwell world without end, that I should beg of him for Christ's sake to put me in condition to witness for him, and in opposition to Satan, at the time when a man's words are most regarded, and when he is sure to do no more for God in this world? Dost not Thou, great and best of Masters, keep the best wine to the last? Hast Thou been guiding men by Thy counsel in this world, and wilt Thou desert them when going out of it? I know Thou leadest to glory through death; and can it be disagreeable to Thee, that, in parting with this world, one should leave a sweet savour of Thee and himself in it? Shall the holy angels be fluttering about the dying Christian's bed to waft the soul to heaven, and the Holy Ghost dwell in the orphan body (though quickly to be lock'd up as a prey to worms), and yet this separation of the expiring saint from his friends, as of the immaterial from the material part of the human composition, be without some religious solemnity? Where will, in this case, be the communicable comfort of the departing, or consolation of the surviving mourners? Then may they indeed sorrow as without hope (1 Thes. iv. 13). And how can the dying or living rejoice, but in proportion to the Divine manifestations vouchsafed while the last battle of the soul's a-fighting?"

Thus far the worthy minister; who himself was removed from this world not long after his rich parishioner, dying, as the final entries which he made in his diary prove, as he had lived, and leaving a name fragrant to this day in the district where his useful light had shone. Thus did a gracious God answer his faithful servant's request.

Which of us would wish the sun of our life to "set under a cloud?" Who would not say, "Let me die the death of the righteous"—of a Jacob who died saying, "I have waited for thy salvation, O Lord;" of a David, saying, "He hath made with me an everlasting covenant;" of a Stephen who said, "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit;" of a Paul who could say, "Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness?"

To die under a cloud of uncertainty whither we are going-whether to heaven or to hell; to die with hearts clinging to the world, and refusing to look, unless perforce, to the eternity we are entering; to die uncheered by the Saviour's sustaining presence, and having no communion with Him on our bed of death; to die without inclination or ability to commend Christ to those we leave behind us; to die leaving our weeping friends without solid comfort, because they are full of doubt where our departed spirits are- this is a mournful death for a professing

Christian to die!

What is it that leads to such a death-to death "under a cloud?" Ah! it is usually the manner in which a professing Christian lives. He names the name of Christ, but he lives in worldliness; his

affections have been set, in the days of health, not on the things that are above, but on things below, so that death finds him with his treasure and his heart on the earth; he has been living amid the fogs of worldliness and heart-sin-possibly even outward sin:-no wonder, that at his death these gather into a cloud, through which he cannot see either heaven or the Saviour. With the poet, let us now pray

Sun of my soul, Thou Saviour dear,
It is not night if Thou be near;
O may no earth-born cloud arise
To hide Thee from Thy servant's eyes!
Abide with me from morn till eve,
For without Thee I cannot live;
Abide with me when night is nigh,
For without Thee I dare not die.

THE GOD OF THE BIBLE.

(EXTRACTS FROM A SERMON ON PS. CHI. 13; BY THE LATE REV. A. M. M⭑GILLIVRAY OF DAIRSIE.)

"Like as a Father pitieth his children, so the Lord
pitieth them that fear him."

GOD'S PITY.-There is nothing which a sinner more needs under a dispensation of mercy than to know and believe God's "pity." No doubt careless sinners have general notions about this pity; but their notion of it is mere indulgence-to sin as they like, and to be happy when they die: it is not the pity of the God of the Bible-"the just God and the Saviour." In reality, man's thoughts of God are the very same with those which Adam had when after his fall he fled from God. Every unconverted man, if he thinks of God in His holiness at all, looks on Him as his enemy. And the revelation of God's mercy given in the Bible will not of itself remove this feeling towards God; and just for this reason that man won't believe it; he is too much the enemy of God to do so. But what is more humbling still, there is in God's own children a tendency to distrust Him; the old man is there still, and though crucified he is still the same in his blindness and unbelief. Now God in his word leaves nothing undone to persuade his own sinful creatures of the reality and greatness of his "pity." He reveals himself as, "The Lord, The Lord God, merciful and gracious,

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slow to anger, abundant in goodness, loving-kindness, and tender mercies;" he swears that, lives, he has no pleasure in the death of the wicked;" and as regards believers, he declares that "Like as a Father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him."

GOD KNOWN IN THE CROSS.-When a man looks to the cross, and sees the God-man at once so mighty and yet so gentle, so righteous and yet so kind, so full of hatred of sin and yet so full of love to the sinner, God is no longer to that man a vague, dark, terrible abstraction. He becomes to him a real,

living, present person, whose true character he now

knows. He looks to the cross, and he realizes the amazing fact that the sufferer there is none other than Jehovah, his Maker and Lord; and that He is

there dying for his own enemies, because he hates sin with a perfect hatred, and because he loves sinners with an infinite love. There is here, majesty, purity, and rectitude, joined to marvellous lovingkindness; in other words there is glorious goodness: and the consequence is, that the sinner exalts God as God, and approves of his character; and whatever comes of himself, he sees it to be right, and fitting, and glorious, that God should reign. And now it is that godly fear comes into exercise. All the man's thoughts about God have undergone a complete revolution; and the consequence is, that the man now "fears God and His goodness."

GOD'S FATHERHOOD.-What is the feeling with which God regards those who thus fear Him? "Like as a father pitieth his children." This is something greatly more than mere compassion. God in Christ has towards them that fear him every kindly, tender, compassionate feeling which a loving father has towards his own children. This feeling on the part of a parent is a special one, is in fact a feeling whose nature I think none but a parent can know.

How GOD DEALS WITH HIS CHILDREN.—God's children at first are very ignorant. The light of divine truth is only beginning to dawn on them, and there is much in them still that is the reverse of truth. God sees all this, and instead of despising his child, he pities him and instructs him.

The child is at first forward and wilful; but God bears with him, and trains him for glory. How Jesus when he was on earth bore with his chosen disciples! They were continually provoking him by their wilfulness and impatience, and by their pride and worldliness; and whilst he always checked these things, what majestic calmness and patience he manifested in dealing with them! "Having loved His own which were in the world, he loved them to the end." And so is it still; for "Jesus is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever."

An affectionate father labours to provide food for his children, and delights to see them partake of it that they may grow thereby. And it is thus with our Father in heaven. To provide for his children, the Son of God came down from heaven, shedding His precious blood that his people might "eat his flesh and drink his blood," and partake of that spiritual food which alone can feed their souls. He delights to see them partake of it, and says to them, "Eat, oh! friends; drink, yea, drink abundantly, oh beloved."

A tender father has also a tender pity towards his sick child. So Jehovah has feelings of special tenderness towards his people when he sees them in the furnace of affliction. Amid the glories of heaven, he never forgets he has been himself a sufferer, the man of sorrows. "In all their afflictions He was afflicted."

GOD'S ATTITUDE TO SINNERS.-Such is the God of the Bible, the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ; and what he seeks is that we miserable sinners should believe this, and take Him for our father and trust Him as a father. Don't take Satan's report about Christ; his report must be false. Don't listen to the suggestions of your own misbelieving heart; they are equally false. But go to his own word, and, looking up for the Spirit, hear what he says as regards him

self, as regards his gracious character. Above all fix your eye on Jesus, casting yourself into the arms of his mercy. You will find from blessed experience that "Like as a father pitieth his children,' so He pities you.

THE VINE AND THE BRANCHES.

"Abide in me, and I in you" (John xv. 4).
"I am the vine, ye are the branches" (John xv. 5).
"Abide with me, fast falls the eventide,

The darkness deepens, Lord, with me abide."-Lyte.
My Saviour! didst Thou say, "Abide in me?"
Didst Thou invite, and shall I not obey?
Not simply seek My face, but, nearer still,
"Live ever in My heart:-that is My will?"

Shall I then say to such an offered rest, "Not so! oh Lord! I am no fitting guest; Make me a little better ere I come.

I dare not enter such a holy home?"
Again I hear thy voice, "Abide in me!"
Surely, my Father draws my heart to Thee:
Wilt thou then, oh! my Saviour, take me in,
With my but half-cleansed heart, still soiled by sin?

I love the sacred song, "Abide with me!"
And thank the poet's holy minstrelsy;
To know Thee near, even without, were blest:-
But oh, to dwell within-Thy bosom's guest!

Wake up, my soul, look at thy wondrous home;
Think who it is that lets, nay, bids thee come:
Enter thy heavenly Tower, thy secret place,
In troublous times to hide-His throne of grace.

O Christ, I come; I take Thee at Thy word,
To dwell henceforth in Thee, my living Lord!
Sweet were the loving words, "Abide with me;"
But sweeter still Thine own, "Abide in me!"

Not to sojourn, but to abide in Thee:

So shall the branch bear fruit, fixed in the vine; Nourished by Thee, shall in thy beauty shine; Nor would we scape the pruning-knife, for Thou Wouldst that thy well-loved branch much fruit M. W. C.

should show.