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point, where we now sat, seven times over he bade his servant, "go up and look towards the sea," until at last the little little cloud rose on the horizon, foretelling the commencement of the autumnal rains; while one could fancy one saw the chariot of Ahab hastening over the great plain of Esdraelon before us, stretching out eastward from the foot of Carmel, and the prophet, with his loins girded, like any one of the Arabs now around us, running before him all the way, even till he reached the entrance of his own royal palace at Jezreel-there, on that green hill of Gilboa, at the other side of the plain. And across that plain, too, one also thought one could see the woman of that small village of Shunem, at the foot of Little Hermon yonder, riding on the ass, and in the anguish of her heart urging on her servant in driving it, that she might fall at the feet of the prophet, and entreat him to save and restore to life the son which his prayers had obtained of God for her, refusing to leave him till he arose and followed her to the little home he had often hallowed by his presence. And the Scripture narrative acquired new life and reality as we read it here on the very spot, and all the natural features, only half expressed to the reader at home, unfold themselves one by one to view.-Beaufort's Eastern Shrines.
ness of the doctrine; the fourth, the moral character of the permen. The miracles flow from Divine power; the prophecies from Divine understanding; the excellence of the doctrine from Divine goodness; the moral character of the penman from Divine purity. Thus Christianity is built upon these four immovable pillars-the power, the understanding, the goodness, the purity of God. The Bible must be one of these things either an invention of good men or good angels, or bad men or bad angels; or a revelation from God. But it could not be the invention of good men or angels; for they neither would nor could make a book telling lies, at the same time saying, "Thus saith the Lord," when they knew it all to be their invention. It could not be the invention of wicked men or devils, for they would not make a book which commands all duty, which forbids all sin, and which condemns their souls to all eternity. The conclusion is irresistible-the Bible must be given by Divine inspiration.
THE BLESSINGS OF THE BIBLE.
WHAT an illustrious book is the Bible! It rises like a stream in the desert land-its source in the skies, and its fountain in the valleys of the earth. It has rolled on, century after century, enriching every land with verdure and beauty, reflecting all the glowing sky above it, diffusing "whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are of good report," around it. It shines into the casement of the widow, like the light of the morning sun, and makes her heart sing with joy, and enables her orphan to lift her eye to the wide shore of the eternal sea, and to say, Immensity is my home; eternity is my lifetime; the mighty God that built the universe is my father. my portion, my friend." It plants in man's heart the hope of joy, the halo of glory and of immortality. It erects in man's conscience the rule of right and wrong. It is em
phatically the standard of Christianity. Wherever that standard is unrolled, there freedom finds its noblest footing.
GOD NOT IN THE HOUSE. A SCOTTISH labourer went to work for a wealthy farmer. It was regarded as something of a favour to be employed by him, as he was a prompt and liberal paymaster, and had everything about his farm in order. The Scotchman remained with him only a few days. "You have left Mr. Runyan," said a neighbour.
"Yes," was the reply.
"Was the work too hard?”
"Wages too low?"
you leave, then?"
"God was not in the house;" and he went on his way, leaving his questioner to ponder on the strange
Family worship was not known under Mr. Runyan's roof; nor was there a single praying member in his family. The labourer did not like to live under such a roof. He did not like to be, even for a season, a member of such a family.
Of how many houses in our happy land can it be said in truth, God is not in the house! The house may be spacious, elegant, furnished with every comfort and convenience, but God is not in it. There are none in that house to thank Him for the blessings bestowed upon them. There are none there to serve and honour Him!
Oh, burdened heart, there is full pardon and holiness for you. Do sickness and pain make life a burden? Sickness and pain never enter there. Do sinners vex you? None but the holy are there. Do you wish perfect holiness and perfect bliss? You will find them there. Blessed Jesus! in thy name, relying on thy merits, I humbly hope for heaven. That which thou hast bought with thy blood shall be my eternal possession. Redeemed, purified, saved, I will there praise thee for ever.
How charming is that word heaven! -where no tear will ever fall, no groan be heard, no sorrow be seen; where no sin will mar the perfect joy, no death bring it to an end. Oh, weary heart, there is rest for you.
Youth and Childhood.
REQUESTS FOR PRAYER, TO A PRAYER-MEETING.
A NOTE was read from a young
"The evening before his death, a
"The next morning, he asked his father to pray that he might retain his senses while he was passing through death. He had often requested his friends, as they hung around him, not to weep, but to sing and praise the Lord.
A young man said, "About three months ago I came to this meeting, a poor lost sinner, none more miserable than myself, knowing but little of the ruin which was before me. But I have reason to bless God that I came here. I cannot tell what
"He said to his physician, 'If I am dying I want to know it. I do not want to be deceived.'
praise and gratitude to God fills my heart for what He has done for me." The young man shed no tears, yet he spoke with great difficulty. His emotions were too deep for tears.
On some of the days of the last week, from seventy to eighty requests for prayer were read in the different rooms where the meetings were simultaneously held. Among them was read the following. It is in regard to the conversion of a man concerning which the meeting had no knowledge, until it was gathered from the paper read, which is as follows:
"A few months ago, whilst receiving medical treatment in the city of New York, this young man sought also a spiritual physician. He attended the Fulton-street prayer-meeting, requested prayer, found Jesus, the great Physician of souls, who can save His people from their sins.
"Though at times his sufferings were severe, yet no groan nor murmur escaped his lips. Until within a few days of his death, he was able to ride and walk out.
"Taken suddenly, Sabbath evening, with profuse hemorrhage of the lungs, he became convinced he must soon bid his earthly friends a last adieu.
"The doctor said, 'I fear you have but a little time to live.'
"He said, 'Oh! happy-happyhappy!'
"A friend came to his bedside. He looked up and said, 'they tell me that I am dying. Oh! happy, peaceful, glorious dying! Jesus can make a dying bed feel soft as downy pillows are.'
"He often checked the tears of his young and beloved wife, as she sat beside his bed.
"After prayer, he said, 'I am happy. I think my sins are forgiven. I trust in the Lord Jesus Christ. I give up the world, and all things here below.'
"He called his father to his bedside, and bade him a long farewell. 'Father,' he said, 'I am going.' Then he called his mother, his brother, and his dear wife. He clasped each by the hand; to each he gave a parting embrace, and a farewell kiss to his wife, to whom he had been married only one short year, charging her to be on the Lord's side; then one more adieu he bade them, and said, 'Praise the Lord!' and upward his spirit took its final flight to heaven.
This is one of the hundreds of cases of which we never hear, unless some circumstances like the above reveal it. So the meeting holds on its
glorious way, in the hands of God, bringing many to glory.
DYING TESTIMONY OF SIR WALTER SCOTT.
MANY persons in youth and vigour deem it fanatical for a man to be anxious to be prepared for death. Solicitude for the salvation of the soul they regard as irrational. Twenty years ago, Sir Walter Scott, who had charmed the world with his genius, was on a dying bed. He had passed the night in delirious slumber. As the morning sun shone into his chamber, he awoke, but to die. Every trace of delirium had passed away, and his intellect was unclouded. Raising his dying eye, and fixing it upon his son-in-law, Lockhart, who sat by his bedside, he said,
My dear son, I may have but a moment to speak to you. Be a good man; be virtuous; be religious. Be a good man. Nothing else will give you any comfort when called upon to lie here."
Reader, was Walter Scott a weak enthusiast? The hour is near when you, too, will be upon a dying bed. Will you not feel then as he did? Are you prepared for this hour?
to a good end. He died the ignominious death of a traitor. He was executed. Matthew Henry, commenting upon the course of this spoiled boy, says, "He in return made a fool of his father. Because he was old and confined to his bed, he thought that no notice was to be taken of him, and therefore exalted himself, and said, 'I will be king.' Children that are indulged learn to be proud and ambitious, and that is the ruin of a great many young people."
And we regret to be forced to add, that, in our judgment, it is the ruin of as many young people now as it was in the days of King David; and in the seventeenth century, when good Matthew Henry flourished. "A child left to himself brings his parents to shame," has been true in all past generations, and is true now.
A SPOILED BOY.
WHO was he? He was Adonijah, one of David's sons. How was he spoiled? By having his own way, and not being corrected by his father when he did wrong. The record is, "His father displeased him not at any time, in saying, Why hast thou done so?" How do you know that he was spoiled? His conduct shows it; he was puffed up with vanity and pride, was headstrong, and disobedient, and profligate. He aspired after the throne; said, "I will be king, and prepared him chariots, and horsemen, and fifty men to run before him," and treated his royal parent with contempt. To what end did he come? To no good end. Such self-conceited, arrogant, wicked boys never come
HONESTY THE BEST POLICY. THE late Duke of Buccleugh, in one of his walks, purchased a cow in the neighbourhood of Dalkeith, which was to be sent to his palace the following morning. The Duke in his morning dress espied a boy, very ineffectually attempting to drive the animal to its destination. The boy not knowing the Duke bawled out to him, "Hie, mun, come here an' gie's a han' wi' this beast."
The Duke walked on slowly, the boy still craving his assistance, and at last in a tone of distress, "Come here, mun, an' help us, an' sure as onything I'll gie you half I get ""
The Duke went, and lent a helping hand. "And now," said the Duke, as they trudged along, "how much do you think we'll get for this job ?"
"I dinna ken," said the boy, "but I'm sure o' something, for the folk up by, at the big house, are gude to a' bodies."
As they approached the house, the Duke disappeared from the boy, and entered by a different way. Calling a servant, he put a sovereign into his hand, saying, "Give that to the boy who brought the cow."
They went back, the Duke rang the bell, and ordered all the servants to be assembled. "Now," said the Duke to the boy," point me out the person that gave you the shilling."
"It was that chap there with the apron," pointing to the butler.
The butler confessed, fell on his knees, and attempted an apology; but the Duke indignantly ordered him to give the boy the sovereign, and quit his service instantly. "You have lost," said the Duke, "your money, your situation, and your character, by your covetousness; learn henceforth that honesty is the best policy."
The boy, by this time, recognized his assistant in the person of the Duke and the Duke was so delighted with the sterling worth and honesty of the boy, that he ordered him to be sent to school, kept there, and provided for at his own expense.
WE remember the old story of the mariners, who, because they followed the direction of their compass, thought they were infallibly right, until they arrived at an enemy's post, and found themselves suddenly seized and made slaves. They did not take into consideration the possibility that any agency had tampered with the needle. Yet the wicked captain had, on purpose to betray the ship to enemies, so care
fully concealed a large loadstone near the needle as to make it untrue to itself, and thus be the means of their ruin.
Something not very unlike this is often true of conscience. If, for example, we admit, as many do, that among those who lately conducted our ship of state so near to the port of its enemies and to slavery, are found "conscientious" men, who, not implicated in the crime, can fail to see that they must have conscience with which some dangerous agent has seriously tampered? Conscience may be perverted as truly as any other faculty of the soulso perverted as even to mislead and destroy, while it is relied upon to direct in the path of safety. How numerous and affecting are the illustrations of this in respect to the soul's interests! Saul of Tarsus "verily thought that he ought to do many things contrary to the name of Jesus." Doubtless, the Pagan mother is often conscientious in the unnatural immolation to which she devotes her offspring. The Mohammedan devotee is unquestionably conscientious. And so are multitudes everywhere conscientious, who are nevertheless the dupes of error and fanaticism. "There is a way which seemeth right unto a man, but the ends thereof are ways of death."
We are warned, then, to take care of the conscience. See that there is no prejudice, no passion, no evil influence that is perverting it, and gradually making it untrue to itself, and therefore unsafe. It must be "void of offence" toward God, as well as toward men. It must be enlightened, educated upon the principles of the Gospel, tender, true in all things, true always. It is never sufficient to say, as multitudes do say, "I verily thought I ought to do this or that." We must examine the basis of our conscientiousness. Is there a concealed loadstone which is attracting the needle from its true polarity heavenward, toward spiritual foes and spiritual bondage? This is a vital question for every