mysteries of godliness, and he has granted that which I requested. I believe ;

"What Christ has said must be fulfilled,

On this firm rock believers build.

His word shall stand, his truth prevail,
And not one jot or tittle fail."

Excuse me repeating those lines of the poet, but, like you, I dearly love to peruse a hymn book. I was reading the other day a hymn on the travelling Christian, or rather the mystery of the growth of spiritual life in the soul; it was some time before I could understand the meaning of it.

C.—What was it? Do you recollect the words?
W.-Yes, I remember part of it; it said,—

"How strange is the course a Christian must steer!
How perplexed is the path he must tread!
The hope of his happiness rises from fear,
And his life he receives from the dead.
His fairest pretensions must wholly be waved,
And his best resolutions be cross'd;

Nor can he expect to be perfectly saved

Till he finds himself utterly lost.

When all this is done, and his heart is assured

Of the total remission of sins;

When his pardon is signed, and his peace is procured,
From that moment his conflict begins."

C.-I trust you have got as far as the fighting part; if you have, it is a proof you have made most excellent use of the talents committed to your care. With me the growth of grace was very slow; from a boy I had a fear of God, and a dread of punishment before my eyes, and the devil used the word predestination" so dexterously that I believed I was ordained to everlasting perdition. Then, regardless of all consequences, conceiving praying would be vain, I launched out most extravagantly in almost every sort of sin. After a while God would be pleased to afflict my body and mind. I then again strove for a period to amend; but the first temptation which appeared carried me away. So passed on my life for many years, until I began to see that God hated and punished sin; and after being very holy, as I imagined, taking the Sacrament in the Church of England and praying continually, so that I thought at that time none could be much better or more devout than myself, at length the eyes of my understanding were opened, and I saw that my supposed holiness would not save me. Then, my dear friend, I began to cry out in earnest, "What shall I do to be saved?" I attended the ministry of the Word

of God, searched the Scriptures diligently with prayer, and by degrees my spiritual sight became clearer and clearer, and I began to be quite confident that Christ died for me, and that God was verily my friend, protector, and counsellor.

W. But what made your confidence increase?

C.-Having my prayers answered, being alone where none could see me but that glorious and holy one who seeth in secret. There I would pour out my soul's desires, and feel —(not fancy,)—ah! actually feel, the witnessing of the Holy Spirit within me. He broke down the hardness of my heart and melted my soul to penitence, as he whispered “thou art mine." Repetitions of such revealed mercy are constantly being given me. In return for which, I desire to please God by a holy life, and by making known his love and pity to man. Therefore my conflict from that time began. I resolved by grace to fight against my own natural desires; and boldly resist every thing that is in opposition to Christ and his gospel.

W.-Those words are cheering to my soul. I cannot say that I ever thought much of religion until I became acquainted with you, and blessed be that day on which I first saw you! God (through you) has gently led me on to behold the Saviour, as made known in the Scriptures, in searching of which I find great delight. He has been pleased to listen to my secret and feeble prayers, and has blessed me in them. For return of which, I trust he will make me as he would have me to be, "holy and blameless before him in love;" to rejoice in him for ever; and fight his cause while I have life.

C.-The enemies of the cross are very numerous, and many are crying out "What shall we do?" But alas! how few there are who care for their souls! how small is the number near them, of faithful men to instruct in the way they should go. I must relate to you a vision, or dream, I had last night, which both delighted and vexed me.

W.-And what was the subject of it pray?

C.-I dreamed the whole world was before me in one comprehensive view; and I saw, without difficulty or effort, every nation under the sun. The fact is, I have of late been reading of the different descriptions of men inhabiting the world, their way of living, customs, &c. But in my dream I seemed to see into the very houses, dens, &c., which they inhabited. I also beheld the wickedness and squalid misery which filled many of them. I saw the Bible in every land, and thousands upon thousands embracing the gospel. Among some of the very rich and very poor, the pride and ingratitude of splendid misery, as well as the daring, open rebellion of filthy want, I saw that which alarmed me for the

safety of the world. While gazing on these things, I beheld suddenly two vast armies of men, most strange to look upon. One army was clothed in rags and poverty-stricken, some with bags of money in their hands, and among them the lame, the blind, and the afflicted.-1 hey were fearful characters, with countenances of most savage aspect; they all appeared to be stupid with drink, and half of them had bottles in their hands. The other army was beautiful to look upon. It was attended by music, dancing girls in modest attire, and every species of amusement; most of them were on horses, and not a few in carriages, and every soldier carried in his hand a drawn sword.

W. That was a very singular dream.

C.-I have not done yet. After watching the movements of the vast multitude for some time, I observed the two armies united together.

W.-Ah! that was, I suppose, to fight.

C.-Oh no! they did not fight; quite the contrary. I beheld them go into every city, town, and village in the world, and demand money of the industrious throughout the earth, which caused many who had shops to shut them up and join the ragged army. At last they all returned peaceably to their homes, with much joy, but the countenances of those who gave the money appeared to me to be very sad, and some very angry. Then I fancied I heard a voice say, "Come away! it is but the conduct of the world, and verily each shall have his reward." Gradually the earth receded from me, until I beheld it a mere speck in the clouds, and at last it faded quite away, and was lost to my sight.

W.-It was a very strange dream.

C.-Strange! Ah, you may well say that, and what is still more strange to me, was, that when I told my wife of it, she clung to my neck and wept most bitterly; but would give me no reason for her singular conduct.

W. She perhaps thought it foreboded evil: but I have no faith in dreams myself; some have, I know, and even good men, and, I have heard, learned people too. You mentioned splendid misery just now. No doubt there is plenty of that in the world. But it puts me in mind of some persons I know, comparatively beggars, and who, notwithstanding, take large houses and dress fine, with scarcely any other thing than a gaudy outside dress, at the same time they become what the Scriptures call boasters, for they talk as largely of funds as if they possessed a fortune. Now, don't you think that such conduct is the greatest of folly?

C.-What will not pride do? Such pride is very bad, but religious pride is even worse.

U

W.-There must be many sorts of pride.

C.-Indeed there are, and a great many different kinds of sense as well, but pride and sense of a right description are very scarce.

W.-Which are they, then?

C.-Honest pride, of course, and common sense. Some have every sort of pride but genuine, honest pride, and every sort of wordly sense but true common sense; hence their misery or enjoyment accord with the character they bear. How bright and lovely the grace of humility shines upon, and adorns the rich and great.

W.—I must now leave you, for it is getting late, and trust you will give me a call soon.

C.-Perhaps I may; but before you go, take another glass of wine.

W.-I would rather not, having already had two. I have found by experience that two glasses in a day do me more good than if I took a larger quantity, and often I have found one glass has done me more good than two. I find the same with moderate eating; for if I rise from the table with an appetite, I am sure to enjoy my next meal, and by continuing to do so, escape many aches and pains. I find by experience that a constant desire for food is better than a frequent loathing of it.

C.-You are quite right; only keep your head cool by temperance and moderation, and your feet warm with activity and exercise, and you will enjoy all the good things of this life much more than the idle or the glutton can do.

W. I have found the truth of it by my own experience, and, as they say, if a man will not learn by his own and other people's experience, he is an incurable fool.

C.-I am glad to find you live and learn, and trust you will long continue to do so.

W.-Good night, I heartily thank you.

C.-Good night, God bless you.

DIALOGUE XI.

"Oh death! where is thy sting?

Oh grave! where is thy victory?"

"Oh that I may die the death of the righteous!

That my latter end be like his!"

"That ye sorrow not even as others which have no hope."-1 Thess. iv. 13.

"At midnight there was a cry made, Behold! the Bridegroom cometh!"— Matthew, xxv. 6.

"But when the fruit is brought forth, immediately he putteth in the sickle, because the harvest is come."-Mark, iv. 29.

Wiseman.-Ah! my dear friend, little did I expect such sudden and dreadful news. I hear you have been nearly killed. Christian.-I am glad you are come, for I have much to say to you before I die.

W.-I hope you will not die for years to come.

C. I trust my heavenly Father will take me from this body of sin, pain, and misery, before many hours pass, for I suffer much: still I hope "in patience to possess my soul, and wait all my appointed time, until my change come.'

W.-Pray don't talk thus of dying. I hope the accident will not prove so serious as you imagine. How did it happen?

C.-I had a letter yesterday to say the lady whom I had often visited, while she lingered with consumption, had left this probationary state for a better world. I immediately saddled my horse, and after a brisk ride arrived safely at the house of mourning. I endeavoured all I could to console the troubled minds of the husband and children. My stay was necessarily brief; but while returning homewards I was thrown from my horse with violence, and received a fracture of my skull, besides a dislocation of my left arm and shoulder, and I was otherwise so much hurt that I cannot now move for