to the Christian, because the Holy Spirit never fails to apply warmth and comfort to his soul, if he takes it aright, making it a feast of fat things. The Christian reflects on what he is about, and says to himself, I am now doing what was commanded by Christ; he is pleased to see me obey him. I will ask him to bless me in the doing of it, and to let his Holy Spirit witness with my spirit that I am his. I will think of what I am, and my unworthiness; I will ask myself—nay, I will ask my Father why? why he should have been pleased to draw me by his love? and why he has thus rested in his love? His love to me who have so often doubted him

so often sinned against him in thought, word, and deed --so often deserted and denied him, like Peter; but he would look upon me.-It was enough.-O my God, look upon us now. Thou dost behold and love. We think of thee and thy sufferings, and what we are in ourselves.

"Lord, in this blest and hallowed hour,
Reveal thy presence and thy power.
Show to our faith thy hands and side—
Our Lord, our God, our Crucified.
Here, in obedience to thy word,
We take the bread and wine;
The utmost we can do, dear Lord,

For all beyond is thine.

Lord, help us from above;

The power is all thy own.

Faith is thy gift, and hope, and love;
For of ourselves we've none."

O glorious regions of everlasting joy and bliss, I see thee! I long to quit this mortal frame, and be with thee for ever.

"The time of my departure's come—

I hear the voice that calls me home.
Now, O my God, let troubles cease;
Now let thy servant die in peace."

W.-Farewell! farewell! I leave you with him who never leaves nor forsakes any who trust in him; believing, if we meet not again on earth, we shall in heaven.

C. God bless you! Adieu! adieu!

DIALOGUE XII.

"Doth not wisdom cry? and understanding put forth her voice? Unto you, O men, I call, and my voice is to the sons of man. O ye simple, understand wisdom; and, ye fools, be ye of an understanding heart. Hear, for I will speak excellent things; and the opening of my lips shall be right things. For my mouth shall speak truth; and wickedness is an abomination to my lips. All the words of my mouth are in righteousness; there is nothing froward or perverse in them. They are all plain to him that understandeth, and right to them that find knowledge. Receive my instruction and knowledge rather than fine gold. For wisdom is better than rubies; and all the things that may be desired are not to be compared to it. I, wisdom, dwell with prudence, and find out knowledge of witty inventions. Riches and honour are with me, yea, desirable riches and righteousness. The Lord possessed me in the beginning of his way, before his works of old. I was set up from everlasting, from the beginning, or ever the earth was. When he gave to the sea his decree that the waters should not pass his commandment: when he appointed the foundations of the earth, then I was with him, as one brought up with him; and I was daily his delight, rejoicing always before him; rejoicing in the habitable part of his earth; and my delights were with the sons of men. Whoso findeth me findeth life, and shall obtain favour of the Lord."-Proverbs, viii. (He is the fountain of wisdom.)

"Her ways are ways of pleasantness and all her paths are peace: she is a tree of life to them that lay hold upon her; and happy is every one that retaineth her." -Prov. iii. 17.

"What are mortals without reason? What is reason without wisdom and religion? O that all created beings would listen to the voice of reason! and reason listen to the voice of wisdom!"-Anon.

Wiseman.-Good evening, madam. I hope your husband is not in so much pain as he was last night.

Christiana. He is in no pain now, sir; he is perfectly free from it.

W.-Do you mean to say he is dead?

C. He has left his mortal body, to be with God, where there are pleasures for evermore.

W.-I- I should like to see him.

C.-You can, sir. Walk up stairs, and behold the body of him we loved so much.

W.-Ah! what is it?-cold clay. His mind and his soul are fled. I—I am lost as I gaze upon that body, and consider the suddenness of death, and the power of faith. Before I knew him, this-this sight would have caused me to fear, and made me feel quite sad.-How strange and new is the feeling which I now possess! it comes over me with a solemn, pleasing influence. I can only account for it as proceeding from him

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who has said, "According to thy day, so shall thy strength be." My grace is sufficient for thee.' He it is who haswho must have taken that dread of death from me which I recently experienced. This (I would almost say) desire of death is a new and delightful emotion in my soul. The faith which God has given me in his promises has empowered me to believe that "to die is gain," and to consider death as my friend rather than my enemy. More profitable to me is the house of mourning than the house of feasting, where I formerly loved to be. We might repeat the poet's words now, and say

Will

"Rest from thy labour-rest,

Soul of the just set free!
Blest be thy memory, and blest
Thy bright example be !
Faith, perseverance, zeal,

Language of light and power,
Love, prompt to act, and quick to feel,
Marked thee till life's last hour.

Now, toil and conflict o'er,

Go, take with saints thy place ;

But go, as each hath gone before—
A SINNER-SAVED BY GRACE."

you allow me to ask at what time he breathed his last? C.-About noon to day. The doctor happened to be in the room, and said to me, "Ah! poor fellow, he will soon be out of pain." At that instant he spoke; and, not exactly knowing what he said, I enquired of him.

W.-What was it, then?

C. He merely said, "Tell him I am not poor; I am rich, very rich! There is one who became poor that I might be rich-very rich!" He then looked pleased, and smiled at me-oh, what a heavenly smile that was! I kissed him, and, while doing so, he said, "All's well-all's well! the last note is cashed;" and then he fell asleep, as did Stephen of old, and entered the rest which the Saviour whom he loved, had prepared for him.

W.-I wish I had been present. Oh that my death may be like his! Did the doctor say anything about him?

C.-Nothing particular, excepting before he went away he pronounced him dead. A short time previous the medical gentleman had desired him to make his peace with God, as nothing could save him; when, turning his eye upon him, beaming with the mild radiance of genuine humility and strong faith, he replied, that there was no occasion for it. W. But why not?

C.-Because peace betwixt God and his soul had already

been made nearly twenty years before. Then he again talked much and pleasingly about bank-notes, and the blood that speaketh, which caused the doctor to say he was a little deranged; but he understood not the meaning of my dear husband's sayings.

W.-Speaking of bank-notes; he has given me so many of them, that, written as they are very small and close, they occupy three quires of paper, and are sufficient to make a good book; but still I do not see or understand why they should be called bank-notes--why not say God's promises? Your husband used to call me a wise man; 'tis true, I am seeking salvation; but I find that I have much to learn every day,—ah! I may say every moment I find something new, which requires an explanation.

C.-While God keeps your mind humble you will increase in knowledge, but as soon as you feel yourself wise in your own conceit, especially if you give not God the glory of all your knowledge, (for he is a jealous God,) he may take away what wisdom you have gained, instead of increasing it. Now the question you have asked; that is, why God's promises are called bank-notes? it will give me great pleasure, so far as I can, to explain. Like good bank-notes, they make rich.

W.--If you would do so, I should feel thankful.

C.-The earthly bank-note is but a promise to pay; the heavenly bank-note is no more. If you were a very poor man, and, while suffering from distress, a person were to make you a present of one hundred bank notes for a thousand pounds each; and with them a Bible,—

W. Of course I should feel no longer poor.

C.-Stop a few seconds; for that depends on circumstances. Suppose the bank-notes are laid in a pile alongside the Bible on the table; you look at them, and fancy you are rich, while at that moment a person calls on you. You feel delighted in your change of circumstances, and immediately proceed to show him how rich you are.

W.-Most men would think more of the notes than the Bible; do not you believe so?

C.-No doubt about that. Still there are tens of thousands of human beings who feel themselves richer with the Bible, or value it more than a thousand times the number of notes we speak of. But, to proceed; suppose this person examined both the notes and the Bible, and pronounced the Bible to be false; supposing he admitted that it certainly had the appearance of God's authority, but in reality it was no more than a cunningly-devised fable, written to cheat or amuse the world, and that the bank-notes were fictitious-they also were only made to deceive. Now, believing his statements, you would at once feel yourself as poor as you did at first.

W.-I should be vexed to think I had been so deceived'; still the Bible would be worth something.

C.-So would the notes, in a sense, but not to you. They might have cost a penny each for printing and paper, which would be eight shillings and four pence, and the Bible the same amount, although you can buy a Bible for a shilling. A bank-note for ten thousand pounds I don't expect costs much more than a note for five pounds. You perceive, then, in both instances, they are but printing on paper, and faith is required by the possessor, to make him assured they are of value to him. Now, as faith is sometimes sudden and sometimes gradual, I will show you the difference in this instance. First, in reference to sudden faith; you must now suppose a person enters your house, whom you believe to be a good judge of these matters; he pronounces the bank-notes to be genuine, and would give you gold for them, and, as for the Bible, he values it beyond all earthly treasures; he tells you it has the authority of the God of heaven and earth, and that all the promises therein contained are "yea and amen." That God has bound himself by an oath to perform all he has said in it. That he has experienced the favours and the benefits of many a promise, and, being strong in faith, he believes God will keep to his word in every part thereof. This would alter your feelings, if you had faith in what he said: you would consider yourself worth one hundred thousand sovereigns, and that the Bible being full of God's promises to your soul, you would feel yourself rich indeed-rich in the treasures of the world, for the use of the body which perishes; rich in heavenly treasures for the benefit of your soul, which liveth for ever. Oh! what a happy man!

W.-But suppose I had not faith in the Bible?

C.-Then you would not value it. So also in reference to the bank-notes; if you had no faith in them, they would be but as waste paper to you. Now, for gradual faith. Suppose you were between two opinions-neither fully believing nor entirely disbelieving, but doubting. Still, while you were in such a state of feeling, you might venture to try the genuineness of the notes by taking one to the bank, and if on presenting it they gave you gold for it, you would, without doubt, begin to have faith in the whole, and as you changed one after another of your notes, so likewise would your faith increase. Now, it is just the same with God's promises; you are full of trouble, poverty, sickness, loss of relations and friends; and misery stares you in the face; you not only feel yourself wretched in a worldly sense, but you, at the same time, feel yourself a sinner, and believe God has allowed this misery to come upon you to humble your mind and lead you to ask for