The same necessity was felt by Job, though he was the most upright and perfect man of the age in which he lived. In the period of his great affliction, when every earthly comfort failed, and his censorious friends added to his distress, he desired to plead his cause before God; but when he reflected on the incomprehensibility of his nature, the works of his mighty power, the sovereignty of his dominion, and the inflexibility of his justice, he trembled to draw near before his Judge, on account of his conscious filthiness and insignificance, and earnestly longed for the interposition of a competent days-man, to bring him nigh with acceptance by laying his hand on both parties. Under the greatest agitation of mind, he said 'How shall I answer him, and choose out my words to reason with him? For he is not a man as I am, that I should answer him, and we should come together in judgment. Neither is there any days-man betwixt us, that might lay his hand upon us both.' Job ix. 14, 32, 33. The whole chapter, and many other passages of his book, contain very affecting sentiments on the same subject. Now, if the intervention of a mediator was found necessary to give Job boldness and liberty of utterance before God, notwithstanding his approved and singular integrity, it must be admitted that none of the human race can safely approach him on the ground of their sonal worth. Those who approach his throne on the ground of their own righteousness, necessarily offend him by their presumption; and all who know the extent of their guilt, dread the Most High, and flee from him as a consuming fire, deeply sensible that they can have no comfortable intercourse with a Being so great and holy, till they be introduced by one more worthy to appear before him, who can secure their safety, and furnish them with confidence. CABINET. per THOUGHTS ON THE CLOSE OF THE YEAR. My soul, how hath the year been has tening from thee, and thou hastening in it from the world! Where are the days fled? They are gone to be numbered with the years beyond the flood; and thou art now standing as on the isthmus of time. "The end of all things is at hand.' Friends are dying around thee-thou art dying thyself yea, the world is dying, and the end of all things is at hand.' In this state, my Lord, well may I look up to thee; circumstances so very solemn may well induce soberness and watchfulness unto prayer. Yes! blessed Jesus, I would pray thee so to direct each thought of my heart, that every faculty may be on the watchtower waiting my Lord's coming. Thou hast said, 'Yet a little while, and he that shall come will come, and will not tarry.' Oh! then, for grace to live by faith on thee; and so to live, that when I change worlds I may not change my company, for if in time I live with Christ, and enjoy Christ, I shall not live less with Christ, nor enjoy Christ less, when I exchange time for eternity. Lord Jesus, make me watch unto prayer, and thou wilt be, both now and then, in life and death, my portion for ever.-Rev. Dr Hawker THE DAY OF JUDGMENT. THE Lord shall come! the earth shall quake; The mountains to their centre shake; And, withering from the vault of night, The stars shall pale their feeble lightThe Lord shall come! but not the same As once in lowliness He came,A silent Lamb before his foes, A weary man, and full of woes, The Lord shall come! a dreadful form, With rainbow-wreath, and robes of storm; On Cherub-wings, and wings of wind, Appointed Judge of all mankind. Can this be He, who wont to stray A pilgrim on the world's highway, Oppress'd by power, and mocked by pride, The Nazarene-the Crucifled? While sinners in despair shall call, 'Rocks, hide us; mountains on us fall!' The saints, ascending from the tomb, Shall joyful sing, The Lord is come!' Heber. DILIGENTLY USE THE MEANS OF GRACE. REMEMBER the eunuch of Candace, queen of Ethiopia, who albeit he was of a wild and barbarous country, and occupied with worldly duties and business; yet riding in his chariot, he was reading the Scripture. Now consider, if this man, passing in his journey, was so diligent as to read the Scriptures, what thinkest thou, is it likely he was wont to do so sitting at home Again, he that read, albeit he did not understand; what did he then, thinkest thou, after that, when he had learned and gotten understanding? For that thou mayest well know that he understood not what he read, hearken what Philip saith there unto him, Understandest thou what thou readest? And he, nothing ashamed to confess his ignorance, answered, How should I understand, having nobody to show me the way? Lo, when he lacked one to show him the way, and to expound to him the Scriptures, yet did he read; and, therefore, God the rather provided for him a guide of the way, that taught him to understand it. God perceived his willing and toward mind, and therfore he speedily sent him a teacher. Therefore let no man be negligent about his own health and salvation. Though thou have not Philip always when thou wouldst, the Holy Ghost, who then moved and stirred up Philip, will be ready and not fail thee, if thou do thy diligence accordingly.— Archbishop Cranmer. SIN, AND ITS EFFECTS. THE evil effects of sin are graphically described by the pencil of Jehovah in his revealed will, that sinners may take warning. In Psalm vii. 12, the Lord speaks of his enemies, that if they turn not he will whet his glittering sword. Here is one instrument. He hath bent his bow, and made it ready, '-one in a state of readiness, and the other to be made ready. 'He hath also prepared for them the instruments of death; he ordaineth his arrows against them;'-showing us that God, who has his quiver full of all the shafts of justice, will eventually visit his enemies. His bow is in his hand at the present moment; it is already bent; the shafts of his vengeance will soon be laid upon it, and they will continue to fly through the countless ages of eternity, and will find their mark, without one exception, in the centre of that bosom which has delight in sin here on earth.--Howels. THE BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION. AFFLICTIONS are God's most effectual means to keep us from losing our way to our heavenly rest. Without this hedge of thorns on the right and left, we should hardly keep the way to heaven. If there be but one gap open, how ready are we to find it, and turn out at it! When we grow wanton, or worldly, or proud, how doth sickness or other affliction reduce us? Every Christian, as well as Luther, may call affliction one of his best school opiate to stupify the feelings. A condemned criminal, having taken a stupifying draught, feels not. It is the first work of the Spirit to awaken man out of this stupefaction.-Howels. STANZAS. Come, ye who tremble for the ark, Did not our sighing reach his ear? Then smaller griefs were laid aside, And all our cares summed up in one : And we still hear the gospel-voice; Though pain, and want, and cares annoy; Newton. THE NECESSITY OF AFFLICTION. IT is not an easy matter to be drawn from, nor to be beaten from the love of the world, and this is what God mainly requires of his children, that they be not in love with the world, nor the things of it; for that is contrary to the love of God, and so far as that is entertained this is want ing. And if in the midst of afflictions they are sometimes subject to this disease, how would it grow upon them with ease and prosperity When they are beaten from one worldly folly or delight, they are ready through nature's corruption to lay hold upon some other; being thrust out from it at one door to enter at some other: as children unwilling to be weaned, if one breast be embittered they seek to the other; masters, and with David may say, 'Before and, therefore, there must be somewhat to drive them from that too. Thus, it is I was afflicted I went astray, but now have clear, there is need, yea, great need of afI kept thy word.' Many thousaud recovered sinners may cry, Ŏ healthful sick-flictions, yea, of many afflictions, that the ness! O comfortable sorrows! O gain-saints' be chastened by the Lord, that they ful hope! O enriching poverty! O blessed day that ever I was afflicted! Not only the green pastures and still waters, but the rod and staff, they comfort us. Though the word and Spirit do the main work, yet suffering so unbolts the door of the heart, that the word hath easier entrance.-Rev. R. Baxter. SIN. THERE are some poisons which have a lethargic effect, and produce a great drowsiness. Sin is a poison of this description. Before it destroys, it administers an may not be condemned with the world. Let us learn, then, that in regard of our present frailty there is need of afflictions, how calm soever our seas are for the preand so not promise ourselves exemption, sent; and then for the number, and measure, and weight of them, to resign that wholly into the hands of our wise Father and Physician, who perfectly knows our mould and maladies, and what kind and quality of chastisement is needful for our cure.--Leighton. THOMAS GRANT, PRINTER, EDINBURGH. THOUGHTS ON THE NEW YEAR. First, Man's days are like a shadow that declineth on a sun-dial. As the sun journeys through the heavens, he projects from the gnomon a shadow that unerringly tells the flight of time. As he rises to the zenith, the monitory finger wanes away into extinction. In this country the shadow at mid-day never wholly disappears. This arises from the latitude in which we live; in the equatorial regions it is found entirely to vanish. Thus, man's days are like a shadow that declineth. Second, Standing beside a tree, in an open field, in the early morning, when the sun is ascending, you perceive at first a long shadow. As he continues to rise, the shadow gradually shortens, until it has utterly vanished. Of course, the shadow of the foliage immediately beneath the tree remains, but the projected shadow is gone. Thus, man's days are as a shadow that declineth. Third, You have seen long shadows lying upon the green sward gradually swallowed up by approaching night. Thus, man's days are like a shadow that declineth. In all these, whichever be the precise natural appearance to which the Psalmist alludes, we have essentially the same ideas suggested of human life and mortal time. In the following remarks we shall make use of all or any of them that suits our You days are unsubstantial as a shadow. clutch at a shadow as it fades upon the grass or moves upon the dial, you open your hand, and it is empty. So is it with man. He sees his days, and they seem like things tangible; if not tangible themselves, they look as if they contained something within their bosom; he puts forth his hand and he grasps an impalpable shadow. To illustrate: a man feels a void in his spirit. He flies to business, he toils at his counter or his desk, but his hand has grasped no real good, no satisfying portion-he has found only a shadow. By dint of industry and foresight, perseverance and prudence, he has amassed a fortune. He leaves the busy mart, the buzzing exchange, the bustling shop, the wearisome ledger, the noisy Rialto, and seeks retirement in some sequestered villa. Accustomed to the anxious activities of life, ennui invades his quietude, objectless restlessness usurps his peace-he has found only a shadow. He quits his solitude for travel, cities of renown and splendour are visited; battle-fields of fame and glory are surveyed; the noblest monuments of architecture, the peerless productions of art, pass before his eye; the magnificent palaces of modern kings, and the mighty mausoleums of august antiquity, are seen. The entire panorama of world-wide celebrities has revolved before his gaze: there is nothing more to be seen, he must return to his native land, and he feels he has grasped a shadow. He betakes himself to amusements. He assembles his friends, and plunges into the whirlpool of fetes, balls, theatres, conversaziones, and punishes himself with pleasure.' He pauses; he asks what he has found-he has grasped a shadow. Oh! life, life, thou art truly, with thy hollow blandishments and illusive splendours, but an unsubstantial shadow! The heir of fortune, the studious philosopher, the wealthy merchant, the elegant literateur, as well as the noteless poor and the toiling masses, all exclaim, 'Vanity of vanities, all is round vanity!' I might describe the weary round of all these men in the various grades of society, and at the end exclaim, with the great Preacher, Vanity of vanities, all is vanity! Morning after morning they rise, and evening after evening they lie down, and they are weary, weary, and often wish that they were dead, because their days are unsubstantial as a shadow. The united voice of humanity cries, Oh! who will show us any good?' Divorce the idea of God from the days of the departed year, and ask any VOL. I. of these classes, What do they seem? and they will reply,' But as a shadow that declineth.' Secondly, The image suggests that man's days are departing. They are unsubstantial, and they are waning away. The sands are falling through the glass, grain by grain. Pearl after pearl is dropping from the string of life into the fathomless sea, whence no diver shall recover them. The flower is withering, the leaf is fading, the calm decay of man, of nature, and of time is steadily advancing. The last footstep sounds of departed years have died in the silent distance, and the echoes of the year that has just pronounced its adieu, though they linger still, are growing fainter, and still more faint, and will soon lapse away into a stillness as profound as it is inviolable. 'Like as the waves make toward the pebbl'd shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end; Each changing place with that which goes before, In sequent toil all forward do contend.' Go stand by a church-tower, lit up from within, at night, and watch the long dark finger as it steals to the hour. It is already there. It seems to pause. The warning note is flung upon the air, and lo the long dark monitor is already advanced on its untiring round. Man has set up these measurers and remembrancers of time, but has God not framed a monitory chronometer within the breast? In the stillness of night, as well as in the hum of day, the clock of the heart ceases not to give its warning sound. Nearly 4000 times in every hour you may hear it beat. Perhaps, amid the silence of the chamber in which you are reading, you can hear it. Each pulse is the stroke of an alarumbell that warns you of departing time. Will you listen and obey its voice? From sacred edifices bells are tolled as the rites of sepulture proceed. From the sacred sanctities of your hearts a bell is perpetually tolling as you march onwards to the grave-the grave of the righteous or the grave of the wicked? Ye righteous, fear not the grave to which that bell is knolling you; it lies on the borders of the Land of Light, and through its portals the radiance of that land is streaming. Ye wicked and impenitent, tremble at the prospect of that tomb, whither that bell is knolling you, for it yawns on the confines of a dark rayless region, only relieved by the forked tongues of fire that quiver through its sullen gloom. Yes, dear reader, according to your state and character before God, the bell that tolls incessantly within is a summons to eternal weal or eternal woe. There was a huzza in your streets when the last hour of the old year died, and the first moment of the new year was born. Ah! did these hailers of the advent of another circle of existence think, as 'The heavy tears of sound Dropp'd upon the midnight air, Shuddering, as they wept around, O'er the burial of the year,' that it was a knell to heaven or to hell? Thirdly, The image suggests that the days of man are departing silently. Watch the shadow, cast by the sun from yonder tree as he rises; while it contracts by degrees it departs in silence; insensibly and surely it fades, but it fades in silence. It was there and it is gone, and soundlessly, noiselessly it has passed. So is it with time, the clock from the church-tower, the watch in the pocket, the time-piece on the mantel, the chronometer in the heart, proclaim its flight, but the footsteps of time itself, fall soft as snow on snow; no foot can tread so lightly. There is something peculiarly solemnizing in the silent lapse of years. Eighteen-fifty-two has passed; not even the slightest rustle of its wing, not even the loudest footfall of its tread, has been heard, yet it is gone; we can scarce believe it, and yet it is true. This mute evanishing of time contributes much to lull us into security. The striking of the hours, the ticking of the watch, the click of the time-piece, and even the drum-like note of the heart, become common and familiar, and therefore pass unheeded; we are accustomed to them, and it is only on special occasions that we seem startled by their warning. Think solemnly, think seriously, that time is noiselessly speeding away, and if its golden moments are allowed to pass without improvement, they may become, in their very silentness, like the stillness of night, that induces slumber, a slumber on the verge of an unprepared for existence. The noiselessness of time may prove soporific, and a drowsiness may thereby ensue that shall end in that sleep, from which you shall awake only in the arms of an undone eternity, an eternity where no clock shall strike throughout the long dreary monotony of everlasting ages. A clock may be in hell, but, as a writer has said, it will never be wound up, and from its dial the hands shall be for ever removed. Oh! whilst time can be measured, whilst public and private monitions of its flight can be heard, make your 'calling and election sure. Now is the accepted time, and now is the day of salvation.' Fourthly, The image implies that the days of man are departing stealthily. Cast your eye upon yon shadow on the dial. It moves so gradually you cannot distinctly note the progress of its flight. You say it was there then, it is here now: our days thus glide as a dial hand steals from its have wives, be as though they had none; figure, and no pace perceived.' Thou by thy dial's shady stealth mayst know, Time is furtively fugitive: pause for an instant, that instant is passing, it is gone, silently and stealthily it has crept away. If you watch not time, it will steal away like a thief, and carry along with it irrecoverable treasures, ay, the treasures of your immortality. You may cry out in alarm stop. But if once past, no power on earth or in hell can retard its flight. Suffer, then, not a moment to elapse without its corresponding duty discharged. Permit not an instant to depart without its relative obligation fulfilled, for, remember, time, like the shadow, is stealthily fugacious, and clandestinely slipping for ever away. Fifthly, The image suggests that the days of man are short. The shadow lasts but a few hours, at most a day, and then disappears. It soon wanes away, and the place where it was is left as unimpressed as if it had never been. How fit an emblem of human life! man is born, he lives through the period of youth, adolesence, manhood, and old age; a few short years, a miserably small 'parenthesis of eternity; and then he dies. He vanishes from the house he had dwelt in, from the family he had blessed, from the wife he had loved, from the friends he had benefited, from the world he had served, and the place that once knew him, now emphatically knows him no more-like the shadow, he is to us as if he had never been, he has vanished like a ship beneath the horizon, and the bosom of the sea bears no trace of his passing keel-he is dissolved like mist upon the mountains, of which not a solitary flake remains to tell of its existence. One splash, the waves close, and all is over, and the sea of time is as smooth as before ―he sports his little hour in the sunbeam, the light departs, and the tiny creature sinks into oblivion. and they that weep, as though they wept not; and they that rejoice, as though they rejoiced not; and they that buy, as though they possessed not; and they that use this world as not abusing it, for the fashion of this world passeth away.' Let the shortness of time, suggested by our metaphor, act as a stimulus to all God's people, to begin the days of this year with renewed earnestness, with firmer resolutions, with loftier aims, with holier ends, with more self-denial, more watchfulness, more prayer, more zeal, more faith, more energy, more generosity, more sympathy, more spirituality. Let the mis-spent hours of the past year be atoned for by the diligent employment of each moment of the present. See that you have never cause to say, with a celebrated emperor of old, 'I have lost a day.' Redeem the time, because the days are few and evil. Live useful lives: I dont say live happy lives, for perfect happiness is not attainable in this life-we can here only describe a small arc in the circle of felicity:' but live useful lives, employ each moment for the good of men and the glory of God, and you are on the high-way to happiness. And if you have squandered your days in luxury and ease, in business or in sloth, hear the voice of conscience now charging you with the murder of time and the assassination of your souls. The time is short, spend it not in puerile trifles, but in momentous concerns. Spend not the few moments you have to live in fitting yourself for hell rather than for heaven. Remember, every hour you live without God you are growing dryer and dryer fuel for the everlasting burning. And that fuel is becoming more plentiful day by day. Like the Indian fig-tree of Goa,* which sends down its branches, and roots them so firmly in the earth, that another stem is produced with other branches, that accomplish the same effect in endless succession, until the solitary tree becomes a mighty forest; so is it with sin-it is reproductive and multiplicative. The branches of the tree of last year are about to form another root, and if grace prevent not, if timely consideration arrest not, it will cover the days and the months of eighteen-fiftythree with its baleful shade: and if the care 'Nativity, once in the main of light, Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crowned, Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight, And time that gave doth now his gift confound.' He is melted like breath into the air-lessness continue, and this process go on, he is consumed like smoke, his days have been, in the language of the Scripture, like a vapour, swifter than a post or a weaver's shuttle. With all men time is like a shadow, because it is short, and most men are like a shadow, because they leave no trace behind, adding rather to the number than the note of their generation.' I need not descend to commonplace moralizing, listen to Scripture. The time is short, it remaineth that both they that at the end of life the breath of the Lord, like a stream of brimstone, will kindle it, and amid a conflagration more terrific than that of a primeval forest, for the fuel of sin, though in flames, is inconsumable, you will burn throughout a fiery eternity. Oh, spend your short years rather in bringing forth fruit on the tree of righteousness, that shall fall ripe on the green sward of heaven. *See Sir Thomas Browne's Christian Ethics. |