baptized as an evidence and open declaration of his faith. More he could not do. The fact is, my friend, you undervalue the blood of Christ. Either the devil, or your own heart, is deceiving you; and I would advise you to cling more than ever to simple faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, and pay less attention to your feelings and signs of being an accepted man. I can do no more than you profess to do; that is, accept Christ for all and everything from first to last; and if I'm not saved now, on this condition, I shall never be saved."

My friend began to see that he had been expecting too much from himself; that he had despised the value God places on His Son's atoning blood; and, as he spoke further to me, the tears of discovered joy came freely, and moistened his weather-beaten countenance. We then spoke of the wonders of the love of God in sending to search him out. I pointed out to him how the Holy Spirit had first come to stir him up to have a desire to be a changed man; and then never let him alone till He brought him to Christ.

He followed me in all these details like one conscious that his guide had travelled the same road too, and was acquainted with the way; and now and then he would interrupt, approving the remarks, and confirming them from his past experience. "He did believe he was a sinner, and that he must have repentance before he could be saved; and he knew that Jesus Christ only could do that for him; and he had done his best to follow the Saviour from the first day he felt uneasy, but he did not feel the truth of it till now." I knelt down by his bedside, and we both thanked the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ that peace and pardon were secured for such sinners as we were; and once more we appealed to a sprinkled mercy-seat to wash away our guilty stains, and rose, trusting then, as we both prayed to trust to the end, in the all-sufficient atonement of the Lamb of God for present salvation and future glory.

Rest.

"Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest."

HERE are some who have been heard to say that this world was to them nothing but a place of toil and care, and that they would be glad to come to the

end of their journey. Is such the case with you, dear friend? and would you like to find rest for your weary spirit? Hear the precious words of the Lord Jesus, “Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest." This is a very encouraging promise, and I am anxious to tell you the true history of one who came to place her whole confidence in it—who had so much trouble and sorrow that she thought she could bear no more, but to whom such rest came at last that she felt quite willing to take the whole of her wearisome lot, and bear it meekly, as long as it might please her Lord and Master in heaven.

She was a poor man's wife; but the poor man was a drinking man, so his wife was poorer than she needed to be. They were the parents of several children. The eldest daughter, as she grew up, became disobedient and troublesome; but the eldest son was the joy and pride of his mother's heart. He was a bright lad, full of hope and promise. He married early, and obtained a situation of trust, which enabled him to keep himself and his new wife comfortably. All went well with him for a few months, when, alas! the great enemy of man's peace and purity tempted him to steal from his employers. He began, as many another has done, by taking very small sums, and gradually increasing them. Suspicions were at length aroused, and a trap was set, into which he speedily fell. Thus he was detected, and his mother heard that her son had been "taken up for robbery," and was in the town prison. Oh! the deep, the dreadful anxiety with which she awaited his trial! But another trouble was before her; for ere the

assizes came round the sorrow-stricken young wife bore her first child, and soon the poor trembling mother-in-law followed both parent and infant to the grave. The merry peal of the church bells, causing the hearts of some to sink within them, announced the arrival of the judge. Her son was found guilty, and sentenced to a term of penal servitude. Then she seemed quite broken-hearted; and Christian people who heard of her trouble pitied her, because she knew not where to go for comfort. Before the last heavy stroke she had been accustomed to attend occasionally at a Mother's Meeting, and now the Bible-woman visited her frequently, and one day carried her an invitation to the yearly tea-meeting that the ladies gave to the mothers of the neighbourhood. After much hesitation, and borrowing one or two articles of dress in order to make a decent appearance, with a face of the most abject distress she presented herself at the table. But neither her bodily eyes nor the eyes of her mind were upon the tea or the smiling countenances around her they were fixed upon a placard on the wall, on which in large letters were the words, "Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest." Said she to herself, "That's just what I want; but how can I get it? How am I to come?" During the whole of tea-time the words were ringing in her ears, "Come unto Me-rest-rest;" but she perceived no way by which she could obtain what she so much needed.

At last the tea was over, thanks were sung, and several friends prepared to address the meeting. The first who rose took the very passage for his motto. In kind, encouraging words, he pointed out to the attentive women the Saviour of men, the Sin-bearer of the people, the Binder-up of the broken-hearted, and showed them how by faith the great burden of sin and care may be rolled off at the foot of the cross, and be felt no more. Every word that she heard and the great promise she had read sunk deep into her soul, and became fixed there, as a nail in a sure place;" and before leaving that evening she had obtained the rest, and had re

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ceived "the peace that passeth understanding." When relating these circumstances on her dying bed, she said, “I went up those stairs as heavy as lead, but I came down as light as a feather."

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The inroads which, beforetime, trouble had made upon her began to show themselves at no very distant period after this happy event, and illness set in, which ended in decline and death. But she did not now carry an overburdened heart, or indulge in corroding anxiety. She knew the pri vilege of committing herself and all her concerns unto Him who has said, " Cast thy burden on the Lord, and He shall sustain thee." A sweet peace pervaded her spirit, and the quiet happiness of pardoned sin imparted a beautiful serenity to her countenance. The Bible-woman, her ever-kind friend, continued to visit her until she died, in the midst of poverty, but trusting in Christ, and having in view the "many mansions" (resting-places) which He has prepared for them that love Him.

Dear friends, are you, like this sorrowing woman, weary of sin, and weary also of toil and care? Remember her, and seek her Saviour. The same peace and blessing will then be The trials of life, though they may not cease, will yours. become more easy to bear, because you can carry them to Him who says, "Call upon Me in the day of trouble; I will hear thee, and thou shalt glorify Me."

Lord! help a poor, weak, weary, and sinful creature to come to Thee!

"In the Christian's home in glory
There remains a place of rest,
Where the Saviour's gone before me,
To fulfil my soul's request:

On the other side of Jordan,

In the sweet fields of Eden,

Where the Tree of Life' is blooming,

There is rest for the weary,

There is rest for you!"

B. W. M.

Grief."

HEN, after years of tranquil happiness, some grief comes upon us, we are apt to murmur and to complain that we are thus afflicted; but at such moments let us try to imagine what it must have been to Him who dwelt from eternity in bliss unspeakable, and yet willingly left that glorious abode of happiness to sojourn on earth as a man of sorrows."

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On what page of His history is not sorrow written, from His mysterious temptation in the wilderness to the moment when, at the sound of His expiring cry, the veil of the temple was rent, the earth trembled, and the graves were riven asunder?

"A man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief;" not only did He know it in dwellings of sorrow and death, but in the inmost depths of His own chastened spirit. Yes, "acquainted with grief;" for the foreshadowing of coming sufferings and death were ever on His path, and He from whom nothing is hidden could foresee every step of His earthly pilgrimage.

"Jesus knowing all things that should come upon Him," What would frail mortals do if they could see in anticipation the sorrows which await them; the vacant place of that beloved one who is now the very light of our life; the coldness and desertion of those whose companionship is now so dear; the anguish of bodily suffering which may await us? But He who said, "Lo, I come to do Thy will, O God," knew all, and what it would cost Him to do that will. Yet undaunted He trod that path, though it led Him to the cross and grave; for, through the vista of long years, He saw a glimpse of the glory which awaited Him, and though ofttimes His soul was exceedingly sorrowful, yet His prophetic glance overswept the weary present, and thus, even in the midst of its weariness, that soul saw of its travail, and was satisfied.