of woe,

Too dark, too tangled for the bright design?

No drop of rain too heavy for the bow

Set in the cloud in Covenant Divine?

I know that all Thy full designs are bright, That darkest threads grow golden in Thy

hand,

That bending lines grow straight, the tangled right,

The bitter drops all sweet at Thy command.

Command the sweetness! make the crooked straight!

And turn these dusky tangled threads to gold!

Swifter, dear Lord! I cannot longer wait; Faith hath grown weary, longing to behold.

I know the promise, but I crave the sight:
I yearn to glimpse the beautiful design,
To hail the rose-tints of the morning light,
To watch the straight'ning of the bended
line.

Why these enigmas? wherefore not receive
Their bright solution? Then a voice drew

near:

"Blessed are they who see not, yet believe!" And One I knew approached, and wiped my tear,

With wounded hand, and sighed. Ah! then

I fell

Down on my knees, and held Him by the feet,

And cried, "My Lord! my God! all, all is well;

With Thee the dark is light, the bitter sweet!"

ANON.

and in its parts, the only way in which he can describe it is that suggested by the words of Scripture, "God hath led me all these years." I see it now so plainly-how there has been a hand over me, the hand of a real and

living Person, giving this, and withholding that, both alike for good; placing me, perhaps, where I would not, and then showing me that it had been well; not suffering me to forget, or else recalling me to recol lection; denying me, or else taking away from me, something on which my heart was too much set, and then giving me something else which, because less desired, was safer; chastening me when I fell away, and often by sharp and painful strokes bringing me back to Himself.

Doubtless heaven will be full of such remembrances of earthly life, each remembrance ending in the ascription of praise. And cannot earth anticipate these recollections, these ascriptions of praise? Yes; the youngest life has had some such experiences; middle life has them in abundance.

Oh, how we forget God when we are in prosperity! When life smiles on us, how do we think scorn, as it were, of the pleasant land beyond; how do we provoke God by our murmurings; how do we dishonour Him by setting our affections on things below Him. When He slays us, we seek Him, as it is written; when He hides His face, we humble ourselves; when He delivers us again, we sing His praise: but within a while we forget His works; we live carelessly; we scarcely pray; we cleave to the dust of this world. Again the stroke falls; again we repent; again we amend; alas! again it is a short-lived effort: and in

many such backslidings, and a few such returns, life slips away; the call comes, and is the door still open?

God is leading us-offering at least to lead us-all our life long; and, oh the safety, oh the happiness, oh the deep peace, of those who early accept that offer!.... Every morning let our prayer be, (6 Lord, lead me. If I stray, follow me into the desert and recall If I faint, carry me in Thy bosom. When I walk at last through the valley of the shadow of death, be Thou with me. Let Thy goodness and mercy follow me all the days of my life, and then let me dwell in Thine house for ever."

me.

DR. VAUGHAN.

CHRIST'S COMFORTABLE WORDS.

MATT. xi. 28.

WHEN wakening to a sense of guilt,
I dread the wrath of Heaven,
And trembling doubt if sin like mine
Can ever be forgiven;

How shall I quell the anxious fears

Which agitate my breast? "Come unto me," the Saviour says,

"And I will give thee rest." When, struggling with the cares of life, From day to day I toil,

And vainly look for quietude

Amid the world's turmoil;

Oh, let me not, with flutt'ring heart, Be careworn and distrest,

For "Come to me," the Saviour says,

"And I will give thee rest."

Should earthly comforts be withdrawn,
And sorrows o'er me roll;
Should loss, bereavement, suffering, grief,
Oppress my wearied soul;

Still cheer thee up, my heart, for God
Designs it for the best,

And still the gracious Saviour cries,
"Come unto me for rest."

Should all the powers of hell combine
To drive me to despair;

Should Satan tempt by fierce assault,
Or spread some cunning snare;
Should wars without and fears within
At once my soul molest;

I dare not doubt while Jesus says,
"Come unto me for rest."

When the last struggle comes, and death
Dissolves this frail abode;

When God's decree recalls the breath
Which He at first bestowed;
Saviour, I fear no ill, for Thou

Wilt call me to Thy breast;

"Come home to me, thou wearied one, And I will give thee rest."

Rasland Parsonage.

LEGH RICHMOND AYRE.

E will not here dwell on the oft-repeated scenes of abomination which marked the French Revolution, but only mention that the learned and refined Laforest, so proud at the results of his search for truth, and who had been so pious in his early youth, was among those who worshipped an abandoned woman as the Goddess of Reason, after they had declared Christianity abolished.

Let us rather turn to the good companion of that blinded man's youth, the excellent pastor of C—, in Alsace.

Heinrich Kerner was a blessing to his parish, which was composed principally of plain, simple citizens, among whom the new doctrines had as yet made no impression. When the news of the outbreak of the Revolution in the capital reached this remote town, it was at first little heeded. The pastor, indeed, was painfully affected by it: as a conscientious Christian, it caused him great grief to see the authority of the Government undermined and despised, for it was God's ordinance, to which He had commanded obedience in His Word. But he looked upon the movement as a fire of straw, which quickly burns up, and is soon consumed, without doing much harm.

He did not, however, think so long. The tidings from the capital became more and more serious. Facts were related which filled all well-disposed people with fear and trembling; and at last the new ideas found their way into the remote town, to the deep grief of its faithful pastor.

That he resolutely opposed them, we need scarcely say, for he was a warm, living, faithful disciple of Jesus; but among his parishioners there were some who, at least for a time, suffered themselves to be blinded by the false glare of the new light, which seemed to them like the appearance of dawn after a long dark night.

The majority of these were soon undeceived when they saw that the hatred against the rich which was now proclaimed had its foundation less in the wrongs which they had committed than in the possession of that which their enemies wished to appropriate themselves. Oppression, instead of coming from above, now came from below, and was consequently much worse in its effects. Instead of the luxury and extravagance of the nobles and the wealthy, there was now the licentiousness and lawlessness of a mob freed from all the restraints of order and discipline. Respect for society had before checked open immorality, which now shamelessly stood out in its worst forms. Whilst formerly the religion of many had been only a name, and had brought forth no fruit, now everything which was from God was openly ignored. Hatred of Christ was publicly preached; Christianity itself was despised as a superstition; and those who would not consent to such opinions were persecuted and despised as fools and hypocrites.

Though Pastor Kerner had at first underestimated the power of the new movement, yet he saw clearly that the work was not of God, but hostile to Him; that Satan had here disguised himself as an angel of light,” in order with less hindrance to carry on his work, and if it were possible to "deceive even the elect." In his family, and among the most serious of his parishioners, he openly acknowledged that such was his conviction, and earnestly warned them against this new light, which only led to darkness. As long as it was possible he exer. cised his office as a pastor with great faithfulness and care. He abstained purposely from all mention of politics. In the pulpit he proclaimed Christ the crucified, risen One, with warmth of heart and the power of conviction, but he did not speak against the unbelief which had spread from the capital over the whole land, still less against those among his parishioners whom he knew favoured it. In adopting this course, he was not influenced by

the fear of man, nor was he seeking to please man; but he thought the truth would itself make way with those who were inclined to receive it, whereas if he publicly opposed and denounced the errors of the times, he knew that he would thus put an end to all his usefulness without attaining anything. His determination was to "work as long as it was day," remembering that "the night cometh when no man can work." And the night did come-not, indeed, suddenly, as in the tropics, when at sunset darkness at once ensues, without any intervening twilight, but as in our land, where, after the disappearance of the sun, twilight gradually introduces the coming night.

Each post brought fresh news from the capital, which the pastor and those who shared his opinions received with fear and horror; while the revolutionists in the town, who all belonged to those who had nothing to lose, but hoped to gain much in a general overthrow, and to be able to indulge their lusts and passions unhindered, were filled with tumultuous joy. Two pieces of intelligence particularly had these effects on both parties, namely, the condemnation and execution of the King and Queen, and the abolition of the Christian religion, publicly decreed by the chiefs of the existing reign of terror. Whilst the first act of treason and inhumanity filled all right-minded people with grief, and with abhorrence of the wickedness of its perpetrators, the ungodly decree affected all the relations of religious life, and threatened to destroy the Christian Church.

Every public service of God was forbidden. The parishioners dared not assemble in church to hear the testimony of Christ and His Word. The mothers dared not bring their children to the font to be baptized. The grown-up youths dared no longer come to their pastors to be instructed and examined in the saving truths of the Gospel; and the body of the faithful dared no longer assemble together to celebrate the communion of the Lord. The pastor's office was abolished. He was allowed to remain in the parsonage, but it was no longer to be called by that name, but, like the church, a "public building." He was himself declared to be a civil officer. As such, on the tenth day of the week-for Sunday too was abolished, and every tenth day appointed instead as a day of rest from work, and of social pleasure-he was required in the former church, from which the communion

table and pulpit were removed, to exhort and encourage the assembled citizens to hatred against tyrants, to war against the enemies of the country, and to obedience to the laws. He was also enjoined to give lectures to the youth on patriotism, liberty, equality, and fraternity. All the clergy who would not consent to these ordinances were denounced as traitors and enemies to the country, and cited to appear before the revolutionary tribunals everywhere set up, to receive the punishment of their disobedience - condemnation and death.

Great indeed was Pastor Kerner's grief when this decree was made known to him. Long and earnest was the struggle in his heart before he came to any decision as to what he should do-whether he should flee, or remain and resist the godless ordinance, or submit to it as far as his conscience would allow him.

Before he decided, he consulted with the most devoted and religions of the elders of his church. They all implored him to remain, and to comply with the revolutionary requirements as far as it was possible to do so without deny. ing his and their faith. They urged that he might still carry on quietly among them the work of a good shepherd and pastor.

"You must not leave us, good pastor,” said they. "If you went away, we should be without any support, whereas in these times of general apostacy we need increased support. Better times, we trust, will return: till then, persevere, and encourage us to persevere too. You need not deny our Lord Jesus. If you are asked concerning your faith, nothing remains for you but to confess it, even though it should cost you your life; according to our Lord's words, He that confesseth me before men, him will I also confess before my Father which is in heaven; but he that denieth me before men, him will I also deny before my Father which is in heaven.' Let us then keep to this resolution. We will earnestly pray the Lord to give you the real wisdom of the serpent and the real harmlessness of the dove, and to preserve you from denying Him as from death itself.”