E-once more he stood by the , he took from his pocket the Bible e where he had last seen him. I which the old man had given him, was about the same time in the his last words forced themselves ing as when he last was there. | upon his mind. le withered leaf, the setting "Yes,” said he, "I do think of the the evening bell, were once | old man and his grand-daughter at ; before him; but he who had Enville. Thy prayer has been annded him of them all was swered, dear departed friend. This

book has been, under God, my solace le grass had been lately moved too; for there have I found Him of

its place, and the traces of the whom Moses and the prophets did I were still visible on the green write. For ever-yes, for ever

shall I have cause to remember that orland's tears fell fast, and as thou didst speak to me of–Jesus."

CHRIST'S DEMANDS.

BY THE REV. JOHN STOCK, LL.D. was much struck the other day with the following suggestive fact:rge III. was the fortunate recipient of the smallest watch ever e, which was constructed by the famous chronometer-maker, Arnold, was set in a ring like a jewel. It contained one hundred and aty different parts, and weighed just about as many grains ; so that parts averaged one grain each, the fly-wheel and pinion actually zhing the seventeenth part of a grain. Of course, ordinary tools je useless for such microscopic work, and Arnold had to make a zial set of implements for it. The king was so pleased with the ider that he rewarded the skilful donor with five hundred guineas. Emperor of Russia wanted a watch like it, and offered Arnold a isand guineas for its counterpart; but in order that his gift to the ; might not be depreciated, and at the same time to preserve its jue character, Arnold refused the offer. In reading this circumstance, I thought we might learn from the oted loyalty of Arnold, the watchmaker, some important lessons. gave the best he could give to his king; and Jesus, the King of gs, claims and deserves the best we can give Him. Arnold was ermined that no one else should possess such a watch as he had de for his sovereign, that the one he had made and given him might lain, a special and unique expression of his love and devotion. Thus are to give our hearts to Christ as we are to give them to no one ; We are to honour Him with the best of our substance, with the blest of our faculties ; and, in short, with a devotion that is to be Preme and unapproached by anything we can feel towards a fellow ature. He alone is to have our whole hearts. Husband or wife, her or mother, son or daughter, houses or lands, yea, even, our own es, are not to be loved as we love the Lord Jesus. We are to give me what we dare not give to a mere creature.

We may not shrink from any sacrifice for our Supreme Lord, bu are to follow Him, if required, even unto death. Francis the First France hazarded the battle of Marignan against the advice of h generals. It was a terrible battle, and there were great odds agains him. When about to rush into the fiercest of the conflict, he turne to his army, and cried, “ Let him who loves me, follow me!” Hi troops followed with an enthusiasm that no obstacle could overcome and they gained a decisive victory.

A terrible conflict is raging between the forces of light and darkness Every day the battle is renewed, and every day Christ, the King, turn to his soldiers and cries, “Let him who loves me, follow me!" An with a devotion which no dangers can daunt, and no sacrifices arres we must follow the Lamb whithersoever He leads. Let Him have th best of our hearts, of our service, and of our devotion. If for us t live be Christ, to die will be gain; for it will be to live again, and t be for ever with the Lord whom we honoured and worshipped. A the departed, who followed the Lord below, are now “without faul before the throne ;” and the Lamb who is in the midst of the thron leads them beside fountains of living waters, and wipes away all tear from their faces.

Devonport.

OLD JEDDY; OR, THERE'S REST AT HOME. I was preaching one Sabbath after- | “for no massa preacher be there for noon in the door of a log-cabin in four months." I mounted to start, the village of P- , to a congrega but Jeddy's horse was found too tion which filled the house and the lame to return. The late rains had front yard. When about half through swept away a bridge on the only the sermon, I observed an old negro road, and rendered it necessary to riding alone towards the house. He take an indirect course through a dismounted, fastened his horse to a boggy prairie in order to cross the tree, and took his stand among the stream nearer its head. The horse throng. The tears soon trickled had sprained one of his legs in a down his furrowed cheeks, and it | quicksand of this prairie, but Jeddy seemed impossible for him to repress insisted on returning on foot.. some hearty exclamations. At the We started into the prairie, but conclusion of the service he pre had not got far when I perceived sented himself with profound reve that, owing to the wet state of the rence as my guide to Colonel M— 's, ground, we should not at Jeddy's nineteen miles distant. It was my pace reach our destination till the next appointment; and, having just next morning. But, though slipping arrived in the circuit, I needed some and tugging at almost every step, guidance. I had already preached the good-hearted negro's large eyes three times and ridden twenty-three gleamed with delight at the thought miles that day, and proposed to that he had induced the "massa Jedediah, or Jeddy as he was called, preacher” to accompany him. I to tarry till the morning; but he directed him to mount behind me; replied that his master, the colonel, he seemed astonished at my kind. insisted upon seeing me that even ness, and looked at me in silent ing. “Do go, massa,” said Jeddy; | amazement, but at last yielded to

request. By a little familiarity | down on a small eminence on the became quite communicative. I prairie, too fatigued to proceed. him into a recital of his whole “How old are you, Jeddy?” I pry, particularly of his Christian inquired. rience. It was related with “Seventy-three, massa. Me be ent sincerity and deep emotion; getting toward dat home,' massa." tears frequently flowed from the “Have you a wife, Jeddy ?”. man's eyes, and I could not “Yes, massa; but me not know rain my own; we wept together where she be: former massa love children.

not God, and sold her far away." 'hen we had passed the first nine “ Have you children?”. s the night was falling fast; “ Yes, massa."

what was greatly worse, we “And where are they?” in to falter among those patches “All gone, too, massa, me know juicksand so frequent and so not where. But we all served God, gerous in some of the western | massa, and hope to meet in that ies. After plunging into a home where be rest.” ber of these, Jeddy dismounted The tears started afresh in the old elieve the danger by lessening man's eyes. I could inquire no burden of the horse. We had further. My feelings overpowered gone twenty rods farther before me. What, thought I, are my

poor animal sunk above his sufferings compared with those of es in the mire, and only extricated this poor sorrow-stricken servant of self by the utmost violence. my Master ? ugh accustomed to greater diffi * There is rest for us at home,” ies, the fatigues of the day had said I involuntarily, and motioned ffected me that I began to show to proceed. It was very dark, the courage than the poor slave who rain was falling, and my horse limped led me. Dismounting, I leaned with lameness. I was compelled to rily against my horse, and ex lead him by the bridle the remaining ssed a disposition to return rather ten dreary miles. Through rain ? risk the perils and fatigues of and mud and quicksands, we plodded remaining distance.

on, nerved against them all by the No, massa,” replied Jeddy; “be thought which ever recurred with

discouraged; there be rest at | refreshing influence to my mind, le for you."

that “there was rest for us at here was something either in home.” At last the glimmer of a

tone of Jeddy's vuice, or my | distant light fell on our course. I mood of mind, which gave the “ Dat is home, massa !” exclaimed ression at once a double sense. | Jeddy, with ecstasy. es," I involuntarily exclaimed; So, I have often thought since ank God, there is a home for us, then, gleams the light of hope over dy, where the weary are at rest." the valley and shadow of death, to Oh, yes, massa !” said the old the Christian pilgrim. I was reour-worn negro, as the tears ceived about midnight at the logrted in his eyes: “me often tinks cabin, wet and weary, yet as an angel dat. Me hopes to get dere some of God. The table had been spread

with everything good the house "There is rest at home!” The could afford for my refreshment. Itence gave me new energy, and After many congratulations, a prayer, $ often done so since in many a and a song of praise, I laid me down rder trial. We jogged along; but to rest. Rest! thought I, what a or and anon were struggling in sweet word! Never did I feel its 3 bogs. Wearied at last, we sat | significance more than in the slum

bers of that night, sweetened as they | but going home, going home! were by beautiful visions of that Tears of gratitude and joy expresse better land, where “there remaineth still more fully his thoughts. Whe a rest for the people of God.”

he had nearly lost the power d Ten years had passed,-years of speech, he continued to utter thi much labour and sad changes in my phrase; and his last words were history,—when I had occasion to visit * Rest - home!” He died that a much more remote frontier settle night; and I have no doubt that by ment. I preached in a log school the midnight hour he had passed house to a congregation gathered through the “everlasting gates," and from within twenty miles around. was hailed by the seraphim amid the At the close of the discourse, a Mr. “excellent glory." M- introduced himself to me as Often, while drooping under the the son of my former host, Colonel fatigues and diseases of those wil M . The colonel had emancipated | regions,—often, in laying my hea his slaves; and, during a long period on my saddle, to spend the night i of sickness, was converted, and died, the forest,--have Irecalled the phras it was believed, the death of the of Jeddy, "There's rest at home righteous. The son, indulging the There has been a spell of power i characteristic propensity of the these words which no labour, 11 family, had advanced with the peril, has been able to dissipate. frontier line, and the old coloured Minister of God, wandering to an servants, unwilling io disperse, had fro without a resting-place to see accompanied him, and were settled the lost sheep of the house of Israe about him. One of them, he said, art thou at times weary? Dost thot was not expected to live from hour long for a home and repose? DE to hour. We went immediately to thy little ones die in thy absence the sick man's cabin. It was sur and are their graves scattered in the rounded by coloured people, weeping land? Cheer thee, brother: thy like children for a father. On a bed home is above, and a rest remaineth in a corner lay the dying man. I for thee there. approached to address him ; his Aged pilgrim, art thou bending languid eye kindled, and in a moment over thy staff, like the patriarch, there was a mutual recognition. It “seeking a better country"? Do was old Jeddy! Need I tell the thy aged limbs tremble on the way? reader the effect on myself and on Be of good courage: the difficult the dying African ? Leaning over heights before thee are the "delectthe bed, and taking his hand, I able mountains.” Struggle on: thou asked, “Do you remember, Jeddy, art on the threshold of thy home; the boggy prairie at — "

there is rest for thee there. “Oh, yes, massa; dat precious Afflicted saint, is it thy lot not to night!” he replied, gasping for do, but to suffer, the will of thy Lord breath.

Art thou weary and weak and in pain? "Your pilgrimage is almost ended. Are weeks or months of languishing There's rest for you at home, Jeddy." | before thee? “Trust thou in the

The old saint had not forgotten Lord for ever," for thy "light afflicthe phrase. His dying eye kindled tions ” are “but for a moment," anew; and, in broken expressions, compared with the “rest that rehe responded, “ Yes, bless de Lord, maineth” for thee. Suffer on: the massa, me most home. Me poor, end is at hand, when thou shalt old, weary servant,-oh, very weary! '"enter into His rest."*

* From an American periodical.

CHRISTIAN CONSISTENCY.

BY THE REV. G. W. FISHBOURNE. nly let your conversation be as it becometh the gospel of Christ."-Phil. i. 27. will doubtless be readily admitted that it is both the duty and rivilege of those who through the grace of God have come to the ledge of the truth as it is in Jesus, to make a public profession eir faith. Nor is it without good reason that we regard this act very great importance ; for, in addition to the beneficial results led to be answered by Christian discipleship in its influence the world (for Christians are said to be the salt of the earth, and ights of the world), the Saviour attaches a most blessed privi. o the performance of this duty, and the gravest consequences to nful and guilty neglect of it, when He says, “Whosoever therefore confess me before men, him will I confess also before my Father s in heaven. But whosoever shall deny me before men, him will deny before my Father which is in heaven” (Matt. x. 32, 33). zre is, however, a danger of our limiting the application of this ession of Christ” to the act by which, before the Church and rorld, we first make a public profession of our allegiance to t; and it is greatly to be feared and lamented, that far too little tance is attached by many professing Christians, to the manner hich they live and act after they have said that they are with t crucified unto the world, and with Him also risen to newness of The period between the time of conversion, and that of making an profession, is usually regarded as peculiarly solemn, and demandnuch self-examination, watchfulness, and prayer; but when that ssion is made, some seem to think that the chief matter in religion omplished. They are apt to boast, and to be self-confident; to reless with respect to many things which in themselves, and in influence upon others, ought never to be regarded with indiffer

But it should be borne in mind that the journey and the race lot then finished, but only just commenced, at least, publicly; the victory is not gained, but that the warfare has only then y begun. It is then that the yoke of Christ is taken upon us, hat we testify to the world our willingness to bear His burden. but the first step we take in the path we are to tread all our and the first public acknowledgment of submission to that yrity by which our whole lives are to be governed. at there should be a difference between the Christian and the 1, is what we presume all are ready, in theory at least, to acknow; in other words, that as God has by His grace made him to

from others, he should live consistently with his name and ssion. w in order to form a correct estimate of what the Christian life Id be, we must have recourse to an authoritative standard, and wvour to ascertain its teachings in the matter. It is evident that