whence will come the blow which sends us out of this state into the next. But is it not the very extreme of madness to defer making sure of proffered mercy? As each one of us holds his and her life on most uncertain tenure; as each one has received some message of reconciliation from God -though perhaps not so strikingly direct as in Bill's caseis it not impious daring to wilfully, deliberately postpone seeking for salvation? The brittle thread of life may soon be snapped; the merest accident may shorten the term of mortal probation; then, what hope is there beyond the grave? God's time for repentance, pardon, acceptance, is now: the world's, by-and-by. God says, "Now is the accepted time; now is the day of salvation:" the world says, "To-morrow will do; there's plenty of time." So the deluded sinner goes on, delaying and procrastinating, until some sudden call or untimely accident comes, which sends him into a dreadful eternity in a moment.

Death is always untimely to the unprepared. To those who put off seeking for salvation, striving to quiet their uneasy conscience by the flippant thought, "Plenty of time yet," death is never welcome, and never timely. Instead of being gathered into the Father's garner, like shocks of corn, fully ripe, the unwilling spirit is driven away in his wickedness to a dreary, despairing, remediless woe; there to lament, over and over again, through all the ages of eternity, "The opportunity is past! The message of mercy and peace was rejected!" "The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and I am not saved.”

"There are no acts of pardon passed
In the cold grave to which we haste;
But darkness, death, and long despair
Reign in eternal silence there.

Then what my thoughts design to do,
My hands with all your might pursue,
Since no device nor work is found,
Nor faith, nor hope beneath the ground."

E. R. P.

Thankfulness.

OME whom fortunate we deem,

Rich in mercies as they seem→

Of abundant means possessed,

And with health and friendship blest,
Through a single trifling care,
Ceaselessly unhappy are.

Others by the Master led
In affliction's pathway dread-
On the couch of suffering laid,
Or of want the victims made,
Seeing smallest comfort nigh,
Grateful praises lift on high.

Whatsoe'er my lot may be,
Whether gloomy days I see,
Or my Sun and Saviour shed
Outward blessings on my head-
Ever I would most desire"
Gratitude my heart to fire.

S. D.

44

The Prisoner of our Lord Jesus Christ."

Or the prisoner of Nero, as perhaps we should have written. No, Paul knew better than that; the confinement would indeed have been dreary, and

the imprisonment almost unbearable, had he considered himself as held in the iron and cruel grasp of one of the most wicked men that ever lived. No, Paul knew well enough that the God who had brought Joseph out of the prison-house at His own time still lived; that He whose angels had thrust aside the prison bars, and flung wide open the prison gates for Peter, was his God too. And sure he was that all the bars and bolts in Rome could not keep him if Jesus, his Lord and Master, wanted him at liberty. And so Paul's mind was at rest, and, though a prisoner, he was learning, day by day, more and more of

the height and depth, the length and breadth of that love which passeth knowledge.

"This troublesome cough keeps me a prisoner," some weary one says; and very troublesome the cough seems then, and each remedy tried and failing, a sad disappointment. But the prisoner of Jesus Christ! ah, that is a different matter altogether. There to do His will; there to learn more of His love; detained to bring forth fruit to His glory; laid aside, not as a useless, withered branch, but that God may show what His grace can do, what patience He can give, what cheerfulness under suffering, what joy in the midst of sorrow, kept there not one day too long. Not forgotten, but carefully, lovingly watched and tended; trained, perchance, for future work and for eternal glory. Yes, the prisoner of Jesus Christ may well rejoice; He takes special care of His prisoners; visits them constantly: "The Lord despiseth not His prisoners." They are "prisoners of hope;" and soon the Master will open the doors of the prison-house, and bid His prisoners go free, and for ever bask in the sunshine of His love.

"I love Thy yoke to wear, to feel Thy gracious bands;
Sweetly restrained by Thy care, and happy in Thy hands.
No bar would I remove, no bond would I unbind;
Within the limits of Thy love full liberty I find."

H. C.

A

The Mountain Stream.

RIVER, having its rise far away among the inland hills, at length finds its way into the sea.

It has travelled many miles and met with many obstacles on its journey. When it first left its subterranean home, it dashed down the hill-side as though eager to reach its destination; but its velocity was soon checked, for it had to wind its way in and out between the rocks that lay at the foot of the hill: it was diverted from

its original channel by the art of man, and forced to drive his mill-wheels and set in motion his machinery. Once in its course it was made to fill a reservoir to form an artificial lake, and this delayed it long; days and weeks passed before the reservoir was filled and the stream found its way out on the lower side; and it seemed to grow weary of waiting, and to long to be once more moving towards the wide ocean whither it was bound.

Sometimes it had been quite near the sea, and its journey appeared well nigh at an end; but a sudden turn in its course took it far away again. Meanwhile it had been increasing in size and splendour. It left its mountain home a little babbling rivulet, over which the children bounded in their play; but as it journeyed on, other tiny streams joined it, and it grew deeper and wider. After a time, as it increased in size, its pace became still slower ; but for all this it still continued flowing towards the ocean for which it set out.

Wider and wider grew the stream, woods and hills, villages, and then towns, were reflected upon its clear surface. It passed through many beautiful scenes, which its own presence rendered still more charming; yet it did not linger in its course. True to its original destination, it journeyed on.

Presently large vessels sailed upon its bosom, and when it neared the ocean it formed a harbour of refuge for ships of all nations; and at last it reached the boundless sea and found a home in its mighty depths.

Would that all men were as true and constant as the mountain stream. Would that all Christians kept as steadily on in their course of duty; but it is not so.

The young and inexperienced religious enthusiast often starts forward as if he would carry all before him; his love is intense, his zeal is strong, but he meets with obstacles in his path; does he always, like the little stream, find a way round or over these obstacles? Alas! no; he is too often stopped in his career, and, sinking into some foul pool, is

content to lie in quiescence, forgetting the great end for which he started.

Even the most earnest Christian finds difficulties in the way; the troubles of the world are like the mill-wheels over which the stream had to pass; they are harassing and perplexing, and for the time stay his onward progress.

Then sometimes come periods of great trial and temptation, when he seems stayed altogether in his course; like the stream when it had to fill a reservoir. But if he is

faithful to the end his usefulness will expand, others will be drawn into the way that he is pursuing, and as he advances in Christian graces and Christian knowledge he will be like a harbour of refuge, for he will be able to point whoever comes to him to the Saviour of mankind. And then, at last, when his short career is run, he will find rest and satisfaction in the heaven which is prepared for all who love the Lord.

G. H. S.

Dick Morgan's Excuse.

PART III.

HEY were at the school by this time, and as Matty gently pushed the door open, Dick unconsciously said: "Old men, sure enough! They're like

some youngsters, with most two good score o' years before 'em. I'd be grandfather to the whole lot !" Whilst Dick, by Matty's help, just got inside, and leaned against the wall, Mr. Grey, who always opened the school, gave a slight rap on the desk to announce his presence. All was immediate silence; when Mr. Grey said, "Let us pray." Dick looked frightened, as he could not kneel; but Matty whispered :

"If you can't kneel, God won't mind it. He is too good to think it dispecful. Turn to the wall, and put your hand-here, this one-to your face; there, I'll hold your