myself without some obvious reason; first, because it may cherish pride; and secondly, because it may exhibit the appearance of pride to others.

7. I will consider myself as sacredly accountable to God for my improvement of the influence attached to my station; and will endeavour to distinguish betwixt the respect which is given to my office, and that which would in other circumstances be given to myself.

II. Care of my tongue.

1. When I am angry I will never speak, till I have taken at least as much time for reflection as Atheno dorus prescribed to Cæsar.*

2. I will never talk to an angry

man.

3. I will never talk to a man intoxicated with strong drink.

4. I will receive admonition from my friends with candour and thankfulness; and will be careful not to make a peevish reply to anyone who gives me advice, though it be officious or even impertinent.

5. That I may be kept from speaking amiss of my Christian brethren, I will pray for them.

6. With the exception of cases in which Christian prudence requires secrecy, I will consider it sinful to say anything of others privately which I would not say openly. In general I will deal in secrets as little as possible.

7. I will not mention the fault of another, when I have not good reason to hope that some valuable end will be answered by my doing so.

III. Self-examination.

I will regard the Bible as the only infallible test of character. With this in my hands, if I am deceived as to my spiritual state, it will be my own fault.

I am satisfied that one great reason why so many real Christians live doubting, and die trembling, is the neglect of self-examination.

*This prescription was-" Always repeat the twenty-four letters of the Greek alphabet before you give way to the impulse of anger."

A prescription still more worthy than that of the heathen philosopher to be remembered, is-"When in anger repeat the Lord's Prayer before you give utterance to your feelings."

1. I will beware of relying upon official religion. I will never take it for granted that I am a Christian because others consider me so; nor because my profession and station require that I should be a Christian.

2. Judging of myself, I will make due allowance for the restraints I have been under from my early education, from dear Christian friends, and from regard to public opinion; and will never ascribe to Christian principles the absence of faults which I am under no temptation to commit.

3. In any doubtful case, where good and bad motives are mingled as excitements to action, I will not conclude that the good motives influence me, without the most serious scrutiny.

4. I will watch my heart under affliction. As the severest strokes that I have felt hitherto have been my greatest mercies, I will not, like the perverse child that attempts to resist or escape correction, try to break away from the rod of my heavenly Father; but will give him my hand, and beg him to repeat his strokes, when he sees it necessary to purify my soul from sin.

IV. Studies.

1. I will read no book without the expectation of real benefit, and will consider that as lost time which is spent in reading without attention and reflection.

2. I will never covet the reputation of knowing everything.

3. I will never speak confidently when I am in doubt, nor scruple to say that I am ignorant when I am so.

4. Having suffered severely by late studies at night, I will never pursue any serious study after ten o'clock in the evening.

5. I will not read any book which I should be unwilling to have known that I have read, or the reading of which I shall probably recollect with regret on my dying bed.

6. Since my time for study is so much restricted by frail health and various engagements, I will consider it as a sacred duty to spend no time in the attitude of study, without direct and vigorous application of my mind to some very important subject.

7. I will not hold myself at liberty to neglect duties that are plainly de

volved upon me by the providence of God, even though these duties debar me from studies which I earnestly wish to pursue.

V. Preparation for death.

1. When I awake to the light of a new day, I will endeavour to ask myself each morning, "Could I know this to be my last day on earth, what duty that I have neglected ought to be performed?"

2. That I may not be surprised by death, I will endeavour to carry v y with me the habitual recollection that it may come at any moment.

3. I will often reflect that this life is only preparatory to eternity; and that he who stationed me here knows how and when to call me away.

4. As my comfort in death must depend on my hope of heaven, I will often examine this hope; because if I have good reason to believe that I shall live with Christ in glory, I shall have no reason for reluctance in leaving this world, any more than the sentinel in being called from his post after a stormy night, or a child who has been long from home in returning to his father's house.

5. I am satisfied, from much observation, that the bodily pangs of dying

are much less terrible than is commonly supposed, excepting in a few extreme cases. I will not, therefore, be greatly disquieted with the anticipation of these pangs.

VI. Public deportment.

1. I will endeavour to remember that, as a minister of the gospel, my office is more important than that of any earthly potentate.

2. In my intercourse with men, I will endeavour not to degrade this office by exhibiting a love of money -one of the vilest and most dangerous passions that can infest the heart of a minister.

3. I will watch against levity in conversation, a fault to which I am in danger of resorting as an antidote against the influence of feeble health. Yet

4. I will not identify in feeling, or in my conduct tempt others to identify, religion and melancholy; because if I were to paint a Pharisee, I should give him a sad countenance; but if an angel or my Saviour, a cheerful one. The fact that painters who are strangers to vital godliness, so generally, in representing Christ, give him the aspect of sadness, I will endeavour to make instructive to myself.

THE Bible is the word of God, his revealed will to man-to all men, whether Jew or Gentile, bond or free. In this revelation there is divine light and holy instruction every way suited to gain the end designed by the great Author of this " good and perfect gift"-the instruction and salvation of the human family. Hence we are exhorted to search the divinely inspired word, which is "profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness," and which is the only rule, and the sufficient rule, both of our faith and practice. The Bible, though thus clear in reference to our duty, like its Author is infinite in perfection and unsearchable in knowledge. "Canst thou by searching find out God? Canst thou find out the Almighty unto perfection?" Much

easier could we measure the depth of the ocean, or the height of the visible heavens. So neither can we comprehend the infinite perfection and unbounded wisdom of the word of God. The strongest intellect, the most gigantic mind, falls infinitely short of accomplishing so great a task. We may read and read again, may read with close attention and fervent prayer, may read with profit and edification, the Holy Scriptures; and yet, every time we read them, see and comprehend something not before perceived or understood. There is a fulness in the light and knowledge of the Scriptures which

can

never be exhausted; yet the teaching of the Bible relative to obtaining salvation here and securing eternal life in the world to come, we may readily and fully comprehend.

God has never said to any, "Seek ye me in vain," either in reference to his will or the bestowment of the consolatious of his grace. A man blest with the light and instruction of revelation, not to see, and feel, and understand his duty, must close his eyes, stop his ears, and harden his heart. Such is the brilliancy of the light, the plainness of the teaching, and the forcibleness of the admonitions of the Bible, that if they are ignorant of their duty they must be wilfully so. The Bible is the richest boon that Heaven ever bestowed

HE DESTROYS OUR IDOLS THAT HE MAY SAVE OUR SOULS.-Two painters were employed to fresco the walls of a magnificent cathedral; both stood on a rude scaffolding constructed for the purpose some eighty feet from the floor. One of them was so intent upon his work that he became wholly absorbed, and in admiration stood off from the picture, gazing at it with intense delight. Forgetting where he was, he moved backwards slowly, surveying critically the work of his pencil, until he had neared the very edge of the plank upon which he stood. At this critical moment his companion turned suddenly, and, almost frozen with horror, beheld his imminent peril. Another instant, and the enthusiast would be precipitated upon the pavement beneath. If he spoke to him, it was certain death; if he held his peace, death was equally sure. Suddenly he regained his presence of mind, and, seizing a wet brush, flung it against the wall, spattering the beautiful picture with unsightly blotches of colouring. The painter flew forward, and turned upon his friend with fierce imprecations; but, startled at his ghastly face, he listened to the recital of danger, looked shudderingly over the dread space below, and with tears of gratitude blessed the hand that saved him. So, said a preacher, we sometimes get absorbed in looking upon the pictures of this world, and in contemplating them, step backward, unconscious of our peril, when the Almighty dashes out the beautiful

upon man, and, next to the gift of God in the redemption of the world, the greatest manifestation of his goodness. What an inestimable treasure! What a source of instruction, and fountain of life! Are we in darkness? Here is light. Are we ignorant? Here is wisdom. Are we unhappy? Here is the road to felicity. Are we dead in trespasses and sins? Here is life through Jesus Christ. In a word, here is all that is necessary to direct to peace and happiness here, and heaven hereafter.Lady's Companion.

images. He destroys our idols that he may save our souls.

PRAYER IS THE MEASURE OF LOVE. -It is a striking remark, ascribed to St. Augustine, that prayer is the measure of love. A remark which implies that those who love much will pray much, and those who pray much will love much. This remark is not more scripturally than philosophically true. It is the nature of love to lead the person who exercises this passion, as it were, out of himself. His heart is continually attracted towards the beloved object. He naturally and necessarily exercises, in connexion with the object of love, the communion of the affections. And this, it will be readily seen-namely, the communion of the affections-is the essential characteristic, and, perhaps, it may be said, the essence and sum of prayer. In acceptable prayer, the soul goes forth to God in various acts of adoration, supplication, and thanksgiving; all of which imply feelings of trust and confidence, and particularly love to him who is the object of prayer. Accordingly, he who loves much cannot help praying much. And, on the other hand, when the streams of holy communion with God fail in any considerable degree, it is a sure sign that there is a shallowness and drought in that fountain of love from which they have their source.

ADMONITIONS FROM FLOWERS.Flowers are short-lived; and this may remind us of our own frailty. They rise, they come to maturity, they

wither, they die, they lie entombed in the earth, till again the genial breath of spring revives their faded beauties, and again they bloom with all the magnificence which they formerly displayed. Thus, for a time we live; we also die: and if we do not basely counteract the design for which we were created, we again shall flourish in renewed and immortal vigour, gazing directly with supreme delight on the perfections which here we can discern only by a reflected light.

A GOOD INSURANCE.-A gentleman some time ago called at the Halifax

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station and asked for a ticket to Liverpool. The clerk asked, "Will you insure, sir?" 'Insure! for what?" said the gentleman. "Why, sir, if you pay a very small sum, then you will be entitled to a thousand pounds in case you are killed by an accident on the railway." Ah, sir," said the traveller, but I made a better insurance than that before I left my bed-room this morning. I have the assurance of an inheritance on high, a mansion prepared for me, and a crown of glory that fadeth not away! This is my insurance."

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City Walls.

ANONYMOUS.

Stalybridge, June 19th, 1852.

H. WATTS.

ELLEN KELSALL, OF WARFORD, MACCLESFIELD CIRCUIT, WHO DIED SEPTEMBER 13, 1851, AGED 90.

IMMERSED as I am in cares innumerable, and perplexed as I have been for months past with a worse than profitless trade, I cannot allow the last contemporary of John Cash, of Warford, to sink into forgetfulness without a passing notice. An acquaintance of more than thirty years has afforded me a fair opportunity of forming some estimate of the character of Ellen Kelsall; and now that she is gone, I feel that she whom I have long esteemed I can now venerate as an exemplary Christian and a mother in Israel. For ninety years this excellent woman has lived in the same district and almost in the same neighbourhood. First the daughter of one farmer and then the wife of another farmer, and finally a widow with a numerous family, she has, from all I can learn, worthily sustained all

these relationships; and now that she is called away, her numerous relatives and friends feel, for the first time, a loss the extent of which none of them had before estimated. This may at first sight seem scarcely credible, inasmuch as for several years past this precious woman has been an object of ceaseless care and close attention, on account of both bodily infirmities and mental imbecility. Yet active, affectionate, pious and benevolent as she had been previously, and much care and patient attention as were requisite to her comfort and protection as the infirmities of age crept upon her, she was never felt to be burdensome, nor was she considered as lost to either relatives at home or friends around. As long as the shadow of those we love remains, we never seem to lose the substance. While our eyes behold them, their former selves so crowd upon our recollection, that we take in the whole character at a glance, and scarcely ever think on the immense dif