that should be the finest specimen of blooming health, and vigour, and beauty that could be found. Such is the property of this Divine Word in its display of man. Were it not playing too much on the idea of its being a mirror, we might say, that the man who looks into it to see the plain image of what he is, sees beside and beyond it another image, an almost angelic one, presented in fairest lineaments, and what is that? It is what he should have been! Let him look and see whether there be a difference, on the whole, and in particulars.

Another character of excellent fitness in the Divine Word to give man an impressive sense of what he is, is its authoritative, solemn, and applicatory spirit. It does not exhibit man as if a subject of mere science, speculation, natural history. It bears throughout an emphasis of enforcement, admonition, requirement, warning, expostulation, and alarming censure of what is evil. So that the man beholding in this faithful representer "what manner of man he is," if he sees something evil, is not permitted to go away with that mere fact, indifferent about it, as if it were an "unfortunate blemish," "" venial error." There is, as it were, a darkness of divine condemnation falling on the image he is beholding, with gleams of lightning intermingled, and there are awful sounds to tell him that what is evil is also dangerous.

Thus adapted is the Divine Word, not only to show men what they are, but to enforce upon them the importance of making a serious concern of the character and state of their minds. But, then, who would not lament that the object is so imperfectly accomplished, that it is in so great a degree frustrated? We mean among that portion of mankind to which the divine revelation has been imparted, taking no account of that impenetrable mystery in the divine dispensations, that to the larger portion of the race this truth has not been communicated. If we look only at the most favoured part, how evident is the fact that vast numbers in our own community never consult the Divine Word in any manner concerning themselves; even never, or scarcely ever, hear it or read it; have no curiosity as to what it might say of them (though they would have much if they heard of any writing that was understood to describe them by name, and express a judgment of them); would think it very strange to be told that if there be parts of the Divine Word which faithfully describe their character, and pronounce a certain sentence on it, it is the same in effect as if their very names could have been inserted there. In some instances, when such minds have been brought under the power of the truth, they have described that particular and specially applicable parts of the inspired language have come to their consciences with such a pointed, vivid force, that they have felt as if the words were spoken to them personally and by name. And with any of us the effect of the divine testimonies will be in proportion to our approach towards this kind of feeling. But in the numerous class we are adverting to there seems to be no apprehension,-they seem never to have understood that God's communication of his word has anything to do distinctly with individuals. That messages were sent by him personally for them, seems reserved for them to learn when it will be too late-in another world. Such is the description of those hundreds of thousands who will this day have given no attention whatever, in any manner, to the declarations of the divine truth.

But the language of our text supposes some degree of attention to be paid to the words of God, yet without avail. There may be exterior semblances of attention, but, without any sin against charity, we may estimate very low the manner and spirit in which very many hear and even read the instructions of Divine truth. Let it be supposed there were some art or spell to reduce various persons to confess the plain, full truth

after hearing or even reading. And let the question be, "Where was your mind, what did you chiefly think of during that time, while reading the Scriptures, or praying, or preaching? The answer should honestly name the subjects: then compare them with those which the exercise had been formally occupied about! Or to another, "What can you assign as the topics of the illustration? the things insisted on, proved, illustrated?" Again, "Did you feel that you were acquiring anything? Had you the sense that you were coming to know more? Had you any opinion, any judgment, that this or that was true, was important, and applicable to yourself?" "Did anything touch your conscience? convict you of being wrong? anything make you anxious to be right ?" "Was there anything you charged yourselves to remember,-resolved to think of again? "If there was a series of petitions to God, did you really, and in earnest, make one petition,. -one silent, but fervent, Amen?? "And, now, when a course of exercises for religious profit is over, say, might you not, as to any improvement, have been with equal advantage employed in any other way ? We none of us feel that charity would be violated in assuming that by many persons such questions would be miserably answered. Attention exercised in a close and strenuous manner is perhaps a comparatively rare tribute given to serious subjects. And there are few things more mortifying to conscience than the comparison which a man may make between the utmost degree of attention which he can give to a subject, and the degree which he is sensible he often does give to the most important subject when spoken or read of.

But our text describes a class beyond the inattentive. It supposes a considerable degree of attention, and even some degree of self-application. "He beholdeth himself" in the spiritual glass. A grand indispensible requisite in order to any good from hearing or reading divine truth is religion, i.e., the turning of the attention on a man's self, in conjunction with attention to the truth. We have known persons who had given very considerable attention to the christian truth, both in its doctrine and its moral principles, but seemed quite unaware of the state of their own minds and character as to be judged of by that truth,-standing asunder from the truth while they contemplated it, like a man in a dark room with his eye at a perforation in the wall, seeing all light outside, while all is obscure within,-and within there may be some lurking mischief near him! But we might appeal to any man who is attentive to divine truth with the question, "What good to you is that truth, or any part of it, but for what it is to do for you? And what can it do for you but by its correct application? But then you must know what is the correct application; you must discern how you need it to be applied, must clearly see each particular in the state of your soul, and the character of your actions, what has been done or not done within you, what is the state of your affections, will, motives. Whether there be an evil cherished there, a corruption unsubdued; how your heart is towards God and men; whether the grand renovation be there established and progressive; and then seriously make the application accordingly." Plainly, of what use to a man can the dictates of the divine word be but in such a way as this? That word may be condemning him even to perdition, and he be unaware and unalarmed. The grand duty, then, of reflection, self-investigation, in hearing or reading the word!

But the text seems to say there may be somewhat even of this, yet so transient as to be unavailing. He "beholdeth himself," "and straightway forgetteth." If we could know what passes in men's minds, we should doubtless behold many mournful exemplifications. There is within the soul and without a dreadful power ever at work to frustrate

salutary convictions and illuminations. If inspection into the interior were possible, it would be a matter of deep and painful interest to observe the divine truth, while comprehended as truth simply, to observe it attempting and attempting the soul, trying to find a vital part, to excite or to sting the conscience, striving to break up the insensibility, protesting against a delusive self-satisfaction, urging a serious act of self-judgment, and partially succeeding in awakening the soul to consciousness of what it is according to the divine sentence. And then all this passing away! and a relapse into the same state as before! How trifling to this the failure of all medicinal means tried on a deceased body! There may be, in the word read or heard, a description and discrimination of what genuine vital religion is, as a personal thing, and the man attending to it may have a consciousness more or less distinct, that it does not so exist in him; he is reluctant to perceive it, but does perceive it, is uneasy, and in some degree alarmed. But soon this shall be passed away! Under an inculcation of the nature and necessity of repentance, the record of past sins may unfold itself to the mind, with a consciousness that there has not been such a work of painful contrition and humiliation, and a feeling that it would be sad not to have all this forgiven, a disturbed emotion,—" I must repent." But soon this will be calm again! Application to Christ, faith in Christ, love to him, may be heard of. But the mind may be consciously convicted of coldness towards him, of never making earnest application for an interest in him; this may be felt as fatally wrong! But let an hour or two pass away, and this disquietude will be gone! During the attention to the divine truth there may be an enforced conviction of some one important duty neglected, or of some sinful practice indulged; there may be the reflection: "This is bad; it is miserable to be thus accumulating guilt; what fatality is it that thus holds me enchanted?" This is to pass away! A man may hear exhibited the great law of christian charity, the suppression of malice and resentment, forgiveness of injuries, without which there is no pardon or mercy from the Supreme Judge. While hearing this, he may be sensible that he has in his heart a settled rancour against some of his fellow-sinners. He somewhat shrinks at this clear consciousness. It is alarming to have this palpable and pointed testimony to him, that he does not stand pardoned before his God. He seeks about for justification or palliation, but there still it remains, the black mark of his being unpardoned by the God of mercy. A most uneasy state! But the disturbance will soon subside! This great law of charity condemns covetousness, in the most emphatic terms that language can supply, in the hearing of a man who is the subject of that vice. It is represented before him what baseness of spirit it is to be hoarding up wealth, refusing the beneficent use of it, while there are in his view so many objects and occasions for a noble application of a portion of it. But, no! he refuses all but an exceedingly diminutive scantling, and that reluctantly surrendered. Yet he hears the law and the gospel uniting in his condemnation. Can he avoid feeling something like relenting and self-accusation? Perhaps he can avoid it. And it must be acknowledged that this is an example the most doubtfully cited in illustration of the text. For perhaps of all men this is the one least capable of seeing "what manner of man he is,"- -as if God had inflicted some peculiar infatuation on this vice, as being idolatry. Still there are some irksome emotions, some mortifying struggles, under the dictates of the Divine Word, but to be quelled and forgotten! To these particular exemplifications we but add one of a general nature. Under the solemn representations of divine truth, how many are constrained to confess to themselves that they are not prepared for death: there is a consciousness that they

could not calmly meet it, that there would be a fearful hazard for hereafter, that something most indispensable is yet to be done, and that they are not in earnest in applying themselves that it may be done. But even this consciousness too, so painfully awakened sometimes at the voice of truth, they can soothe down when they are withdrawn from the admonitions of that truth!

"He goeth his way, and straightway forgetteth." What, "and straightway!" Is it not amazing? But it is the fact. An hour or two, or less. A change of place to a very short distance. As if time or place altered an absolute fact! The intervention of any trifling circumstance, trifling in itself; but what it does is no trifle. Conversation with acquaintance, it may be unimportant, but it has the power to silence a most important voice, that of conscience. "Straightway!" Very soon after a man has seen himself in the light of disapprobation, of condemnation, of menace, and of danger, with that convicted self he shall soon be at peace again. As if it had been some phantom of imagination, pretending to be that he had beheld, and it being gone, all that was wrong in him had gone too. Can he help saying to himself sometimes, that is if he do not wholly forget it, "Was it not a dream from which I have happily awaked?" In a short time he is completely ready for business or amusement. He will go freely, and even gaily, out of that dark apartment of his soul, carrying no marks upon him of what he had so lately encountered there. Who that transacts business with him, or joins him in amusement, would suspect what a mournful sight he has been beholding. A more mournful sight than if he had witnessed the death or interment of a friend. Who would perceive on his brow the written trace of his own condemnation?

But there is something dreadful in this treachery of the soul to itself. Thus to see it deserting itself under circumstances of peril, when there is nothing on earth that is calling so loud for its active and earnest interposition, thus to see it concurring with every spiritual enemy that is watchful, and active, and subtile, to steal away every salutary remembrance, and thought, and feeling,-those fowls of the air, represented by our Lord in the parable of the sower, snatching away the good seed lest it take root. To see it thus denying to itself, and refusing, the means of remedy for the fatal evils, for in forgetting what he is, he forgets all that is adapted and offered for a happy alteration of all in which he is wrong. He forgets all that divine mercy offers, nay, he despises it.

What can be said to him who can so easily dismiss all this from his memory and his care? What? but that he is not to have a perpetual oblivion. He cannot forget these things so as to reduce them to a nonexistence. His forgetting what he is will not transform him into something else and better, so that he should come from an obɛcure sojourn in oblivion another man. He must come to himself again, and under circumstances which will let him no more forget. And then he will be amazed to think what insensibility it was, and what trifles they were, that could so beguile him to forget. And let him be warned that there is One who does not forget; that keeps in perfect view all that he has ever been and is, and will in due time "set him in order before his eyes."

THE FRIENDS OF CHRIST.

BY THE REV. JAMES SMITH.

Friendship is the great sweetener of human life. Formed for society, we cannot be happy alone. We must have a friend, or be wretched. Yet nature, in its fallen state, cannot present the friend we need.

There

must be intellect, heart, and character to fit any one to be our friend. The Lord Jesus is, therefore, presented to us as a friend that loveth at all times," and he proposes himself as our friend. He takes every béliever into the closest intimacy, and engages to perform the part of a friend. He has wisdom and wealth, heart and honour. He has knowledge and will impart it,-wealth and will communicate it,-love and will display it, character and will illustrate it,-power and will exert it. He is fitted for friendship, and crowns and dignifies it. He takes every christian to his bosom, and wishes him to be free, friendly, and firm. Every saint, however poor, illiterate, diseased, despised, or infirm, is the friend of Christ. Let us,

First, GLANCE AT A FRIEND OF CHRIST. Look at that poor man. He labours hard, he is often tired, his path is rough; but his mind is easy, his heart is light, his face often shines. Unnoticed by his fellow. men, or despised by the rich, the learned, and the polite, yet he is happy. What makes him so? He knows Jesus. He has been taught by the Holy Spirit. He knows the Saviour as a person. As one present with him, attached to him, and watching over him. He is persuaded that the Saviour loves him, and he loves the Saviour. He was ignorant of him once, but he has been revealed to him. He was enmity against him once, but he is reconciled to him. He was far off from him, but he has been brought nigh. He realizes the fact, that Jesus is his friend, and the friendship of Jesus soothes, solaces, and cheers him under all difficulties and trials. Look at that cottager with a large family, low wages, many claims, and but a small pittance to meet them; he looks subdued, but not unhappy. A calm reigns in his breast, and the sun often seems to throw a cheering light on his brow. He knows well what trouble means, and is often in great difficulty, yet he has peace. How is this? He has a Friend who can help him, who has promised never to leave nor forsake him, and he trusts in his Saviour's word. He is a friend of Jesus. Weaned from his fellow-men, and conscious of his need of help, he reads the precious promises, exercises confidence in them, and looks to Jesus to make them good. Tempted to doubt, he struggles against unbelief. Teased with thoughts of the future, he casts his care on his Redeemer, and refuses to believe that his heavenly Friend will be either forgetful or unkind. He is a friend of Jesus, and proves his friendship by his trust. The confidence he exercises is honoured, and the prayers he presents are answered. He lives by faith, not by sight; believing when he cannot see, and expecting when there is no present prospect. Look at that sick and suffering one. Reduced by weakness, and often racked with pain, yet cheerful and resigned. There are proofs of poverty in the habitation, but evidences of satisfaction in the soul. The heart has One on which it can lean, the affections have an object on which they can centre. Peace rules there. Pleasure is often experienced there. times joy unspeakable and full of glory is realized there. That sufferer is a friend of Jesus. His love has been shed abroad in that poor one's heart, and that poor heart enjoys a little heaven in loving him in return. The sympathy of Jesus, so exquisitely tender, is a balm and a cordial under fits of weakness and of pain. Long as that affliction has been continued, painful as the visitation is, the sufferer views it as coming from a friend, as sent in love. The friends of Jesus are often a poor and afflicted people. They are chosen in the furnace of affliction. They are thus purified and made white, that they may shine brighter in glory. Look at that poor prisoner. Robbed of his liberty, confined in a gloomy dungeon, deprived of many of the comforts of life, treated more like a wild beast than a man. Yet there is a dignity in his bearing, a bright

At