MEDITATION

For Tuesday Morning.

GOD'S LOVE TO SINFUL MAN.

For God so loved the world, that he gave his begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in should not perish, but have everlasting life.” n iii. 16.

God in Christ, is a God of pity and com¿sion to us; a God of patience, a God of rey, with whom is plenteous redempn; a God pardoning iniquity, and pass

by transgression: loving us in our ✓ estate; pardoning and washing us; ving us from our sins and from the ath to come. Such is the great love at kindles ours; abused love, provoked ve, and yet forgiving love! They to hom much is forgiven, will love much! ow, in Christ, we have not only an terest in God, but, in some degree, a resent possession. "He that hath the Son, ath the Father also." We see his light, e behold and taste his goodness, we enby his presence, he dwelleth in us, and e in him; and hence we love, and herein e rejoice. No wonder, that carnal hearts re strangers to this. But, oh! what a

sad wonder it is that Saints, who ha so often mounted towards heaven, are y no nearer home: that they, whose feet ar so often on the mountain of the Lor should be still so much on earth; so fa from God, when God is among ther Where, Christians, are your affections How is it they are here below? Wh have you here? Your city is above, you home is above, your God, your Jesus, you treasure is above. How is it that whe your treasure is, your hearts are not also that you direct to heaven your eyes, you prayers, your complaints, your promise and still leave your hearts below? Did love our God more, we certainly shou be more with him, and to better purpos we should not go away without his blessin nor throw it away when we had obtain it. Without this what is knowledg faith, hope, and patience? Dost thou val thy soul? Is religion, is heaven, is Chris is God himself of any account with thee Then prize love to God: without whic he is no God to thee; Christ is no Chri to thee; heaven is no heaven for thee better thou hadst no being than be dest tute of this. O prize the love of God prize and seek, prize and pray pray for thy soul, as for thy everlasting king

m! Love and thou wilt be holy, humble, d fruitful; love and thou wilt please, aise, and enjoy thy God. How little ectionate warmth is there in our spirits! > we feel our hearts tending upwards, cending in our own flames? We wish ll to his name and interest, we wish he re ours; we wish ourselves his. Oh ! wishing were loving, what Christians ould we be! But doth the kingdom God suffer violence? the kingdom of aven may offer violence if it will, and te us by force; but how little violence th it suffer! We say we love God; we sire to be holy; but is there nothing we sire more? O how few cordial friends th Christ in the world; and how little ection from those few! So little, that we anot tell ourselves whether it be any ing or nothing. How many marks must > consider ere we can prove its existce; and yet at last be still in doubt! ow few of us can make our appeal to m, "Lord thou knowest that I love ee." O Lord, do thou kindle in our souls is sacred fire; and then shall our mouth opened; then will we speak of the gloous honour of thy majesty, and of thy ondrous works. Then shall we sing of e name which the Lord hath claimed;

"The Lord, the Lord God, merciful and gracious, forgiving iniquity, transgression and sin, full of compassion, slow to anger, and of great mercy!" The Lord is good all, and his tender mercies are over all his works. Let thy saints bless thee; let them abundantly utter the memory of thy good ness, and sing of thy righteousness. O our God, thou art all love, all goodness, all grace! let thy servants be all love, and praise, and joy.

HYMN

For Tuesday Morning.

Come, all harmonious tongues,
Your noblest music bring:
Tis Christ, the everlasting God;
And Christ, the Man, we sing.

Tell how he took our flesh,
To take away our guilt:

Tell of the drops of sacred blood,

That hellish monsters spilt.

Down to the shades of death,

He bow'd his awful head:

Yet he arose to live and reign
When death itself is dead.

No more the bloody spear,
The cross and nails no more:
For hell itself shakes at his name,
And all the heav'ns adore.

There the Redeemer sits,
High on his Father's throne;
The Father lays his vengeance by,
And smiles upon his Son.

A PENITENTIARY PRAYER

For Tuesday Morning.

O Lord God, merciful and gracious, who illest not the death of a sinner, but ouldest rather that he turn and live; we el that we are sinners before thee, ecause we are so unlike to thee. We were orn with inclinations to that which is vil, and we have too much followed those clinations all our lives. We have lived t a distance from thee, forgetting our wn souls, and that eternal world into hich we must shortly enter. We have een strangers to that holy and heavenly life which must prepare us for heavenly blessdness and without love to that blessed ; Saviour who so loved us, who wept, and led, and died for us! With what affecting anguage did he plead with us! He called, ut we did not answer! He assured us,