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in the contest, we shall hear the voice of the Hindoos crying out, 'We are saved, we are saved !'

“Havelock is gone. Heaven's will is best:

Indian turf o’erlies his breast.
Ghoul in black, nor fool in gold,
Laid him in yon hallowed mould:
Guarded to a soldier's grave
By the bravest of the brave,
He hath gained a nobler tomb
Than in old cathedral gloom;
Nobler mourners paid the rite
Than the crowd that craves a sight;
England's banners o'er him waved
Dead, he keeps the realm he saved.
Strew not on the hero's hearse
Garlands of a herald's verse;
Let us hear no words of fame
Sounding loud a deathless name;
Tell us of no vauntful glory
Shouting forth her haughty story.
All life long his homage rose
To far other shrine than those.
"In Hoc Signo,' pale nor dim,
Lit the battle-field for him;
And the prize he sought and won,
Was the crown for duty done.

But being dead, do not these heroic spirits still speak to us? Does not their blood cry

aloud, not only to heaven, but also to the earth, saying, “How long! Wilt thou not avenge our blood ? Come over and help us ! Haste to deliver!”

The youth of England—its beauty and its chivalry—are rushing to India, to fill the vacant posts of danger. Sir Colin

Campbell asked for only twenty-four hours . to get ready to go. At the siege of Delhi, two young officers, three sergeants, and one trumpeter, volunteered to fasten bags of powder to the gates of Delhi, amid a storm of bullets pouring upon them from the loopholes within; and with fearful loss and suffering they did it!

And can the Church do less ? Are life, and blood, and treasures, dearer to it than to the world? Or is the duty less imperative? Or is the honour less glorious ? Or is the victory less certain ? Who, then, will go for the dead? How many mothers who have buried one martyred son, and have others fighting in the field, are like that recent Spartan mother, ready to equip others for the good fight, and only sorry she had

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not many more able and willing to go ? How many whose children have been slaughtered by that hybrid monster, Nena Sahib, have the heart of that mother who recently requested the prayers of five thousand Christians for the conversion of him who had made her motherless ?

Christians in England are all actively zealous in responding to the call. We find a great increase in the candidates for missions at the universities where hitherto the greatest backwardness existed. All denominations coöperate. Let not Christians in America be found lagging. The seal of God is on our forehead. We have been baptized with the missionary spirit and consecrated and set apart to the missionary work. Reserved in undiscovered solitude until the set time to favour Zion had come—just on the eve of the wonderful developments of modern science and civilization—two of the greatest systems of error that ever cursed the world in their dotage-Protestantism everywhere springing up with new life-having access to the world of men-away from the effete systems of the Old World-free from their corruptions-palpitating with the fires of evangelism—and swaying an influence in the world paramount to all others—let American Christians act worthy of their high calling and exalted destiny.

India with her teeming multitudes stretches out her hands, and calls beseechingly for our help. In the four presidencies, there are one hundred and twelve millions, with some four hundred missionaries; or one to each quarter million. In the territories outside the presidencies, there are, among sixtyfour millions of natives, only eight missionaries. And has not the Captain of our salvation been himself going up and down among our churches, through the length and breadth of the land, and recruiting good soldiers of Jesus Christ for the glorious war? Has not he who called unto him the twelve, and again other seventy also, saying “Follow me,” called unto him recently at least one hundred thousand souls, and a large proportion of them young men and maidens, and

caused them to arise and stand up a great army?

“Let us not be desponding, but hopeful. The voice of this revival in America comes, (to use the stirring words of John Angel James, of England,) to every country, and to every Christian, as the midnight cry of old, Behold, the bridegroom cometh!'

“A new era is struggling into birth, Christ is moving to reorganize the world. Is it a vision of my imagination? Or is it only a spectral form which I see? Or is it, 0! is it the Saviour himself walking upon the waters of the Atlantic, and receding with his face towards Britain? I hear his voice saying to this country, “Behold, I come quickly, and my reward is with me.' O! brethren, shall we fear, neglect, repel Him? Shall we, like the mercernary Gadarenes, entreat Him to leave our coasts, or shall we not rather implore his presence and say, “Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly, and land upon our shores?'

The Son of God is gone to war,

A kingly crown to gain;

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