have everlasting life. Yes, Marianne, if you believe upon Jesus Christ, believe that he died for your sins, and you shall have everlasting life.

Such has been the goodness of God; and what does he require in return for that goodness? He himself gives the answer to this question, and it is, "My son, my daughter, give me your heart." I think you cannot, you will not refuse. Óh! then, ask God for his grace

to enable you to give yourself to him; ask, and again, I say, you shall receive; and as you have no earthly father to warn you of the snares, and to shield you from the dangers to which you are exposed, will you not, from this time, cry unto Him who has hitherto been so good to you, and who promises to take up the fatherless and to relieve the orphan, "My Father, my Father, thou art the guide of my youth."

Another

reason why you should desire the grace of God is, that you may enjoy the pleasures of religion. You will here understand me, Marianne, to signify that to receive the grace of God is to become religious. That there are many privations connected with religion is a fact which, on the one hand, I can and do assure you that it is by no means the sad and gloomy thing some represent it to be: no, it is far otherwise, and all who have walked therein have found that "her ways are ways of pleasantness, and that all her paths are peace. I will tell you a pretty little hymn, and as there are but two verses in it, if you do not already know it, you will perhaps not think it too much trouble to commit it to memory.

""Tis religion that can give

Sweetest pleasures while we live;
'Tis religion must supply

Solid comfort when we die.

"After death, its joys will be
Lasting as eternity;

Be the living God my friend,
Then my joys shall never end."

I have not long been a sharer in those pleasures, but I can say, that since I have been turned to seek to walk in the ways of the Lord, there have been seasons in which I was more truly happy than I can find words to

express. Yes! sometimes, when meditating upon what God has done for me, who am unworthy of the least of his tender mercies-when considering that he has cared for me in need, guarded me in danger, guided me in doubt, and comforted me in grief, and further, when considering I had reason to believe that he had brought me out of the horrible pit, and out of the miry clay, had set my feet upon a rock, and established my goings, and put a new song into my mouth, even praise unto his holy name-I have felt that, had it been the will of my heavenly Father, I could have freely died to be with Jesus, to see him as he is, and to love him as I ought: and in these my brightest and sweetest hours, I have thought of you and my other little sisters, I have wished that those who are so near to me were with me, and felt as happy as I did under the light of the reconciled countenance of God. Here, then, is another reason why you should seek the grace of God. The last which I shall mention is, that without being made a partaker of it you can never enter heaven. And, oh! should you enjoy all the pleasure the world can bestow, and finally be excluded from heaven, it had been better for you not to have been born. I have reason to hope, nay, to feel confident, that our dear brother is there, and would you not like to join him? You loved him upon earth, and you mourned when he was taken away; but how transcendent will be our bliss, how unspeakable our joy, if we should again meet each other in our Father's house? for there we shall never, never more be parted, and there we shall love one another with a perfect love, throughout the countless ages of immortality. Perhaps even now his spirit is hovering o'er you; and if under the feeling of your not having lived as you ought, the tear of penitence should glisten in your eye, or if under the desire of henceforward living to God, the prayer of faith should ascend from your heart, he will behold it, he will know it, and will be filled with gladness, and all the heavenly host shall share his rapture; for there is joy in the presence of the angels over one sinner that repenteth.

And now, my dear sister, in closing this letter, let

me ask a favour of you, and that is to use all plainness with me in telling me the state of your feelings with respect to religion. It is your brother that asks it of you, and he does not wish to know through motives of idle curiosity, but of sincere and tender affection. I love you, and as we are bound close to each other by the ties of nature, I do feel anxious that we should be linked together by the bonds of grace, even that we should be the children of God by faith in Christ Jesus. Let us give ourselves to him; he will receive us, will be a Father unto us, and we shall be a son and a daughter of the Lord Almighty. And then we shall travel hand in hand up the hill of Zion, and we will tell each other of the hopes which elate and the fears which depress us. And as time, in its rapid flight, glides swiftly by, we shall know that we are advancing nearer and nearer to the heavenly Jerusalem, the city of the living God. Join with me, my dear sister, in praying to God that these happy privileges may be ours, and our two dear sisters'; and if they be, oh! with what joy will we give to him the praise through Jesus Christ our Redeemer. Amen.

Write me an answer to this letter soon, if you please, Marianne. Hoping that you and all friends are well, and commending you to God and the word of his grace, which is able to build you up, and to give you an inheritance among them that are sanctified,

I remain your affectionate brother,

CHARLES T.

DEAR SISTER,-It was my intention to have sent you this letter last Saturday, that you might receive it on the Sunday, but I could not finish it; we were busy. I dare say I made no less than twenty beginnings; perhaps got a line done, and then had to give over; so you must excuse the writing. I hope, however, you will not forget the day I had in view for you to read the letter, because it will take you some time in reading it well over; therefore let me beg of you to kneel down on the Sunday morning, and to pray to your heavenly Father that he would make it prove a blessing to you; før without you do, it will be of no effect. You know my

desire: I want you to be happy. I need your prayers myself; and recollect, our dear sister, there is great responsibility on us both. I have heard, since I began my letter, that Mrs. S.'s* son is dead; and if you think reading the former part of this letter would be of any service to them, I hope you will read it to them. Oh! what pleasure would it give me to hear of it doing the least bit of good; what a blessing it would be! and God shall have the praise.

Give my respects to Mrs. S. and all her family. I must conclude: we are just going to have Good night, Marianne.

prayers.

SUNDAY-SCHOOL ADDRESSES ON THE
LITURGY. NO. II.

MY DEAR CHILDREN,-I am going to address a few words further to you from the Morning Service. We left off at that part of the exhortation where the minister reminds the people for what purposes they have assembled. Do you recollect what these purposes are? Well, after stating these, what does he earnestly invite the people to do? In what manner are we to join in the service? What is meant by the throne of grace? Through whom may we approach the throne of grace? What does the next rubric say? Who are told to unite in this confession? In what posture are we to signify our humility? Thus, my dear children, we are led to God himself, through our Divine Mediator, to fall low at his footstool. Oh, how great the love of God, which not only permits but invites us to call upon him! How naughty, then, are those who sit, or lounge, or trifle during this confession of sin! Have you no sins to confess, and mercy to seek? Did our Lord kneel and pray so earnestly when suffering for you, and will you not kneel and pray earnestly for yourself?

What is

Let us now go through the " Confession." the endearing and encouraging name which we apply to God? Who taught us to do so? What attributes of

* A person who lived next door to his sister.

our Father do we mention? What comfort may we derive from his being almighty or omnipotent? (a) What comfort from his being most merciful? (b) What do we confess we have done? What does erred" mean? What do we compare ourselves to? What is there in straying, lost sheep which makes them a fit comparison to us? (c) How do we more particularly describe our wanderings? What does "devices" mean? Against what do we confess we have offended? How do we acknowledge the sins of omission? and how of commis. sion? How do we further acknowledge our depravity?

My dear children, much, very much, is contained in this brief confession. You and I have indeed wandered far from God, like the prodigal son from his kind father; and we should have gone on wandering like lost sheep, had not the Good Shepherd, God's dear Son, come to seek and to save the lost. Have you ever felt that you are, by nature and practice, lost; that there is only one who is "the way" by which you can return to God; and unless you are found in this way, you will be lost for ever? Oh yes, indeed, whether you have felt it or not, this is the truth; for, instead of walking in God's way, have you not followed the devices and desires of your own hearts? Have you not turned to your "own way"? Yes, not only men and women are to be found in this broad way, but many, many children; the disobedient child who contemns the authority of his parents or teachers, the selfish child, the proud child, the child who tells lies, and many others, even boys and girls in the first class, are to be found following the devices and desires of their own hearts. But the confession leads us farther: "there is no health in us," no goodness, no righteousness. See what St. Paul says, (Rom. vii. 18.) and what is said in Isaiah lxiv. 6.

This, my dear children, is your state before God by nature. Would you like to be seen in rags? Would

(a) That he is "mighty to save."

(b) That "there is forgiveness with him;" that "he will abundantly pardon.'

(c) They are defenceless-exposed to danger: weak-unable to protect themselves: foolish-without sense to retrace their steps.