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they were descried from the neighbouring shore, and a boat was immediately launched to attempt their deliverance.

For the boat to approach the rock was found utterly impossible; and the only alternative was to project a rope towards them from the shore by means of a rocket, and then to haul them through the surf within reach of the boat. After many fruitless trials the attempt to throw the rope was successful. The captain grasped the rope, by means of which a second was speedily sent on, and one was made fast to each person. The mountain waves, with every successive flow, surged up to their very feet, but, receding, laid bare the broken and pointed rocks which were spread out below. It was clear that their only way of deliverance was by springing into the wave at the moment of its highest swell, and thus being borne over the danger, while the boat's crew were on the alert, promptly to pull them on board.

The wife is first to make the attempt, and is instructed what to do. All is ready! The big wave swells at her feet, "Now, now!" shouted the crew. "Spring into the wave!" urged the captain, with passionate energy. Alas! she trembles, hesitates, delays-only a moment; but that moment is fatal. She leaps towards the receding wave, falls upon the rugged rocks beneath, and the next moment is taken on board the boat, a mangled and lifeless corpse! The captain, ignorant of her hapless fate, follows her, takes the wave at the swell, and is saved.

to pay a visit to the African chief several hundred miles inland from the missionary station at Latakoo, in South Africa. The name of the chief was Macaba. He was a great warrior, and was the terror of his enemies. People tried to persuade the missionary not to go; they said he was risking his life by such a journey. But the missionary trusted in God, who was greater than the chief, and went. Macaba received the good man with respect, and treated him with much kindness. The chief asked a great deal about Christ's religion. In one of his talks with this man of war and of blood, while seated with fifty or sixty of his headmen and rain-makers around him, the missionary spoke of the resurrection.


What," cried the chief, starting with surprise," what are these words atcut the dead? The dead-the dead rige!" "Yes," said the missionary. "All the dead shall rise." "Will my father rise?" "Yes," answered the missionary. "Will all the slain in battle rise?" Yes," answered the missionary. "Will all that have been killed and eaten by lions, tigers, and crocodiles rise?" "Yes, and come to judgment."


"Hark!" shouted the chief, turning to his warriors; "ye wise men, did your ears ever hear such strange and unheard-of news?" "Did you ever hear such news as this?" turning to an old man, the wise man of his tribe. "Never," answered the old man. "I thought I had all the knowledge of the ancients, but I am confounded by these words. He must have lived long before we were born." The chief then turned and said to the missionary, laying his hand on his breast, "Father, I love you much. Your visit has made my heart white as milk. The words of your mouth are sweet like honey; but the words of a resurrection are too great for me. I do not wish to hear about the dead rising again. The dead cannot rise; the dead shall not rise!"

Human life is not frequently endangered by a crisis so urgent as this, nor does the case often occur in which instant decision is thus necessary for its preservation. But the guilty soul is ever in danger; and the hour even now passing will doubtless exert an influence unspeakably important upon the eternal destiny of many.

"Tell me, my friend," said the missionary," why must I not speak of the


MR. MOFFATT, the missionary, went resurrection ?" Lifting his arm, which

had been so strong in battle, and quivering his hand, as if grasping a spear, the chief said, "I have slain my thousands, and shall they rise?"

As this truth of the Bible flashed upon his savage mind, the thought of meeting his slain was too much for him -it overwhelmed him, it frightened him. Oh, it is a great and terrible thought that we shall have to meet again all whom we have injured, neglected, or destroyed!

Do you and I remember that neglect of duty will meet us in the resurrection, in sisters that we might have converted, brothers that we might have saved, friends that we might have comforted, children that we might have led to Christ, Sabbaths that ought to have been improved, sermons that we ought to have heeded, talents that were abused, time that was wasted, privileges that were neglected? We shall then meet face to face all those who looked to us to help them along the way to heaven, and we did it not. Oh, what meetings will there be at the resurrection!


A Swiss traveller describes a village situated in the slope of a great mountain, of which the strata shelve in the direction of the place. Huge crags directly overhanging the village, and massive enough to sweep the whole of it into the torrent below, have become separated from the main body of the mountain in the course of ages by great fissures, and now scarce adhere to it. When they give way, the village must perish; it is only a question of time, and the catastrophe may happen any day. For years past engineers have been sent to measure the width of the fissures, and report them constantly increasing. The villagers for more than one generation have been aware of their danger; subscriptions have been once or twice opened to enable them to remove; yet they live on in their doomed dwellings

from year to year, fortified against the ultimate certainty and daily probability of destruction by the common sentiment, Things may last their time and longer.

The disregard of the villagers to the danger which impends over them, their entire neglect to place themselves in a situation of safety, furnish a striking illustration of the course which the impenitent pursue in reference to their souls.


WHERE there is strong faith and deep feeling, by a law of nature the man will speak. So we conclude, that where a man can keep his religion to himself, that being the faith of the gospel, that man has very little religion to keep.


A PARTICULAR providence cannot at all excuse the oppressor, though it ought to sustain and comfort the oppressed.


So then it is by all Scripture-Scripture in all its integrity and spirituality, that a man is both led into, and kept in the way of life. A truth understood by few, unwelcome to many, but important to all.


We might beg ourselves rich (if we were wise) if we could but hold our withered hands to Christ, and learn to seek, ask, and knock.


A GOOD Conscience is a strong tower, and a tower of strength; a strong-hold, from which one may venture a sortie with good confidence.


WHATEVER is worth prayer is worth praise also.


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in, the chief judge; and, with a cudgel, as thick as his wrist, he administered thirty blows, and had the pastor back to prison. "Kill these men," said the magistrate, a day or two afterwards, to the judge; "and I will give you a viss of silver." "I dare not kill them," he re plied; but he took the money. Another day or two elapsed; and the magistrate was again with the judge, offering a further bribe of fifty rupees. The latter looked dissatisfied; but, at last, with an inviting smile, he said, "If you will marry your daughter to my son, I will kill them." "Brother," answered the magistrate, "I will marry them.” The judge once again had the holy man dragged from prison. He began with three fearful scourgings. "If, because I worship God, you torture me," said the martyr, "kill me at once, I entreat you." The judge beckoned to the officers to do their office. They took him, struck him sixty times, then fastened him to a cross, shot him, disembowelled him, and cut him in three pieces. It was another Stephen, passing in a chariot of fire up

THE church of Burmah has been baptized in Martyr-blood. One day, a native pastor, near Bassein, was seized, with forty of his people; and, after being hooked together with iron hooks, and receiving thirty lashes, they were hurried off to prison. The next day, certain old men of their number were liberated, on condition of paying one hundred and thirty rupees: the money was paid, but the Burman magistrate put them again in irons. A day or two afterwards, the preacher was dragged forth, beaten twice, pressed between bamboos, then tied by the neck to a mango-tree, and his hands roped behind to the trunk. "My lord, my lord," cried the pastor, gently, "do you kill me?" "Give me," said the magistrate, " a hundred and seventy rupees, and you shall be freed." "I have no silver, my lord." "Give his ransom," resumed the officer, turning to some converts who were looking on, 66 and take your leader. If not, we will slaughter him." The money was given; but, instead of being set at liberty, the pastor was led back to prison. A day or two passed, and the judge appeared at the gaol, and, haul-ward into the presence of the Lord. But ing him out, said revilingly, "If your God is Almighty, bid Him take you out of these hooks." The confessor replied, in a firm tone, "If the eternal God does not now save me from your hands, He will save me eternally in the world to come.' "How do you know that?" "God's holy book tells me so; and it is true." Thereupon the magistrate, in a burning rage, beat him severely, hooked him with five pairs of hooks, and ordered him once more to his cell. Three days later, he had him dragged out again; and, awed apparently by the prisoner's calm mien, he said, "Your God, you tell me, can save you. Read His book before me now." "Though I read," replied the preacher, "you will not believe, but persecute me still. But the eternal God, my Judge and your Judge, the Lord Jesus Christ, He will save me." "Command Him, then, to save you from my hands now." Another official stepped

the church "lives by all these deaths." The Burman king now welcomes to his territory the servants of Jesus Christ. And so mightily does the Word of God prevail, that, in two provinces alone, Tenasserim and Pegu, the number of hopeful converts has risen to eleven thousand, nine hundred, and sixty-six, with a nominally Christian population of at least one hundred thousand!

One morning, some months ago, there assembled, on the crest of a hill, in the province of Tounghoo, a company of two thousand converts, representatives of forty-five stations; robed in all possible variety of costume, from the silks of the pure Burmese, to the padded jacket of the Shans, and the red striped tunics of the Bghais; whilst, on the distant margin of the congregation, might be seen sundry groups from the remoter mountains, listening as they leaned on their spears. Ninety-five preachers were there; all of

them, with the exception of about ten, natives of the province, and converted within the last three years. Not content with their home-efforts, they longed to evangelise the other wild tribes in the regions beyond; and they were now assembled to pray and to concert a plan. "When we travel among the heathen," said one them, stimulating his brethren to fresh effort, "we are sometimes starved, sometimes sick, sometimes houseless by night. Then our hearts are troubled. Why is it so? Brethren, it is because we have little love. We ought to think of the Lord Jesus, who was full of love. He ruled over all things; and it was proper for Him to exalt Himself above all; yet He did no such thing. How did he exhibit His love? Oh! now He hungered for forty days; now He suffered till He sweat great drops of blood; and then He died; and for us-all for us! Oh! what love was that of our Lord! Brethren, we ought to think of these things more, and to arm ourselves by prayer, and to work. We must go among the heathen and labour, and then we must pray, as the disciples did on the day of Pentecost, until the Spirit be poured out, and all these nations become Christians." And another native preacher, that day, told how, when scourged by the Burmans, he had felt courageous and happy in God. "When I was tied up," were his words, "and they were about to beat me, they said, 'Assemble the people together no more. Do what you do in your own house alone: if we find you going about again as we have done, we will kill you.' After I was liberated, San Shai Kyan wrote me, 'Brother, I have heard of thy sufferings, and that our Lord Jesus Christ revealed His power in thee. Because thou didst suffer for the sake of Christ, I prayed for thee to God incessantly; and, when I heard that thou didst publicly make known the things which pertain to our Lord, I rejoiced greatly.' Subsequently," he continued, " my mother heard that the Burmans were coming to seize me again; and she was very sorrowful. She said to me, Son, do run away. Stay here no longer.' I replied, We suffer on account


of our sins. I will not go away; it would not be right. Should I go,—why, only one would be delivered. Trust in God, mother! and go boldly to Him in prayer. Formerly, we had no books; now, if I die on account of our books, I can die happy in the hands of Burmans. Happy also to live. Let it be according to the will of God. If it pleases God that I should die, I am ready to die. I am not a thief. Were I to die on account of some wicked deed, there would be reason for apprehension; but, if I die, I shall die for God, so there is no reason to fear. And, as our Lord Jesus rose again to life so also shall I rise again to life.' Thus I replied to my mother. These persecutions," he added, with energy, “do not destroy the faith; on the contrary, they establish it. A large number of households have become believers during the present season." Who shall say, in the presence of such scenes, that India is not a field "white unto the harvest?" Her recent crimes-at which humanity has stood aghast and grown pale-are but the unrestrained outgoings of a heart which the Burman and the Hiddoo share in common with the refined citizen of our happy land. And shall we, who know the power of the Word which is "mighty through God to the pulling down of Satan's strongholds," falter in our purpose to hold it forth before this bedarkened race? He who commanded His disciples of old to "begin at Jerusalem," commands us now to "begin” with the Hindoo; for, if his hand is red with the blood of England's choicest sons and daughters, was not Jerusalem's hand red with the blood of Him who is the Prince of life? One day, Henry Martyn, after a season of secret fasting and prayer, wrote,-"May it be sweet to me to proclaim to sinners like myself the blessed efficacy of my Saviour's blood!" And, another day,-"How happy and honoured am I, in being suffered to be a missionary!" Shall not the Church arise, like him, and gird herself, giving the Lord no rest in pleading for souls, and souls no rest in pleading for the Lord? The Acts of the Apostles record scarcely any success more signal than Judson's and Boardman's

in Burmah, or than Johnson's in Regent's Town. With a like apostolic faith why not expect NOW a like apostolic suc

cess?" Rivers in the Desert," by the Rev. John Baillie. A very interesting work.


CONSIDERING that we "believe in the resurrection of the dead, and the life everlasting," there is reason to apprehend that our whole feeling in this country regarding our departed friends is too funereal; and in behalf of England, we have sometimes envied the brighter hope, the look of Easter morning, which seems to linger still in Luther's land. With its emblems suggestive of resurrection and heaven, its churchyard is not a pagan burial-ground, but the place where believers sleep,-a true cemetery, to which friendship can find it pleasant to repair and meditate. At the obsequies of Christian brethren it is not a funeral knell which strkes slowly and sternly, but from the village steeple there sheds a soft and almost cheerful requiem: and though there may be many wet eyes in the procession, there are not many of the artificial insignia of woe, as the whole parish convoys the departed to his "bed of peaceful rest." Once, in the Black Forest, we accompanied to the "place of peace' an old man's funeral, and there still dwells in our ear the quaint and kindly melody which the parishioners sang along the road; and we have sometimes wished that we could hear the like in our own land, with its sombre and silent obsequies.


By Nebo's lonely mountain,

On this side Jordan's wave,

In a vale in the land of Moab
There lies a lonely grave;
And no man dug the sepulchre,
And no man saw it e'er;
For the angels of God upturn'd the sod,
And laid the dead man there.

Neighbour, accept our parting song;
The road is short, the rest is long:
The Lord brought here, the Lord takes hence,
This is no house of permanence.
On bread of mirth and bread of tears
The pilgrim fed these chequer'd years;
Now, landlord world, shut to the door,-
Thy guest is gone for evermore :
Gone to a realm of sweet repose,
His comrades bless him as he goes:
Of toil and moil the day was full,
A good sleep now-the night is cool.
Ye village bells, ring, softly ring,
And in the blessed Sabbath bring,
Which from this weary work-day tryst
Awaits God's folks through Jesus Christ.

And open wide, thou gate of peace,
And let this other journey cease,

Nor grudge a narrow couch, dear neighbours,
For slumbers won by life-long labours.

Beneath these sods how close ye lie! But many a mansion in yon sky, beneath the sapphire throne,

Ev'n now,

Is his, prepared by God's dear Son.

"I quickly come," that Saviour cries;
Yea, quickly come, this churchyard sighs:
Come, Jesus, come, we wait for Thee-
Thine now and ever let us be.

"Lessons from the Great Biography," by James Hamilton, D.D.


"And he buried him in a valley in the land of Moab, over against Beth-peor; but no man knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day."-DEUT. xxxiv. 6.

That was the grandest funeral,
That ever pass'd on earth;
But no man heard the tramping,

Or saw the train go forth.
Noiselessly as the daylight

Comes when the night is done,
And the crimson streak on ocean's cheek
Grows into the great sun;

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