Son of God, seeing my helpless and lost condition, came into the world, and suffered the penalty due for my sins, that I, through his righteousness, might be saved." "Then why not be saved," asked the brother, "if he has suffered the penalty for you?" "Because," said she, "my heart is enmity against God, and I am not reconciled to him." "How do you know," said he, "that you are not reconciled to him?" She calmly replied, "For once my heart speaks the truth; it tells me it is full of enmity against the Holy One. My Saviour demands a broken and a contrite spirit, but alas! I have no such offering to make to a pure and righteous God. O, my dear, dear brother, my Saviour is always in view; but no smile from his countenance beams on me; a cloud intervenes to hide his face; I can do nothing acceptable in his sight; I am only capable of sinning."

The brother was exasperated. "And all this has come," said he, "of hearing a vile preacher. Sister, give me the Bible; return again to your proper senses; for be assured, you have done nothing for which God will cast you off." "He will cast me off," said she, "for my total unworthiness; but the Bible I must read, although in it I find only my condemnation." She then opened the book and read, "To-day, if ye will hear his voice, harden not your heart." "O, my brother," said she, "leave me alone to mourn over my already hardened heart!" The brother withdrew, deeply afflicted for his sister; but the unrighteous know not how to comfort each other. For several days, whenever he visited her, he found her in tears. "hides himself from me. into his presence!"

"The Almighty," said she, Oh! that I knew how to come

She was at last confined to her bed. The complaints, which had for some time been lingering about her, were rapidly terminating in a consumption. The brother was inexpressibly grieved; but still believed, that could her mind be withdrawn from religious impressions, she would recover. He called in a physician, who had been the friend of his father, and who was an elderly and godly man; to him he confided the care of her body, while he

took upon himself to arrange the concerns of her mind. One day he was setting before her her pure and spotless life; her undeviating morality and the estimation in which she was held by all who knew her. "Alas!" said

she, "my morality cannot save me; the estimation of the world cannot save me; eternity is opening before me; and where, oh! where shall I fly to hide me from the frown of the everlasting God?" "Fly to the arms of the Saviour," said the aged physician, (who had entered the room, unperceived, and heard her exclamation) fly to the Saviour; his grace is sufficient for you." The poor girl raised her tearful eyes to heaven, as if she would seek the face of that Saviour who was able and willing to save her. "Will he take me as I am ?" said she. "He will," said the physician; "not by your own righteousness, but by his blood are you saved." "Sir," said the brother, "from this moment I dismiss you from your attentions on my sister; had I known that you were a preacher, I should have kept you at a distance." 'The good old man went to the bedside of the patient, took her hand, and said, "look unto Jesus, and you shall live; and though your sins be as scarlet, he shall make them white as snow." Then raising his eyes to heaven he prayed, "Saviour, receive this lamb into thine own bosom ;" and bursting into tears he left the room.

The shades of night had now gathered round the bed of sickness; a few embers glimmered on the hearth; and a pale lamp on the floor shone with that peculiarly uncertain and melancholy light, which gives an air of pious solemnity to the chamber of the invalid; which checks the footstep in its sound, and sinks the voice to a whisper.

The brother took his seat by the bed-side of his beloved sister; and desiring the nurse to lie down, said he would watch during the first part of the night. Fearing he had been too abrupt with the physician, he began to speak in a soothing tone. The sister, with an affectionate smile, took his hand, placed it upon her pillow, and laying her cheek upon it, appeared quietly to listen. Seeing her Bible lie by her, he said, "I believe that book con

tains an excellent code of moral laws, and I am sure my dear sister has never transgressed one of them. I hope that hereafter, we shall have pleasure in reading it together, especially such parts of it as may be useful in guiding us through life, without being terrified by such passages as are mysterious and incomprehensible. And now that I agree with you, and am willing to read it with you, and to become a Christian as far as is necessary, I hope we shall again see you cheerful and happy." After adding that he had resolved to attend regularly upon divine worship; and assuring her that she had nothing to fear from God, he remained for some time in silence: then bending over her, and seeing her in a sweet and tranquil slumber, he retired to his own room, highly satisfied with the part he had acted.

The earliest light of the next morning found him again by her bed-side. The lily of death was on her cheek, but a celestial brightness sat in her eye: he marked the change, but ignorant of the cause, said, "You are happier, my sister; you have risen above your fears." "I am truly happy," said the dying girl; "I have risen above my fears, for I can now trust in my Redeemer.” The brother stooped to reassure her, but started back exclaiming, "Oh! my sister, my sister is dead!" The sweet and gentle spirit had indeed passed the bounds of mortality: and that brother, when in the seventieth year of his age, after having, for near forty years been a faithful minister of the Gospel of Christ, related these circumstances to the writer.

SUBMISSION TO GOD.

A proud person does not choose to submit to any one; person, or thing; event or circumstance: their endeavour is to bend, or control all things, every thing to their own will. "Submission is not for me. I'll not be altered by circumstances they shall have no power over me," is the abiding language of such a heart. They repel all influence, and resist all change of heart or conduct from events. How is this? Unfor tunately, this is considered by them to be consistency, firmness

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of mind, strength of character, and what not that is amiable, and highly esteemed amongst men; and what is the consequence? Affliction upon affliction comes, blow after blow descends upon some hearts, and they keenly feel these strokes, and try to hear up under them, and not sink; despising to be softened, and thinking they would give up character by being so. › O God, melt them down by the infusion of thy love! The worst affliction that could yet befal such an one would be, to be let alone by thee, like Ephraim when joined to his idols. Is not submission to God what such a soul needs? To see the hand of God in their trials, and that each is sent to teach such a lesson; and till this lesson is learnt, God in mercy goes on afflicting―sending messenger after messenger, with evil tidings to his nature, still repeating the same, still sounding to his heart, submit—and not leaving him to that nature to ruin his soul. Submit, submit, O poor afflicted soul, to God, who sends thee these trials. He will then pour balm into thine heart, and heal thee. Art thou not now hurried about almost to distraction, having no where to rest, endeavouring to bear that in thine own strength, and the pride of thine own character, the resources of thine own nature, or the false props and estimates derived from thine education, or adopted opinions, which God does not require thee to bear unsupported and alone? O fall before him in submission to his will! See his hand in what has befallen thee in all thy trials—he sent each: fly into his bosom, and acknowledge they were needful. Hast thou not resisted See it now, submit to it now, and pray to him to give thee this submission.

his hand?

Art thou not in dread, poor sufferer, of still worse that may yet befal thee? God has many more messengers that he may send; and will they not, yielding to him, cause him to hold back his hand, if by them he design mercy to thy soul, or enable thee to bear better what is laid upon thee? Would it not be better for thee to be conquered by him, than crushed-upheld by God on thy submission to him, than trampled in the dust under the weight and misery of thine own feelings and endeavours to bear thine afflictions? Say not, O, but I will conquer myself too, and bear up. To thy ruin will it be, if thou still goest on in thy pride. This controversy is between thy God and thee, nor canst thou conquer him. You may derive strength by your

submission to him, but only more bewilderment and confusion by staying thyself thus on thine own resources-he alone can give you rest, peace, balm, and every comfort; soothe, heal, and support thee, who has said, "I will give thee rest." Weary of wandering, "O come unto me, I will give thee rest," says the Lord Jesus.

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Consider too, thou poor, proud, afflicted one, that 'tis to the Greatest thou art called on to submit-to Him before whom angels bow-to the Lord on high-not even to thy fellow-man, a worm like thyself, but to the great God-man, who stretches forth his hands to raise thee up, to comfort thee, to bind up the wounds of thy heart, to heal the scourges thy soul now feels so bitterly. O fall before him, dropping every effort to support thyself, helpless and forlorn, thou whose heart no human aid can reach, and you will find comfort, even from the conviction that God alone can comfort you. God, even the greatest, even the highest, behold, he calls you, knows and sees your destitution, enters into every feeling of your soul, bore your sins, and was touched with the feeling of your sorrows. And you will truly find also that he does not willingly afflict the children of men; that 'tis for a good end he sends thee all these trials, which end is accomplished in thy surrender to him.

The Lord Jesus is near-near unto thee-you need not search for him-as a man on earth, he has become familiar to us every one, manifested God in the flesh. Perceive you, dear friend, how visible he is in that capacity to the feelings of your heart, to the eye of your mind? You may lean on him, you may tell him all your troubles as a friend. Even, O my God, you may te him what you would be ashamed to disclose to a friend, lest he. might turn his back on you-your pride, your rebellious indignation at his dealings in thus bereaving you, and the confession and submission in thus opening your soul to him will relieve and comfort you. O believe it, and pour out your soul before him, thou proud one! who hast need of every thing; wretched, miserable, poor, blind, and naked. See, behold what a friend is near thee to raise thee up-to be thy husband, to give thee life, and clothe thee with the graces of his meekness, of his Spirit, instead of thy natural garments that leave thee shivering in barren pride-poor and proud. And consider that this man is the Lord on high, has all power in heaven and earth,