Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze, Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees; Lives through all life, extends through all extent, Ascending from the material to the rational creation, the Sovereign Ruler of the universe appears in yet closer connexion with his intelligent creatures, and the enlightened eye perceives and feels his allpervading power, in the smiles of friendship and looks of love that gladden the social hearth. For by assuming, in the person of the man Christ Jesus, our very nature, with all its delicate susceptibilities, and multiplied emotions, our God of grace has appropriated to himself every tie of which the heart is capable, which is thus brought by the voluntary humiliation of his dear Son into the closest possible connexion with himself. Here, indeed, feeling receives its noblest consecration, and every earthly tie is a pledge to us of bonds that are ratified in heaven. The husband, the friend, the brother, the parent, the child, are representatives of God to us, in our earthly pilgrimage-they are the visible ark in which Jehovah's presence rests. O, then, it is not idolatry to prize them highly, and to mourn over their absence, or departure, as though the glory were departed from our Israel! Faith is the true philosopher's stone, which turns every thing to gold. Believing that Christ is one with all his members, it dares not, it desires not, to sever, even in idea, the branch from its parent stem; thus, the channel, in itself so narrow, so restricted, so inadequate to our resources, becomes, through this divine amalgam, a fertilizing current, ever pouring forth fresh supplies, to comfort, to admonish, and to bless, from its unfailing fountain. Yes, would we know and estimate the full value of the creature, we must acquaint ourselves with its Creator too; it is far more easy to despise than to use it rightly, and the proud insensibility that would lead us to turn from the lovely workmanship of an ever-present God, has in it far more of idolatry in its darkest feature of self-dependance, than may generally be imagined. The true enjoyment of a blessing is as far removed from its rejection as from its perversion. He who, dwelling in that light which no man can approach unto, formed this goodly frame of things, that he might be known and loved, and placed mankind therein, to act as his delegates and representatives, is surely to be honoured, not in the contempt or rejection of his mercies, but in that humble, thankful spirit which receives all, even the minutest, as a gracious emanation from himself. J. D. VISITS TO ST. GILES'. ONE of my most cheering recollections of these visits is that connected with the case of Michael O'N. an object of God's sovereign mercy, to whom all things, even the most grievous, were found to have worked together for his everlasting good. He had been named to me by a beloved Irish friend, who, in his capacity of a visitor belonging to the invaluable District Visiting Society of St. Giles' had sometimes called upon him, and found him apparently a ready listener to the word of truth. Inquiring for his abode, I was directed to a place which, at first sight, appeared inaccessible. The ascent leading to it was so narrow, so perpendicular, and each stair of so extraordinary a depth, that I would sooner have essayed to mount a ladder placed against a wall. However, a little experience had taught me to regard obstacles as special encouragements; so, after a few glances of alarm at the prospect before me, I sent the Irish reader forward, requested O'N.'s wife to keep close behind me, and quickly reached the top, where another bold step landed me safe at a door, which, by stooping, I managed to enter. Here, on a miserable truckle-bed, sat the object of my search: a man of middle age, his emaciated figure having lost, through weakness, the power to maintain an upright position; and his aspect being that of confirmed consumption, verging on its very last stage. Two pretty, but most ragged little children peeped out from behind him; his wife, a really pleasing and interesting young woman, cast many a tearful glance on his flushed face, as she introduced us; and, after naming the friend who sent me there, and enjoying the gratified look of the poor man on hearing him alluded to, I asked, in as delicate a way as I could (Oh that we more constantly remembered delicacy in our intercourse with the poor!) the particulars of their present case. I learned what, at the moment, seemed to be a most severe dispensation towards poor O’N. and his family. The room, in which I could hardly stand upright, had accommodated, besides themselves, lodgers; three people had each paid O'N. a few pence per week, for the privilege of laying as many bundles of rags and straw on the floor to sleep upon. These, however, left him; and then, his situation becoming desperate, his poor wife went to the overseer of the parish to represent their distress. At that time, as, indeed, at all times, the influx of destitute Irish strangers was immense; and the demands on parish aid such as no funds could possibly answer. Accordingly, a rigid scrutiny was directed to be made, and all who were able to travel, were offered the alternative of a pass to their own country-or nothing. The overseer gave the woman a card, on which was written the address of the parish surgeon, with these words added, Please to say if this man is able to go to Ireland.' O'N. was ordered personally to deliver the card; and with great difficulty he crawled to the place. The doctor glanced at the card, then at the man, and writing under the query, 'He is able,' returned it. Of course, any other assistance 6 than a pass was refused, and O'N. was once more hoisted up to his narrow cell, to perish. I read the card, and said nothing. O'N. was weeping bitterly while his wife related the tale; and I could only hope, what afterwards I had to rejoice in, that the Lord had so ordered it, in a purpose of mercy to his soul. After a long silence, during which I gulped down some very angry thoughts, the poor man was asked to listen to a little reading, and while the reader seated himself on the bed beside him, a low stool, so broken and unsteady that it was scarcely to be trusted with the weight of a human body, furnished the only seat for me. Three or four neighbours had dropped in; and all squatted themselves on the ground; but while O'N. with closed eyes, bent head, and clasped hands, seemed to be altogether absorbed in attention to the words of life spoken in his own loved tongue, I remarked with pain that distress at my awkward accommodation prevented the women from giving heed to what was read. For this a remedy soon presented itself, which must to an English reader appear most extraordinary, and its effects incredible: but I am writing facts, and many a one, knowing the Irish character, will bear testimony to the fidelity of my statements. An iron pot of potatoes was on the miserable fire; and the moment having arrived for taking it off, O'N.'s wife softly arose, poured the water into a broken pan, and placed the pot at a little distance from me.. I watched, until a portion of the heat was dispersed, and gently lifting the lid, took a potato ; then, pulling the skin off with my fingers, and throwing it on the floor, I bit a good piece out of the well |