sophical abstraction is widely different from Christian spirituality.

While he was one day thus looking forward with anxious hope, the Holy Ghost announced to him that he should not see death before he saw the Lord's Christ. How great must have been the joy of this faithful servant at so gracious an annunciation. It was a seal set of approval upon his long and unwearied expectation. He had kept his loins girt and his lights burning, and was to receive his Master at last. Perhaps the Holy Spirit, in imparting to him this prophetic grace, revealed to him, as to the most favoured prophets of old, a more spiritual view of the nature of the kingdom of Christ. How unsubstantial then would all things appear around him. All the rites at which he assisted were but as the voice of a person unseen indeed, but approaching. Still more eager did they make him for his arrival, and more closely than ever would he keep his watch in the temple for his coming. It is impossible to conceive a more happy or honourable station than that which the Holy Spirit had now assigned to Simeon. He was the last link of a chain of prophetic saints which stretched from Adam. They all saw at a distance, but he was to touch. Their song spake of the Christ to come, but his should hail Christ already come, and offer him the first-fruits of the homage of the saints to the end of the world.

The promised day came at last; the Holy Ghost again visited Simeon, and advertised him that the Lord, for whom he was looking, had come to his temple he immediately rose, and full of the Spirit entered the temple. There Mary was waiting with

her child to offer up the customary sacrifice, and to present him to the Lord. In that child he immediately recognized the Saviour of the world, and taking him up into his arms, burst forth into a hymn of praise and thanksgiving. He blessed God for having allowed him to see his Saviour, and professed his willingness to die now that he had seen him. With a heavenly comprehension of view, with which the Spirit afterwards especially interfered to endow the apostles, he acknowledged the Christ to be not only the glory of Israel, but also a light for the enlightening the Gentiles. He saw in him the Redeemer of the whole world, and foretold to Mary his rejection by many in Israel, his being made a public mark for reproach and mockery, and obscurely hinted his sufferings and death, in assuring her that " a sword should pierce through her own soul, that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed."

With this hymn this faithful servant and unwearied waiter upon his Lord quits the stage of history. A tradition says that with this he quitted life too. In his last strain this prophet has bequeathed to the Church a song, which has often been repeated from the mouths of dying martyrs, and by saintly men who deeply felt the inestimable privilege of having lived under the Gospel. Of this privilege our Church reminds us, by putting this very hymn into our mouths after we have heard the reading of the word of eternal life in Jesus Christ. O that we could ever

bear it in mind, and take it uninterruptedly to heart; that we could steadily discern the distinctness of our calling, and strive to make it sure by being chosen. For are we not called, who are so few out

of the whole mass of mankind? Could we count the number of those who have died, who are living, and who shall be born to live without the knowledge of the Gospel, we, who have heard its blessed tidings, would appear in the comparison but as a little knot of persons, like Simeon and Anna amid the unbelieving throngs of Jerusalem. May we be then like Simeon and Anna in their esteem of the blessedness to which we have been called. Who are we, that we should have been so highly favoured, and that to our eyes and ears should have been revealed things which Abraham, and David, and the prophets, were not allowed to witness, vehemently though they desired it? Who are we, that to us should be manifested in all the fulness of accomplished redemption, in his sacrifice on the cross, in his resurrection from the dead, in his ascension to heaven, in the assurance of his intercession there by the descent of the Holy Ghost, that Saviour whom Simeon beheld but as a helpless infant, and was thankful that he had seen so much? Great indeed is our blessedness, great indeed our responsibility. Let us, like the author of this hymn, humbly and cheerfully in our respective stations await the coming of the Lord, in whatever shape it may appear, whether by the intervention of sorrow or of joy, at whatever time, whether at even, or at midnight, or at cock-crowing, or in the morning', that we be not found sleeping, but ready, so that with our last breath we may be enabled to cry out, "Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation."

1 Mark xiii. 35.

Simeon sang the first hymn with which mortal lips saluted the Redeemer's arrival. It followed the song of the angels. It will gain force and signification with every fresh unfolding of the veil which yet remains upon the fortunes of the Church, and will only lose its application at that awful day, when the quick shall see the coming of the Son of Man in power and great glory to raise the dead, and judge mankind, and the song of angels shall once again be heard upon earth, singing Hallelujah, never again to be succeeded by song of mortal man. For there shall be no more departure from life, and all eyes shall see their Saviour face to face, never to lose the sight of him again, but to gaze upon him, and enjoy the brightness of his glory for ever.

ZECHARIAH AND STEPHEN.

B. c. 840-A. D. 34.

How different is the feeling with which we read the words and deeds of the martyrs from that which accompanies the consideration of all other characters. That which comes nearest to it is our regard to the memory of the hero who died for his and our country. We admire his high spirit and courage, we venerate him for his wisdom, we love him for his kinder qualities, especially for the love which he bore to his country, we pity him for his short date of life, we are stirred as with the sound of a trumpet at the story of his mighty deeds, and these feelings are rendered still more lively by the insinuation into them of our personal vanity, which is gratified at being fellow-countrymen of such a man. Yet our sympathy is exceedingly imperfect. If we gaze with a reverential fervour upon his mouldering sword and surcoat, which, with his rusty casque and tattered banner, are hung over his tomb, yet these aspirations soon make way for a sigh upon the vanity of this world. Not only the rust and rags of these monuments teach us the frailty of every thing earthly, but their very fashion also forcibly reminds us how completely his age is gone by, how very different are the times in which we are living. It is with