PHILOSOPHY OF THE PRESENT AND FUTURE LIFE.

A CONTRAST.

THE pages of history, and the developments of every-day life, reveal the secret springs of human action, and indicate the influence of the world in fashioning the conduct and controlling the destinies of men.

There are few, comparatively, who utterly disregard the opinion of their fellows, whilst the great object seems to be to arrest the attention and to secure the admiration of those who surround or shall survive us. Hence that which is most highly esteemed is likely to be the object of pursuit; and those traits of character which dazzle with their glare the eyes of the multitude, men will seek to attain.

We bow with reverential homage to the hero of many wars: hence the thirst for military glory; and amid the conflicts of the ensanguined field, and all the dread calamities of war, the votary of fame, unmindful of the sorrows which follow in his track, pursues his solitary aim. Men stand entranced, and own the magic influence of words fitly spoken, and with undeviating ardour we seek the gift of oratory. Having attained one, or all of these distinctions, we strive to maintain our hold upon them to the last, and when retiring from the stage upon which we have been actors for a brief space, to dazzle the world with the splendour of a heroic character, rather than in humble preparation for the scenes which lie beyond. There is a memorable instance mentioned in the Book of Judges of one who had spent his life in scenes of violence and strife, who receiving a mortal wound from the hands of a woman in a beleaguered city, "called hastily unto the young man, his armour-bearer, and said unto him, Draw thy sword and slay me, that men say not of me, a woman slew him." The pride of Abimelech revolted at the idea of falling by the hands of a woman; more than this, he seemed not to regard the event which "sent him to his last account, with all his sins and imperfections on his head."

When Charles II. lay in the agonies of dissolution, he observed to those who were present, "I have been a most unconscionable time dying, but hope that you will excuse it." "This," says the historian, "was the last glimpse of that exquisite urbanity, so often found potent to charm away the resentment of a justly incensed nation."

He might have added, the last scintillation from a mind "sensual, worldly, devilish."

It is related, upon the authority of Lamartine, in his "History of the Restoration," that "at a certain stage of Ney's trial, his advocate, Dupin, whispered to him, "All hope is over! Nothing now remains but to fall with éclat, and save your name in men's memories by falling nobly and patriotically in the eyes of France!" Whereupon the Marshal, feigning want of air, left the court with his two advocates to concert with them his attitude and language. Infatuation most deplorable! What thoughts to linger in the mind of one about to stand in the presence-chamber of the King Eternal! How he should "attitudinize before men, not how he should appear before that High and Holy One!

This may be the philosophy of life, of the world, of man; but how strangely in contrast with this acting is the example of the no less heroic Paul! Hear him: "For I am ready not to be bound only, but also to die at Jerusalem for the name of the Lord Jesus." And again: "Neither count I my life dear unto myself, so that I might finish my course with joy, and the ministry which I have received of the Lord Jesus to testify the gospel of the grace of God." Noble language! Worthy of one who, armed with the sword of the Spirit, shrank not from mortal foe in life, and with equal composure met and triumphed over the last enemy.

Turn we to another example. In a foreign land, far from the associations of early, refined, and cultivated life, amid desert wastes and an inhospitable clime, a youthful stranger, self-expatriated, devotes his life to a mission of love. In the absence of inspiration, one might think the ministry of angels would be given to sustain a human soul in such a work as this. Now we hear him say, "I am happier in this remote land than when I was in England, and it does not concern whether I finish my Persian New Testament or not, so that I finish my course with joy." And from the lands of Persia went up the soul of Henry Martyn, the missionary, to mingle with the spirits of the pure and holy in the heavenly world.

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This is the philosophy of the future life, -the only true philosophy. All else is vanity:

"I see the circling hunt of noisy men

Burst law's enclosure, leap the mounds of right,
Pursuing and pursued, each other's prey;
As wolves for rapine, as the foe for wiles;
Till Death, that mighty hunter, earths them all.
Why all this toil for triumphs of an hour?
What though we wade in wealth or soar in fame?
Earth's highest station ends in 'Here he lies!'
And 'Dust to dust' concludes her noblest songs."

TWO MODES OF TEACHING. "How I wish I was in Henry's class!" said a bright-eyed boy, named Charlie, as he came in one Sabbath noon and seated himself thoughtfully by his mother's side.

"And why wish to be in Henry's class?" said the mother. "Has my little son learned all that one teacher can tell him, and so is wishing for a new one; or does he think a hard lesson will become an easy one, if he changes the person that hears it?"

"O, not that, mamma, but I am so tired of sitting with nothing to do. Our teacher does not care anything about us; he hears the lesson as if he was glad when it was through, and I am sure we are; then he says, 'Boys, keep still until school is done,' and takes his book and reads. Some of us go to sleep, some whisper and play, some count the panes of glass in the window, and all are glad when the bell rings for the close of school. It isn't so in Henry's class. They all look so happy, and the lessons are so interesting, he wishes it would last all day.

O, if I was only there!"

"What makes the difference?" said the mother mentally, for it was a question Charlie would have been puzzled to answer. And what did make the difference?

These teachers were each active, consistent Christians, ready to labour in any part of the Lord's vineyard that should be appointed them. They were also familiar with the Scriptures, well versed in all those portions which are "profitable for doctrine, for reproof, or for instruction," and each earnestly desirous that his pupils should become "wise unto salvation." But here the resemblance ceased. Henry's teacher loved his work, and the young charges committed to his care. Charlie's taught from a sense of duty; he knew it was well for children to be instructed in the Sabbath-school, and that some one must take the responsibility of teaching them. Contenting himself with hearing the lessons recited properly, and preserving order in his class, he imagined his scholars were too young to gain much immediate benefit from his labours, but encouraged himself with the hope that the seed, although it should "lie long buried," would "at last spring up and bear fruit abundantly." And so it may if the "birds of the air" do not pluck it up, before it has taken root.

When Henry's teacher came to his class, his face beaming with interest, the light was reflected back from those young faces, as from a mirror. Children are quick to discern the feelings of those who care for them. And so during the whole exercise, the attention was fixed by attractive means upon the lesson, and there were few wandering glances, or wandering thoughts. Familiar illustrations, similar texts of Scripture, an oft-repeated hymn, some incident that had occurred during the week, and innumerable other things, were so interwoven with the passages committed to memory, they not only served to illustrate them, but also to strengthen the impression upon the mind. Every eye was intently fixed upon the teacher, waiting for the words that should fall from his lips; there was no opportunity for him to "sit down and read;" his only regret was, that the hour should be too short for him to finish his instructions. A glance at his weekly course may account for his unusual interest in a measure. He was ever looking for materials to carry into the class; anything that had a reference to the lesson, or could be introduced with profit, was remembered and related. An incident, trifling in itself, was often made the means of impressing some solemn truth, or detecting some sinful propensity, as nothing else could have done. Appropriate illustrations are easily found, if any one is earnestly seeking them.

This teacher was also well acquainted with his class, familiar with their peculiarities, their childish joys and sorrows. When he saw them at their sports, he did not pass by on the other side, but gave them a friendly greeting, praised the new kite that was just floating in the wind, or commended their military skill as soldiers-thus they felt he was a friend as well as teacher. In addition to the instructions on the Sabbath, he often met his pupils during the week, and in a more familiar way repeated the solemu entreaties, and enforced the sacred truths of the Bible. Finally, his Sabbathschool class was very near his heart at all times, and earnest were the petitions he daily offered for their salvation. So true is it, "we cannot pray fervently for an object, without becoming interested in it.

Is it strange that such labours should be crowned with success, that many from that little band should go out to the world clothed with the armour of Christ, ready to labour for others, even as they had been favoured, while a few called in their early teachings for the heavenly, are, we trust, very near to the Saviour, who, when he was upon earth, called little children unto

him, "put His hand upon them, and blessed them?"

A FACT FOR THE PRESUMPTUOUS. THERE is a spirit of impious boldness in the following lines from that strange poem "Festus," before which we shudder whenever we repeat them. Speaking of the passions and their indulgence, the poet says:

"Enough shall not fool me. I fling the foil

Away. Let me but look on aught which casts
The shadow of a pleasure, and here I bare
A breast which would embrace a bride of fire!
Pleasure, we part not! No-it were easier
To wring God's lightnings from the grasp of
God!"

This, we repeat; is startling, daring language. We instinctively shrink from the haughty impiety of mind which it implies. Yet it strikes us as being no more than a strong, but truthful expression of the spirit of rebellion which reigns in impenitent sinners. For, does not every enlightened sinner follow his favourite sins with a consciousness that in embracing them he embraces death?-Does he not really make war on God, whenever he tramples upon his authority? And is not sin a defiance of Jehovah; a fearful setting at naught of Divine power; an impotent assertion of personal independence of Him? We shudder at the poet's words: but, we literally tremble in spirit, when we abandon ourselves to the contemplation of a sinner's attitude towards God.

This terrible presumption does not exclusively belong to what are considered the abandoned classes of society. It may often be seen in its worst aspects, in moral, and apparently, genteel persons. Even timid maidens, who tremble in the shadow of a physical danger, frequently exhibit the utmost daring in their treatment of God and religion. We remember such a maiden, and the catastrophe which trod swiftly on the heels of her presumption. She was a healthy-looking girl, of perhaps eighteen summers. Removing to

she was introduced to the Sundayschool by some acquaintances, and placed in the class of a truly spiritual and faithful teacher, who one Sabbath, shortly after her admission, faithfully admonished her, and entreated her to seek Christ. The girl admitted the duty of immediate submission to God, and showed that she clearly comprehended the consequences of an impenitent life. "But," she said, "I am determined to enjoy the pleasures of life while I am young!"

"Yes, you are young, but you may, nevertheless, be very near death!" replied the teacher.

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"No, I am not. I am healthy and shall most likely live a long time; but anyhow, I don't mean to seek religion yet. I shall take all the pleasure in life that I can," said she, with such bold and decided manner, that her teacher was discouraged and silenced.

Two weeks from that Sabbath we stood beside that maiden's coffin, and spoke emphatic words to her companions over her corpse! A violent disease had suddenly assaulted her, only ten days after her boast of having long to live. Its first blow dethroned reason; the next broke the golden bowl at the fountain of life; and all guilty, unannealed, and presumptuous as she was, she was hurried into the presence-chamber of the Infinite.

Such was her end. Thus impotently fell her presumings to the dust; and thus fearfully sank her soul to destruction. And thus perish all, who, with clear perceptions of the authority of God, persist in waging war upon him.

Reader! art thou an impenitent sinner, wedded to thy pleasures, and recklessly rushing upon consequences? Be entreated, in view of this example, to pause, to reflect, to repent, to embrace Christ, and to be saved!

A PRAYER.

THE prayer of a Jewish girl, who had only just completed the thirteenth year of her

age:

spirit, and cause my eyes to overflow with tears of joy, in the conviction that thou lovest me! Then how poor and mean will be all earth-born joys! then will my soul rejoice in its freedom, and exult in its immortality!

"The dissolving universe shall one day proclaim that the hour of retribution is at hand; and the great arcana of Nature, in which I love to trace thy finger, shall melt before the piercing glance of thine avenging eye. O that through thee I may be enabled to hail the moment as that of my complete happiness!

On this commencement of another year I enter into a solemn covenant with thee to dedicate myself to thee. Show me what thou wouldst have me be and do, and I will pray earnestly for thy assistance, that I may fulfil thy will. O that thou wouldst arise, and by thy glorious beams scatter my spiritual darkness. Grant me thy aid, that I may not swerve from my resolution. Enlarge and bless my soul, and let me be happy from a constant walking in thy fear. Amen."-Leila Ada's Memoirs.

THE STING OF DEATH.

IN a biographical notice, giving an account of the last days of a good man, who was distinguished for his serene and lofty faith, he is reported as saying, "I appear to suffer, but I do not. It seems as if some angel were standing by me, he bearing all the pain, and this poor body of mine only exhibiting the outward signs of it."

A striking instance of the same kind occurred not long since within our own knowledge. A lady of exalted piety was suffering from protracted and fatal sickness, and at certain intervals there came spasms and convulsions, giving externally all the symptoms of intolerable agony. Once, when these spasms were evidently coming on, and her friends were bending over with anxious face, she looked up with a sweet and tranquil smile and said, "Do not be troubled about me. You think I suffer extremely, but I do not. I know not how it is, but somehow when these convulsions come, there comes with them a sense of the Divine presence, an inward power that takes upon itself the burden of my sufferings; and these spasms are only an appearance."

It is a most beautiful and beneficent law, that when the mind is exalted with great conceptions, or filled with an allabsorbing love, the body becomes less sensible to its infirmities and sufferings, and sometimes forgets them altogether. Even our natural affections and passions have power, though in a limited degree, of sus

pending our bodily sensation. A mother who a little while ago was pale and drooping under the smallest burden, is by-andby seen hanging over the bed of her stricken child; and how changed from what she was? Her countenance that was so pale now beams with life, and the arm that hung down is nerved with energy. The astronomer in his starry contemplations becomes free of the body, and cold, hunger, and fatigue are alike forgotten. But religious faith, when warm and clear, and its eye open wide on immortality, elevates and changes all our affections, and then it reacts upon the whole frame, and sends the tranquillizing influence along all its nerves. It was this that made the martyrs almost insensible to suffering, and they rose to God out of the fires while singing triumphal hymns. And the idea is suggested to us that the facts here cited may range themselves under a benignant and all-circling law, whose operations we experience as yet most imperfectly, and that when our mere belief and make-belief shall change into full refulgent faith, it shall destroy the sting of death, not merely by giving us patience to bear the burden of its sufferings, but by rolling off that burden from humanity. For the soul cleansed and inhabited by God, and constantly borne out of itself towards the objects it adores and loves, frees us from the more painful condition of mortality, and enables us every day to put on incorruption. Wordsworth has finely described this state of mind as

GALLIO, the distinguished deputy of Achaia, was not as wicked as many people suppose. It would not be a difficult matter to point to deputies nowadays of far less moral worth than he. That he was reckless in respect to some things we would not deny; but that he was a disgrace to the office which he filled, is an allegation which cannot be sustained. Admit that he was indifferent to the claims of the Gospel, or sceptical in regard to the great doctrine of salvation, he, nevertheless, scrupulously regarded the functions of his office as a magistrate. He was never unmindful of the oath of office under which he acted. No party interest or personal prejudices caused him to swerve a

hair's breadth from official duty. When an offender was arraigned before him, he did not stop to inquire what was the popu lar sentiment concerning his offence. He did not ask what the community would think of this or that course of action. His keen sense of justice pointed out his duty, and he did it without fear or favour. He was as independent as mortal man ever was or ever can be. The whole kingdom might oppose his measures, he cared nothing for that, so long as he was conscious of properly discharging the duties of his office. His course as a public officer was marred by no intrigue, or artless evasion, or political chicanery.

This is evident from the fact, that when the whole community were intensely excited against Paul, and he was brought before the judgment-seat to be tried, Gallio, though no friend to Paul or the Gospel, at once dismissed him, declaring that there was no ground for their accusations. The excited populace doubtless thought that Gallio, being no friend to Christianity, would rejoice in a favourable opportunity to punish one of its adherents. But no; the conscientious deputy acted far otherwise. Had he lived in the year 1852, instead of the year fifty-six, he might have compromised justice, or showed his spite to save the constitution. But living in an age when constitutions were less notorious, he may be excused for the independence with which he battled for the RIGHT. bad too much regard for justice to allow his personal hostility to religion, if he had any, to vent its spite even upon an enemy. Paul might be deluded and preach a false doctrine, but, as a magistrate, Gallio would not be influenced by that alone to punish him, even though the whole community called for his condemnation. Hence, whatever may be said against Gallio, we present him to public officers of the present age as a splendid example of official integrity and independence.

He

DR. LYMAN BEECHER ON REVIVALS.

I HAVE lately heard disparaging remarks concerning revivals-that they were attended with so many defects, that their absence was better than their presence; and that, on the whole, we had better go back to the good old days when revivals were unknown, and the minister had easy times-when no such attacks were made upon his heart and conscience, and intellect, but that he could spend most of his time on his farm, fattening his hogs, and getting in his crops; while, if he preached

half a century he would never hear of a conversion. I would ask these croakers at revivals, how many friends of missions would have been mustered if there had been no revivals? My brethren, WE MUST HAVE REVIVALS. It must rain faster, or we perish with drought. There is no such thing as a growing, progressive church without them -no such thing as a prosperous country without them. God has never multiplied his people-never built up his kingdom rapidly without them, and never will. This is the thought I would impress upon those who hear methe indispensable necessity of revivals of religion to perpetuate the Church and to convert the world.

1. Revivals are necessary as a kind of substitute for miracles. God is the Author of conversion; but not in the way of miracles-not without reference to and conformity with the laws of mind. racles cannot convert the soul. How many of those who witnessed the miracles of

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Christ, do you suppose, were converted by the prodigies that astounded them? Miracles had their use; but that use was not the conversion of the soul. But now their object is accomplished; the Gospel is authenticated; the work is under motion. Hear the world roar as it rushes along; and see, as civilization advances, wealth accumulates, luxury abounds, and society rises higher and higher, how men dislike the humbling doctrines of the cross! Religion becomes offensive; the Gospel is odious; and if they go on, they will scout it out of the world with their sneers and contempt. How are you to make head against all this accumulating hatred? By jogging along in the good old orthodox way? No; men will go to hell by whole generations, if something be not done. But go into a church filled with these gay, self-sufficient, contemptuous schemers, when the Spirit of God is abroad, and the atmosphere of revivals envelops the mass. Then see how they stir; what an arrest is put upon the current of their worldliness! The whole town is affected. Conviction spreads from heart to heart, like fire in a dry forest. Everybody feels, and you cannot tell why. In Litchfield, Connecticut, during a great revival, I should hear of conversions taking place simultaneously ten miles apart, without any contact or intercommunion. The Gospel then took hold. It was invested with a kind of almightiness. It is impossible for the truth to make such an impression at any other time. We must have revivals, if the world is ever to be converted. To wait till the church is filled with the droppings of the sanctuary, is to wait for