in the succession of our seasons for labour and repose,—our mornings with their returning light,-our evenings with their soothing shadows for our weary eyes. Still, as I pursued my journey, all was not uninterrupted sunshine; the blue sky was often clouded-sometimes so lightly as only to afford pleasing contrasts of light and shade-at others so completely that the whole horizon seemed to be overcast with gloom, and the sun to be quite obscured, until again the bright light burst through all obstacles, and I reached my destination with its rays glittering upon my path.

The occasion of my journey was a sad one. I had been called hastily by dear friends to mourn with them over an only son, called unexpectedly to his rest, and to follow his remains to their last earthly resting place. Thus my thoughts were divided between the things seen which are temporal, and the things unseen which are eternal. I saw in the outward world the figures of the spiritual world, and felt that the Maker of the one intended, perhaps, to teach us His dealings with the world of spirits, by analogy with His works in nature. The intense darkness and the chill in the air, before the dawn, seemed to speak of that "darkness which covered the earth and gross darkness the people" of old, and which still obscures the minds of those who have not yet seen the light of Him who lighteneth every man that cometh into the world. How dark is the natural understanding in divine things!-how cold the natural heart in all that relates to the dawn of the Sun of Righteousness! Yet with the first gleam of heavenly grace, the capacity is given to see something of the ways of God, and the purposes of our being; afterwards, as that light extends, we see yet more clearly (“ men as trees walking ") only outlines and forms massed together, but still enough to satisfy us of the reality of eternal things. Then as that Divine light increases, we comprehend the plan of salvation more distinctly, things obscure gather form and purpose, things before unseen appear with life and beauty, and a harmony is shed over the common scenes of our daily life which changes them from the dull uninteresting monotony they wore before, to things of beauty which are "a joy for ever." The Sun of Righteousness rises with healing on His wings, and sheds light and life upon our souls; in His light we see light; and if we abide in it we go onwards, and upwards, shining in the path of the just unto the perfect day. True, indeed, clouds may dim for a season the brightness of our sky-troubles, sorrows, temptations, losses, may cause all to seem dull awhile; our tears may fall in the hour of bitter bereavement or of declension in our faith and love, as the rain descends from the darkened sky in heavy torrents: but the clouds will pass away in due time, the sunlight of Divine favour will be restored, the meridian brightness will, in God's good

providence, be reached, and we shall know the blessedness and the glory of that abode of which God is Himself the sun, where no tears are shed, and where there is light, even "at evening time," for Christ is Himself the light in the midst of it.

And yet another analogy seemed to be suggested to me. I was compelled to leave my class for a single Sunday, in consequence of this journey, and my thoughts were naturally drawn towards them. Is not our teaching, like shedding the light of God's truth upon the darkness in the hearts of our scholars? If so, ought we to expect the day to break suddenly and completely, all at once, and to find the clear knowledge of Divine truth, and the warm hearty love of it, taking directly the place where all was cold and dark before? Will it not be a very gradual process, as was the dawn that day? A gleam of light first-indistinct apprehension of God's works next-then a clearer knowledge of their nature and purpose, until the warm sun of heavenly love, mingled with the light of Divine Truth awakens in the heart the love of that which is pure and lovely. I took comfort at the thought, for I had often grieved at apparent hardness of heart, want of power (as I fancied) to comprehend the simplest truths of God, and indifference to that love of Christ our Saviour by which I hoped to draw their hearts to Him. Then I remembered the waywardness of some among them, giving promise of earnestness at one time, but destroying it by carelessness or wilfulness at others; and I thought of the clouds which had for awhile obscured the sun-beams that morning, and yet how in the end the clouds had been dispersed, and the light had triumphed. May it not be so with our scholars, if we will be as constant and persevering in our work as is the sun which "rejoiceth as a giant to run his course ?"

W. S.

TROUBLES.

"SOMETIMES I compare the troubles which we have to undergo in the course of the year to a great bundle of fagots, far too large for us to lift. But God does not require us to carry the whole at once: He mercifully unties the bundle, and gives us first one stick, which we are to carry to-day, and then another which we are to carry to-morrow, and so on. This we might easily manage, if we would only take the burden appointed for us each day; but we choose to increase our troubles by carrying yesterday's stick over again to-day, and adding to-morrow's burden to our load, before we are required to bear it." Rev. John Newtɔn.

Portchester.

EARLY FLOWERS.

See the pale primrose! peeping from its bed,
While round it yet its nurselike leaves are spread.
Thou early blooming, and most welcome flower,
Thy head is reared 'mid storm and icy shower;
With tint so delicate, so very fair,

Thou look'st too frail the wintry blast to bear.

And thou, oh, pearly snowdrop! thou dost bring
With thee the budding hopes of coming spring;
An emblem bright of purity thou art,
When pristine innocence dwelt in the heart.
Yet, on thy chaste form gazing, it appears
Thou soon would'st melt away in icy tears,
For bending thy sweet head so meekly low,
Thou seem'st as weeping for thy parent snow.

And hail to thee, loved modest violet fair!
Thou shedd'st thy odour on the clear cool air;
A type of worth and modesty most sweet,
Thou lov'st to live and blossom in retreat,
Content with thine own fragrance thou dost shun,
Amid thy leaves, the glory of the sun.

And the bright crocus, with its golden cup,
Through spear-like leaves rejoicingly comes up;
A chalice filled with balmy treasures sweet,
The wandering bees its early beauties greet.

Oh, fair flowers! springing from the earth so cold,
Ye teach us sweetly, as your leaves unfold,
Lessons of love in tender mercy given,

To raise our hearts in grateful praise to Heaven.

Frances Ann.

SOMETHING DONE.

"I SEE in this world two heaps, human happinesss and human misery. If I can but take the smallest bit from one heap and add to the other, I carry a point. If a child has dropped a half-penny, and by giving it another I can wipe away its tears, I feel I have done something. I should be glad indeed to do greater things, but I will not neglect this."

Rev. John Newton.

CONFORMITY TO THE WORLD.

THE Scriptures so distinctly forbid and so clearly represent the sin and danger of conformity to the world, that to all who would live godly in Christ Jesus, must this subject be one of deep interest, and earnest investigation.

The command to come out, and to be separate, and not to touch the unclean thing, is binding upon every one, who, having "confessed the faith of Christ crucified, and promised to fight manfully under His banner as a faithful soldier and servant," would keep the sacred pledge, and render willing, obedient service.

The Scriptural command is "Be not conformed to this world, but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect will of God;" and the Church Catechism (with which every one is familiar from early childhood) teaches, that one part of the solemn promise at baptism is "to renounce the pomps and vanities of this wicked world;" nevertheless, it is to be feared that to many professing Christians, separation from the world conveys a most unmeaning sound, and if at times the baptismal vow start forth from the recesses of memory, or is heard in the still small voice of conscience, it is moulded and softened till conscience is lulled, its voice stifled, and memory clogged with the fleeting, perishable, unholy pleasures of earth. But there are also some professors of religion, who, partially impressed with the importance of attending to their eternal interests, confess that life should not all be spent in the vain pursuit of transitory passing things, yet are afraid of all extremes (as they are pleased to term that separation from the world which the Word of God enjoins) and seek with what they call moderation to follow both religion and pleasure,-in other words aim at the hopeless task of serving two masters, notwithstanding that they ever and anon hear the Saviour saying "Ye cannot serve God and mammon," and St. John, the beloved disciple of the Lord, re-iterating and echoing as it were his Master's words, "Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world; if any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him." It is not the idea of partial, but rather of entire separation from the world, which is conveyed to the servants of God in these words: the Lord would have His children to be "a peculiar people," to shew forth the praises of Him who hath called them out of darkness into His marvellous light.

Many and great are the constraining motives which should prompt the believer to renounce the world, and to live contrary to

its maxims, precepts, and pleasures; a Christian is solemnly pledged to do this,-enlisted into Christ's holy service by baptism, he is bound to fight against the world as one of the bitterest enemies, the deadliest foes of the Master whom he serves, as well as of his own soul. It is true that much self-denial is required, that many difficulties must be met and overcome, many a hot fire may be endured, many a hard battle fought, many a severe wound borne with Christian patience and resignation; but the soldier never expects his life to be an easy one, never anticipates that it is to be spent in pleasures and amusements. St. Paul when writing to Timothy told him to "endure hardness as a good soldier of Jesus Christ." If then he who promised to be upon the Lord's side, when the enemy appears fears the struggle, shrinks from the contest, postpones the battle, and meanwhile parleys with the dangerous foe, seeking to have friendship with the world ("which is enmity with God"), and yet to retain a place in the army of the Lord, the attempt must prove vain, and the inconsistent professor, forgetful of his allegiance to Christ, must be by Him regarded as a deserter, for assuredly worldly conformity is nothing less than desertion from the ranks of the "Great Captain of our salvation."

But the Christian's walk in life as well as his profession is opposed to the world; he is described in the Bible as a pilgrim going forth to "seek some better country, that is a heavenly;" St. Peter directly addressing the "peculiar people" says, "Dearly beloved, I beseech you, as strangers and pilgrims, abstain from fleshly lusts which war against the soul." Would a soldier, returning to his home, worn out with incessant warfare, weary with many a long march, bearing the traces of many a hard fought battle, and having yet many miles of enemy's country to traverse ere he could reach his own loved land, linger by the way to admire the scenery which surrounded him, or to gather flowers which, though looking bright and attractive in that foreign soil, could never flourish in his own to which he was hastening? Oh! no; nor would even the companions with whom he had for years been associated, (though they might be pleasant and even dear to him), detain him on his way; so must the Christian "lay aside every weight and the sin which doth most easily beset him," and "press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus."

The believer is, also, called to imitate the example of his Lord and Master, no part of whose character is more striking than His deadness to the world; trace Him through His whole life, from the hour of His birth in the manger, to the hour of His last agony on Calvary, and in every step appear sorrow, trial, sore temptatation, poverty, and humiliation; and should not then the disciples of the Lord Jesus prove the sincerity of their profession by being