Bishop of London (now the Archbishop of Canterbury), we told him how we got Bibles for the masses of the people, and urged him to try the same plan in London. He did so; and, in connection with his great work in Islington, which was founded on the model of the Aberdeen Mission, and became the parent of other “district missions," made the sale of the Bible in some such way as this a prominent and interesting feature of his mission work. 66 The power of this grand old Bible found many illustrations and proofs among our humble people. One day an aged woman, who was very self-righteous, and was not slow to proclaim that she was not one of the reclaimed, called on us and said, "I want tracts; I must do something for Christ." Glad to hear it, Margaret; but how is this?" "Weel, ye see, sir, I was self-richteous; but I've got over that noo." "And how?" "Oh in this way. I was south with my sister Jane last year in the spring, and seeing a bonny apple tree full of blossom, I said, 'O Jane, ye'll ha'e a fine lot o' apples this year.' Na, na, Marget,' she said, 'that's the tree that aye blossoms, but never bears.' I was south this year in the fall, and when in Jane's garden I saw that same tree loaded with apples. Jane, Jane,' I said, 'what a lot ye have noo; hoo did the blossom get set?' 'I canna tell ye, Margaret, unless it be that when our pet lamb died, we buried it by the root of the bonny apple tree, and that may ha'e done it." Weel, when I came back ye were preaching one evening from the text, 'Behold the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world!' and ye said, 'Unless ye lay this doctrine to your heart ye cannot be saved.' 'That's me,' I said to myself, and I thought on my sister's pet lamb, and how I had been a blossoming professor; and I prayed that I might be enabled to lay the Lamb Christ to my very heart, and my prayer was heard.' She still lives, and though eighty years of age, is as lively and cheerful as a young Christian. Here is another case of a more intelligent stamp. A young woman called one day, and offered her services to visit the poor. She was full of earnestness; and this was her story. She had been a member of one of our churches, and thought she was saved; but one day when urging the need of saving faith we said, "Captain Hall was preaching on the Castle Gate, and at the close a soldier said, 'I believe what you have said, and yet I am not happy. How can I find peace?' 'Do you know Florence Nightingale?' 'I do.' 'What do you think of her?' A noble lady, sir-the soldier's friend.' 'Do you think any one can love her more than you do as a soldier?' None, sir.' Look at that wounded soldier; he is taken to hospital; she speaks kindly to him, nurses him, and he begins to recover. One evening she is passing along the corridor at Scutari; the light reflects her shadow; it falls on his pillow; he turns his head and kisses it! He is in rank again. Now, do you love Florence Nightingale as that soldier?' 'No, sir.' 'Why?' 'Because I was never wounded.' That is your case. You believe in Christ so as to admire his character, but you have never felt yourself a wounded sinner, and Christ has never been your great physician." That was sufficient. She believed with her heart. Love, like John when he saw Christ first on the shore of Galilee, after his resurrection, was the eye that discovered his saving character here, and so it was with this young woman. She said that story gave her a new light on faith, and she thenceforward devoted herself to his service. It is an instructive fact for preachers that in most cases of conversion within our experience some text or simple illustration had been blessed, while recondite argument had produced no apparent effect, although both are required. As a rule, our evening service was of a recruiting character, and the morning one was doctrinal to build up the recruits and fit them for Christian service. For other contrasts of life and character we might go to other fields; but, at present, suffice it to say that in Lancashire there are two ministers who began with us; and on the Thames there is a missionary, who has been greatly blessed, and who was one of our first workers in this mission. It was only the other day, when we were telling the story in London of a young man who had been saved from ruin, and, having got a place in the metropolitan police, where he had done so well as to have merited a pension, was now a messenger in a bank. Who should come forward, dressed like a gentleman, and proclaim himself, but that young man ! He is also a labourer in the vineyard. These are facts and examples which should encourage Christian workers in the very lowest field of effort; and, while we must never look on sin but with abhorrence and detestation, let us love the sinner's soul as Christ did, and remember the words of John Bunyan, who says of the conversion of the chief of sinners, "the bigger the sinner, the bigger the glory." Glorious work, then, this was, and, with the farm in perfect order, what could be more natural than to wish to live and die there? But not so. Visiting London, and telling the tale of the mission, we impressed many a heart. "Come over and help us," was the call, and it could not be lightly set aside; but the time was not yet. Walking along Union Street one morning, we met a retired officer, a Christian man, who was a valued co-worker in this mission. "I hear they want you to London; is it so?" "It is." "Well, take this rule, which we had when I was in the service, 'The sentinel must never leave his post until his commanding officer sends him relief.' Good morning." And, wrapping his martial cloak around him, he walked on. But that was a wise word well spoken. The relief was not at hand. Time passed on, and the work was becoming more and more consolidated, while its influence was felt in other cities and towns. We spoke of it at a public meeting one day in Glasgow, when a critic, in his paper of the following week, said, "We had heard of this work, and we went to listen to the story of it, expecting to find a Cicero or a Demosthenes; but, instead of that, we found a plain man, telling his tale in a plain way, which, if told by a more eloquent tongue, would have set the world a-wondering. There is hope for Glasgow yet." He was right. The eloquent tongue which is wanted for this work is common sense and a fair knowledge of human nature, with faith in God. The relief came at last. A young man, whom we first heard at an out-of-the-way place in the country addressing a temperance meeting, became interested in this kind of mission work. After some special training for it, and considerable experience as a public speaker, he became first our assistant, then co-pastor, and then, when a wide and effectual door was opened for us in London, he became pastor, and, by the grace of God, has continued to the present day. The church and schools have been enlarged, the membership numbering from 400 to 500. The mission is still a "great fact;" and, in view of its rise and progress, we would say to other workers 66 Sow, though the rock repel thee by its cold and sterile side, NATURAL SYMBOLISM. A DISTINCTION has been made between artificial and natural language. Under the former are included all those signs which have no meaning but what is attached to them by compact or agreement among those who use them. Under the latter are included all those signs which, "previous to all compact or agreement, have a meaning which every man understands by the principles of his nature." In its lower gradations language is natural, in its higher gradations artificial. But this natural language, although very simple, and in the variety of its signs very scanty, forms the basis upon which rests, and the starting point from which commences, that more expressive system of sensible signs by which men, in the progressive march of intellect, transmit their thoughts to each other. Speech, like thought, is inherent in man. The gift of speech was first called into exercise in the naming of the animals by Adam; and the essential relation of thought to speech is there seen in the fact that the names given accorded with the natures and properties of the different animals. The harmony between the world within and the world without was not then disturbed by sin, hence the qualities of the animals were at once clearly seen and correctly expressed. That harmony being now broken, arbitrary signs have become needful. At first the speech of man corresponded with the speech of God in nature. The outward representations of spiritual things in the world of nature were rightly interpreted, and the interpretations expressed in fitting words. Just as man himself was made in the likeness of God, his language was an echo of the language of God; but the image of God has become dim, and the echo of God faint. Not only has there grown a thick film over our spiritual eyes, preventing us from reading nature aright, but her witness is less distinct and clear than it once was. Nature is to language what the soil is to the seed. It is the element out of which it springs, and in which it is developed. All language is thus at bottom symbolical, because it is at bottom natural. In artificial signs there is often no necessary connection between the sign and the thing signified; in natural signs the connection is essential. To obtain some glimpses of the essential connection that exists between natural signs and the things signified by them, especially those natural signs which make up the bulk of the figurative language of Scripture, is the end we have set before us in this paper. And no less an authority than Dr. Reid has said that "the whole of genuine philosophy consists in discovering such connections, and reducing them to common rules;" or, in other words, it consists in "an interpretation of nature." Since, then, nature is the basis of language in general, and of that branch of it of which we are treating in particular, our first stage of inquiry must needs be, "What are the teachings of nature?" I. Our answer to this question is, in brief, NATURE TEACHES SOMETHING ABOUT MAN, BUT MORE ABOUT GOD. (1.) Something about man. Nature, like a mirror, catches the reflection of man's countenance. Such is the sympathy between this world and its inhabitants that they fall and rise together. The garden of Eden was an emblem of man's moral state. Its beauty, fragrance, and fruitfulness were expressive of his loveliness of character, acceptability, and obedience. When man fell creation fell along with him; "all nature felt the wound." Through their connection with man the lower creatures were also dragged down, and "made subject to vanity." The fall wrote its record everywhere upon the page of nature. Eden vanished with innocence. No longer master of himself, man lost his sovereignty over external things. Nor will he regain this lost supremacy until he conquers himself. Paradise will be restored when the divine image in man is restored. The present disharmony in the world of nature shadows forth the present disharmony in the soul of man. We see beauty blighted, promise blasted; we hear jarring notes in the sweetest music alike in the natural and spiritual worlds, in the barren desert and fruitful garden, the poisonous and wholesome plants, the thorns and briars, flowers and fruits, the wild ravenous beasts and those which are tame and useful, the deadly reptiles, the edible fishes, arctic cold and sterility, tropical warmth and luxuriance, storm and calm, light and darkness-in all these we can trace faint images of the strange contradictions which we found allied in man's character. constant war which man wages with nature, and nature with man, is a picture of the double war of evil against the soul, and the soul against evil. The conquering of nature by man is a symbol of his power to conquer sin. The But if the world has shared with man in his fall, it has also shared with him in his redemption. This is a redeemed world. True, the full redemption for which it "groaneth and travaileth' has not yet come, nor can it come until the full redemption of man is brought in. The curse which has been lifted from the world, in so far as it is possible for God to lift it at present,the curse which is passing away wherever sin is subdued will, with the extinction of sin, pass away finally and for ever. The world will then be more glorious than it was before the fall. There shall be "new heavens and a new earth wherein dwelleth righteousness." This is God's world; the Bible is God's book. Both speak out the same truths. Both have to do chiefly with the revealing of God to man; but in the first place, and as a necessary means to that end, they have to do with the revealing of man to himself. (2.) More about God. spirit of which is God. The natural world is a vast letter, the |