which the light of the moon shall be as the light of the sun, and the light of the sun shall be sevenfold, as the light of seven days, in the day that the Lord bindeth up the breach of his people, and healeth the stroke of their wound. By an effusion of the Spirit on the seed sown, Christ can, and doubtless will, make the labors of one husbandman equal to those of thousands. What have our own days beheld, in Burmah and the Sandwich Isles ?

Such is the preciousness, such is the vitality of the missionary seed, that we should be hopeful in disseminating even a handful. In the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thy hand. Our province is ministerial: the increase is of sovereign grace. Not every blade of wheat comes to the ear; not every tract is read with the eye of faith; not every preacher turns the heathen from dumb idols. Yet, in the grand reckoning, the truth is working, and sometimes mightily. Who questions the fact that there is a deadly efficacy in firearms on fields of battle? Yet military calculators tell us, that not more than one ball in twelve thousand proves mortal, or strikes a human being. If the church were only putting forth a consentaneous effort, causing the good seed to fly over all nations, it is reasonable to believe that the world would soon behold singular and unexampled increase, from direct copious visitations of spiritual energy. Thy people shall be willing in the day of thy power, in the beauties of holiness

66

from the womb of the morning: thou hast the dew of thy youth."

blade, then the This end is ac

To communicate

If then it is truth, on which the Holy Spirit confers such vital and prolific virtue, we should be sure, in laboring for foreign lands, that what we sow is the very Word of God. In the missionary message, it is Christ which gives life and fructifies the toil. The nominal church has been bringing forth tares for centuries. An enemy hath done this. Amidst them all some seed has sprung up; first the ear, then the full corn in the ear. complished only by the truth. this, pure and entire, is nowhere more indispensable than in the field of missions. Among the multiform propositions of truth, those are most quick and powerful which lie nearest the heart and centre. doctrine of Christ, and him crucified, is the vivifying doctrine; the missionary germ. How long did the Moravian brethren plough and sow in vain, plying the Greenlanders with the ethics of Christianity! It was a lambent flame; true, but inefficacious; it kindled nothing. But when-as if by chance-they spake of the Cross, the frozen savages were in a glow-the arctic ice began to melt! It is the grand secret of Gospel labor, at home and abroad : but it is especially pertinent to the dissemination of truth over new ground. The question, What is the Gospel, is one of awful moment in this vernal period of the Church; and the Apostle Peter, addressing early

The

Christians, ascribes to this gospel the very characters of power and vitality, which have been asserted of it in the foregoing desultory remarks: "Being born again, not of corruptible seed, but of incorruptible, by the Word of God, which liveth and abideth forAnd this is the Word which by the Gospel is

ever.

preached unto you."

The First Missionary.

BY MRS. LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY.

KNOW'ST thou the Leader of that train, who toil The everlasting Gospel's light to shed

On earth's benighted climes?

Canst tell the name

Of the first Teacher, in whose steps went forth
O'er sultry India, and the sea-green isles,
And to the forest-children of the West,
A self-denying band,-who counted not
Life dear unto them, so they might fulfil
Their ministry, and save the heathen soul?

Judea's mountains, from their breezy heights
Reply," We heard him, when he lifted up
His voice, and taught the people patiently,
Line upon line, for they were slow of heart."
From its dark depths, the Galilean lake
Told hoarsely to the storm-cloud, how he dealt
Bread to the famish'd throng, with tender care,
Forgetting not the body, while he fed

The immortal spirit ;-how he stood and heal'd,
Day after day, till evening shadows fell

Around the pale and paralytic train,

Lame, halt, and blind, and lunatic, who sought

His pitying touch.

Mount Olivet, in sighs,

Spake mournfully-"His midnight prayer was mine, I heard it, I alone,-as all night long

Upward it rose, with tears, for those who paid

His love with hatred."

Kedron's slender rill,

That bathed his feet, as to his lowly work
Of mercy he went forth, still kept his name
Securely hoarded in its secret fount,
A precious pearl-drop!

Sad Gethsemane

Had memories that it falter'd to repeat,

Such as the strengthening angel mark'd, appall'd,
Finding no dialect in which to bear

Their wo to Heaven.

Even Calvary, who best

Might, if it would, our earnest question solve,
Press'd close its flinty lip, and shuddering bow'd
In silent dread, remembering how the sun
Grew dark at noon-day, and the sheeted dead
Came from their cleaving sepulchres, to walk
Among the living.

But the bold, bad host,

Spirits of evil, from the lake of pain,

Who held brief triumph round the mystic Cross,

Bare truthful witness, as they shrieking fled,