its shores, as he was, that sooner or later he would reach the great Western continent.

We now want to know something of its inhabitants. As the sailor, when his telescope has revealed to him the dim outlines of some hitherto unknown island, lowers his pinnace, and, sailing cautiously and curiously towards it, tries to make out what manner of people it contains, so, now that we have gained a glimpse of heaven, we too must endeavour to learn what we can of its denizens. Oh, for eyes anointed with God's own eye-salve to see them!

We begin with the Highest-the most dread sovereign of heaven-God. Let us pause for a moment before we advance towards Him. For we must tread reverently and carefully. "Put off thy shoes from off thy feet," O reader, "for the place whereon thou standest is holy ground." "For who in the heaven can be compared unto Jehovah? who among the sons of the mighty can be likened unto Jehovah? God is greatly to be feared in the assembly of the saints, and to be had in reverence of all those that are about Him. O Lord God of Hosts, who is a strong Lord like unto Thee, or to Thy

faithfulness round about Thee?" There must be here no indulging of mere unsanctified curiosity no seeking to gratify a prying, prurient inquisitiveness. If, like Moses, we say, with all holy awe, to the Most High: "I beseech Thee, show me Thy glory," we must hear the same dread voice speaking to us which spoke ages ago to him: "Go down, charge the people lest they break through unto the Lord to gaze, and many of them perish!"

Of course there is a God. We are not concerned here with the proofs that there is. If we were arguing with an atheist it would be necessary to consider them, and we should have no lack of such proofs to submit to him. We should point him to the universe,—to this earth, with all its marvellous products and potencies, to the other worlds on worlds which the telescope reveals to us, to the myriads of beings which we see by the aid of the microscope, and we should ask who made all these? Every effect has a cause. Where is the great first cause of all these wonderful effects? Or we should ply him with the argument from design, of which we must never allow any specious philosophy to

rob us, and ask him to consider his own bodily frame, so fearfully and wonderfully made, with so many nice adaptations and exquisite adjustments, every organ perfect and complete, wanting nothing, and we should ask whence all this? Who designed it? Who fashioned it? Paley's watch found on the moor did not more certainly proclaim a watchmaker, by its manifest proof of design and contrivance and means adapted to end, than does the world proclaim a worldmaker, and man a creator, to the thoughtful and unbiassed mind. Napoleon I. was far from being a distinctively religious man, but the quiet rebuke which he administered to a group of his officers, on whom he came by surprise one night during the progress of the expedition to Egypt, as they sat on the quarterdeck of one of the ships of the squadron, conversing in tones evidently tinctured with the prevalent infidelity of France, proved that he had at least discernment enough to see the folly of the notion that all this great system of things has no cause. The story has been often told, but it will bear repeating. Striding into the midst of them, and pointing up to the moon

and stars, which beamed down upon ship and sea from a cloudless sky: "Gentlemen," he said, "who made all these?" It were well if many who profess to doubt or deny the existence of the great First Cause would allow themselves to hear and answer this simple question: Who made all these? "The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God," and surely a fool he proclaims himself to be by the very thought.

But we are not dealing with atheists just now, and it would take us away from our purpose to enlarge on the proofs of the being of a God. We "believe in God the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth." Believe? Do we not know that He is? Should we not as soon think of doubting our own existence as His? But now let me ask a question-You believe in God, you know He exists,-have you ever tried to form a mental conception of Him? I say a conception, not an image. You could not form an image or a picture of Him in But have you ever tried to think

your mind.

God - to conceive to yourself His mysterious Presence? Perhaps you say that, too, is impossible. Then eternal life is impossible. For "this is life

eternal, that they might know Thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom Thou hast sent." Certainly, complete knowledge of Him is impossible. The old question: "Canst thou by searching find out God? Canst thou find out the Almighty unto perfection?" must as certainly be answered in the negative now as it was in the days of Job. The finite can never wholly grasp the infinite: the creature need never hope fully to know the Creator. As soon might the fly, which creeps over the page which a Newton is studying, comprehend all the mighty problems which are passing through the philosopher's brain while he reads, as we, moving about here on the surface of this globe, expect to understand all the mind of God. But know Him we must. We cannot help conceiving Him in our minds in some way. Men have erred in forming material representations of Him which are, and must always be, not only sinful but absurd. "Forasmuch as we are the offspring of God, we ought not to think that the Godhead is like unto gold or silver or stone, graven by art and man's device" (Acts xvii. 29). But that is no reason why we should not form