shut and bolted it, fastening the shutters again; and if it is Lydia, my dear, as you suppose, I shall pack her off to-morrow (that is to say if she comes back). A woman who can do like that shall not remain another day in my house; there is no saying how often she may have done the same thing before.' They both went back to their room; but, before getting into bed again, Mrs Lauriston, just to make sure that Lydia was not with Jean, went down stairs, but she found the old woman alone in bed, quietly asleep, so she did not disturb her. (To be continued.) THE TAMING OF THE SINNER. I HAVE been marking, for many years, the different ways in which God brings sinners to himself. He smites Saul to the ground, or He thunders at the door of the jailer, or He gently lifts Lydia's latch, and goes in. In all cases, both ancient and modern, I found that there was a combined application of firmness and kindness, or, as some would prefer to say, sternness and love. To-day I have found a first-rate illustration of this truth, which will interest the reader, and rivet divine truth upon the soul. It is but a newspaper paragraph; but many of them are fraught with divine lessons, did we but read them aright: He entered the ring, neighing fearfully, snorting and rushing sometimes at, and sometimes away from, the professor. Now he pawed the ground with impatience, and then flung out a hind hoof with a force which suggested to standers-by the expediency of keeping at a civil distance. His case was a perfect lesson, and was watched with intense interest. Mr Rarey at first approached his intractable pupil slowly, gently, but without fear, lecturing as he went along, and explaining the course of gentleness,' by means of which this proud spirit was soon to be brought to a state of submission. His left hand was on the strap, which peeped unobtrusively from the coat pocket, and his rightextended in the most conciliatory manner-in readiness for the preliminary caress. Cruiser the Second looked puzzled, then frightened, reared as if he meditated a sudden visit to the reserved seats, and then stood perfectly motionless. The master's eye was upon him, and his own quailed under the mesmeric influence. In a very few seconds, Mr Rarey was at his shoulder, the strap was on his foreleg, and the lesson commenced. The struggle that followed was probably as exciting and extraordinary an exhibition as was ever witnessed in a public theatre. There was no sham, no stage trick, no spell, no philter; it was a regular stand-up fight between the horse and the man-between strength directed by courage and intellect, and mere brute force, having only its sheer bone and muscle to depend on. Sometimes the maddened animal reared, and seemed as if about to crush the professor; sometimes he sank prone upon his crippled foreleg, and, with head stretched out, blew up columns of sawdust, by the violent respiration from the nostrils. Then he would make another desperate effort to rise, but only to be followed by another and more helpless prostration. He sweated, he panted, he quivered, his skin rose and fell in waves, under the strong agony, and his haunches were marked with deep corrugations, as he repeated his frantic attempts to break his, to him, mysterious bonds. But it was of no avail. The tamer, all through, clung so close to him, as to seem a part of himself. He never got excited, never lost temper, never missed a single opportunity of describing to the audience what he was doing, and why he did it. His gripe and pressure was as slow, regular, gradual, but as inexorable, as fate, until, at last, the poor animal surrendered at discretion, stretched himself at length upon the arena, and seemed to experience an exquisite sensation of relief as the reward of his entire and unconditional submission. The panting now gradually ceased, the muscles all became relaxed, and the limbs lay helpless in the professor's hands, as he knocked the hoofs together, or placed them successively on his own head, to show how perfect was his confidence in the subjection of the horse. After a few minutes' rest, the straps were taken off, and the pupil was allowed to rise, when it was curious to observe, that at first he kept his forelegs contracted, under the impression that the terrible ligatures still remained in their places. When he had completely recovered his equilibrium, Mr Rarey mounted on his back, and rode him slowly out of the ring, amid loud and general applause.' It is thus, bit by bit, that the sinner's will is broken, and he himself tamed, and brought into captivity to the obedience of Christ. The strap upon the foreleg-that is the first thing; a fever, a broken arm, loss of eyesight, or hearing, worldly adversity, a disappointment of the affections, a dear one's death;-these are some of the ways in which God comes into direct contact with his rebellious will. Thus the process goes on-law and love, love and law-till the will is broken, the soul subdued, the sinner tamed, and Christ enthroned upon His willing, submissive, loving heart. De Profundis Clamavi. ARDON, my Master, pardon for my weakness, E'en as a reed by the rough tempest shivered, Trembling, I bend before Thy chast'ning breath, And low within my heart faith's flame hath quivered, Till all seemed shadowed like the vale of death. I strive to walk the stormy wave, upheaving Thy promises like countless stars are shining; Come to my help, O Master! once, in sorrow, From the deep scars around Thy radiant brow. Come to my help, as once God's angels hastened Come to me quickly, ev'n as Thou hast spoken Now round the bruised reed Thy grace enwreathing, Walk Thou the wave with me, the tempest stilling; Beam forth, O Morning Star! in mercy glorious, With Thy day promise, from the troubled sky, Hold forth the fadeless crown and palm victorious. Thou, who hast fought and won, to cheer my eye. What means that strain, sweeter than angel's singing? Fear not, thou trembler, for thy prayer is heard.' I bless Thee now, in sobbings deep-I bless Thee, N the eleventh of March 1868, it | paint pleasing pictures of our inseparable re pleased her heavenly Father to lay her upon that bed of sickness from which she never rose; and when it was our painful task to make known to her that her little one had died during her illness, we were full of fear lest the evil tidings should plunge her into a sea of grief. When she perceived our fears as to how she would bear up under the trial, she remarked, My dear husband, do you think I could rebel against Christ? Did He not say, "Suffer little children to come unto me,' and shall I refuse Him mine?' She regarded this affliction as the loving hand of her Lord drawing her nearer to himself, that she might not rest content with holding the fringe of His garments, but nestle closely in His bosom of love. While meditating in this strain she several times repeated the lines: "There has whispered a voice, "Tis the voice of my God, I love thee, I love thee, Pass under the rod. Perhaps these pages may meet the eye of some fond parent agonised over the loss of a dear child, and refusing to be comforted. Oh! bereaved mother, grieve not because Jesus has taken your infant to be with himself. Have you not rather cause to strike the harp of praise, and 'mid your murmurings sing, 'Ere sin could blight, or blossom fade, This happy view of her affliction remained with the young mother, for, like John Bunyan, she had learned that it is the black clouds of sorrow which bring the refreshing rain, while white fleecy clouds of pleasure bring none. But the separation between the mother and her babe was only to last a little while, for, before many days had passed away, the doctors told us they had no hope of her recovery. When we made known to her this painful message, did it affright her? Oh, no! far from it. A bright smile spread quickly over her face, and she replied, So soon! Am I going home so soon! I feared our Father might leave me a long time here as I have done so little to glorify Him.' When spoken to about the state of her soul, she said, "That was all settled long ago. Thank God I am "PERFECT IN CHRIST!""" We then read to her Psalm xxiii., and tried to * From a little book, 'Perfect in Christ: or, the Happy Death of an Irish Christian.' Dublin: Irish Church Mission House. 1869. union on the margin of the 'Shining River,' which flows through Emmanuel's Land. A little after this she said, 'Send my love to my father's house, and tell them to meet me with Christ and God;' and then turning to her sobbing sisters, she continued: Why do you weep for me! You ought to laugh and sing;' and after another pause she added, 'There's but a step between us all and death.' Thinking that some of the songs of Zion would cheer her steps through the dark valley, we began the hymn, 'My Jesus I love Thee.' "Oh!' she remarked, 'don't sing of my love to Jesus-it has been so small. Sing of His love to us. There is nothing worth speaking of but the blessed- 'Shall we gather at the river Where bright angel feet have trod.' Here her voice failed, and the sweet music fled to heaven, and 'died among the stars.' Word more she never spake, but her blue eyes suddenly brightened with wonder and glad surprise, as if she had already caught a glimpse of the 'shining river' proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb. A heavenly smile illumed her death-pale face, her breathings ceased with an almost inaudible sigh, and then the bright light faded and withered from her eyes, for the Master had come and called for her. And as we knelt beside her lifeless clay we could only moan, 'Leave us not behind, sweet Jesus! but let down the chariot again.' While we thus gave way to our grief, a host of little birds clustered beneath the open window, and made the death-chamber ring with melody; and as we heard their joyful notes our souls mounted beyond where the lark was warbling to the rising sun, and we seemed to hear our darling's voice singing: 'Unto him that loved me, and washed me from my sins in his own blood, to him be glory and dominion for ever and ever. Amen.' T Words in Season. BIBLE THOUGHTS. HIS is Paul's acknowledgment of the true God in the midst of Gentile idolators, and amid the uproar of the Mediterranean tempest. It is like Jonah's in the ship of Tarshish. Its meaning is, I am God's property and God's servant; I belong to Him and I serve Him; I am not my own but His; in body and soul, in life, and strength, and faculties, I am God's.' Solemn words! But the words of the few not of the many. Yet they ought to be the words of all. Less than this none of us ought to say. Till we come to this we are all wrong; our being is out of sorts; our existence is unreal; our souls are dark and wretched. Paul here speaks : 1. Decidedly. He is no waverer; no halter between two opinions. He has made up his mind. He is thoroughly decided. He speaks as one who has made his choice. 6 2. Certainly. He interposes no if,' or 'perhaps,' but speaks as one who knows his relationship to God. Of doubting he knows nothing, but only of certainty. less than this will do. Nothing short of this is religion. This is God's demand upon us. It is His right, His due. He expects this at our hands. This is our proper position. It is the manly and upright, as well as the Christian one. Neither Christ nor conscience can be satisfied with any other. Nor does even the world expect less. Indecision, oscillation, and heartlessness will not do. Compromise will not do. Lukewarmness will not do. Formalism will not do. In everything relating to God there must be reality, sincerity, completeness. The whole heart must be there. There must be no hollow religion. God will not have it; and our own hearts resent it as misery. Yes, it is misery. To be neither our own nor God's, neither Christ's nor the world's, neither religious or irreligious,—this is misery. The heart aches with its own hollow ness. It will not do. Oh let your religion be real, if you care to have religion at all! To be real it must begin with reconciliation. Peace with God must be the foundation. We preach the reconciliation through the cross and blood, that if it be all yet to begin, it may be begun now! Christ is our peace! Oh enter into peace through Him! Give yourselves to God. Give your affections to God. Give your soul and body,―your all to Him; and know Him and speak of Him as the God whose you are and whom must 3. Calmly. These are not the words of excitement or fanaticism. There is an unutterable calmness and simplicity about them. I am God's, and I serve Him! What peace have been filling his soul as he uttered them! 4. Joyfully. They are the words of one exulting in the consciousness of this divine relationship, this sure and blessed connection between the living God and himself. His is the joy unspeakable and full of glory. 5. Earnestly. His is religion in earnest. With him all connected with God is a profound reality. It is this that makes him so much in earnest; so that even in his simplest words the pent up fervour breaks forth. Such is our model! Though we be not apostles we are to take our stand here. Nothing * More exactly it should be rendered, there stood by me this night the angel of THAT GOD, whose I am and whom I serve.' How solemnly must these words have sounded in the ears of the Roman soldiers and Egyptian sailors, and the passengers from the various heathen nations around! you serve! When thus reconciled, we learn to exult like Paul, in our heavenly relationship and happy service, what different beings we become! Not our own, but God's! How this isolates us from the crowd, individualizes, ennobles us! Not our own but God's! Then all we are and do, and speak, becomes divine! We can do no common, no trifling thing. All we engage in is elevated, glorified, sanctified! Oh let us learn this high nobility of being; this heavenly elevation of life, and of all that belongs to life. Repeating to ourselves, 'the God whose I am and whom I serve,' we press forward in our course, nerved for duty and for trial. Repeating to others, the God whose I am and whom I serve,' we give a sufficient answer to all the words or arts of temptation, by which men seek to make us compromise our character, and become faithful to our calling and service. 1 D THE LOVELY SONG, AND THE JOYFUL SOUND. BY THE REV. JOHN COX. ID you ever think of the great dif- | ference there is between hearing the Gospel as a lovely song, and knowing it as a joyful sound? If not it will be wise to study this distinction, and to inquire which is your case. Let us begin, then, with looking attentively at two passages of Scripture, Justice and judgment are the habitation of thy throne, mercy and truth shall go before thy face. Blessed is the people that know the joyful sound; they shall walk, O Lord, in the light of thy countenance. In thy name shall they rejoice all the day; and in thy righteousness shall they be exalted.' (Ps. lxxxix. 14, 16.) And lo, thou art unto them as a very lovely song of one that hath a pleasant voice, and can play well on an instrument; for they hear thy words, but they do them not. And when this cometh to pass (lo, it will come), then shall they know that a Prophet hath been among them.' (Ezek. xxxiii. 32, 33.) The present period is 'a day of good tidings.' There is more preaching and hearing than at any former time. There is no doubt much good preaching and right hearing, but there is reason to fear that many are 'hearers only,' who do not know the joyful sound. They are pleased, but not profited; satisfied, but not saved. Just look for a moment into two places, and consider what is going on. In one a young lady is sitting at the instrument, and singing a plaintive melody; her listening and admiring father is the only auditor, and though he has heard the same strain many times before, and knows every note and word thereof, it is still to him a lovely song.' In the next house is an anxious father standing at the window, looking out for the postman. He expects a letter from Australia, one of great importance. The postman is on the steps, and the watcher flies to the door. It is the very letter he expected. He quickly opens it, and in a moment catches sight of the words 'better; all will be well we hope.' The crisis of a very dangerous illness of some dear one is over. Ah! that is a joyful sound' to him. Great is the difference between these two, and still greater is the difference between an approving hearer who loves the world, and one who finds God's word, and eats it.' Now, look again at the two passages cited. I need not ask you in which of these cases you desire at last to be found; but there is need to 25.-45. ask in which you are found now. In the first of these passages we see mercy's complacency in its trophies; and in the second, mercy's complaints over triflers. All are triflers who are not willing to be trophies; but the worst of triflers may become the greatest of trophies; but then there must be earnestness, such as the value of the soul, the excellency of truth, and the awfulness of eternity demand. The trophies of mercy, the favourites of heaven, are those who know the joyful sound,' whose hearts are in true sympathy with God's truth, who have an inward ear to delight in heavenly harmony. And what is this joyful sound? It is a revelation of the God of all grace inviting, of God in Christ reconciling. It is the glorious glad tidings of the blessed God,' even an assurance that He is 'ready to forgive, and rich in mercy to all that call upon him.' On a beautiful spring morning how full is creation of joyful sounds. The air, the earth, the trees, the streams, the birds, the insects, all are full of joyousness. But more full is God's word of the gladsome sound of joy and peace. The types, the prophecies, the invitations, the promises, the utterances of Jesus when on earth, and the words which He speaketh from heaven, the large loving words of the Holy Spirit by the apostle, how full of glad tidings of great joy.' Every thing in creation and in daily life is laid under tribute to find illustrations to set forth these joyful tidings of pardon, peace, relationship, yea, of all blessings, spiritual and eternal, for the guilty, the vile, the debased, the lost. And what is it to know this joyful sound.' It is to know it in its authority, as a voice from God's throne demanding attention; to know it in its lovingness, as an utterance of God's heart, that may safely be trusted. Then it will be known in its power-subduing, melting, transforming. Such things as these are not done all at once, nor ever completely done while here: the processes are still going on, until grace changes into glory. Such know, so as to distinguish the joyful sound from all human inventions or substitutes. The sheep will not follow strangers. They know and also love; receiving the love of the truth they are saved.' They know and obey. The joyful sound lures them onward in the right road, even in the |