friend going to college he once said, speaking of the importance of private prayer, "Don't be satisfied with praying morning and evening only; the interval between the exercises is, in that case, too long. Make a point of securing an intermediate opportunity, however short it may be, of visiting the throne of mercy." He was wont to speak strongly on the propriety of special prayer on special occasions, quoting that passage, "In every thing, by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known unto God." Many of us remember the earnestness with which, at these times, he addressed the throne of the heavenly grace. I well recollect that when I went to call on him, the day after I was ordained to his curacy, before any conversation took place between us, he led me into his study, and inviting me to kneel down beside him, he offered up a very fervent prayer in my behalf, in immediate reference to our connexion; after which he spoke with great seriousness, of the responsibilities of the ministerial office, and gave me much useful and salutary advice bearing upon the new duties on which I was about to enter. During his last illness, while he often uttered prayer for himself, nothing seemed to give him more satisfaction than to hear that many prayers were presented to God on his account. His last words to myself, the last time I saw him, were, “Pray for me.”

Again-During the nine years that I was his curate, I had ample opportunity to mark the leading features and the direct tendency of his preaching. It was very much directed to the conscience; and the force of his searching appeals was not lost in generalities, but was brought home, in close and pointed applications, to the several cases which he addressed. To one and to another he said, "Thou art the man." Indeed, so much was this the case, so keenly were the homestrokes of his preaching, at times, felt, that he was charged with what people are pleased to call "direct personality." In the objectionable sense of the term, however, he was never per

sonal; and, in answer to the charge, how many of us have heard him say, in his earnest and impassioned manner, "It is not your ministers who are personal, it is your own consciences." His sermons were all based on pure evangelical principles. The Gospel was the golden thread which ran through them, and which imparted to them their rich savour. Firmly he held, and faithfully he preached the doctrines of original sin, inherent depravity, justification by faith in the atonement and righteousness of Christ both God and man, and imparted holiness and progressive sanctification through the power of the Divine Spirit. At the same time, though his discourses grew invariably out of these fundamental principles, and derived their character from them, they were by no means confined to the elementary elucidation and application of them. They comprehended that wide range of topics which a close study of the Bible and the human heart, and an attentive observation of the state and proceedings of mankind, serve to throw open to the Christian preacher. Moral duties were largely dwelt upon; and Christian obedience, in its extended and minute ramifications, was amply discussed in his pulpit. He was a man of thought, and he gave his congregation the benefit of his thoughts. Hence the variety which pervaded his pulpit preparations. His sermons were as free from sameness as his voice was from monotony; and no one could say that he offered his people that which cost him nothing.

Such a minister and such a ministry could not fail to be owned by the great Head of the Church. His congregation was numerous, and many were the seals which were given him. The great day only will show the extent of his usefulness, and bring to light the high honours reserved for him as the spiritual father of a goodly spiritual seed. "They that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament, and they that turn many to righteousness as the stars for ever and ever."

THE fall of man from his original righteousness had for one of its principal causes, pride: a desire to reach a higher condition than that in which he was created. "In the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall be opened and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil:" was the successful seduction of the serpent.

Nor have the sufferings and humiliations under which the successive generations of our race have subsequently bowed, availed to subdue this besetting sin. From the murder of Abel by the jealous Cain, down to the crimes and follies of our own day, the great events of the world's history are little more than the varied workings of this master-passion. Whether viewed in the vast exploits of the conqueror by whom half a world has been convulsed, or in the silly conceit of some little tyrant of domestic life, it is still the same restless, selfish, heavendefying thing. Teaching a man to despise his neighbour, it lays the foundation for every crime: and fixing on him a conviction of his own super-eminent worth and wisdom, it hands him over to a pitiable state of moral blindness. Even his very virtues it pollutes, by making them the effects and the incentives of vainglory: though the work may be good in itself, the motive whence it springs often stamps it with the character of a sin. For, how often, through the influence of this vice, does a man neglect his common and obvious duties, in order to devote himself to some act of beneficence which may fix on him the gaze of the world: so true it is that "a man is much more willing to do more than his duty, than his duty."

That this vice is strongly denounced throughout the Sacred Scriptures, every reader of his Bible is well aware. Our blessed Saviour, when on earth, frequently and indignantly reproved it. "If ye were blind," he said to the haughty pharisees, “ye should have no sin: but now ye say, We see; therefore your sin remaineth;" and in the parable of the two men who went up to the temple to

pray, he gave a graphic description. of the heinousness of self-conceit in the sight of God.

As in every man, unrestrained by Divine grace, this passion rules in a greater or less degree, it may not be altogether useless to mention some reasons which show how imperative it is upon creatures constituted as we are, to be humble.

1. Man is a dependent creature. In God he lives, and moves, and has his being. The two most important events of his earthly condition occur without his concurrence. Over his

birth he has no control: and his death is, generally speaking, independent of his will. Sent into an unknown world, a naked, helpless thing, appointed to perform a certain part in creation, of which no outline is previously vouchsafed to him, forming a link in the long chain of humanity, of which the beginning is marvel, and the end mystery, can a man think with seriousness on his creation, his obscure destiny, his almost miraculous preservation from day to day, without being impressed with somewhat of the humility which so well becomes him? And so in the providential arrangements of his life, for how much is he dependent upon another! Those intellectual faculties on which he so congratulates himself, that bodily strength which seems able to defy disease, that flow of spirits which no danger can check, to what is he primarily indebted for these advantages but to the physical and mental organization which has been bestowed upon him? And should he have been raised to any station of eminence, by what a series of trivial circumstances may the elevation have been brought about; and what reason can there be to indulge in vanity for having obtained what the slightest change of circumstances might have given to another? Indeed, the very fact of an individual's having been singled out to be the recipient of blessings granted only to a few, instead of producing, as it so often does, vanity and arrogance, ought to produce a more than ordinary humility. What rea

son can one possessing a rightly-constituted mind, discover why he should be distinguished above others? Because he has done more? But whence did he obtain the strength to perform it? Who strung his frame to its requisite firmness? Who poured into his spirit that rich flow of ideas? Who suggested to him that fortunate thought which has proved the foundation of discoveries so glorious? What has he which he did not receive? Now if he did receive it, why does he glory as if he had not received it?

And as a man is dependent on another for his mental and bodily constitution, so is he also for the effects of its operations. His faculties are not bestowed on him merely for his own gratification. Often what a man does solely to appease his own selfish desires, effectuates an extensive usefulness which the good man has sighed in vain to bring about. Even wars, those lamentable exhibitions of brute force and ignoble propensities, have been overruled for the purposes of civilization and order. A lively French writer states that during an unusually low tide on the coast of France, the half of a bomb was found among the rocks, having in it marine plants and a living oyster. truth," he observes, "there is not a more terrible expression of the wrath of man than a bomb-that horrible box, in which he encloses a thousand cruel wounds and death, which rushes through the air, and, having reached its destination, bursts open, and vomits destruction. Well, upon this horrible instrument of destruction little herbs have sprung up, and an oyster-a just-animated stone-of all living things, the one which has the least of life-the emblem of calm and apathy -has fixed in it its dwelling.

"In

It is a striking and beautiful irony." Oh! it were ludicrous, were it not pitiable, to think of the toils, the plots, the vigils, the guilt, through which the proud votary of ambition proceeds to the accomplishment of

-the very

opposite of what he designed. While aiming to make of the earth a vast battle-field, or a theatre for the display of his own majesty, he has sometimes in reality been scattering upon

it the seeds of increased happiness and liberty; and the savage persecutor who thought to tread out the very life of religion, has given occasion to its greatest triumphs. Man, dependent in all his actions, in his every movement, on a superior Power, must effectuate the will of the Great Ruler of the universe, either willingly or in his own despite. Small occasion, surely, can there then be for pride, when the result of our best-considered actions is hid from us: and when on another depend not only the capacities we are to receive, but also the ends which they are to accomplish.

On

2. Man is a sinful creature. this point is it necessary to say anything? Those who have reached the highest point of purity permitted to man, will be the most ready to confess how very far is our fallen nature from that state of innocence which the instructed soul desires. And to the most sturdy assertor of his own integrity, the numerous moral aberrations which, he will admit, mark the conduct of many around him, must suffice to shew that the seeds of all evil exist in our nature, although they may not always be suffered to germinate. There is no one, we should conceive, but must be conscious of some one act of sin. one would think, that to a person aware of the heinous nature of every sin, the consciousness of that single deviation from rectitude ought to remain active within him, teaching him to forgive others, inasmuch as he himself is an offender, and leading him to bend in submission before that God who, though " of purer eyes than to behold iniquity," yet waiteth to be gracious to the penitent transgressor.

If so,

3. Man is a being enveloped in ignorance. He comes into the world relying upon others for instruction; and his ideas reach him through the corrupting channel of human imperfection. Even passing by the darkness which rests on a large portion of our species, and taking man in his highest state of civilization, we still find him involved in the contention and perplexity resulting from imperfect knowledge. What doubt and uncertainty even now attach to the

great questions that have ever agitated the human mind, but which God has not thought fit to reveal! The very questions which, centuries ago, distracted the intellectual inquirer are still being discussed, and their solution seems as far off as ever. Even among those who are denominated "the learned," absurdities often spring up, which startle those humbler individuals who lay claim only to the possession of common

sense.

The very discoveries of science, how much soever they may contribute to the comforts of life, only impress more deeply upon the thoughtful student the conviction of human ignorance and the little light which at length, after many failures, has been thrown upon a small portion of the universe, renders more apparent the territories of darkness spreading into infinity around it.

4. Man is mortal. The very thought that death must eventually be the lot of man, might, one would think, be sufficient to extinguish pride. What avails it that I exercise a little brief authority over others, when in a few years my head will be laid on a level with the lowest? Why should a man thirst so eagerly for the blood of his enemy? Let him wait but a short time, and his foe or himself will be dead. A man may to-day be surrounded with luxuries and wide possessions, his circle of friends be numerous, and himself, as he would fondly imagine, a person of importance and influence. In a few days he may be no more: and then, it is very probable, that the lamentations for his loss will soon be drowned amidst the contentions of survivors who are dividing what he has left, or should he have any real mourners, they themselves, even while they lament him, are hastening on to join him in the grave. The monarch, when he ascends the throne, is reminded of his mortality by the fact that he is taking the place of one whom death has snatched away, and therefore that he too will, in like manner, have to give place to a successor. "And Hezekiah slept with his fathers: and Manasseh his son reigned in his stead:" so runs the history of dynasties. While so dark

a barrier bounds earthly hopes and pursuits, what place can there be for pride? Strange! that a slight difference in condition should awaken haughtiness in creatures over all of whom Death is shaking his dart. What common-place truisms have we been uttering: and yet though everywhere admitted, how seldom are they laid to heart!

5. For the Christian, however, there exists a reason for humility, calculated to be far more operative than those we have alleged, namely, the teaching and the death of Christ. "Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus," is the apostle's injunction. And where can so marvellous a pattern of humility be found as in the Saviour? Humility was the characteristic of his life: humility he inculcated upon his followers, and to it he promised the highest rewards. He himself submitted for many years to lowly and obscure occupations: he hushed the voices that would have proclaimed his praises: he underwent privation and scorn: he suffered patiently torture and ignominy, and at last he "humbled himself and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross." And why? To save thee, O believer! to redeem thee from death, to open to thee the gates of heaven, to blot out the remembrance of those sins which so torment thee, and to robe thee in a purity in which Deity himself will behold no stain. Ought not, then, the blessings thus bestowed or promised the healing of a wounded conscience, the visions of heaven and immortality which open upon thee, brightening and increasing as thou gazest, like the stars of heaven before the eye of science, the feeling that thou art connected in indissoluble union, not only with the wise and good of every age, but also with the Eternal himself, the source of wisdom and happiness-ought not these blessings, far from awakening spiritual pride, to subdue thee to a humility in some little degree proportionate to their extent and thine own unworthiness?

The believer is not his own, he is bought with a price, and that price was the precious blood of the Son of God, How, then, can he arrogate to