the only living and true God. Why should not we pay our homage to Him, as well as they their insensible homage to their more insensate idols? It is a privilege in which he has made us to differ from them, that we know him, and Jesus Christ, whom he has sent; and well may we feel it a privilege to express our adoring and grateful thoughts of him, acknowledge his claims, make confession of our sins, implore his mercy, and utter the memory and the praise of his great goodness. It were truly a beautiful sight to see a ship's company thus devoutly honoring the God of heaven. It is an affecting thought to think of, and dwell upon,-that the Great God, before whom angels bow and devils tremble; the King eternal, immortal, and invisible, condescends to accept this homage from creatures who have so offended him, and who flock here around his footstool! There is a holy and heavenly delight in such a privilege as this. There are new and happy emotions within us in the enjoyment of such seasons, and there are outflowings of those emotions towards God and man.

The moral and spiritual influence of the Sabbath at sea is such, that every thoughtful mind will value it. It assembles those who are remote from better opportunities, to listen to the instructions of God's word; instructions that are alike suited to the wise and the unwise, to the prince and the sailor-boy. Many a ship that sails the ocean has been the chosen theatre of marvellous displays of his grace. The hearts of seamen are in his hands, as well as the hearts of landsmen. It is written in his word, that "the multitudes of the sea shall be converted unto him." Here, as well as elsewhere, he makes men wise to salvation. He opens the eyes of the blind, and makes them see; he opens the

ears of the deaf, and makes them hear; he awakens the fears of the stupid, and makes them afraid; he softens the hearts of the stubborn and obdurate, and makes them feel. Many a Sabbath at sea has carried light and conviction to the consciences of the bold and stout-hearted, thrown them into the gall of bitterness, and made them feel the bonds of their iniquity. And here, he who thus wounds, also heals; he who kills, also makes alive. The Reprover becomes the Comforter; those who are thus cast down are led by him to trust in his grace. We have strong hopes of the conversion and salvation of seamen. The vilest among them is not so corrupt and degenerate, as to be beyond the hope of repentance and recovery. "Whosoever will, may take of the waters of life freely."

To those whom we have left behind us, the house of God is a refuge in the time of trouble. It is a sacred asylum; a place of protection; a shelter from the storm and a covert from the tempest. Seamen are sufferers as well as other men. They are used to suffering; and though it be uncomplaining suffering before men, many a tear trickles down the cheek of the hardy mariner when he is alone, and no eye sees him but God's. A Sabbath at sea is a delightful relief to the sailor, who is the child of misfortune and of sorrow. Trouble sometimes rushes in upon him like mighty waters; it drives him from his much-loved home, and his native shores, to seek a refuge amid the solitude of the wide ocean. He may have been the thoughtless and guilty cause of his own sufferings. And how well timed the relief, to find amid the quietude and subduing privileges of a Sabbath at sea, a little Bethel, where, with one of old he may say, "Why art thou cast down,

O my soul, and why art thou disquieted within me? Hope thou in God; for I shall yet praise him who is the health of my countenance, and my God!"

The seaman often has a heavy and a broken heart, because lover and friend are put from him, and his acquaintance into darkness. He may be friendless and poor; or sickness may debilitate, and pain agonize him, and he may look towards the dark ocean as his grave. How sweet and soothing are the influences of this day of heavenly peace and mercy to such a man! and how, when such, or other adverse providences overshadow him, is he counselled to bear in mind that "These light afflictions are but for a moment," and that if rightly and religiously improved, they "work out for him a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory!" It is well, when we suffer, that we should feel that the hand of God is upon us, and that he is angry with us for our sins; but it is also well that we should feel that he is a "refuge for us, and a very present help in trouble." And this is one of the chief lessons of the Sabbath, whether at sea, or on shore. It is a sign of peace, an emblem of God's mercy to the suffering and lost, a standing sign and proof, returning once in every seven days, of the finished work of that Great Redeemer, who is the helper of the helpless, and who says, with such unutterable tenderness, "Come unto me, all ye who are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." The cup of adversity goes round, and no class of men are exempt from tasting it. Some drink deeper of it than others; days of sighing and grief, and wearisome nights are appointed to them. And when God thus smites us, it is vain to boast that we care not for it. There is no reason, no religion, no courage in this. But there

is courage, there is religion, there is reason, in looking to God, in trusting in God when he smites us. "Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him!" We cannot hope too much from God. At what time I am "afraid, I will trust in thee !" O what a sweet and holy serenity often comes over the mind, as it is agitated with apprehension, and as it looks out on the blackened skies, and knows not how soon the storm will burst, or where the bolt will fall! The Sabbath at sea invites us to this repose. Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep. The Lord is thy keeper, the Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand. The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil; he shall preserve thy soul. The Lord shall preserve thy going out, and thy coming in, from this time forth and for evermore."

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There is still another claim which the Sabbath has upon seamen. They, like other men, are bound to live to some good purpose in the world. None of us," saith the apostle, "liveth to himself." Wherever they go, whatever seas they traverse, whatever islands they touch at, and to whatever ports they are bound in Heathen, Mahomedan, or Christian lands, it should be their great object so to conduct themselves, that their influence shall be for good, and not for evil. Alas! how much evil have seamen done in our world! "The harp, and the viol, the tabret and the pipe, and the wine have been in their feasts," and they have "regarded not the works of the Lord, nor considered the operations of his hands." That great and dreadful name, THE LORD THEIR GOD, they have treated with impious irreverence; and with solemn oaths and blasphemy, they "have set their

O my soul, and why art thou disquieted within me? Hope thou in God; for I shall yet praise him who is the health of my countenance, and my God !"

The seaman often has a heavy and a broken heart, because lover and friend are put from him, and his acquaintance into darkness. He may be friendless and poor; or sickness may debilitate, and pain agonize him, and he may look towards the dark ocean as his grave. How sweet and soothing are the influences of this day of heavenly peace and mercy to such a man! and how, when such, or other adverse providences overshadow him, is he counselled to bear in mind that "These light afflictions are but for a moment," and that if rightly and religiously improved, they "work out for him a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory!" It is well, when we suffer, that we should feel that the hand of God is upon us, and that he is angry with us for our sins; but it is also well that we should feel that he is a "refuge for us, and a very present help in trouble." And this is one of the chief lessons of the Sabbath, whether at sea, or on shore. It is a sign of peace, an emblem of God's mercy to the suffering and lost, a standing sign and proof, returning once in every seven days, of the finished work of that Great Redeemer, who is the helper of the helpless, and who says, with such unutterable tenderness, "Come unto me, all ye who are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." The cup of adversity goes round, and no class of men are exempt from tasting it. Some drink deeper of it than others; days of sighing and grief, and wearisome nights are appointed to them. And when God thus smites us, it is vain to boast that we care not for it. There is no reason, no religion, no courage in this. But there