And when he found himself alone,
He quick removed the clay,
And raised the coffin in his arms
And bore it quick away.

Straight went he to his mother's cot
And laid it on the floor,
And with the eagerness of joy
He barred the cottage door.

At once he placed his mother's corpse
Upright within her chair,

And then he heaped the hearth and blew
The kindling fire with care.

She was now in her wonted chair,

It was her wonted place,

And bright the fire blazed and flashed,
Reflected from her face.

Then bending down he'd feel her hands,
Anon her face behold;

Why, mother, do you look so pale-
And why are you so cold?

And when the neighbors on next morn
Had forced the cottage door,

Old Sarah's corpse was in the chair,
And Ned's was on the floor.

It had pleased God from this poor boy
His only friend to call;

Yet God was not unkind to him,
For death restored him all.

THE SLEEPING MARTYR.

Some of our readers have seen the beautiful and touching print of the martyr asleep, before his combat with the lions. The gaoler coming to open the door, which reveals the vast crowd awaiting in the amphitheatre; the lions fierce with hunger, thirsting for blood; the calm, celestial peace on the face of the Christian. yet asleep, so soon to be a martyr! No words could express more forcibly the calm repose of holy peace-that peace which gives such boldness in life and fearless faith in the prospect of a cruel death.

Ridley, the martyr, felt thus. When his brother offered to remain with him the night before his martyrdom, the bishop declined, declaring that "he meant to go to bed, and sleep as quietly as ever he did in his life." And to Mrs. Irish, who was shedding tears, he tenderly spoke, and bade her be composed, saying, "though his breakfast would be sharp and painful, yet he was sure his supper would be more pleasant and sweet."

A DRUNKEN KING IN HARNESS.

BY THE EDITOR.

He wielded great

Ben-hadad, King of Syria, was a corrupt, cruel man. power, which made his cruelty the more appalling. Thirty-two Kings, with their horses and chariots, fought for him. These, however, were simply Sheikhs, or chiefs of their respective tribes, and not Kings in our sense of the term. The Syrian King marshalled his host around Samaria. In the city thus besieged, sat King Ahab, a trembling idolator. Benhadad has him seemingly in his power. He sends messengers to the Samarian King demanding his gold and silver, his wives and children. After these are promised to him, he demands more. Ahab replies, tell Benhaded: "Let not him that girdeth on his harness, boast himself as he that putteth it off." This wounded the pride of the Syrian King. As he is revelling among his cups, Ahab's message is delivered to him. Drunken with pride and wine, he flies into a rage, and orders his army to prepare for an attack upon the city. Just then a prophet comes to Ahab, promising help and victory from the Lord. Thereupon "the young men of the princes of the provinces," delivered the besieged city from its despotic foe.-1 Kings: xx.

And

These two Kings have little to commend them. Both are idolators; both corrupt, and drunken with the blood of inuocence. Ahab was no better than his antagonist. In word and deed he was a bad man. yet even he can teach us a solemn truth. For God sometimes speaks through very unattractive and unworthy organs. Sometimes the ass must teach his rider; and the devil in the man possessed must tell a selfish and curious crowd, following Christ for the loaves and fishes, that he is "the Son of the Most High God."

In ancient warfare a harness or armor was used to protect the warrior. When the army was set in battle array, every warrior would put on his armor-his sword, breast-plate, helmet shield, girdle, sandals, &c. If he lacked any one of these, he fought under great disadvantage. Certain parts of the armor were connected by joints. If these were not carefully united the warrior's life was thereby imperilled. It was thus that Ahab afterwards lost his life by a Syrian arrow. "A certain man drew a bow

at a venture, and smote the King of Israel between the joints of the harness, wherefore he said unto the driver of his chariot. turn thine hand and carry me out of the host, for I am wounded. And the King died at even."-1 Kings: xxii.

Paul compares the Christian to a warrior. He urges the Christians at Ephesus to "put on the whole armor of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil." And then he tells them how to take up one piece after another-the girdle, breast plate, sandals, shield, helmet, and sword.

A good armor in itself cannot gain the victory for a warrior. He must know how to use it. It is one thing to put it on before the battle. It is quite another thing, when having used it bravely and well, to take it off after the victory, covered with marks from the arrow points, and battered

by deadly missiles. Ben-hadad put on his armor bravely, and boasted proudly of his unachieved triumph. But there is reason in Ahab's hint: "Let not him that girdeth on his harness, boast himself as he that putteth it off."

THE GUARDIAN is especially designed for the young. For those who have but lately put on the Christian harness. Many of our readers were confirmed during the last Easter season; many a year or two previous. They have entered the army, and are battling for Christ. A thousand dangers beset them in this conflict. And the greatest of all is the boasting of Ben hadad. A newly harnessed soldier is in danger.

He is tempted to rely unduly upon his harness. To expect his armor to exempt him from vigorous exertion. Heretofore he has lived out of harness. Has never had his limbs encased in steel. Here and there he has had little scuffles with a single foe. Every stroke hit him on the bare, unprotected flesh. But now he fights behind a shield and breast-plate. Against these the fiery darts will be hurled in vain.

Perhaps so. Yet there is always danger in a new armor on an undrilled soldier. His body is not used to that sort of incumbrance. The heavy steel hangs awkwardly on his limbs. It hampers his step; it hinders his action. He runs clumsily. And ten chances to one he will stumble in the heat of battle. And stumbling is a serious matter just there and then. The limbs must learn to adjust themselves to the armor; must learn to walk and work in it. Otherwise it is worse than none at all.

Thus is it with the Christian warrior just entering Christ's army. While a child of the world he occasionally tried to resist the devil, but always got the worst of it. His heart was unprotected by grace. Every attack left its scar; every effort to lead a godly life, out of Christ, brought the cruel blows of the wicked one upon him. But now he has put on the Gospel armor, and he thinks he is safe. He fancies himself fighting behind the entrenchments. But the Christian's fight is in the open field. He cannot gain his crown by dodging about behind earthworks. And in the field he needs his armor.

Now to the beginner this is a new thing, and sometimes an awkward thing. At first there is a certain kind of novelty in the Christian profession. New responsibilities, privileges, and duties, are not unpleasant to a heart aglow with its first love. But by and by the novelty wears off. The warmth of early zeal cools down. Our duties become stern; our privileges insipid and stale We chafe in the harness. What a relief to throw the heavy armor off! And bound along one's pathway untrammelled by such a burden. This drilling routine-this church-going-this resisting of the devil, Bible reading, praying, watching, saying no to attractive temptations, suffering the loss of dangerous comrades whose society we crave; this serving, worshipping, following Christ, on common occasions, in the common every-day walks of life, is a burden, for many grievous to be borne. Ben-hadad's boast threw him off his guard. He is ready for battle. His warriors are equipped. They have good harness, helmets, swords, and breast plates, of soundest steel, and shields of strongest hides. Are they not all protected and prepared? What hurt can Ahab, with his starving nation, inflict on such an army? The Syrian host feels safe in its new harness. Ben-hadad takes to his cups.

Such boasting is perilous. It is the false self-reliance of a promising

beginning. Such had the people of Jericho, whose strong city was taken by the blowing of ram's horns, and the huzzas of a brave people.

In the plain of Jezreel, the battle field of Palestine, lay the Midianites and Amalekites, "like grasshoppers for multitude-their camels without number, as the sand on the sea-side for multitude." They had boasted of their numbers and strength, and for a while prevailed against Israel. On a neighboring mountain dwelt a brave son of Manasseh. On a certain summer's night he descended from the mountain with three hundred men. Brave men these were, carefully picked, each having a trumpet in one hand, and an empty pitcher with a lighted lamp in it, in the other. When the three hundred blew their trumpets and broke their pitchers, flashing the fire of their shattered lamps in all directions, a panic ensued, and "the Lord set every man's sword against his fellow," among Israel's foes. A panic saved Ahab. Ben-hadad was drunk. His harnessed warriors were already boasting of the easy victory they would achieve. A sudden attack threw them into confusion and defeat.

All this is but a type of individual experience. The beginning of our Christian life-the season immediately after confirmation, is by no means the most free from danger. Our Saviour was led into the wilderness and tempted of the devil, immediately after His Baptism and the descent of the Holy Ghost upon Him. It was at the beginning of His earthly ministry. By this awfully solemn trial of Christ, we are taught when to be most on our guard. After the feast comes the storm-the furious waves of trial.

In a desert place not far from the sea of Galilee, between five and ten thousand people are seated on the grass, eating a scanty meal. Five loaves and two fishes are so multiplied by our Saviour, as to furnish enough food for the whole multitude. "They did all eat, and were filled, and they took up of the fragments that remained, twelve baskets full." This was a great triumph for the disciples. Partly because their hunger had been appeased, chiefly because their Master showed the multitude, by this miracle, that He was the Son of God. They dream of the speedy triumph of His cause. Now, surely, all men will believe in Him. He will ascend the throne of His kingdom, and they shall be the great ones, the nobility of His dominion. Soon they will no longer need their nets and fishing boats.

That night, while Christ had gone into a mountain, apart to pray, a storm overtakes the disciples on the sea. Their boat is in the midst of the sea, tossed with waves." Through the darkness they behold the Saviour walking towards them over the angry billows. As soon as His sacred feet touch the ship, the wind ceases. Thus, after souls are fed and full, the billows rise and roar. When the harness is put on, the soul is tempted to boast.

On a certain occasion Paul had a strange, sweet foretaste of heaven. He was caught up into Paradise, and heard unspeakable words, which it is not lawful for a ma to utter. But scarcely had he returned to earth, e'er there was given to him a thorn in the flesh, the messenger of Satan to buffet him, lest he should be exalted above measure. He prayed for deliverance. Grace sufficient was given him, but the thorn remained. It is the old story; the temptation after the descent of the Holy Ghost; the storm after the calm; the buffettings of Satan after heavenly joys.

The new convert is all astir with new life and new love. The continuous and prayerful study of the Scriptures, and the many devotional services he attended for six months past, have kindled in his heart a life, such as he never knew or felt before. And then the awful solemnity of his confirmation; the joy ineffable of his first communion. Is not he, too, caught up into Paradise? Surely it shall always be thus. Here will he remain "Lord, it is good to be here. Let us build three tabernacles." True, others have had like feelings and faith, and have yet deserted the ranks. But he never will. Is thy servant a dog? One thing is certain,

"That long as life itself shall last,
Himself to Christ he'll yield;
Nor from his cause will he depart,
Or ever quit the field."

On

So he thinks, and so he intends. How will he use his harness? On that depends the issue of the battle. While Christ is transfigured, and the light of heaven envelops Him and His disciples in a sheet of glory, a father and his lunatic son wait for Him at the foot of the mountain. his descent the Saviour has compassion on him, and casts out the devil! Alas! that children possessed must howl around the grassy slopes of Tabor. The descent from the confirmation altar to the place of the fallen is short and steep, and many there be that go down thereon. Blessed are such of these who seek to place themselves along our Saviour's path, and sincerely plead for mercy.

God performs all He promises. But we do not. He equips the penitent believing soul for the battle. But, however good the harness, victory only belongs to the brave,-to those who continue fighting in the ranks, who faithfully use the means of grace, and improve its strength for God's glory. Herein many fail, and failing, fall forever. They dream of a duty performed, which will secure their salvation beyond a hazard. The grace received by uniting with the Church will suffice, once for all. Henceforth prayer, communion, study of the Scriptures, may be attended to at random and at leisure, but not as indispensable to salvation. Soon all these graces famish, and with them their desire for worship, and their spiritual enjoyments. From all directions comes up the sad refrain-up from the foot of the mountain:

"Where is the blessedness I knew

When first I saw the Lord?
Where is the soul-refreshing view
Of Jesus and his word?

What peaceful hours I then enjoy'd!
How sweet their memory still!
But now I find an aching void
The world can never fill."

The use of the harness is a warfare against one's earlier habits. We must unlearn and relearn many lessons. How much easier to throw it aside, and walk and work without it! For a short respite, it is perhaps laid off. But just then it may be most needed. For after all, the Christian warrior fights not only in strong compact columns, but often single