formalist that do this? May not God's own children do it?" Ah, reader! we know that God's own children do this. Alas! they do it too frequently. If they are believers in Christ, we are certain that they will be restored again; but we know not through what lengthened and severe chastening they may have first to go. Ah! they may have some new discipline appointed by God, for the purpose of restoring their souls, which will be much more painful than the overcoming of those difficulties would have been which they foolishly and sinfully have tried to avoid. We say, then, if you are a believer, you may depart from the way to the cross; but depend upon it, so sure as you are a believer, will God make use of some heavier cross, some more painful trial, to bring you back into the road again.

W. M. W.

"MY TIMES ARE IN THY HAND."

"My times are in thy hand," why should we dread
The changing scenes the future may unfold?
Why need we fear the unknown path to tread,
Since all events are by God's love controlled?

Whether bright hours of happiness we share,
Or round us dangers and afflictions rise;
Let us trust calmly in His tender care,
Who what would injure us alone denies.

Why should we tremble at the darkest hour?
Will not our gracious God, whose boundless love
Protects His people by His mighty power,
All needless sorrow from our path remove?

Yes, we are sure, whate'er we suffer now
Is for our highest good alone design'd;
Help us, O Lord, in humble faith to bow,
And make us to thy holy will resign'd.

We would not shrink from aught thy mercy sends ;
Rather with filial confidence we pray,

When it has work'd the good thy love intends,
Grant that the bitter cup may pass away.

But whether joy or grief our portion be,

In all the chequered scenes through which we move,
Still keep us, blessed Saviour, near to Thee,

And guide us safely to our home above.

A. M.

CHRIST THE SAVIOUR OF THE
INDIVIDUAL SOUL.

ONE tendency to evil against which Christians should steadily strive-and all the more earnestly, as it is one of which they are often unconscious-is found in their disposition to regard the system of truth as something outward to themselves, to be admired for its consistency and sublimity, and to be valued for its divine origin, and its inherent worth, and its importance to human beings, but not to be applied to their own souls. Even while they are

most desirous that its wonderful revelations should be accepted by others, they are apt to forget that it addresses its voice as really to themselves; that it is a practical system, applying to their own hearts; and that all its wealth, of promise and of grace, is open before them.

This is eminently true of the doctrine of Christ as an atoning Saviour, by whom we have redemption. Christians trust in Christ for this redemption. They know they can trust nowhere else. They are greatly exalted in heart and thought, by the sublimity of the fact, that He came from the heavens to do this work, which none but Himself was competent to accomplish.

The whole stupendous system of grace, devised of God amid the councils of eternity, revealed from the outset of human history with steadily progressive clearness to those whom He inspired, and finally executed by Christ through humiliation, and active obedience, and suffering, and death, under the view of the astonished and yet triumphant angels-this rises before them in inapproachable and divine grandeur, and they feel tremblingly anxious that all who are not of Christ should find repose in Him, and acceptance before God through the blood of His cross. But still they have not the consciousness, as they might have that Christ is their personal Saviour; that He has done all this for them, as individuals; that He truly bore their sins in His own body on the tree; and that they, as individual and immortal beings, are accepted and justified, and will be saved, through Him.

We say they might have this; for all that is requisite in order to it, if they believe themselves to be Christians, is simply that they direct the thought to this fact, and accustom themselves to feel it. It is not a truth of which they need to be persuaded. Intellectually, they admit it without hesitation. They only need to summon it distinctly before the soul, and to ponder at intervals those passages of Scripture which shed upon it a stream of light, and it will impress them of itself. Day by day, as they do this, and as with prayer they seek God's Spirit to show them more clearly the things of Christ, it will come to them as a fact, a wonderful reality, that they themselves, who have been in this life comparatively so short a time, and who are mingling so freely in its relations, are loved of Christ; that He has come to be their Saviour; that for their sakes He bowed Himself to our estate, and trod with weary feet the earth which He had first sent forth on its empyreal sweep; and bore indignity, and turned his cheek unto the smiters, and consented even to the agony of the cross;

and that for them He now, at God's right hand, makes intercession; that all their wants He bears upon his mind, and for their interests He consults.

Oh! could one ever be thoughtless of Christian duty and truth, if he felt this? Could any doubt distress the mind, or any fear darken, or any temptation effectually assail it, if it were thus established upon Christ? In its daily life, would it not shine almost as did its Saviour, when He was on the mount? Must not its love, with the dignity of a principle, assume the energy of a passionate tenderness? and must not its clear and certain trust, and its serene delight in Christ, and its great hope through Him of immortality, speaking in all its words, beaming upon its look, and shedding a wondrous beauty into its hourly life, be unto others the most persuasive arguments attracting them to the Saviour? Oh! that all speculative and general belief among Christians might rise into this practical and personal faith; not as being superseded by it-for the two are perfectly harmonious-but as being consummated in it, and attaining, through it, its perfect development. Then would new bliss be given to their life, and a new fervour to their love; their characters would be transformed more surely into the glory of the celestial, and the church would gain the elements of the noblest efficiency.

J. F. L.

THE WALK TO EMMAUS.

Ir was the first day of the week.

With holy splendour had that morning dawn'd
Upon the pall-like mantle, which the earth
For many long sad hours had worn; and now
The beams of the new-risen sun sent forth
A purer radiance and a softer breath,
To hail with joy redemption's finish'd work,
And to proclaim a new-born Sabbath.

The day sang joyously, as he advanced

From height to height, till, robed in light, the deep
Broad valley gave response to the glad lake
That gemm'd its fertile bosom-and forest,
Lake and valley, field and mountain top,
Rang with a thousand-voiced harmony.

Along the sloping hillside, on the road
Whose devious windings led to Emmaus,
With slow and thoughtful steps, two travellers,
With staff and scrip, now journey'd-heeding not
The jub❜lant song of birds from out the trees,
Whose branches, gently swaying o'er the path,
Gave back the half-heard murmur of the stream,
Upon whose bank grew gentle fragrant flowers.
Their thoughts and words were of Jerusalem,
Tow'rd which their backward eyes now frequent stray'd
To mark the sacred pile, whose snowy walls
Shone in the dazzling sunlight, but from which
The glory of the Holiest had pass'd.

Without the city's walls but three days gone,
Their eyes beheld the Master whom they loved,
Hurt with the scoff, the scourge, the thorny crown,
Led forth to cruel, ignominious death.

Recalling all the scenes of that last night,

While thus with solemn earnestness they talk'd,

While hope and doubt ran coursing through their hearts,

The Crucified himself drew near, and walk'd

With them. His godlike countenance they saw
With veiled vision-they knew not Jesus:

For awhile they travell'd on in silence

Of deep and anxious thought-the sounds of nature's Happy minstrelsy yet swell'd the air unheard.

At length the Unknown One address'd the lone
Disciples: "Wherefore are your faces sad-