and so clearly marked out in the gospel of his grace, until he bring you to the termination of your journey, and permit you to enter "the city of habitation?" Be assured of this, that there is no possible security for you without such a guide. How can you be conducted at all while seeking your way across the pathless desert, and while inquiring what course you should pursue to reach the kingdom at last, unless you are "looking to Jesus" to be your leader to the promised land?

Have you found Christ as a Refuge ?

A refuge, as a sinner, you absolutely require, and the refuge must be adequate and unfailing. Now the gospel, in all its doctrines and invitations of mercy, explicitly and invariably points to Christ Jesus as the refuge which infinite love has provided. The Saviour is the only safe covert, the only effectual shelter from the storm, from the fury of the tempest. Have you repaired earnestly and confidingly to this shelter? Christ Jesus is the only high tower and fortress where you can remain with security and in peace. Have you, as a sinner, exposed to fearful peril, fled to "this impregnable garrison"—this strong-hold which is provided for you? When you dwell on the requirements and denunciations of the Divine law; when you contemplate the justice of God, whose claims must be regarded and satisfied; when you consider the accumulated guilt and depravity which you have contracted, and by which you are debased and defiled, and the endless punishment of your ingratitude and rebellion against God which you have so deservedly merited, let me deliberately ask you, Where is your hope in the prospect of death, in the view of the grave, in the anticipation of an awful eternity, unless you find it in Christ? Where is your security, unless you derive it immediately from Christ? Is there anything to which you can cling with safety, with a conviction that all will be well at last, but the work, the finished and glorious work of the Saviour? Let me, then, urge and press the inquiry,—it is all-important,-Is this your refuge-your only, your abiding, your all-sufficient refuge? In the work of the Redeemer do you exclusively confide? In the boundless merits of Immanuel do you exclusively rejoice?

To find Christ Jesus as the Rock of Ages, in the clefts of which you may hide and obtain shelter, is everything to you now, and especially in the prospect of the solemn hour of death and all the realities and overwhelming terrors of the judgment-day.

Without Christ, what will you do then? What shelter will be afforded you? Where can you effectually conceal yourself from the sight and indignation of your Judge? Can there be any retreat, any concealment, any refuge?

Inexpressibly awful, inconceivably pitiable will be the case of him who has no effectual refuge in the eventful hour of death and in the day of changeless judgment, when the sentence of every sinner will be awarded, and when from that sentence there can be no appeal. Have you found Christ as a Sovereign?

Have you acknowledged him as the King of Zion and the King of glory? Have you kissed his sceptre? Have you rejoiced in his Divine and unlimited authority, and sworn entire and unceasing allegiance to his government? Does the Saviour reign within you by the influence of his word and the agency of his Spirit? Does he occupy the throne of your affections? Does he subdue your evil and unsanctified passions? Does he mortify your corrupt desires, and bring your nature into a state of cheerful and thorough subjection to his beneficent authority? It is of essential moment to be governed by these principles and to breathe this spirit in relation to the Redeemer; for, if you recognise Christ Jesus as your Sovereign, you will acknowledge him as the Lord of the universe-you will serve him at once and before any other being-you will cheerfully, and in the most unqualified manner, obey the laws which he has enacted for the accomplishment of his purposes and the glory of his name; and you will devote yourself to him most unreservedly for the advancement of his honour in the world. The glory of Christ the Lord will be dearer to you than your own soul, and you will only live to serve him and follow him; and the anticipation of dwelling with him for ever will diffuse through your spirit emotions of the purest satisfaction and of the most exalted joy.

Let me again inquire, Have you found Christ as a Redeemer, and as your Redeemer?

Has he saved you from death? Has he rescued you from hell? He bears the name of Jesus, the Saviour: has that precious name been applied with power and Divine sweetness to your soul? There is "redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, according to the riches of his grace." Have you secured that redemption by living faith in the Saviour? and is that full and free pardon bestowed on you which the Lord Jesus grants to every sincere believer, to every humble and penitent sinner? To find Christ as a Redeemer from the power of sin, from the curse of the Divine law, from the inflictions of Divine justice, and, eventually, from the appalling miseries of the eternal world, is unquestionably the greatest blessedness which any guilty and ruined child of Adam can possibly enjoy; and, indeed, is there, can there be any real blessedness without it? Dear reader, whoever you are, whatever your age, whatever the church with which you may be associated by profession, let me urgently ask, Is this blessedness yours? Have you any valid ground for concluding that you have found peace, pardon, and redemption at the cross? Is it your happiness to realize the truth and delightful character of the sentiment, after fixed and impartial meditation on yourself, and serious and absorbing meditation on the person and work of the Saviour,—

"I the chief of sinners am,

But Jesus died for me ?"

To find Christ as the Redeemer, and especially as your Redeemer,

as your Deliverer from "the wrath to come," will be "all in all" to you. It will constitute your life, your crown, your joy, your heaven. It will encourage in every duty; it will sustain under every burden; it will be a precious solace under every affliction; it will illumine with celestial radiance the chamber of suffering; it will brighten the passage which conducts to the tomb; it will tranquillize the spirit, even in the immediate anticipation of all the realities, so vast, so impressive, and so fearful, of the eternal world.

Let the writer, then, in conclusion, beseech you, under the influence of the compassion of the gospel, to reflect most seriously on the question proposed, "Have you found Christ?" Do not defer its consideration one moment. A prompt and decisive reply will be of transcendent importance to you. Everything in relation to your happiness and salvation depends on the manner in which you regard the inquiry that is urged. And, remember, if you are anxious to find the Saviour, you will find him. He will reveal himself to you. He will bless you with his love. He will grant you his Spirit. He will visit you with his salvation. If, however, you will not attend to the Saviour's communications; if you will not regard the claims of his gospel, the invitations of his mercy, the obligations of his dying and redeeming love, there is no hope respecting you. There is no other medium of reconciliation than that which the New Testament unfolds. There is no other way of escape than that which it announces. There is no other deliverer than that which it proclaims. If you reject Christ you must perish with all your sins upon your head-you must plunge at last into the abyss of misery and despair.

O"give not sleep to your eyes," discharge not another duty, spend not another moment, dear reader, without most seriously inquiring, and believing that this is the grand inquiry of life, and on which a peaceful and triumphant immortality depends—

"HAVE I FOUND CHRIST?"

May, 1846.

T. W.

POOR DINAH AND HER VISITOR.

POOR Dinah was one among the many (in a large district of a very poor and populous parish) of whom her visitor would gladly have known more, and for whom she would gladly have done more than she did; she was very poor, but honest and industrious-full of gratitude for the little temporal help afforded her, and never intruding on the kindness of those who had, she knew, so many to relieve. There is one thing I remind my poor neighbours when they are anxious for gifts which (however liberal our benefactors may be) cannot be extended to all; there is one thing of which there is enough for all-the grace, the free grace of God in Christ Jesus:

this poor Dinah obtained. She could not read; but from the blessing of God on her attendance at the weekly evening lecture, she became wise unto salvation; and whenever she could be spared, she would leave her work at the poor-house and come, though but for a few minutes, into the room where the visitor would be reading to the poor aged women, and listen to the sermon, or chapter, or hymn. Poor Dinah! the visitor has witnessed with thankfulness her deep and silent attention, and been glad to see one more added to the little group of listeners.

At the poor-house, while employed in washing there, she took the cold which laid the foundation of her last illness; but "Never mind," said poor Dinah, on her dying bed, "I'm glad of it now. My husband troubles about it; I tell him his loss will be my gain: our children will be as well off as other widowers' children.'

Hers was a simple faith: the name of Jesus was her delight. Once, when reading to her the first chapter of John's first epistle, I observed she listened with perfect silence to the two first verses; but when, in the third, the name which is above every name is mentioned, she uttered it likewise: this she frequently did in any hymn or scripture that was repeated.

There was great simplicity in her expressions. "I do not find my heart so heavy as I did," she said: "the more I pray the lighter it is." She stretched out her poor, wasted arm, and holding her visitor's hand in hers, said to her, “I took your advice: when you came to me first I knew no more about Jesus Christ than that door; but I went to church and school, and there I learnt." On the same day she said, "I am not afraid. He died for us; he shed his blood for us: he could do no more. I give him my whole heart-my blessed Jesus! my heavenly Father! all the comfort I have!"

Another time, when she said she was not afraid to die, she was reminded that our trust is in Jesus. She said, "Yes, all in him— all in him!" The tears were in her eyes, but her tone was quite triumphant. When I asked how she felt, she said, "Beautiful! I am going home: I am ready." "What makes you ready?" I said. She replied, "The Lord Jesus Christ." Yes, poor Dinah, he is all, and in all. He gives his Spirit to sanctify and make his people meet for heaven; but his Spirit does so by taking of the things that are his and showing them to his people. When the bell tolled for poor Dinah's humble funeral, it seemed to echo her words, "Good bye; we shall meet in heaven."

THE FRIAR AND THE NIGHT WHISPER.

WHILE Mr. Welch was minister in one of the French villages, one evening a Popish friar, travelling through the country, because he could find no lodging in the whole village, addressed himself to

Mr. Welch's house, and begged the favour of a lodging for that night. The servants informed Mr. Welch, who readily consented; but as he had supped, and family worship was over, he did not see the friar, but retired to his room. After the friar had supped, the servant showed him to his chamber, between which and Mr. Welch's there was but a thin deal partition. After the friar's first sleep, he was surprised with hearing a constant whispering kind of noise, at which he was exceedingly frightened.

The next morning, as he walked into the fields, a countryman met him, and, because of his habit, saluted him, asking him where he had lodged that night. The friar answered, "With the Huguenot minister." The countryman asked what entertainment he met with. The friar answered, "Very bad; for," said he, "I always imagined there were devils haunting these ministers' houses, and I am persuaded there was one with me this night, for I heard a continual whisper all the night, which I believe was nothing else than the minister and the devil conversing together." The countryman told him he was much mistaken, and that it was only the minister at his night prayers. "O," says the friar, "does the minister pray any?” "Yes," said the countryman,

66 more than any man in France; and if you stay another night with him you may be satisfied." The friar returned to Mr. Welch's house, and, feigning indisposition, begged another night's lodging, which was granted him.

After a while, Mr. Welch came down, assembled the family, and, according to custom, first sung a psalm, then read a portion of the Scriptures, which he briefly expounded, and then prayed in his usual fervent manner; to all which the friar was an astonished witness. At dinner the friar was very civilly entertained, Mr. Welch thinking best to forbear all questions and disputes for the present. In the evening Mr. Welch had family worship as in the morning, which occasioned still inore wonder in the friar. After supper they all retired, the friar longing to know what this nightwhisper was. He laid awake till Mr. Welch's usual time of night for rising to pray, when, hearing the same whispering noise, he crept softly to Mr. Welch's door, and there heard not only the sound but the words distinctly, and such communications between God and man as he knew not had been in the world. Upon this the friar waited for Mr. Welch to come out of his chamber, when he told him that he had lived in darkness and ignorance till this time, but was now resolved to give himself up entirely to Mr. Welch's teaching, and declared himself a Protestant. Mr. Welch congratulated him upon his better understanding, and exceedingly encouraged him; and it is said that he lived and died a true Protestant. This is a striking illustration of the spirit of the men of other days, showing how the flames of devotion have always been strong in proportion to those of persecution.

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