word and God's grace, with which we may strike the fire that shall save us, but we must do it quickly, or the fire will be on us, over us, within us, around us. We may hear its roar, its thunder; we may see its lurid glare. We may possibly think it is yet distant, but it comes with incredible swiftness, and wo to those whom it overtakes in the stubble of their sins. They are brought into desolation as in a moment; they are utterly consumed with terrors.

Now suppose that in reference to the world to come, and the fires of retribution there, we were placed like that Missionary, with only two more opportunities of escape remaining; just as he, on opening his box, found to his alarm that there were but two matches left. Would there be any time to be lost? But we are merely supposing what all the world over, beneath the light and offers of the gospel, is a reality, continually, with some. With whom, by name, is a matter of perfect uncertainty to us, but not to God. But suppose it were our case. Suppose we had come to our last opportunity, and the fire roaring upon us, what is to be done? Can we stop the fire, turn it back, put it out, or cover ourselves with a garment that shall be proof against it? Who is he that can do this but God only, God in Christ, God our Saviour? Who else can forgive sins but he only? Who can pluck from the soul one rooted sorrow, or in the least minister to a mind diseased, but he, the Great Physician of the soul? It is upon him that we must cast ourselves, and thus only can we be safe. Our very anxiety is such sometimes that in a case of extreme danger we hardly know what to do with our very opportunities. And the soul under conviction of sin is sometimes like a theatre on fire with the doors opening inward, but the terrified inmates, in their very anxiety to escape, pressing against them and closing them irrecoverably. Just so our souls, under sentence of God's holy law, are full of fiery accusing thoughts, and we press against the doors of deliverance, and Christ only

can open them. But he opens them to faith, and puts out the fires, and saves us. Nay, he gives us the faith first, puts it into our bosoms, as a key, just as Christian found the Key of Promise that could open every lock in Doubting Castle, kept by Giant Despair. Then we hear his voice, The Key! the Key! Try the Key, and come forth into life and liberty!

Sinful habits are fearful, fiery things. Ordinarily they are eternal; it is rare that they are changed. And a single choice may become a habit, may take precedence in the whole character, and grow into a despotism that never can be broken. Most of those persons who perish through intemperance, forge in the fires of youth the first links of the dreadful chain that envelops them. The Latin maxim is full of wisdom, Obsta principiis. Resist the beginnings. Let not the present pleasures or gratifications with which Satan, or your tempting companions, or your own ungov erned passions, may allure you to evil, prevail with you to begin the dread habit of indulgence. Beware the first step of a habit, or if you have taken it, break from it before it becomes eternal. Break from it now, or it is likely to become eternal. Remember that the pleasure is only momentary; the habit to which, for the pleasure, you sell your birth-right, is inveterate, and comes at last to be nothing but agony. That great writer, Mr. Coleridge, says, speaking of vicious pleasures, in part from his own dread experience of evil, and therefore the more solemnly, "Centries, or wooden frames, are put under the arches of a bridge, to remain no longer than till the latter are consolidated. Even so, pleasures are the devil's scaffolding to build a habit upon-that once formed and steady, the pleasures are sent for firewood, and the hell begins in this life."

THE TWO TEMPTATIONS:

AND THE DISPOSITION OF THEM.

PART I.

A FEW days after this, my former guide met me with another text and story, for which he had both a prologue and epilogue to match. He said the text was merely a condensed description of a good deal of the piety of modern times, though some might deny its application. It was that pithy rebuke by the Prophet Hosea, My people ask counsel at their stocks. Do you think, said he, that there ever was a Wall-Street in Judea? Did the people there ask counsel at their stocks, more habitually than they do now in London? Stocks now are one of the most universal synonymes of riches; stocks in the olden time were idols; which form, think you, now, of the idol, is most heartily and universally worshipped?

The old fashioned heathen and Pagan idolatry said of their stocks, Ye are our father, and of a stone, Thou hast made me. The more customary idolatry of covetousness in modern times also worships stocks, and says of any acute successful speculation in them by the worshipper, It has been the making of him. Stocks are doubtless worshipped now, not indeed exactly in the same way as of old, but still as the god of the affections, a household, social, and commercial god. In the same manner the staff in old times was used for divination, and so men relied upon their

staves; "their staff declareth unto them." Now that this kind of heathenish divination is exploded, men have another staff to declare unto them. A man idolatrous in the way of covetousness leans upon his wealth as his staff, and makes that his diviner, his seer, his soothsayer..

Both these things are idolatry; and it is hard to say, considering the greater light upon the one than the other, which is the worse. Under the new and more spiritual dispensation we have reason to fear there is almost as much idolatry as under the old. Both forms of idolatry lavish gold out of the bag, and weigh silver in the balance, and hire a goldsmith, and he maketh it a god; they fall down, yea, they worship. It is all one, whether the god is in the form of a golden calf, or a doubloon, so it commands the affections. Jeremiah says that the stock is a doctrine of vanities. And Isaiah says, Shall a man be such a fool, as to fall down to the stock of a tree? Isaiah's description of the heathen idolatry is marvellously true of the idolatry of wealth. "He burneth part thereof in the fire, with part thereof he eateth flesh; he roasteth roast, and is satisfied; yea, he warmeth himself, and saith, Aha, I am warm, I have seen the fire. And the residue thereof he maketh a god, even his graven image. He falleth down unto it, and worshippeth it, and prayeth unto it, and saith, Deliver me, for thou art my god." Just so, a man whose soul is in his wealth, uses its surplus for his appetites, his wants, his luxuries, his pleasures, and saith, I am warm, I have seen the fire; and the residue he maketh a god. His god is his great accumulating capital. To that he looks with ardent worship, and he carries towards the idol of his devotion that entireness, and supremacy of service which in the worship of God is of infinite value; an eye single.

I think, said I, that you might have found a more pointed and comprehensive text than that, if you had wished to preach a sermon on the love of money, not to speak of Paul's proverbs. What is that in Habakkuk? "Wo to him that

coveteth an evil covetousness to his house, that he may set his nest on high, that he may be delivered from the power of evil."

Well, said my guide, this again is but the worship of stocks; "deliver me, for thou art my god." A man's whole dependence in such a case, is upon his riches; these being secured, he deems his nest unassailable, and dreams of security from evil. "Because they have no changes, therefore they fear not God." This self-dependence, this dependence on gold and silver and not on God, this feeling of security, when a man has thus set his nest on high, and become a man of an independent fortune, is that which alienates the soul from God, diminishes its sense of dependence on him, nay, renders such a feeling insupportable, and makes the soul ready to say, in regard to God, according to that true picture drawn in the book of Job, Depart from us, for we desire not the knowledge of thy ways. This is the reason why covetousness is, and is called, idolatry. This was that idolatry apparent in the case of the young man with great possessions, to whom our blessed Lord made known the seemingly severe condition, that if he would have a part in the kingdom of heaven, he must sell all that he had, and give to the poor.

You say seemingly severe, said I; was it not really a pretty hard and severe requisition? It is generally so considered.

That, said my guide, depends upon the character. It may have been hard for him, with his feelings and habits; it may have been hard, and without Christ's grace impossible for him to comply with it, having such a heart. But as to severity, looked at in the right light, according to the reality of things, there was no severity about it; it was an infinitely generous and easy condition. Sell? Give? Why! if the globe had been made of solid gold, or had been one entire and perfect chrysolite, or diamond, wherewith the possessor of it might purchase the whole