doctrine of predestination, is to hold up to them the character of God as revealed by himself in his word. "God is love." True, he is just, and he is holy; but his love has found out a way to reconcile his holiness, justice, and mercy; so that he can be just, and the justifier of him that trusteth in Jesus. No truth respecting his foreknowledge and decrees must be allowed to obscure the view he has been pleased to give us of his character. "As I live, saith the Lord, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from his way and live." He hath sent his Son to be a propitiation “ for the sins of the whole world;" and his will concerning each miserable sinner is, that he should" be saved, and come to the knowledge of the truth." The only answer he has vouchsafed to give us to the question that many start against these declarations, Why then are not all men saved?' is simply this: "They love darkness rather than light:' They will not come to me that

they may have life."

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A humble and unlettered Christian acquaintance of mine, who is fond of illustrating scripture truths by what he denominates 'rough parables,' lately gave me one so suitable to the present subject, that I make no apology for introducing it. In speaking of persons who hold the extremes of doctrine, as distinguished from those whose views he considers as more correct, he compared them to three men entering a room where coals and wood are laid in order ready to make a fire. The Arminian,' said he, ‘takes the bellows, and begins to blow with all his might, saying, it must be a fire in time, if we only blow hard enough.' The high Calvinist looks at it, folds his arms, and says, If it is to be a fire, it will be a fire,

and if it is not to be a fire, it will not be a fire.' But the Bible Christian goes to some one who has a light, and asks him to light it; and after it has been lighted, he then takes the bellows and blows.'

And certain it is, that none ever went to the "True Light," entreating him to kindle the fire of divine love in his heart, and met with a refusal. And when this is done, his anxieties about the future are at an end; for he knows that "all things work together for good, to them that love God." But still he cannot escape from that mystery of mysteries which is appointed to follow us through life; although he believes himself to be "called, according to God's purpose," he is nevertheless distinctly told that his own efforts are necessary to keep this holy flame alive: "If ye live after the flesh, ye shall die; but if ye, through the Spirit, do mortify the deeds of the body, ye shall live."

I have been led, by the close connection of the subjects, to leave that with which I first commenced, God's watchful providence over our temporal affairs; or rather over the outward events of our lives; as many of the special acts of providence I had in view,. have a direct bearing on our spiritual interests. One of the most affecting proofs of God's love, to the heart that knows him, is his watchful care over us while we were yet strangers to him. There are few Christians whose conversion has taken place in manhood or middle age, who cannot look back with adoring gratitude on the way by which they have been led. A retrospect of their past lives presents them with dangers and temptations which have assailed them, when they were walking after the desires of their own hearts,—with darling projects, which, had FEBRUARY, 1838.

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they succeeded, would have fostered their pride, and the enmity of their carnal minds against eternal realities, and they are constrained to say to their heavenly Father: "Thine arm unseen conveyed me safe." There may be no prominent event that could attract the notice of others; no special interposition of providence, so marked as to strike even the unbelieving; but there is enough to shew them that their footsteps were ordered by the Lord in a manner that may truly be called " leading the blind by a way

they know not."

It is indeed most true, as Cecil remarks, that the leading events of our lives are seldom brought about by any wonderful or striking occurrence, but by common and ordinary means, leading to important results. Turning down one street, instead of another,' says he, may change the whole colour of a man's future life.' I once quoted this sentence to a truly pious clergyman of my acquaintance; he smiled, and said: The principle is true, in most cases; but perhaps it never was fulfilled more literally than in my case. Turning down one street instead of another, was the means of frustrating a scheme, which, had it succeeded, would in all probability have kept me surrounded by the trammels of the world, and the pride of life.' I expressed a wish to hear particulars; and he gave me the following account, which I will relate, as nearly as I can recollect, in his own words.

'When I was tutor in the family of the Marquis of I resided chiefly at his seat in the north of England with my pupils. I was then full of youthful gaiety, modified by a considerable share of false sentiment, and romantic feeling. Whenever the

duties of my situation permitted me to leave home, I found myself a welcome guest in the limited circle of the neighbouring town. It was not long ere my visits were chiefly directed to the house of a Mrs. B—, whose lovely orphan niece soon became the object of my devoted affection; she was just a heroine suited to the taste of a lover too well versed in the pernicious style of reading so common at that time; gentle, full of sensibility, with just enough of caprice and coquetry to keep me in that delightful state of doubt as to her sentiments towards me, which is necessary to keep up the interest of such a love affair. After a time, however, I felt convinced our attachment was mutual; and determined to come to an explanation on the first convenient opportunity. There was no immediate prospect of fulfilling the engagement into which I wished her to enter; but I hoped that one day, through the interest of the Marquis or his friends, I might get a living, or an advantageous curacy; and as she was a dependent orphan, not likely, in her present situation, to meet with an eligible match, I had little doubt she would consent to plight her faith to me.

Mrs. B- had several grown-up daughters, and two sons, who were educating at an academy in the neighbourhood. When the boys were at home for the midsummer holidays, there were many rural excursions, and parties of pleasure, for their amusement, of which I was always invited to make one. On two of these occasions, I was just about to commence the interesting subject, having previously withdrawn with Maria to a little distance from the rest of the party; and was both times prevented by some one following us, and engaging in conversa

tion. At length I determined not to leave a matter so near my heart, to what I then termed chance opportunities; so the first day my pupils had a half holiday, I went to her aunt's, resolving boldly to request her to take a walk with me, whatever constructions her relatives might put on my request. I found her alone; and perceived a look of agitation and pleasure mingled with the half hesitating assent she gave to my proposition, that left me little fear of a refusal: 'In one short hour,' said I to myself, with exultation, Maria will be my affianced bride.'

'We set out on our walk: I was rather annoyed to find that she was bent on going first to a shop in the town, to execute a commission for her aunt; as the bustling and noisy High-street of

was not a

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favourable place for commencing a love tale. ever, we contrived to keep up a lively dialogue; each appearing desirous to conceal deeper feelings, till we should arrive at a spot more favourable to their developement. At length we approached the end of the principal street, where it branches off in two directions; one leading to the beach, the other terminating in the M-road, from which there is immediate access to a beautiful and retired woodland path. We debated which way we should go; and there were some brilliant speeches made on both sides, and poetry quoted, on the comparative beauties of the ocean and the forest. At length we decided in favour of a walk by the sea-shore, and went down the street that led to it. Near the termination of this street, it is entered at an acute angle, by a street leading directly from the house Mrs. B. then occupied. At this corner we encountered one of Maria's cousins: O Maria,' said he, I am glad