FRIENDLY VISITOR. No. CLXXI.] DECEMBER, 1832. [VOL. XIV. LUKE XII. 35. "Let your loins be girded about, and your lights burning." Here allusion is made to the flowing garments of the East, which those who wore them, girded up when entering upon active employment, that they might perform their tasks without incumbrance. The Christian is too apt to let his garments touch the ground. They catch the thorns and briers with which the earth is covered. They are not girt about the loins, and thus he is not in so prepared a posture. He has to free himself from worldly cares, and the fears and anxieties which these cares bring with them. This may be his occupation at His approach, instead of being ready to go forth at once to meet his Lord. He who is ready, is one who has received forgiveness of sin, who is arrayed in the righte ousness of Christ, and whose heart is the temple of the Holy Ghost. In this state he is waiting for the coming of the Lord, with his loins girded, and his lamp trimmed. Is this your state? Nothing is more useful than to be frequently asking ourselves the question, Am I ready? for how suddenly may the Lord come! He seems in the present day to be permitting so many unexpected events, as if the better to prepare our minds for this great change. They are the flashes of lightning, and bursts of thunder which precede the storm. Are you then ready? Put not off the inquiry, but summon up the courage of your soul. Look to the Lord, as now coming "in the clouds of heaven." Hear the trumpet's sound: and the voice of the archangel saying, "Arise, ye dead, and come to judgment!" Are you ready? Behold, "the judge standeth at the door;" he stretches out his arm to separate the sheep from the goats! Where is now your place? Are your sins pardoned? Are you arrayed in His righteousness? Have you received the Holy Ghost? N "Come, my soul! let man stand by; it is the eternal God that And what is my hope with regard to my future and immortal state? Truly, my hope, my whole hope, is even in the Lord my Redeemer. Should the King of Terrors threaten, I fly to the wounds of the Lamb slain for sinners. Should Satan accuse, I plead the Surety of the covenant, who took my guilt upon himself, and bore my sins in his own body on the tree. Should the Lord denounce a curse, I appeal to him who hung on the accursed tree, on purpose that all the nations of the earth might be blessed. Should it be said, no unclean thing can enter into heaven; my answer is, the blood of Christ cleanseth from all sin; though my sins be as scarlet, through his blood they shall be as white as snow. Should it be added, none can sit down at the supper of the Lord without a wedding garment; and your righteousnesseswhat are they before the pure law, and piercing eye of God, but filthy rags? These I renounce, and seek to be found in Christ Jesus, who is the Lord my righteousness. So that Jesus is all my trust-his merits are my staff, when I pass through the valley of the shadow of death-his merits are my anchor, when I launch into the boundless ocean of eternity-his merits are the only riches which my poor soul, when stripped of its body, desires to carry into the invisible world. If the God of glory pleases to take notice of any mean endeavours to honour his holy name, it will be infinite condescension of grace; but his Son, his righteous and suffering Son, is all my hope and all my salvation. CONVERSION FROM INFIDELITY. A lady in Paris, moving in the higher circles of life, of cultivated mind, and of elegant manners, but a disciple of the infidel philosophy, recently lost, in a fatal duel, her son, her only child; "and she was a widow." The Countess of a Christian lady, sought her friend. She found the bereaved widow on her couch, cold, silent, restless, melancholy, and on the verge of despair. The philosophy of this world had forsaken her. The Countess began to speak of the refuge which the soul finds in addressing itself to God in time of trouble; to a Being so great, and good, and tender. The wretched parent turned on her a vacant stare, and said, "Did you speak of God? Who is He? Where is He? What is He? I know nothing of him." Struck by such an awful instance of infidelity, in such circumstances, the Countess answered not; for she felt in a moment that she could do nothing to restore such a moral ruin. Her interval of silence was an interval of prayer, that God would take this mighty work into his hands: acting in this spirit, she opened her New Testament, and begged her to allow her to read a few passages from a book which had been useful to herself in her own recent afflictions. She read from the Evangelists. The effect upon the poor widow was of a gentle soothing nature. No remark from either party was made on the book itself. When the Countess rose to leave her friend, she said, "I perceive you are entirely ignorant of the only source of comfort, and I cannot impart it to you: will you give me one proof of your confidence in my affection and sympathy?" "I will." It is, to use one short prayer, in the words I give you; and to use it as often as you feel a new accession of despair, a fresh agony of grief,-O Lord, enlighten thou me, that I may know thee.' or For many days the Countess continued her visits, and read the little book: and on every successive visit to her friend, she found an increasing attention to the subject read. They rarely had any conversation on religion; for the Countess found that whenever she attempted it, she could not make herself understood. She therefore confined herself to reading, with secret prayer for the divine blessing. She was more encouraged in her hope of success, because she was assured by her friend, that she used the short prayer constantly; and when she did not know where to turn, or how to free her thoughts from the horrors of the past, she found relief in repeating the short prayer. After these daily readings had continued for some time, the bereaved mother began to express more distinctly the effect of what she heard: "Your book told me such and such a thing yesterday: that thought has followed me ever since. I wish you would leave it with me till tomorrow." The Countess could not consent. She had two motives in her refusal; she hoped to increase the desire by delay; and she did not at that time wish the book to fall into the hands of an infidel sister, who had all her life influenced the mind of this unhappy widow. She therefore told her the book had belonged to a dear friend, and was never confided to any second person. The desire to possess this wonder-working book became stronger; and the following note was sent:-"Can you not lend me your invaluable treasure a few hours? I will not be unreasonable: it shall be returned to you soon. It was lent, and returned with the following note:-"I have been deeply affected by your generous confidence in leaving with me a book so precious to you. I dare not keep it any longer; but pray let me have a Bible. It shall never leave me. It shall be my guide, my support; perhaps, one day, my consolation! O when shall I have obtained that holy joy! You shall know of it, that your heavenly charity may be rewarded. Do not leave me to myself; I seem to feel that I shall understand your object. O my God, give me strength and perseverance!" The Bible having been delayed a few days, the following note was sent:- "Permit me, my dear to re mind you of your promise, to send me a Bible. Our last conversation did me much good. It went to the source of my disquietudes. I feel as though I could repose myself in God with confidence. Sometimes I feel as if I could love him with all my soul: while I ask him with fervency to give the illumination I so much want. I do not, I cannot doubt, that he will communicate the light that is necessary to my feeble understanding." The Bible was procured and sent; after which this note was written;-"I cannot thank you sufficiently for providing me with the only occupation of which I am capable; but I cannot tell you that your present brought consolation to my wounded heart. I must acknowledge that after reading it, I am more deeply afflicted. I am even more sorrowful, more dejected, than before I read it. Shall I tell you why? I am led to look back upon my past life with horror: and the dreadful thought suggests itself,Is it not probable that my sins brought on my child his awful end?' O my God, was I indeed the cause of all he suffered in life and death? I can only weep abundantly. Divine grace must do for me." The Countess addressed to her a letter of an encouraging nature, opening to her the freeness and fulness of the Gospel. It was thus acknowledged :-"Your letter has made me weep much; but do not repent of having written it; for the tears were the gentlest and kindest I ever shed. My heart is riveted to that one phrase, able to save to the uttermost. I thank you, I thank you, for having shed such a drop of balm on my wounds. I want to talk with you on my sorrows, and my hopes; if you can believe that I ought to have any hope. O yes, yes; I have indeed hope, although it is mingled with sorrow! But mercy, mercy!" Here ends the correspondence, but not the intercourse. The Countess had an interesting interview with her friend. She found that the Spirit of God had indeed begun a good work and was gradually leading her mind into all truth. Grief and despair on the loss of her son had given way to a strong anxiety to understand the word of God. This new study absorbed the whole soul of the mother. She said she read it incessantly, but without knowing how far she properly understood it: but when she met with a passage that she did not understand, she returned to the place where she had comprehended the sense, and continued her reading till she again encountered the difficulty; and then she uttered her first prayer, "O Lord, give me light that I may know thee." She remained at that point, without attempting to proceed, until she had obtained a knowledge of the passage: "Then," said she, "I often find more force and beauty and information in that which had just confounded me, than in all I had ✔understood before." She said also, "This book is my nightly comfort, as well as daily occupation. When I |