world calls him poor. He has struggled all his days against the current of adversity, but is still poor; and what is more he expects never to be otherwise than poor. But he never murmurs. He feels that it is well with him, and better than it was with his master when he dwelt among men.

Perhaps some sudden change of circumstances has swept away his property, and reduced him from affluence to poverty. He feels his loss more keenly than he would have felt poverty, had he never been rich. But he knows that he has not lost his all. He has an inheritance that is incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away, reserved eternal in the heavens. Thither he turns his eye when this world perishes with the using, and as the last vestige of his fortune passes from his hands he cries, " It is well.”

Death comes to his fire-side and takes away the joy of his heart, He feels the bereavement, but he finds grace to say, "It is well." So when he comes to lie down on a death-bed himself, he would love to live and rejoice in the joy of those who now weep around him. But he knows that to die is gain; to depart and be with Christ is far better; and though the pains of death are terrible, and the ties that bind to life are strong, still, as he feels his heart-strings breaking he can say with truth, "It is well." And oh! is it not well with him when eternity opens on his soul; when he quits this vale of tears; this land of sorrow, and pain, and death, and enters the gates of heaven? As he treads the golden streets of the new Jerusalem, as he casts his crown at the foot of the eternal throne, as he sits down with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, in the kingdom of God, as he looks upward to the face of the Lamb, and meets his smile of transporting love, will he not exclaim in the fulness of his satisfied soul, "It is well!"

Thus the believer answers this question. What saith the sinner? When afflictions assail him, he has not the strong consolation of those who have fled for a refuge to the hope set before them in the gospel. He mourns as those who have no hope. When his property is stripped from him, he murmurs at his lot. When those he loves are removed by death from his arms, his heart rises in rebellion at the dealings of God. When he comes to lie down to die himself, he may cry Peace, peace,' to his soul, but to his troubled conscience, the voice of God assures him, there is no peace. It is not well with the sinner in life, nor in death. In that awful hour, when, of all other hours, he needs the Christian's stay, he is torn by the torments of his own bosom, and harrowed by the awful forebodings of the future. But he must die. Eternity opens on his soul. Hell throws wide its gates. He plunges into its flames. He feels the gnawing of the worm that never dies; the fire that is never quenched kindles upon him, and burns with its fiercest flame. That is his eternal couch. Ages will roll along, but no pang of hell will die, no ray of hope will give sweet relief, no drop of water fall on his parched tongue.

Reader! perhaps that lost soul is thine. Is it well with thee? If not now, it may not be in death or in eternity. It will not be, unless, before the evil day overtakes thee, thou art persuaded to fly unto Jesus Christ, to make him thy friend. Then it shall be well with thee in sickness and in health, in life and in death, and well with thee to all eternity. IRENEUS.

"IN EVERY THING GIVE THANKS."

In close connexion with prayer stands the duty of thanksgiving and praise. So entirely dependent upon God as the giver of every good and perfect gift for the enjoyment of all blessings whether spiritual or temporal, and each moment bringing with it renewed evidences of Divine love, the least that can be expected is a spirit of thankfulness for the benefits which have been conferred upon us. There is no more effectual mode of inducing gratitude, than will be found in "watching unto prayer," and looking for those blessings which are desired and have been asked at the hands of our Heavenly Father. Every day will I bless thee," said David, " and I will praise thy name for ever and ever." "In all things give thanks," wrote the Apostle to

the Thessalonians.

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In what are usually denominated the great mercies of God, whether in deliverance from impending danger which menaced instant, and apparently certain destruction, or in the bestowal of kindness in such a manner that the hand of the Divine giver could not be mistaken, the heart must be hard as the adamantine rock, and cold as the polar ice to refuse an acknowledgment of the goodness of God. The stormtossed traveller who in his frail bark. is exposed to the fury of the wintry blast and cast from wave to wave, when delivered from danger, and once again possessing the comforts, and enjoying the security and happiness of his fire-side, can but feel his heart glowing with gratitude towards Him who was his guardian amid the perils to which he was subject. But, by the grace of our Heavenly Father many are spared from these trials of faith, and perhaps during the whole course of their lives may never be placed in circumstances where the outstretched arm of the Almighty is so plainly palpable. The current of life may run smoothly on, no ripple may disturb its surface-no storms may threaten, or billows roll, and yet instead of this condition of things forming an additional source of thankfulness, it may render the heart callous and ungrateful. As the longest life is composed of moments, and the most huge mass of the smallest particles, so do the mercies of God bestowed each hour of our existence afford subjects for gratitude, and form in the aggregate though singly they may be suffered to pass unnoticed, undoubted evidences of the superintending Providence, and unbounded love of God. We admire the beautiful galaxy which extends across the heavens shedding forth its soft and mellowed light in contrast with the brighter, but not more lovely constellations which gem the skies, but are too apt to forget that the whole of the milky way' is composed of stars glimmering so faintly in the far distance-so faintly, that their rays are singly scarcely visible, yet presenting in the whole an object upon which the eye delights to rest. We admire the noble river bearing on its waters the gallant vessel, and flowing swiftly on its sea-ward journey, but think not of the many rills which form the stream and impart to it, its beauty, its purity, and its power. We listen with admiration to the sweet sounds of melody struck forth by master hands, yet think not of the single notes composing the symphony so beautiful and stirring.

·

Thus it is with Divine blessings. The very atmosphere we inhale comes loaded with favours and benefits which are frequently unappreciated until they are lost. Each moment the arm of the Lord is outstretched to protect from danger and to save from harm. Each day in its course brings with it numberless blessings. Let the Christian reflect, as the evening shades gather around, upon the many privileges and enjoyments which have been sown broad-cast upon his pathway, the very commonness of which has caused forgetfulness of the hand that bestowed them. Let him count the answers to his morning's prayer, and receive the " daily bread," which has renewed his strength and invigorated his body, and the "deliverance from evil" to which he owes the continuance of life, as gifts granted for the sake of Jesus Christ the Mediator and Intercessor, given, it is true, to many who have asked them not, but to such without the accompaniment of the Divine blessing, and the heart cannot be callous and ungrateful.

"In every thing give thanks." It is comparatively easy to be thankful for that which gives immediate pleasure and enjoyment, but the word of God assures us that all things work together for good to those that love Him. In this promise there is neither reserve nor qualification. There is, therefore, nothing which can occur to the Christian, unless it be directly or indirectly connected with the commission of sin, that is not the subject of thanksgiving on the part of man towards his Heavenly Father; sorrow, pain, sickness, bereavement, and all the other ills to which flesh is heir, have concealed beneath them some intended good which, if it appear not in this life, will be fully revealed in that which is to come. As light is necessary to the development of the value of the pearl hidden from the view in the dark corners of the rolling deep, and to an appreciation of the precious ore imbedded in the earth, so eternity can alone unveil the purposes of the Almighty in His dealings with his creatures, and make manifest causes of thankfulness even in the infliction of pangs the object of which was unknown while under their influence. But there are causes of gratitude so many that we need not seek for those now shrouded in mystery. The earth is full of the goodness of God. His mercy and love shine forth in every thing around, but especially in that grace and kindness and fidelity which induced Him to vacate the brightest throne in heaven that sinful man might find salvation. "O give thanks unto the Lord, for he is good for his mercy endureth for ever."

:

TROPHIMUS.

THE SPEAKING BELL OF HALES OWEN.

SIR,-I thank you for inserting my visit to Hales Owen in your last number. I now beg leave to enclose my sentiments on the occasion conveyed in blank verse. Perhaps if it is not too long, you will kindly find place for it in an early number.

I am,
Sir,

Your obedient Servant,
A CONTRIBUTOR.

Dost thou not know me? Am I not the voice
Which many years ago fell on thine ear,

And tried to wake thee from thy dream of youth,
And was disdained? Hark, I am still the same
An instrument of God-a tongue of time,
An echo on my former errand bent

To call the thoughtless to the house of prayer.
O may my tones, more solemn than the first,
Fall through a cloud of grace, and speak of truth
Blended no more with all the frivolous

And fond delusions which mislead the soul,
Luring it off from an eternal world,
For this vain scene.

That Bell again!-I will not let thee rest
Surrounded by an angel ministry

The gracious Lord of Sabbath sends them forth
To whisper and to make salvation's heirs

Each in his province, with his separate power
The universe is his, and as their hands

Intelligent, obedient to his will—

Cleave their pure way through all the realms of space, So can he wield the most ignoble means,

Even lifeless matter to his purposes.

Yea, even to me, a watchman of his tower

But honoured in the charge, he issues forth

His high behests Be as an angel thou

And with thy deep voice, speak of heaven and hell
And of the grave which is the gate of both,
And teach my people seriousness of thought,
Reminding them that this is not their rest
But this their duty- Rise ye and depart.'

BELL AGAIN.

Again, and yet again these accents come

See what a change, since last thou heard'st my voice. The flock who then obedient to my call

Had'st thou obeyed it, would have shared my praise, These are all changed, save some few heedless youths Now gravely bending on the vane of life,

The rest reposing in their narrow cells,

While all their labouring time is at an end

And rustling rank grass marks their place of peace.

BELL.

Once more I hear that sad remembrancer

The priest is changed-the venerable clerk,
Who has resigned his long-conned register,

The sexton, hoary-headed chronicle,

Who turned up skulls, as children marbles tossed,
The organist who led the song of praise,

And choristers of Levites' office proud,

All, all are changed, all that belongs to life,
To this world, and to time, are things of nought
And made to pass away. Yet I remain
Fixed in my tower, the same as when of yore
(And to my office true,) I summoned thee,
And faithful servants to the house of God,
And called them to forget their earthly cares,

And prelibate the sweets and joys of heaven,
Yes, mid this transience, I have, still unchang'd,
Repeated every sabbath my loud call,

Obeyed by some, by many set at nought,
And served my God-and spoke in his behalf,
Shame to the faithless sinners whom I called,
For some who heard with frequent disregard,
Deeming my voice a signal for their sport,
Ran to the fields, and thought not of their souls,
To maddening draughts intemperate anything
Which they misnamed a pastime, little dreaming
Till Satan poured his poison in their bowls

And caught them in his wiles, how smooth, how easy,
How short the passage is from sport to crime,
Both termed in their vocabulary-pleasure;

But when the hand of death at length surprised them,
Or age, or sickness, and they learned to view
Their whole sad story and perceive its emptiness;
If then perchance on some still Sabbath morn,
My wonted voice broke in upon their chamber,
Long slighted, speaking now a differed call,
Yet still the voice of God calling no more
Away to pleasure, but approach to truth,
Time closes in, your days are told, prepare,
The grave is near, eternity awaits:

O, with what tenfold emphasis the sound

Came to the sinner's heart, with what new meaning Not till now construed, what a waste of time

And golden opportunities of good,

Since first I heard that sabbath bell, and left

The Church to which it called, but called in vain,
O that these sabbaths rolling o'er my head
Were now restored. How altered should I be,
How should they wake my soul to penitence,
And preparation for my latter end.

But no, the tower alone, and speaking bell,
Survive the mass of mutability,

As a lone column in Palmyra's waste,
Peers our scattered wrecks of other days,
All that relates to God is stable, fixed,
While all of man is changeable and lost.
The Bible is the same, the word of God,

His day the Sabbath, and his house the Church,
His sacraments, his prayers, his covenants,
His pardon and his grace remain unaltered,
And still inviting from those earliest years,
Calling thee to heaven-that too is still the same,
O that thy spirit were at length confirmed
To all these things of truth, and thou wert like
Not the lone watch-bell as it first came o'er thee,
But like its permanence, unmoved by change,
Henceforward to the end a monitor

Of grace, and heaven, and pointing to the skies,
Like that tall spire, and still like the deep bell,
Herald of truth, and index of the heavens.