cerity itself will remain an isolated virtue, at least as regards its effects upon others. Bacon justly remarks, “He that is only real had need have exceeding great parts of virtue; as the stone had need to be rich, that is set without foil?" And it may be equally asserted, that he knows very little of human nature, who is not aware that the faults of mankind must be approached, not only with "a little address," but with a great deal of tenderness. The hand that rudely and unceremoniously unveils a wound, is not calculated to heal it. Reprehension can never be a duty unless prompted by love, and those who are animated by its spirit will avoid expressing painful truths when not called upon to do so. This delicacy of feeling is quite consistent with the most perfect integrity of conduct, and has nothing in common with a temporizing spirit, or that sensitive foresight which weighs consequences with the utmost exactness, but only in relation to self. It is equally remote from a regulating disposition, prompt to advise and ready to censure, which generally has its origin in a want of diffidence, and an insensibility to the feelings of others.

Sincerity is in itself so estimable, we are afraid so rare, that, in pointing out its excellence for imitation, we would gladly invest it with all the loveliness of truth. But whilst we would unite courtesyChristian courtesy with sincerity, the true basis of which is humility, let us beware of its counterfeit— let us neither impose upon ourselves nor others by

empty profession. Yet, how lamentably this is the case in some circles, let fashionable language, and fashionable practice declare. What professions of joy with the most icy feelings, not to say repugnance— what courteous receptions contrasted with, "I am rejoiced they have taken their departure!" "What a deliverance!" What urbanity of manner, and apparent deference to opinion, mingled with the most perfect dis-esteem!

Persons moving in such society will perhaps say, "This is not insincerity. Insincerity is speaking and acting with an intention to deceive. Such profession deceive no one-they are mere words of convenience-civil expressions which have no meaning, and are received as such." Has truth no meaning? Is the abuse of speech no sin? Is the use of language to give false impressions? Base coin, when circulated, lessens the value of sterling gold; but when once the sacredness of truth is willingly violated, who can limit its future debasement?

Language should represent truth: but, alas! we may well exclaim in the language of the poet"Sacred interpreter of human thought,

How few respect or use thee as they ought!" Christianity admits of no temporizing. Whereever the spirit of our blessed Redeemer reigns, there must be truth in speech, truth in action; and all those who are redeemed from the world find it so. The crooked paths of human policy are both difficult and dangerous to walk in: perhaps there is no

slavery so rigorous as the slavery of deceit-no intercourse so oppressive as the heartlessness of insincerity. But how refreshing and delightful is the frank and open conversation of those Christians, who, in any degree resemble Nathaniel of old, of whom it was said, "Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile!" Their spontaneous expressions of affection, of gladness, and of sympathy, have a reality in them-a reality which is felt and confided in.

Sincerity has nothing recherchèe—all is ease, simplicity, and candour; where affection is not felt, there is no attempt at profession; where sympathy is not awakened, condolence is not feigned, and silence brings no condemnation :-where hospitality is due, welcome, not gladness, is all that Christianity requires; for there must be guests of duty as well as of pleasure; but the sincere in heart will not lavish those expressions of affection and joy upon the one, which can only be truly bestowed upon the other. In conversation there will be no seeming acquiescence with contrary sentiments, when the subject involves principle; no cowardly silence when truth is attached, or opinion broached which have an injurious tendency.

The reproofs of a Christian will always be attempted with kindness; for those who love truth most, will feel most tenderly for their fellow-creatures; they will not only avoid all rudeness of dissent, all contradiction, where difference of opinion

is immaterial, but they will concede trifles, and rejoice that they can do so, as by such concessions they gain an increased influence in things of real importance; for the love of a Redeemer, whilst it constrains to faithfulness, does touch the spirit with kind-with sympathizing feelings. It is indeed the anointing oil of truth and grace !—and it is by this grace alone we can be enabled to be "sincere and without offence, until the day of Christ."

THE LAST DAYS OF MARTHA,

WHO DIED AT NORWICH, DEC. 1839.

A. H.

MARTHA was of an amiable disposition, and once enjoyed the great privilege of being taught in a Sabbath-school, which she attended for four years; but though often reproved, she hardened her neck, and resisted all the restraints of religion. At length, proceeding from bad to worse, at a very early age she became one of the most abandoned females in the city of Norwich; vicious in her conduct, and profane in her language, to the last degree. About one month before she died, she was called to witness a solemn scene; the grave was opened to receive the mortal remains of her aunt, and when going to the funeral, she uttered sentiments too impious and wicked to be repeated, "wondering who would be the next to follow her aunt to hell." Not many hours had elapsed, before she was seen in a violent passion, using many oaths and curses. Alas! alas ! she little thought then what an hour would bring forth. On that day as soon as she returned to her

accustomed habitation, she was taken so seriously ill, that she was carried up to her bed, from which she never rose. Poor Martha found the sick bed to be but a poor place on which to think, for her illness was of a most painful and distressing character, and having neglected and despised religion when in health, she now felt herself destitute of that support and consolation which it alone can give. A Christian friend visited her and inquired into the state of her feelings in the prospect of death and the judgment-seat of Christ. "I dare not die," she said, "for I am so unprepared." Her heart appeared to be hardened-she did not want to be told about dying, and when reminded of her mother's entreaties and counsels, she said "she could not bear it," and endeavoured to stop the conversation.

The kind visitor could not give her up, he therefore entreated her to consider the awful situation in which she was placed. 'My dear friend," he said, there is no hope for you, except you repent of your awfully wicked conduct, for the wicked shall be turned into hell, and all the nations that forget God.' But I bring you the good tidings of great joy, that you are not too vile for God to pardon, if you will truly repent and forsake your sins." "This is hard language," she replied, "but I know what you have said about my wicked conduct is true." He showed her from several passages of God's own word, his wrath against all ungodliness, at the same time exhibiting to her his great willingness to save repenting sinners, as exhibited in the Parable of the Prodigal Son, and the history of Mary Magdalene, &c., but no change of mind appeared

in Martha.