WHERE SHALL I SPEND ETERNITY? A LADY had written on a card, and placed it on the top of an hour-glass in her gar den-house, the following simple verse from the poems of J. Clare. It was when the flowers were in their highest glory:-- "To think of summers yet to come To think a weed is yet to bloom And so she shares her mother's toil Cheerful and happy, for she knows And when at night she lays her down She thinks that Jesus had no home, Children, amid your happy homes, The next morning she found the following Come, learn to love your Saviour's name, lines, in pencil, on the back of the same card. Well would it be if all would ponder upon the question,-act in view of, and make preparations for, an unknown state of existence: "To think when heaven and earth are fled, And times and seasons o'er, When all that CAN die shall be dead, Oh, where will then my portion be? ANNA FELL CHILDREN, perhaps you never heard Then listen to the simple tale Anna had once a happy home, A father good and mild;. But he is gone, and she is left The lonely widow's child. They have no cottage by the rill, With jes'mine round the door, And wild flowers scatter'd everywhere, Like some whom we call poor. But in the crowded city street She and her mother dwell; She sees the rich man's costly dome, Because her frock is old and worn, Alas! 't is hard to suffer want But Anna is a happy child, Far happier it may be Than some who wear the jewell'd robe 'Mid scenes of revelry. For in the sabbath-school she learns And that, far more than glittering gold, Like little Anna Fell. V. G. R. THE PURSE OF GOLD. Two friends once were walking in sociable chat, When a purse one espied on the ground; "Well, come," said he, "thank my good fortune for that, What a large sum of money I've found!" "Nay, do not say I," said his friend, "for you know 'Tis but justice to share it with me;" "I share it with you!" said the other, "How so? He who found it the owner should be." "Be it so," said his friend,-"but what sound do I hear? Stop thief! one is calling to you; He comes with a constable close in the rear." Said the other, "O what shall we do?" "Nay, do not say we," said his friend, "for you know You claim'd the sole right to the prize; And since all the money was taken by you, With you the dishonesty lies." When people are selfish, dishonest, and mean, Their nature in dealing will quickly be Cabinet of Things New and Old. THE MIRACLE OF THE LOAVES. We ON two different occasions the Saviour multiplied bread miraculously. The history of one of these miracles is given by every one of the four evangelists. It may be found in Matt. xiv. 13-21; Mark vi. 32-44; Luke ix. 10-17; and John vi. 1-14. make Mark's account the basis of our meditations, referring to those of the others as we have occasion. Jesus and his disciples had gone to a desert placé on the shore of the lake, "to rest awhile but the people saw them departing, and many knew him, and ran afoot thither out of all cities, and outwent them, and came together unto him." "And Jesus, when he came out, (of the ship,) saw much people;" and "they were as sheep not having a shepherd." The words express the view which the Saviour took of the temporal and spiritual condition of the people. And how simple, comprehensive, affecting the language! It is the description of those who are either in the power or exposed to the violence of cruel enemies, with no talent to provide for or to protect themselves. It describes the condition of all who are not within the one true fold, especially the condition of those who are destitute of genuine means of grace, and particularly that of the whole heathen world. The millions of the heathen are all "as sheep having no shepherd." The Saviour, seeing the multitudes, "was moved with compassion toward them." O that heart! always true to emotions of benevolence. It was "moved"-it beat, heaved, glowed with pity and kindness. Just so now in heaven the Saviour feels for the "lost sheep" of our ruined race. He is deeply interested in the cause of its salvation. And, thus moved, " he began to speak unto them of the kingdom of God, and to heal their sick," Luke ix. 11. This is just like the Saviour again. His is no idle compassion. And he carried on his labours of love among them till the approach of night. And "when the day was now far spent," his disciples become interested in another want of the multitude. "They have nothing to eat;" and not only is "the day well nigh gone," but the place is desert. The disciples are uneasy at the prospect of the people's suffering hunger; and perhaps they feel that their Master is a little forgetful, and they remind and hasten him. How simple and fair their kindness! The millions of the heathen have spiritually nothing to eat—are perishing for lack of the gospel. And it is well that any of the professed disciples of Christ have awaked from the utter ignorance and indifference of the rest of the church, arrested by the startling view. They are weary and anxious, and, perhaps, go sometimes in prayer to the Lord, and humbly remind him that he is letting many of the a heathen perish. And, perhaps, they wonder that He who rules the world, and has all the resources of the universe at his command, suffers this state of things to continue. "Master, they have nothing to eat." Well, what do the disciples, in their concern, propose? "Send them away." What! to perish? Oh no- -"into the country round about, and into the villages, that they may buy themselves bread." We need not condemn the disciples; but this account is such a vivid picture of the charity often felt for the heathen. "They have nothing to eat-send them away." There is no offer to give them food, no proposal to aid them in seeking it, no inquiry whether they have the means to buy. Depart in peace; we wish you well; get supplied as well as you can. Has this been the amount of our interest for the heathen? Has it led us to put up a few prayers, the real point of which was that the Saviour would take the heathen off from our hands? And has their deplorable state of sin and ruin excited in us only a sort of impatience to see the work going on by others' instrumentality? To this proposal of the disciples to send the people away, our Saviour replies, (Matt. xiv. 16,) “ They need not depart: give ye them to eat." Like the Saviour again! He is not accustomed to send the needy elsewhere for help. Hear, ye needy, ye heathen; he has compassion; he will teach you, and heal you, and see that you are fed too. "Come unto ME, all ye that labour." This is the difference between man and God-between Christians and Christ. The plan of the disciples is dismissed at once. They need not depart give ye them to eat." Here was a simple direction, perfectly intelligible. The multitudes were to be fed with what the Saviour and his disciples could furnish. It is also true-whether taught here, is another question-that, according to the will and command of Christ, the perishing heathen are to be supplied with the bread of life through the church. And no language could more beautifully or forcibly express the mind of Christ and the duty of Christians on this subject than these words: “ They need not depart" (to seek supplies elsewhere): "give ye them to eat." Upon us, if we are Christians, our Master has laid this duty. Through the church the supply of the world must come. Lazarus is laid at our gate, and if he dies neglected there, terrible will be our reckoning with our Master. A BROKEN HEART. "A broken heart, my God, my King, The God of grace will ne'er despise WHAT is a broken heart? It is a heart of deep contrition and selfabasement. It is such a heart as Job had, when he said, "Behold, I am vile;" and again, “I have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear, but now mine eye seeth thee; wherefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes." It is such a heart as David had, when he said, “I acknowledge my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me. Against thee, thee only, have I sinned, and done this evil in thy sight." It is such a heart as Ezra had, when he said, "I am ashamed, and blush to lift up my face to thee, my God; for our iniquities have increased over our heads, and our trespass is grown up into the heavens." It is such a heart as Isaiah had, when he said, "Wo is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips, for mine eyes have seen the king, the Lord of hosts." It is such a heart as the publican had, when he "would not lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven, but smote upon his breast, saying, God be merciful to me a sinner!" It is such a heart as the prodigal had, when he said, "Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son." It is such a heart as Mary had, when she fell at the Saviour's feet, and washed them with her tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head. It is such a heart as Paul had, when he exclaimed, "O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" The person who has a broken heart feels that he has sinned against the best of beings, broken the best of laws, and violated infinite obligations. He feels that if he is cast off for ever, it will be perfectly just; and that if he is saved, it must be by grace, through the merits of Christ, and he casts himself at the foot of the cross, and pleads for mercy, and mercy only. This is the best sacrifice which we can offer to God. What other sacrifice can we offer? Alas! we deserve to die; and when we have done all that we can do, we shall still deserve to die. If we justify ourselves-if we excuse or attempt to palliate our sin, we do but aggravate our guilt, and provoke the Divine indignation. There is no course for us to take, but to fall down, and submit, and sue for mercy as guilty rebels. This is the best sacrifice that we can bring; it is all that we can bring, and all that we need to bring. We are not required to make atonement for our sins. The law is magnified and made honourable; and God now can be just and justify sinners who believe in Christ. What is now necessary on our part is, to come to Christ in the exercise of a broken heart. The sacrifice of a broken heart God will not despise. It is the sacrifice with which he is pleased. He is ever ready to receive, to favour the repenting and returning sinner. Was not the prodigal received when he returned to his father with a broken heart? Was not the publican heard and forgiven when he said, "God be merciful to me a sinner?" And did ever a sinner come to a throne of grace with a broken heart in vain? No; "God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace to the humble." "Thus saith the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is holy: I dwell in the high and holy place, with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite ones.' "The Lord is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart, and saveth such as be of a contrite spirit." God will bind up the brokenhearted; he will speak peace to their souls; he will forgive their iniquities, and remember their sins no more. He will clothe them with his righteousness; he will beautify them with salvation; he will be their Father and their God. They shall drink at the river of his pleasures. Is it not for such that all the consolations of the gospel are provided, and crowns of glory are reserved? Yes, these are the men whom God delighteth to honour; for "he that humbleth himself shall be exalted." These are they who shall sing the song of redeeming love. And in ages hence, when the proud pharisee, who trusts in himself that he is righteous, shall lift up his eyes in torment, the broken-hearted sinner shall rest in the paradise of God. Reader, do you know anything of a broken heart? Does your religious experience accord with that of Job, of David, of the publican, and of Paul? Are you willing to be saved on the humbling terms of the gospel? Have you renounced all dependence on any righteousness of your own; and is your whole dependence on the righteousness of Christ? If so, happy is your condition; for "though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow; and though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool." INQUIRING SAINTS. 66 I was asked the other day, whether I had had any recent meeting for inquirers? I replied that I had not; that there were few inquiring sinners in the congregation, and I judged the reason to be, that there were few inquiring saints. Inquiring saints! that is a new phrase. We always supposed that inquiring belonged exclusively to sinners." But it is not so. Do we not read in Ezekiel xxxvi. 37, "Thus saith the Lord God, I will yet for this be inquired of by the house of Israel, to do it for them?" By the house of Israel—that is, by his people, by his church. You see that God requires and expects his covenanted people to inquire. It is true that saints do not make the same inquiry that sinners do. The latter ask, What they must do to be saved? whereas the inquiry of Christians is, Wilt thou not revive us again? It is a blessed state of things when the people of God are inquiring. It is good for themselves, and it has a most benign influence on others. When the people of God inquire, presently the impenitent begin to inquire. That question, Wilt thou not revive us? is soon followed by the other, "What must I do to be saved?" Yes, when saints become anxious, it is not long ere sinners become anxious. The inquiry of three thousand on the day of Pentecost, "Men and brethren, |