he came. At last, looking towards the head of the bed, I observed upon the curtains several pieces of paper, carefully pinned here and there, and apparently written upon. Though I suspected what might be the nature of their contents, I said, with apparent surprise and abruptness, 'What are these papers?' that the truths are the same as ever, and your mind clings as tenaciously as ever to those truths; and the Author of those truths is "the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever." All the difference, therefore, arises from your diseased apprehension of things; and you are confounding the decay of consolation with the "Oh, sir,' said the hardened man, decay of piety. Recollect, that 'they are texts of Scripture.' Why, "Promises!' but what business have they here? You say you are a castaway from God's favour, an utter alien from his friendship, that all your religion was a delusion, that you have no interest in one of the promises, and can look for nothing but to be an eternal monument of the Divine displeasure. then, should you have these texts and promises of Scripture perpetually around you, when you have no sort of interest in the religion they represent, or in the Saviour they reveal? The two things do not agree together. Either your despondency is excessive and undue, or those promises have no business there. Let me take them away.' "No, sir! No, sir!' said the sufferer; do not take them away; I love to see them. I had an interest in them once, and they are still precious. The memorial of them is sweet, though the enjoyment of them is wholly gone.' 6 "Upon this," said Mr. McAll, "I altered my tone, and said, with the tenderness I really felt, But, my dear friend, you are not aware while these truths are precious to you, the emotions with which you still cherish the remembrance of them are precious in God's sight; and whilst you have your memorials of the past, God has his memorials too! He says, "Yea, I have graven you upon the palms of my hands; thy walls are continually before me. The mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed; but my lovingkindness shall never depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of my peace be removed, saith the Lord that hath mercy on thee."' It pleased God to bless this conversation to the afflicted man; his mind recovered its trust and consolation, and he shortly afterwards died in peace." A UNIVERSALIST DISARMED. SQUIRE W. and General P. lived on adjoining farms in Connecticut. They were old men of seventy and upwards twenty years ago. Being on good terms, they used often to meet in their intervals of relaxation from care and labour, and spend hours in conversation. Squire W. was a Universalist, and was much inclined to urge his opinions upon General P., whose orthodox belief in the eternal punishment of the wicked, he Gen. P.-Good morning, Squire said, excited his compassion. The Squire W.-I am not well, General; I have a great deal of pain in my bones; I get no sleep o' nights, and am pretty miserable. This rheumatism has got fast hold of me. Gen. P. (Looking at his neighbour with an air of sober earnestness.)— You must be mistaken, Squire W. You have no pain in your bones. It's all a mistake. I don't believe a word of it. Squire W.-What do you mean, General? I don't understand you. I tell you I have pain in my bones, that keeps me awake all night, and I don't know what to do for it. If you felt as I do, you would think you had pain, I guess. They met one morning on the line of their farms, when this colloquy occurred: Gen. P.-O no, Squire. It's a mistake of yours. You have no pain whatever. It cannot be that you have. Squire W.-I don't understand you, General. no pain? Gen. P.-Know? I know it, Squire W., from your own principles. God is infinitely good. Of course he would not inflict pain upon a creature. Besides, he is no respecter of persons, and it can't be that he would subject you to suffering, and spare me. Yet I have no pain in my bones. I am perfectly well. I sleep well o'nights, and have no rheumatism. I am sure of it, neighbour W.; and this couldn't be if you were in the condition you speak of. Surely God wouldn't treat one of his creatures better than another. He wouldn't keep me in perfect health, and leave you limping and groaning with pain. Oh, no; it's all a mistake. It's a mere fancy, and you have no pain in your bones whatever. It is as clear as the doctrine of universal salvation, and rests on the same proof, that you are as free from pain as I am, and sleep as well o' nights. Yes, my friend, you must give up this fancy of yours about pain, and rheumatism, and sleepless nights, or else admit there is such a thing as suffering under the government of God. And if he inflicts it in this world upon some, and spares others, it is in vain to argue, from his goodness and impartiality, that he will not do the same in the world to come. And he was speechless. A SMALL DISCIPLE. THERE are such. We have seen them. If our readers never saw one, we are glad. We will give a brief description of one, hoping they may be profited by the picture. 1. He has small acquaintance with the Bible.-If the actual worth of that book could have been an incitement to a large acquaintance with it, or the earnest injunction of its Author to study it had prevailed, there would have been knowledge of it. But they have both failed. The Scriptures are a territory into which he has taken only now and then a hasty ramble. Long and diligent journeying there, to know what might be known, has never been practised. Hence a very small circle of ideas would embrace all his knowledge of the lively oracles. 2. He is very sparing in his attendance upon Christian privileges. -Custom, and perhaps other mo tives, make him acquainted with the sanctuary on the Sabbath, but he is seldom discernible on other occasions. This neglect helps to keep him small. If he only had the heart to turn into all the fat pastures that are open to him, he might find ample food, and increase in spiritual stature. 3. His prayers are small.-The whole heart and soul is not in them, only a part of it. And when but a small part of the soul is engaged, the prayers themselves cannot be otherwise than small. They do not go largely forth, expanding and increasing, as they must from a heart all on fire with love and zeal. They are fettered and cramped, and are dwarfish. There is nothing of the giant about them. 4. His faith is small.-A grain of mustard-seed is too large an object for the comparison. If his faith filled but that small measure, Zion would not be long in learning that man's spiritual strength. But he has only dim visions of eternal things. Instead of soaring upward, as on eagle's wings, he grovels and creeps. If you were to place him beside some of the men of strong faith that may be found in Zion, you would be surprised at the contrast. 5. He is very small also in his charities.-They are drops, small drops, and not very near together either. We have heard one commended who gave all she had, which is a large donation; and of others who had given themselves; and of others who have done what they could. All this is large and noble; but this disciple was never found in Gen. P.-Good morning, Squire said, excited his compassion. The Squire W.-I am not well, General; I have a great deal of pain in my bones; I get no sleep o' nights, and am pretty miserable. This rheumatism has got fast hold of me. Gen. P. (Looking at his neighbour with an air of sober earnestness.)— You must be mistaken, Squire W. You have no pain in your bones. It's all a mistake. I don't believe a word of it. Squire W.-What do you mean, General? I don't understand you. I tell you I have pain in my bones, that keeps me awake all night, and I don't know what to do for it. If you felt as I do, you would think you had pain, I guess. They met one morning on the line of their farms, when this colloquy occurred: Gen. P.-O no, Squire. It's a mistake of yours. You have no pain whatever. It cannot be that you have. Squire W.-I don't understand you, General. How do you know I have no pain? Gen. P.-Know? I know it, Squire W., from your own principles. God is infinitely good. Of course he would not inflict pain upon a creature. Besides, he is no respecter of persons, and it can't be that he would subject you to suffering, and spare me. Yet I have no pain in my bones. I am perfectly well. I sleep well o'nights, and have no rheumatism. I am sure of it, neighbour W.; and this couldn't be if you were in the condition you speak of. Surely God wouldn't treat one of his creatures better than another. He wouldn't keep me in perfect health, and leave you limping and groaning with pain. Oh, no; it's all a mistake. It's a mere fancy, and you have no pain in your bones whatever. It is as clear as the doctrine of universal salvation, and rests on the same proof, that you are as free from pain as I am, and sleep as well o' nights. Yes, my friend, you must give up this fancy of yours about pain, and rheumatism, and sleepless nights, or else admit there is such a thing as suffering under the government of God. And if he inflicts it in this world upon some, and spares others, it is in vain to argue, from his goodness and impartiality, that he will not do the same in the world to come. And he was speechless. A SMALL DISCIPLE. THERE are such. We have seen them. If our readers never saw one, we are glad. We will give a brief description of one, hoping they may be profited by the picture. 1. He has small acquaintance with the Bible. If the actual worth of that book could have been an incitement to a large acquaintance with it, or the earnest injunction of its Author to study it had prevailed, there would have been knowledge of it. But they have both failed. The Scriptures are a territory into which he has taken only now and then a hasty ramble. Long and diligent journeying there, to know what might be known, has never been practised. Hence a very small circle of ideas would embrace all his knowledge of the lively oracles. 2. He is very sparing in his attendance upon Christian privileges. -Custom, and perhaps other mo tives, make him acquainted with the sanctuary on the Sabbath, but he is seldom discernible on other occasions. This neglect helps to keep him small. If he only had the heart to turn into all the fat pastures that are open to him, he might find ample food, and increase in spiritual stature. 3. His prayers are small.-The whole heart and soul is not in them, only a part of it. And when but a small part of the soul is engaged, the prayers themselves cannot be otherwise than small. They do not go largely forth, expanding and increasing, as they must from a heart all on fire with love and zeal. They are fettered and cramped, and are dwarfish. There is nothing of the giant about them. 4. His faith is small.-A grain of mustard-seed is too large an object for the comparison. If his faith filled but that small measure, Zion would not be long in learning that man's spiritual strength. But he has only dim visions of eternal things. Instead of soaring upward, as on eagle's wings, he grovels and creeps. If you were to place him beside some of the men of strong faith that may be found in Zion, you would be surprised at the contrast. 5. He is very small also in his charities.-They are drops, small drops, and not very near together either. We have heard one commended who gave all she had, which is a large donation; and of others who had given themselves; and of others who have done what they could. All this is large and noble; but this disciple was never found in |