of the air provide meat for man, rather than his dependence on thee shall be disappointed. O let not our faith be wanting to thee; thy care can never be wanting to us.

When the brook fails, God has a Sarepta for Elijah: instead of the ravens, a widow shall there feed him; yea, herself by him. There were other birds besides ravens, other widows besides this Sareptan; yet none but the ravens, none but this Sareptan, shall nourish Elijah. God's choice is not led in the string of human reasons: his holy will is the guide and the ground of all his elections. "It is not in him that wills, nor in him that runs, but in God that shows mercy.” The prophet followed the call of his God.

It was high time for the prophet to visit the Sareptan. Poor woman! she was now making her last meal; after one mean morsel, she was yielding herself over to death. How opportunely hath God provided succours to our distresses! it is his glory to help at a pinch; to begin where we have given over; that our relief might be so much the more welcome, by how much it is less looked for.

But what a trial is this of the faith of a weak proselyte, even if she were so much. She must go and spend on a stranger part of that little she hath, in hope of more, which she hath not, which she may have: she must part with her present food which she saw, in trust of future which she could not see: she must rob her sense in the exercise of her belief, and shorten her life in being, on the hope of a lengthening it in promise. What hard precepts doth God lay, where he intends bounty! Had not God meant her preservation, he had suffered her to eat her last cake alone; now the mercy of the Almighty, purposing as well this miraculous favour to her as to his prophet, requires of her this task, which flesh and blood would have thought unreasonable. So we are wont to put hard questions to those scholars, whom we would promote to higher classes. So, in all achievements, the difficulty of the enterprise makes way for the glory of the actor.

Happy was it for this widow, that she did not shut her hand to the man of God; that she was no niggard of her last handful: never corn or olive did so increase in growing, as here in consuming. This barrel, this cruse of hers had no bottom; the barrel of meal wasted not, and the cruse of oil failed not. Behold, not getting, not saving, is the

way to abundance, but giving. The mercy of God crowns our liberality with the blessing of store.

The dearth thus overcome, the mother looks with hope on her only son, promising herself much joy in his life and prosperity, when an unexpected sickness surprised him, and did that which the famine but threatened. When can we hold ourselves secure from evils? No sooner is one of these compounded with, than we are arrested by another.

How ready are we to mistake the grounds of our afflictions, and to cast them on false causes! She had the grace to know that her affliction was for her sin; yet was so unwise, as to imagine the arrears of her iniquities had not been called for, if Elijah had not been the remembrancer. Instead of chiding the Sareptan, out of the fervency of his soul, he humbly expostulates with his God: his only remedy is in his prayer: that, which shut heaven for rain, must open it for life. What miracle is impossible to faithful prayers? There cannot be more difference betwixt Elijah's devotion and ours, than betwixt supernatural and ordinary acts; if he, therefore, obtained miraculous favours by his prayers, do we doubt of those which are within the sphere of nature and use? What could we want, if we were not slack to ply Heaven with our prayers ?

The greatest prophet must content himself with so much of God's counsel as he will please to reveal; and he will sometimes reveal the greater secrets, and conceal the less, to make good both his own liberty and man's humiliation. So much more unexpected as the stroke was, so much more welcome is the cure. Even the strongest faith sometimes staggers, and needs fresh supplies of heavenly support. The end of miracles is confirmation of truth. It seems, had this widow's son continued dead, her belief had been buried in his grave: notwithstanding her meal and her oil, her soul had languished. The mercy of God provides new helps for our infirmities, and graciously condescends to our own terms, that he may work out our faith and salvation. From Bp. Hall.

PERHAPS YOU WILL THINK OF IT.

WHILE eating my mid-day meal, a sudden feeling of thankfulness came upon me as I called to mind the unceasing

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regularity with which my wants were supplied. In the frozen climes of the north, the half famished Indian had, doubtless, wandered for food; in the sultry regions of the east, the Arab must have roamed in quest of water, while bread had constantly been given me, and water had been sure. It was a customary thing to have a table spread before me, but it was an unusual thing for me to feel truly thankful. Do you ever pass days, weeks, and months, without feeling your heart glow with gratitude for your daily food? What if the Father of mercies were to send a constant famine, wherein there should never be sufficient earing and harvest again for ever? He might do this; the very thought is enough to make us value our bits and drops. Perhaps you will think of it.

It was during one of the last cold, misty, and miserable days, that I was far from my home without my great coat. I mounted a coach to ride home, with the rain and sharp wind full in my teeth, and absolutely shivered with cold. A hundred times have I put on my great coat without any grateful emotion for the comfort of clothes, and perhaps you have done the same thing. What if the Giver of all good should, in his providence, cut off every means of supplying ourselves with clothing! the thought is enough to make us bless God, with the liveliest ardour, for our raiment. Perhaps you will think of it.

It may be that you were out in the open air the severest day of the frost. It was intensely cold, and seemed to freeze, not only one's breath, but almost one's very thoughts. Few days are more pleasant to those who have health and spirits, and who can move about with alacrity, than a fine frosty day; but for all that, when night comes on, and the tea-kettle begins to sing, it is doubly pleasant to draw near a cheerful spirit-stirring fire. I found it so, and gratefully rejoiced in the delightful glow that spread throughout my frame. How many times have I warmed myself at the cheerful hearth without thankfulness! Has this been the case with you? What if the great Governor of the universe should command the supply of coal to fail, so that fuel should never again be abundant for ever! The thought almost makes me quake with cold, and should render us more thankful for the blessing of fire. Perhaps you will think of it.

The other day I looked in my Bible as it lay on the sideboard, and thought to myself how much I neglected it. What is a chapter in the morning and another at night, said I! why if I looked upon it as the gift of God, given to warn me from evil, to console me in trouble, to direct me in difficulty, and to guide me to glory, I should prize it as a treasure, and commune with it continually as with a friend. Do you ever neglect your Bible? What a punishment it would be to us both, if an angel were sent down from heaven to close the leaves of the Bible for ever from our view! The thought is enough to make us value the Bible. Perhaps you will think of it.

My thoughts sadly wandered yesterday morning as I sat in the house of the Most High, while the minister was preaching his sermon. Do your thoughts ever wander under the sound of the gospel? What, if the messenger of the Most High were sent down to close God's house, and to seal up the mouth of his faithful ministers for ever. This is a solemn thought, is it not? enough to make us anxiously attentive to every word spoken by a faithful minister. Perhaps you will think of it.

A short time ago, I kneeled down, in a hurried manner, to offer up my morning praises and petitions at a throne of grace, and, after a few words, hastily rose to pursue my worldly calling, which somewhat pressed on my attention; but my conscience smote me, and told me that I had offered an affront to the Lord of heaven. Do you ever hurry over your prayers? What, if the high and holy One should issue forth his unchangeable mandate, "There shall no more prayer and supplication find favour at the mercy-seat henceforth for ever." What an overwhelming thought! how precious it seems to make a throne of grace! Perhaps you will think of it.

How rare a circumstance it is for us to realize, even for a moment, in our thoughts that eternal state of glory to which all true Christians are hastening. Not an hour ago I had a delightful anticipation of the heavenly Jerusalem. The city with the golden gates, the innumerable multitude that no man can number, the saints with their crowns of gold were all before me, as well as the Lamb that was slain, seated on his eternal throne; the golden harps resounded with celestial harmony, and the heavenly hallelujahs rose in

How is it

one grand chorus of thanksgiving and praise. How much do we think of earth, and how little do we encourage thoughts of heaven! at least it is so with me. with you? What if the Lord of life and glory were to proclaim, with a voice of thunder, the announcement, None shall behold my glory in heaven, who rejoice not in the expectation of sharing it, while yet they are on the earth." The thought should awaken the most sluggish faculties of our souls to heavenly anticipation. Perhaps you will think of it.

We are too unmindful of what we owe the Father of mercies for the common blessings of food, raiment, and fire. We are too backward to improve the means of grace his goodness has provided for us, and too worldly to encourage the hope of eternal glory. Every well meant endeavour, even the feeble one which has now been made, to set these errors in their proper light, and to bring them home to the heart, should not be despised. If you are of opinion that this observation is just, perhaps you will think of it.

A CHRISTIAN PARENT'S REFLECTIONS ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD.

THE bills of mortality show that more than half the human race die in infancy and childhood. As God then gave us five children, and has now taken away three, we are not to think ourselves more hardly dealt with than others; especially as these dear little ones have doubtless entered upon a good exchange. There is much in the consideration, that so many immortal human beings are just shown to this world, and so quickly removed into another; and that the number of the elect is mainly accomplished in this way. They are as those plants which are gathered and housed the moment they are in season; while others, who arrive at maturer age, are as the fewer plants, which, being left for seed, remain longer out in wind and weather. What pains one's natural feelings most is, that we so much miss the delight we have enjoyed in the lovely innocent ways of a thriving child. But even this is made up for by the sure and certain prospect of what is far better. We do not regret the fall of the sweet and delightful blossoms of our plants and trees, though they soon drop off in such multitudes, because the fruit which succeeds is attended with