stand, not only acquitted at the bar of God, but righteous in His sight, and that is, by simply accepting the arrangement He has made for us, and "setting to our seal that He is true," by believing the record given of His Son. This arrangement is, the transfer of our guilt to Jesus, and of His righteousness to us, so that spotless and complete we can stand "accepted in the Beloved." With this change of state comes a change of spirit. We are born into God's family, "not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, but of God." We have desires after holiness, a love of truth, and a nature fitted for the enjoyment of heaven. So it is we long for "the rest that remaineth," and the sunshine of the Master's presence, endeavouring for the "little while" He is absent from us not to bring dishonour upon His holy name by evil conduct or worldly ways.

Dear readers, you may be in doubt about anything else on earth, but do not remain in doubt about your eternal salvation. It is madness to delay, for the uncertainty of life and unsatisfying nature of everything in the world is apparent to all. Come to Christ "just now;" trust alone in His atonement, hold to His promise; then you will be able to say, whether length of days, or only a brief period of earthly existence is afforded you, hopefully, gladly, "A little while longer, and I shall be gone."

E. E. H.

The Praying Saviour.

HAT wonderful things do we behold connected with our salvation; things which may well surprise and astonish us. Amongst these wonderful things,

how wonderful that the Son of God should be found in the exercise of prayer; that He, who from all eternity had reigned on the throne, should ever become a suppliant at the footstool! We are so accustomed to think

the "heirs of the kingdom which God hath promised to them that love Him."

So interested was I with his conversation, and by his modest and pious manner, that I ventured to ask him to give me a slight sketch of his history, and to tell me how he was brought from the bonds of infidelity, by which he had said he was once bound, to the "glorious liberty of the children of God." This request he complied with, and in a few words I repeat his simple tale.

When quite a young man his mind had become tainted by infidel principles, and he looked upon the Bible as a cunningly-devised fable, unworthy of belief, and fit only to be treated with scorn by one so wise as he then considered himself.

He worked hard at his trade, prospered, and married; and the children who gathered around his board became the delight of his life. When the eldest son began to attend school, a Bible was there provided for him. But the parents regarded it more in the light of a useful school-book than as the inspired Word of God. The father was, nevertheless, greatly interested in the eagerness and the delight with which the boy read to himself chapter after chapter every day. He not only read, but frequently asked his parents to explain difficult passages, or to allow him to read to them portions that interested him most; but he was usually put off by some such evasive answers as Not now-another time." Then it was that the little fellow would say, 'Father, if you have no time to look and read, you can at least listen, and I will read it to you so often that you can remember it all." The parent did not want to hear; but he could not refuse his little one, and as he afterwards confessed, he remembered much in spite of himself. Up to this time he had been a prosperous man, and remarkably free from trials, but now came darker days. Disease entered his family; his wife died, and one by one his much-loved children were taken from him by death.

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He was now left alone in the world; yet, although sad

and solitary, he maintained his courage, and continued to live the hard-working and thrifty life he had always led. For a time prosperity seemed again to smile upon him, when, alas! a fire, which broke out on his premises, in a few hours reduced to ashes nearly all he possessed. He was now poor indeed, having neither worldly goods nor the consolations of religion to help him to bear his losses with resignation.

As yet he did not recognise the chastening hand of God in his troubles, but looked upon his afflictions as the result of chance or fate. With commendable spirit he once more set to work to retrieve as well as he could his shattered fortunes.

It was at this period of his life that what were to him strange thoughts entered into his mind; words that his child had read out of his Bible came back to him; and although he would gladly have dismissed them from his thoughts, he was unable to drive them away. The sweet voice of his little son seemed often to ring in his ear, repeating a gospel invitation, or speaking some warning to the unbeliever; passages of Scripture that had long been forgotten forced themselves upon his memory, and caused him great uneasiness.

Little did he then think that God's gracious spirit was working in his soul, and with all his might tried to rid himself of the uncomfortable thoughts that agitated his mind.

For a time he succeeded in quieting the voice of conscience, and quenching the work of the Spirit; and once more he imagined himself happy and contented; but God in His great mercy did not leave him long to enjoy this state of false security. He sent one of His servants to rouse him from it, to point out his danger and a way of

escape.

Whilst sitting one day at his work he was surprised by a visit from a travelling Bible-seller, who tried to induce him to purchase one of his volumes, at the same time speaking of the importance of religion, of the fearful state

Mary Arnold possessed the ornament of "a meek and quiet spirit," and moreover was a devout Christian woman; while, on the contrary, Robert was the most violent-tempered man in the village. In addition, he was godless and profane, and although honest and industrious, this disfigured his character, and destroyed his good reputation among all who knew him. For some years he had seemed indifferent to religion and religious matters, looking upon all those who professed religion as possessed of some sort of delusion; but since his wife had experienced the great change, his cool indifference had changed into active enmity. Did anyone happen to speak to him of religion, this enmity manifested itself in rough, violent language, and threats, made more terrible by dreadful curses. It may be supposed that Mary Arnold had to endure a heavy trial, and indeed her countenance told the tale of her sorrow, although she breathed it into no ear save God's.

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Yet Robert could find no fault with his wife's disposition or household management; his sole anger was directed against what he called "her religious ways and notions." As to her going to the cottage-service so often, he was determined to put a stop to it, he said, and either bend her to his will, or break her." In order to succeed in his wicked design he tried various means, to which she usually submitted with meekness, although it caused her much grief to do so. But neither human nor satanic power could bind her spirit. Paul and Silas prayed and sang praises when bound with fetters and thrust into prison, and so, when grace takes possession of the heart, neither bonds, threats, imprisonment, nor any other restriction, can prevent the soul from holding sweet communion with the Father of spirits.

On a certain week-day Robert's wife expressed a wish to go to the service which was to be held that evening at the cottage. So ardent was her desire that she told him she must go. He received the information with a volley of

oaths and curses, and wound up by saying, "If

f you do go, I'll meet you at the door, coming out, and beat your brains out." The poor wife trembled visibly, and besought him to draw back the cruel threat, but no entreaties could avail. With renewed curses came renewed threats, and finally he left her, declaring that he would do as he said.

Mary Arnold knew full well that her husband was capable of carrying out his wicked purpose. So completely had his violent temper obtained the mastery over him that he would listen to no consideration, either of policy or of mercy, when it opposed any wicked design. For some time a great struggle went on in Mary Arnold's mind, and once or twice she was on the point of giving up. But with renewed prayer came renewed strength, and commending herself to the protection of Almighty God, she resolved to go to the service. The time drew on, and after preparing her husband's supper, she started for the meeting, praying as she journeyed along that a blessing might fall upon her wicked husband. That husband came home soon after her departure, and after eating his supper, in his turn started for the meeting, but, unlike his wife, "breathing out threatenings" against every one connected with it. But the eye of the same Lord who met with Saul on the way to Damascus was upon Robert Arnold that night, although he knew it not.

Mar

Soon after the commencement of the service I noticed that Robert was standing at the door, leaning on a potato hoe, with which doubtless he intended to wreak his vengeance on the wife. But as the service proceeded, Robert crept in behind the door, and quietly took a seat. vellous to say, the word spoken that night in much weakness came to him with convincing and converting power. The voice which called from heaven to the persecuting Saul of Tarsus called to the persecuting husband. He left the meeting while the last hymn was being sung, and repaired to his home full of conviction.

At the close of the service the poor woman wended her