places of trashy songs and glees, in all families professing a regard for Christian consistency? Merely considered in reference to the art, the change would be a blessing to society; and, in reference to the influence of the art upon believers, the benefits would be almost incalculable. Yet, after all, anthems, services, and other sacred music may be practised, enjoyed, and loved; but the true Christian and Methodist will go back with untiring delight, week after week, to his Hymn-Book; and the more he studies it and sings it, the greater will be his attachment to it, and the sweeter his satisfaction obtained from it. There is a wide field of pleasure opened to the thoughtful musician in the adaptation of tunes to hymns, in studying their spirit, and making the tunes express it, as only the educated Christian knows how. The Hymn-Book contains more hymns of prayer than of praise, many of them sublimely solemn. For these the compositions of the old masters of English church-music are exceedingly well adapted and, when their rich harmonies are as carefully studied as the commonplace ones of the glees and part-songs have been, they will give more exquisite gratification than can ever be obtained from secular music. * It would be too much to expect a revival of the true Wesleyan taste in the preference for minor tunes: but here, emphatically, the musician may find out that the former times were better than these. The greatest obstacle to their revival is the frivolous tone of the conversation prevalent in social gatherings, which would assort but ill with the solemn pathos of minor music. Does not the taste of modern society, in its eagerness to keep out all that is not pleasant to the natural man, run into the opposite extreme, that of fondness for inordinate merriment? Until the ceaseless appetite for a joke is moderated to a more Christian level, we shall look in vain for behaviour and conversation consistent with solemn and exalted styles of music. In circles of families connected with the same place of worship, who visit intimately, and enjoy frequent opportunities for conversation, much might be done to remedy this evil. There can be no rule laid down for the amendment: it must be left to the individual conscience, under the direction of the Minister and appointed spiritual adviser. The writings of St. Paul abound with warnings and directions, which, sought out and obeyed, would work a change, and fit the tone of society for constant praise.

And, O, has not our much-loved Methodism suffered enough from this quiet neglect of her hymnology? How long must ignorance and perversity run hand in hand for its degradation? Not much longer, we trust. If some of our elders have erred, it rests with our youth to remove the stain. If these will exert themselves conscientiously, in any of the ways pointed out above, the next generation of Methodists may be known once more as

* Some modern authors entertain the opinion that the melodies now denominated Alma, Benediction, Bithynia, Zion, Kerry, Webbe's Evening Hymn, and others, now used in the Romish Church, have come down from a purer antiquity. If so, they belong to the whole Christian church, and may well be reclaimed, as they have lately been.

intense lovers of their spiritual songs. The fruit of careful study in private will be reaped in public. The singing of the sanctuary will no longer raise feelings bordering on disgust in the minds of educated Christians, or invite the censure and receive the scoff of the worldly-wise.

The strongest inducement yet remains. We, who are "glad in the Lord," know that our best efforts of praise here are but feeble echoes of the eternal music already begun in the New Jerusalem, whither the tribes of the redeemed repair with singing. Now we are practising the art chosen of God, enjoying foretastes of heaven, helping and strengthening our souls on their journey thither. The great end of this journey is not far distant, even for the youngest. Inspired by these reflections, let our

constant anthem be

GLORY BE TO THE FATHER, AND TO THE SON, AND TO THE HOLY GHOST;

AS IT WAS IN THE BEGINNING, IS NOW, AND EVER SHALL BE, WORLD

"IT IS THE ONLY THING WORTH LIVING FOR."

THIS was death-bed language, uttered in the light of dawning eternity, and by one who had drunk deeply at most of the fountains of worldly pleasure, the late Earl Fitzhardinge. The deceased nobleman was led some years ago, as it appears, to think seriously about eternal things, through the singular faithfulness of a Christian Minister, still living. "The Rev. Dr. Morton Brown, of Cheltenham, waited upon Earl Fitzhardinge in the year 1844, with a deputation, to state objections to Sir Robert Peel's Bill for enlarging and perpetuating the grant to Maynooth College. At the close of the interview, when the rest of the deputation had withdrawn, Dr. Brown stayed behind, and spoke to the Earl to this effect: I hope, my Lord, you will forgive me; but I feel constrained as a Christian Minister to observe, that you yourself have a soul to be saved or lost. The Earl manifested no displeasure, but, on the contrary, said, Thank you,' and promised to take an opportunity of conversing with The faithful him upon that subject. He was as good as his word. admonition commanded the respect of a man naturally of a frank and generous spirit. He afterwards told Dr. Brown that he was the only Minister of religion who had ever spoken to him about his soul.' At an early period of the Earl's illness, he sent for Dr. Brown,-who visited him seventy-five times during the eight months of his sufferings. The Earl passed through a season of deep distress, from a poignant conviction of sin; but the same Divine grace which enlightened him to see the evil of his heart and life, also led him to sincere and humble faith in Christ; and he died in the full enjoyment of Christian peace and hope. When on his death-bed, he exclaimed, All is peace; all is right;' and added these

memorable words: 'I had always thought religion was a melancholy thing; but I now find IT IS THE ONLY THING WORTH LIVING FOR. Here Ye am I, a poor penitent sinner, clinging to the cross of Christ!"" multitudes who throng the saloons of gaiety and fashion, listen to one who had proved the emptiness and folly of the things you are eagerly pursuing.

Is religion, then, "the only thing worth living for?" How can it be otherwise? Three things are the indispensable attributes of true happiness; and these religion alone combines. It must be suitable, sufficient, and perpetual.

God is impressively styled, "the Father of spirits." It is absurd, therefore, to attempt to satisfy that which is heavenly in its derivation with that which is earthly. When a man can say, "Christ liveth in me,"

then, and not till then, does he find an indwelling happiness suited to his spiritual powers and faculties. "I had always thought," said the Earl, "religion was a melancholy thing." Myriads have thought just the same; willing to give ear to him who was "a liar from the beginning." This is his most fatal device. He knows full well that every man pants for happiness; and if he can persuade any that religion is just the opposite of this, he gains a triumph. An old divine has this quaint remark: "If we read the devil's sayings backward, we shall generally arrive at the truth." So in the present instance. Religion is happiness, and "the only thing worth living for."

As soon would a drop fill the basin of the ocean, as would that which is sublunary and material satisfy an immortal spirit. It may be granted that the pleasures of the world afford a certain low gratification; but even this is transient. "Even in laughter," says Solomon, "the heart is sorrowful; and the end of that mirth is heaviness." The fabled apples of Sodom are fascinating to the eye, but they crumble into dust at the touch. Airy bubbles float upon the surface of the streamlet, irradiated with the colours of the rainbow; but they are dispersed by the lightest breeze. "I looked," says the royal Preacher, "on all the works that my hands had wrought, and on the labour that I had laboured to do: and, behold, all was vanity and vexation of spirit, and there was no profit under the sun."

We thirst to quaff not only a pure and crystal stream of bliss, but an ever-running one. It must flow, not only copiously, but continuously. Is this the characteristic of anything under the sun?

One thought more is suggested by the anecdote above given: "A word spoken in due season, how good is it!" What incalculable advantages may result from a well-timed admonition! The simple sentence," You yourself have a soul to be saved or lost," addressed in fidelity to Earl Fitzhardinge, became like a well-driven nail fixed in the memory, and was applied with Divine power to the heart. From other well-authenticated examples take three :-An interesting group of friends separating, a Clergyman was bidding adieu to a worldly-minded lady, whom it was rather

improbable he would see again in this world. He seriously asked, "Shall we ever meet again?" The question led to reflection and sound conversion. -A gentleman erroneously thought he saw on the other side of the street an individual to whom he was anxious to address a few words of warning. He crossed over, and, tapping his supposed friend on the shoulder, dropped a word or two. It was a stranger to whom he spoke but the arrow had flown; and, being guided in its flight by the Holy Spirit, it pierced the conscience, and led to reformation of life.-A commercial traveller called for orders at a grocer's place of business. The principal was writing at his desk; and, whilst so engaged, he heard the traveller utter an oath. Raising his eyes from the paper, he solemnly remarked, "God will judge you for those words," and then resumed his employment. But the conscience of the swearer was pierced by the two-edged sword, and he became a changed man. "Thou shalt in any wise rebuke thy neighbour, and not suffer sin upon him." Among the reasons why it is hard for rich men to enter the kingdom of heaven, it has been alleged that they have but few faithful reprovers. Let those Christians to whom the rich and great are accessible feel their responsibility in reference to a duty which should on no account be allowed to grow out of fashion.

Reader, "YOU YOURSELF HAVE A SOUL TO BE SAVED OR LOST!"

J. B.

FACTS AND LESSONS OF GEOLOGY.

"This youngest of the sister-sciences has brought tribute to religion."-SELECT LITERARY NOTICES, p. 68.

WITH the Christian philosopher, every subject of investigation should be made subservient, as far as practicable, to the moral improvement and elevation of himself and others. It is only when the intellectual faculties are thus employed, that he realizes the great aim for which they were entrusted to his care. Science then becomes ancillary to religion, and yields its greatest and most beneficial results. Under this aspect it is proposed to glance at some of the most remarkable topics of geology, and to deduce the lessons, of a moral and religious bearing, which they seem to teach.

Geology is that science which treats of the materials of which the "crust of the earth" is composed, the manner in which these are arranged, and the causes of that arrangement. It is no part of its province to teach the origin of the world, or the primary condition of the matter of which it is formed. On these points, cosmogony finds employment for its manifold speculations and deductions. A remark may be allowed, in passing,namely, that the spherical figure of the earth seems to point to a period in the past, however distant, when its materials existed in a gaseous state. Such condition of its original elements would alone admit the belief that

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the great law of gravitation operated so as to mould the planet into its present form. And that this form was either assumed by the operation of this law, or impressed by the fiat of the Almighty, when "in the beginning God created the heaven and the earth," is a conclusion we have no way of escaping.

This great law of matter moulds the tear on the cheek of sorrow, and the dew-drops glistening on the petals of the summer flower, or strewn on the blade of grass bending beneath their weight in the rays of the morning sun. It binds lakes and oceans to their beds, and rolls tiny rills and mighty rivers to the sea. And why should it be thought improbable, that by the same means the great Architect of the universe gave rotundity to the earth, the planets, and all the unnumbered orbs which He has scattered so profusely through the boundless space of His dominions? He could, doubtless, create the world as we see it, with its present dimensions and shape; its mountains and valleys, its seas and rivers, its deserts and luxuriant forests: but when we know of established physical laws, by which He usually produces such results, it is in the highest degree rational to conclude that this is the way in which He also formed the world, rather than by the exercise of a directly miraculous power during the lapse of a brief period. Any work of the Deity effected by the slow process of secondary causes seems much more calculated to instruct intelligent beings, than the exhibition of great effects suddenly produced by irresistible Power. And may we not suppose that one of the reasons for so profuse a display of creative energy was to instruct, and so make the more happy, His intelligent and dependent creatures, whether belonging to this or to some other more exalted sphere?

That the whole mass of the earth may once have been in a gaseous state, chemical analysis has abundantly shown. By this means it has been ascertained that more than half of the solid and fluid matter of which the earth is composed, as far as it is known to man, is such as may be dissolved even artificially, in the laboratory of the chemist, into its component gases; and we may suppose it quite possible for the remaining portion, under certain conditions, to assume the same form, or otherwise to be mechanically suspended in the gaseous element to which the other portion had, according to our supposition, been reduced: so that, in this way, all might take the form of an extended cloud-like vapour. This will be made still more apparent when we weigh the statement of Sir Henry De la Beche, that about one-fourth of the material of the earth, as known to us, is composed of oxygen; and that sixteen thousand feet of carbonic acid gas is locked up in every cubic yard of carboniferous limestone. If we reflect how small an amount of heat would convert into vapour all our rivers, lakes, and oceans, together with all the accumulation of water contained in the depths of the earth,-and then, proceeding a step further, suppose as much heat superadded as would change this vapour into hydrogen gas,-we shall have a mental picture of the earth thrown back into its chaotic state.