strengthening union of their souls to Christ to be the crowning blessing-this is the height of their privilege, as it is the ardour of their desire and the fulness of their prayers-that in all communion of love and subjection of character, they may receive from the Holy Spirit of Christ all Christian graces; those graces which are in nowise their own, but are reflected upon them from the brightness of His perfections, and without which their innate deformity must for ever exclude them from the purity of His heavenly vision. But I must not now further trust myself to the leadings of this gracious mystery, but proceed to notice

IV. This rich royal marriage supper is an open feast.-As it is royally free, unbought by man, without price, save to the Master of the feast, so also it is an open feast, unrestricted by any conditions such as men are apt to make of dignity and rank, of previous acquaintance, tried good-will, or close relationship. When the men of this world make a feast, they are usually careful to preserve a rank of society in their guests, which is not inferior to their own, they are continually inviting those, who could, in the matter of provision, feast as well at home; they call their friends, their brethren, their rich neighbours, and they themselves are bidden in return, and a recompence is made them. But what said the Master of this heavenly feast to His servants? "Go ye into the highways, and as many as ye shall find, bid to the marriage.' "Go out

quickly into the streets and lanes of the city, and bring in hither the poor, and the maimed, and the halt, and the blind." Go, bring Lazarus from the rich man's door; go, tell the outcast leper he shall be welcome here; tell the relenting sinner, the heart-stricken publican, that your Master eateth with publicans and sinners, and himself provides the feast; let not the lame man tarry for strength, let him attempt to rise, and my Spirit shall strengthen him; let but the blind turn his sightless eyes to this place of my sanctuary, and light shall spring forth to bless his simple faith; let the most prodigal spirit you may chance to meet perishing on the

world's highway, assure himself that a place is yet left him at the table of his Father, ay, and in his Father's heart, where the grace of adoption in Christ Jesus shall far more securely fix and establish him than ever did the privilege of his creation in Adam, as the Son of God. This is our commission, "as many as ye shall find, bid to the marriage;" under whatever circumstances of apparent hopelessness, bid them come, let the extremity of sin and misery be in every case the great argument for your zeal in pressing the Gospel invitation; tell them, that multitudes once in as bad a plight as themselves are now, arrayed, indeed, in garments not their own, sitting at my table, and drinking at the rivers of my eternal pleasures. Tell them, indeed, that as to their own merits, they do not, they never can deserve the breath they draw, the sun that shines, the rain that blesses both the evil and the good, the just and the unjust; and, therefore, if they are determined to receive only what they deserve, they ought to put from them the bread that is given for the sustenance of their bodies. My brethren, it is the glory of God in the gospel to proportion his blessings contrary to the desert of His unworthy creatures. And, therefore, “ the Spirit and the Bride say come, and let him that heareth say come, and let him that is athirst come; and whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely:" where, then, is the restriction ? alone in the heart of man. Behold an open door! Ah, but some will say, the gate is strait, and the way is narrow; yes, to the man, who makes it so; to him, who thinks to entertain his sins and his Saviour too; to him, who goes about to improve the way already marked out for a sinner's return to God by works of a preparatory righteousness, which he can do; that man, also, who thinks to enter there with all his corruptions thick about him, (and of all corruptions in this respect, self-righteousness is of the worst,) will, indeed, be disappointed in his presumption. But to all else, how free, how full the grace, that calls them to this heavenly feast; so that all other distinctions melt away; that in Christ Jesus there is neither Greek nor Jew, circumcision nor uncircumcision, barbarian, Scythian,

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bond nor free," but all may come and welcome to the provisions of His love.

S. B.

(To be concluded.)

A MINISTER'S VISITS TO HIS CHURCHYARD.

I LOVE to linger as I pass through my churchyard on my way home. The old grey church in the middle; the tall trees all round the fences; the neat clean gravel-walk; the smooth grass, free from nettles; the regular and seemly graves, swelling up in rows, waiting the last rising of the Sun of Righteousness, when the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall arise for evermore. The sheep graze quietly, and wonder at my intrusion; for there is no footpath through this silent, peaceful spot; no children jumping on the graves; no idlers forgetting that the dead are there, and that the Church of Christ is guarding that precious dust from insult, until that day, when each departed soul will come and claim its own dust from the church to whom its friends entrusted it at death.

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I love my churchyard. The sod keeps out of sight all that is revolting to our feelings; but it cannot hide from the eye of memory, the souls to whom each grave belongs and one can easily realize the day when we shall meet once more, face to face, the minister and his flock; and bear witness for, or against one another. The minister is never alone in his churchyard, for the dead are there; and it is a joyful, as well as a sorrowful thought.

Yonder is a grave now scarcely discernible: the body of old J. M. has been there for fifteen years-but his soul is not there. He was above eighty years old. Never did I see the church door opened, for any service, but old J. M. was there; the heat of summer and the cold of winter made no difference. In summer he sat on a stool under the pulpit; in winter he moved his stool beside the stove, for the hoary-headed man was feeble and chilly. He loved the prayers, he loved the lessons, he loved the sermon; he loved to look into an open grave, and think that he would soon need one. No one had a word of reproach against the conduct or living of

old J. M. One morning as he prepared to rise from bed, he suddenly called out that he was very ill; that he never before had felt such pain as was then aching in his chest. His family ran for help, ran to get him something warm: but he called out again, "Dear Jesus! Sweet Jesus!" then sighing deeply, his head sunk on his breast, and the old man's earthly tale was told: his spirit had returned to God, who gave it. I shall meet old J. M. again, and the thought of him meets me now, as I linger in my churchyard.

On the other side is the fast-mouldering grave of A. H., who died of cancer in the prime of life, leaving a sorrowing husband and children. When I came to the parish she had been for a few years a dissenter, but her religion was as yet little more than awakened feelings. She became a steady church-goer, and, at length, a regular communicant: she was an upright and devout woman-an excellent wife, a fond and pious mother. But she had a heavy cross to bear from the party whom she had left, to return to the Church: often, when she came to pay her deposit in my clothing-club, she has told me almost with a tear in her eye, that her former acquaintances would hoot after her in the street, and call her a Sacrament woman, a Church hypocrite, and other names; but she would add, I am not afraid of being reviled, so much as lest I should revile again. She was confined to bed for above a year in excruciating painbut she bore it patiently, and continued to grow in religion; and it was always a comfort to read and pray by her, for her simplicity was great, her faith clear. At her own request, she always had the Sacrament administered to her as soon after the public administration as possible: she felt it a comfort to join, as far as possible, along with the flock, and not merely to view it as a private ordinance. Some time before her death, she said she had chosen a text, Ps. xxvii. 13, 14, and would feel it a comfort if I would promise to preach from it, for the good of others, after her death: for she could never have borne up against her dreadful sufferings, but for the hope of seeing the goodness of the Lord daily, even in this life, and even in her anguish. The day

before she died, her disease suddenly became overpowering: I had come to administer the Sacrament to her (as it had been administered at Church the day before), but she feebly, and at intervals said, "O, Sir, it is past that now-I have not sense left to listen-I shall soon be with my Saviour-you'll not forget my text, Sir;"-and she could speak no more, and hear no more. And thus she passed away, and her tale was told.

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But yonder is a grave of peculiar sorrow: there rests the dust of one who was the mother of a large family, and died by her own hand. Her mind was sensible, her life was correct, her character industrious; but religion had not any influential hold over her. She would come occasionally to church, and carefully sent her children to the Sunday school; but the fear of God was not her ruling principle. Latterly, she was subject to much depression of spirits, and no reasonings could remove them; and, probably, the consciousness that she did not live up to the religious light which she had, increased her despondency. One Sunday evening, in deep dejec tion, she wounded herself fearfully, with the purpose putting an end to her life; but God mercifully spared her for a week afterward. When I reached her bedside (for her friends had stanched the blood and got her to bed), she threw up her arms, and exulted in what she had done, and said she was right in it, and would go to heaven. As soon as the dreadful excitement had a little subsided, I reasoned calmly with her out of God's Word; and at length she owned that her act was murder, her guilt fearful; she begged for mercy; crying to God to spare her a little longer to repent. God heard her prayer; and as far as man can judge, she deeply repented, and died in trembling hope of mercy through her Redeemer; becoming clearer and more penitent on each succeeding day of her scanty time. Her tale was told. Perhaps I may, at some future time, tell you of the occupants of some other graves in this peaceful spot.

V. P.