Jerusalem with candles," to bring to light the hidden things of darkness; to make manifest the counsels of the hearts. Now He draws near to make known universally and indisputably this great name and title of his Godhead,—“I am he that searcheth the reins and hearts." Who, then, may abide the day of his coming? Blessed be God, there are many that shall abide it; a countless number-every faithful and penitent convert every one, who, with the Christian name, entertained the Spirit of Christ; all who walked before man as in the sight of God; all who, in every sense of doctrine and example, put on the Lord Jesus Christ. But are all the guests at the heavenly table thus arrayed? Would to God all were! While we rejoice at the many who are so arrayed, we bewail the many who are not; the many, who gainsaid the lingering hope of Christian charity, and left the world with a lie in their right hand. But not only so; the ranks of our most hopeful congregations will, no doubt, suffer damage under the scrutiny of that hour they, who were only hearers of the word,-hearers, however attentive, however constant in attendance, must for ever be separated from those who were also doers of the word. In God's earthly courts, indeed, we are obliged to fear many such mere hearers exist, and for a time they escape detection. But "when the king came in to see the guests, he saw there a man, which had not on a wedding garment." Consider then, II. The detection of the offensive guest. The allusion is made to an eastern custom, of which (according to the testimony of many credible witnesses) some traces yet remain. This custom was, that persons invited to a marriage feast of distinction, were expected to attend in a costly and splendid robe, without which there was no welcome admission. When the guest had not the means of providing this requisite for himself, the master of the feast was known to supply the deficiency. In the supposed occasion of the parable it must have been so, considering the destitute rank of life from which the guests were chiefly gathered together. And, indeed, whenever a great man or a prince gave the feast, it was customary for him to furnish these marriage garments to the whole company. Since, then, such an arrangement as this, which left the richest and the poorest equally without excuse, could not be disturbed without exciting the displeasure of the royal host: to appear in mean or unsuitable apparel would fix upon any one a merited charge of presumption and unbelief; it would seem to infer that such a one either underrated the occasion, or discredited the declared liberality of his lord. From these considerations, and knowing well the fear of man, which is so much stronger in the natural heart than the fear of God, we may fairly conclude that this rule was but seldom transgressed in those countries where it prevailed. But when the Lord of the whole earth and highest heaven proclaims his will, gracious indeed, but sovereign and absolute, men too often either openly oppose or make light of His mercy, or else rush wildly, presumptuously, and selfrighteously, into the sanctuary of His visible Church, without any sober notion of what they are doing, of the responsibilities they incur, of the pledges they give, the hopes and fears, which by profession they renounce on one hand, and are bound to cultivate on the other. But, my brethren, all this duplicity must be unveiled and recompensed; it cannot be that God should forfeit the truth of his character, or insult the purity of his unchangeable nature by admitting the ungodly to the mansion of his glory. God must reign in judgment as well as in mercy. And, when He cometh, He will make his judgment known. the (To be continued.) THE SINNER'S WELCOME. 'Twas on a day of grace The hungry had been fed; To wisdom, God, and heav'n. And though his case small hope allow'd, That hope conducts him through the crowd. S. B. And now this Lazarus lies Low at the rich Lord's door; Greater that rich Lord's power. Shall to his pray'r be giv'n. Is made that rich Lord's friend and son. I am that outcast one, Thou, God, art rich and great, Pities my lost estate. O, let my sin and misery's cry "OLD JOHN S." S. B. THE following account of John S. was communicated to me by the wife of a clergyman, who knew and visited the old man. I shall endeavour to state the facts as near as possible in her own words. I think some, at least, who read the "Cottager's Monthly Visitor," will receive pleasure in the perusal. I am also led to believe it contains great encouragement for those who, by patient continuance in well-doing, obey "the words of the Preacher, the son of David, King of Jerusalem," which are as follows: "In the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thine hand: for thou knowest not whether shall prosper, either this or that, or whether they both shall be alike good." "In the year 1835 my husband became curate of the large parish of P., and in the summer of that year the daughter of John S. came to request the minister to visit her father, a man eighty years old, and confined to his bed by severe illness. The summons was promptly obeyed, as no time was to be lost in such a case. After two or three visits, my husband requested his sister and myself to walk to old John's cottage, and talk to him; he told us the old man was most ignorant, and quite indifferent about his religious state. We accordingly acted upon the suggestion, and one fine evening extended our walk to the 6 cottage. We found John very ill in bed, apparently suffering much pain. He was civil to us, but exceedingly full of bitter complainings respecting his bodily pains and infirmities, manifesting at the same time great unwillingness to speak of his soul or eternity. At length my sister said, John, we have walked down to speak to you upon a very important subject; never mind your body just now, remember that must soon die. It is your soul we wish to talk of, for you know that must live for ever either in endless happiness or misery, and then consider, my old friend, after death comes the judgment.' 'Yes,' said old John, I know all that; but I never did no harm to nobody, and I bear no malice or hatred in my heart, so I shall not hurt for that.' We endeavoured to press upon him his sinful state, by reason of original sin and his own corrupt nature, and the need there was of seeking salvation from a loving Saviour, who promises to forgive the sins of all those who, with true penitence, turn to Him. We inquired if he did not feel himself a sinner, when he considered God's perfect holiness and strict justice. 'No,' he said, I cannot say I do.' Though very much pained at the old man's darkness and insensibility, nevertheless we found great encouragement in his honesty; for, alas! many will not hesitate to allow themselves sinners, who never intend to go to Christ for salvation from their sins. I then said, ‘John, the reason you do not think yourself a sinner is because you do not know how strict God's laws are. Why, do you forget that not only bad actions, but bad thoughts, unrepented of, will seal your damnation?' Never shall I forget the poor old man; and immediately I saw my error, and inwardly deplored it. Poor John covered his head with the bed-clothes, and, in the greatest distress and alarm, cried out, 'O! pray go away; go away, and do not come and swear at me, and you a lady! I can't bear to hear you swear in that dreadful manner; why, whenever the lads in the street swear, it makes me shake all over. Indeed, indeed, I cannot hear a lady swear.' In vain I strove to make him understand I was not swearing at him. Nothing would convince him to the con trary; and, with hearts made sad, we left him, having first selected some chapters in the New Testament for his grand-daughter to read to him. I resolved never to offend again by using the word which had so shocked the poor man, and, in consequence, substituted the word 'condemnation' in place of it. I constantly visited him, and very gradually light broke into his soul, which I mainly attribute to the reading of God's word by the little girl, and the instruction of his minister. When some months had passed, during one of my visits, I was reading to him, and came to the word damnation, which I now ventured (though with some hesitation) to pronounce. All, however, was calm; so I said, 'John, you do not tell me not to swear-how is this?' 'Oh, no! I know now thou art not swearing at me. I know now it is God's word, not your's.' Soon after this, and during our absence from home, his daughter, who lived with him, died rather suddenly-old John expressed much anxiety respecting her state, talked very earnestly to her, and prayed with and for her on my return he said, 'My poor daughter is dead; I hope God, for Christ's sake, has pardoned her sins.' 'Do you think,' said his minister, that God hears your prayers?" 'Well, sir,' he said, 'that's more than I can tell.' 'No, John,' was his pastor's reply, 'it is not more than you may know, for God in his word assures us that He will hear the prayers of all who come to Him in his Son's name; therefore you may be sure if you ask in faith you are heard.' Oh!' said the old man with animation, that is joyful news; that is good news indeed.' On another occasion, when his sinful life had been made the subject of our conversation, large tears coursed each other down his aged cheeks, and he remarked, 'If Christ were not my Saviour, what would become of me? If He will not have mercy, I have none else beside. I don't know whatever I must do if He will not show me mercy.' Old John now made rapid advances in knowledge and grace. No mention of bodily pain, poverty, or grief, except for sin. He rejoiced to see us enter his cottage, and we never left without his blessing. When I first visited him, a sullen 'yes' or |