-than archangels could,-thy creation, thou creature of a moment, teaches a lofty lesson of thy Maker's power, so lofty that the hierarchy of bliss, through the ages of eternity, will never learn its embodied meaning,-thy creation, thou ideal of dependency, raises a monument to perpetuate thy Maker's glory, so deeply embedded in time, that mortality cannot fathom its base, and so high that its topmost pinnacle is lost to the gaze of assembled angels,-thy creation, thy maternal creation, displays gloriously and triumphantly the Omnipotence and the Almighty Omniscience of thy Maker. That He, when He formed thee, foresaw everything that was needful and necessary to that condition that you were hereafter to fill, and exquisitely adapted your corporeal structure thereto. O praise the Lord, all ye people! Is there any other God like unto ours? Is there not sufficient contained in the human eye to enshrine us in wonder, love, and praise? There is more of sacred theology embodied therein than has ever been written since the age of Augustine. Every member of the body seemed to vie with each other which should reflect the brightest ray on their benignant Lord. What has not been done for us in a natural sense? How has God provided for our wants in this short sojourn of life? Well may it be said,

"There's not a muscle, nerve, or vein
Enclosed within the human frame,
But that Heaven's eternal mind
An office has to it assigned."

And each, the very minutest artery, the most thread-like muscle, proclaim in enrapturing eloquence the infinity of God, his omnipotency, and his almighty omniscience. The ubiquity of Jehovah is one of the grandest of his attributes. Our picture of ideal omnipotency has humanity stamped on it all.

Could we worship a Being, as a Deity, that was not cognizant of our actions, that knew not our thoughts, from whence they sprung, to what they tended-If we say that God is not omniscient, we deny the being of a God.

But, oh, let me ask, are there none that do think God in a measure not Omniscient? How many there are that are professors of Christ, to whom sin is no burden, because they do not run into open sin, conceive that God does not take notice of such trifling sin as they consider theirs to be, that it is still beneath his cognizance. Oh, deluded soul, living and dying in such a state, eternity will unfold to you miseries unutterably solemn. "Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels, from before the foundation of the world," will be the awful judgment reserved for you, ye despisers of the omniscience of God.

Are there not others, who are the possessors of the Lord of life and glory, ere they were brought manifestly into the fold of Christ, when conviction first began to spring up in their hearts-when eternity seemed unfolded to their eyes, and all its horrors stood in open array

before them-when they have fancied Jehovah was pronouncing death and judgment upon their souls, and that time was sounding its mournful knell over that spirit that had departed to the unseen world of black despair? Oh, was there not a running to the house of God to hear what the minister had got to say-a searching of the Bible to find if there were any consolation for one so unhappy-a reading of religious books and accounts of the Lord's dealing with his people, to see if there are any trace or analogy between them and you, and by every possible means endeavouring to know if you were the called according to his purpose, if you were interested in Gethsemane's anguish and Calvary's agony? Oh, poor child of God, to you whose experience is this, to you I appeal, how many times you have asked for mercy, and as many times felt distress of heart when you thought God would never hear or answer you? But since then, have you not, hundreds of times, thanked and adored your covenant-keeping God that he heard and heeded you, although you thought otherwise, that your silent breathing, your wishing prayer, was not unnoticed by the great Eternal? Oh, all glory to his Omniscience! He saw you direct your feet to where his word was preached. He saw you bend your knee he heard your petition for mercy-he saw you pondering over his sacred word--he knew your thoughts-he was acquainted with your desires-he watched your movements, and all by virtue of his omniscience he saw you long ere this ponderous globe, at his mandate, moved-long ere he studded the vast firmament with shining lights-ere sin was born or Satan fell: yes, he saw you in the august conclave of eternity, when he planned a scheme to redeem you from eternal wrath, where you must evidently have gone had he not have undertaken your cause; he accomplished that scheme by becoming your substitute, and dying in your stead; and finally, he will bring you home to the realms of eternal blessedness, where moth nor rust doth corrupt, where thieves do not beak through and steal, where sin cannot harrass, the world annoy, or Satan distress, but ever before the Lord in the bright illuminations of his presence. Oh, let everlasting and unceasing praises be echoed in long succession to our omniscient Lord—all glory crown his brow! LESS THAN THE LEAST.

[NOTE. The preceding piece was one of those which, the Editor regrets to say, never reached him until it appeared in print. The article came to him in type, and at a date in the month when it was too late to substitute another paper for it. Has not "Less than the Least" underrated his talents, and been guilty of an injustice to himself, in adopting such a signature? It does not at all agree with his " corporeal structure." There is such a contradiction of style throughout his writing, that we strongly suspect our correspondent of going to "Walker" or "Johnson " to see what large fine-sounding words he could find to puff off his paper with, and to appear in amazing contrast with a mind so deeply humbled as to regard itself as less than the least." Before he writes again, or at any rate before he addresses himself to a Magazine that wishes to "use great plainness of speech" (2 Cor. iii. 12) for the benefit of those who feel themselves very great sinners, he had better discard such language as 'hierarchy of bliss," "ideal of dependency," "enrapturing eloquence," clave of eternity," and the like absurdities.-ED.]

august con

CRISPIN TO THE BELOVED EDITOR, FELLOW-CORRESPONDENTS, AND REAders of tHE GOSPEL MAGAZINE, SENDETH GREETING.

"the even tenor of my way,"

FOR several months past I have pursued at times almost arrived at the conclusion, "the monotony of the stall" should no more be broken in upon by the din and bustle of the jarring elements that are around, but by silent observation endeavour to stifle the kindling flame from my oft musings; yet the impetus of an old man's pen is not to be stayed by the mere sound of a mountain torrent, however youngsters may conclude his arrival at second childhood. Enough, quite enough, he feels the growing infirmities of old age to justify his retiring into winter quarters, leaving the field to those whose strength and prowess arise from bones moistened with marrow. Alas! is it the conceitedness of one in his dotage, or the real factthat in the present age we are minus of those who were in other days to be found" famous for lifting up the axe upon the thick trees; the lap of Delilah affords ease to those Samsons who are willing to be shorn, and the delicate Agags walk at large in the paths of false expediency, soothed by the filesh-pleasing lullaby. Christian, spare that error, under the delusive speciousness of its being a little one, though all the while "eating as doth a canker."

With the aid of spectacles I have set some hours at the diamondcasement of my stall, conning over the pages of my youthful pet, and now almost solitary companion, "THE GOSPEL MAGAZINE," in these sterile days of acquaintance, when scarcely one lonely individual is left to cheer, amidst those concomitants which are the only luxuries of old age, and, while pleased with the many "pic-nics" scattered here and there, necessity has now and then been laid upon me to claim the merchant's tret, my digestive organs not possessing the power of consolidation, in all things.

Words are far inadequate to express the warmth of feeling awakened in my bosom towards those unknown friends who have deigned to cast a shade of remembrance upon so secluded an individual as the resident of " Amen Corner." With much reciprocity of feeling would I return the fraternal salute to my dear son," Metrios," who dwells on the other side of the great flood, that land of a thousand charms; but whose divinity is as destructive as the baneful "Upas Tree "-that land whose vain titles are exported so profusely to enrich the tails of the dark comets of our easily-duped “ Fatherland." Thanks, many thanks, to thee, my beloved child, for the cheering ray cast upon the drooping spirit of him, who oft concludes he lives only to be forgotten.

Gershom, thou deservest well; but old men are not always wise, nor does it pertain with Crispin to divine the carrying out of thy pro

jected scheme in this world of steam; it is not locomotive enough in its nature to insure the bill through the three estates of Rome's approachpriestly perfidy and universal indifference. Take credit for thy good intentions, and look from the watch-tower, for "Behold there cometh a chariot of men."

To the most superficial observer it cannot but appear what rapid progress we are making towards the Church of Rome. As a nation, every act, whether from the legislature or the clergy, tends but to strengthen the bands by which we are led. A lying spirit in the mouth of prophets is no new thing when the Lord has a decree to perform.

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The day is far gone by when Crispin would be found in the arena of politics; yet it is well known that the precincts of Amen Corner are privileged as the canon residents of St. Paul's," and all I claim as the "heir-loom of my stall," is the privilege of now and then turning over, and turning out, my own shreds; nor would I in so doing, be thought guilty of any disrespect to the diocesan of the Metropolitan See. It is well known that some of the most attractive novels and fleshly volumes of the age, have emanated from this literary corner— this secluded spot for those dignataries, called canons; nor is it at all a secret that the sombre gates which enclose the classic ground, can open to receive a visitor from the Saturday opera. Oh, Rome, these are England's attachés to thy chariot wheels. Who can question the secret workings of this insidious church on our land? When looking at the "shred" just turned up, some few weeks since, by the aid of a kind friend, the needful was supplied to allow Crispin, in these sultry dog-days, to rusticate for a short time in one of those counties of our "sea-girt isle," famous for the puritity of its air in renovating a relaxed system. The slumbers of the night had been refreshing, and while looking upon the morning routine of the little town, my ears were assailed, not by the sonorous tone of St. Paul's, but the simple note of a village ting-tang. At that early hour it had to me an irresistible attraction; and, following its sound, I soon reached the venerable pile from whence it proceeded. It was calling the aged inmates of an ancient charity, in accordance with the will of the donor, to morning prayers; and who so much cause as Crispin to let his voice be heard in the morning, in His presence who awakens prayer, and makes every place hallowed? I entered the little chapel, and took my seat amongst those who, in their days of old age, were provided with such an asylum; but, alas! with whata tremour was I seized! The almost entire exclusion of light threw a thrilling gloom over it, which was added unto when discovering upon the table a massive cross and the Romish quantity of candlesticks on and around it, with a profusion of bouquets and other paraphernalias, not to be surpassed by any of the Continental churches. A sigh involuntarily arose, and the stall was preferred above all the thrones and kingdoms that imagination could paint. Decorum

prevented my breaking the profound silence which prevaded the worshippers by any pertinent question as to whether I had mistaken a Romish for a Protestant place of worship, when the appearance of the officiating minister convinced me, whatever things around me might indicate, he was an accredited minister of the Protestant church; yet was I not a little surprised that he no sooner caught a view of poor Crispin, than he withdrew, and in a few seconds I was summoned into an ante-room, and politely told by this Protestant clergyman, I could not be allowed to remain. Of course, I withdrew, and the doors of this Protestant place of worship were closed against a Protestant in the nineteenth century, with a polite intimation that there would be prayers in the parish church at eight o'clock; but judge of my surprise when arrived there to find the place of sepulture here and there studded with the Catholic cross, and illuminated with all Romish superstition, and those common-place responses for the dead.

The late attempt of London and Exeter to gag the clergy by placing them under those restrictions from which lay men could not defend them, as in the matter of the surplice, was only another step for carrying out the Bonner scheme, which lurks in the breast, and which has already shown itself in the exclusion of the Irish ordained clergy from the immaculate diocese of London. My bowels tremble as a harp while looking at these things, and the ultimate issue which must befal this once Protestant nation. Who can behold otherwise than the ascendancy of Romanism in the laxity of our clergy in using their endeavours to stem it from such laxity? Its growth is strengthened, whilst the hosts of Jesuits, within our college dormitories, are fully engaged in corrupting the minds of our youths, and which each succeeding year will make manifest.

But let not the nervous inmate of the stall (as many may conclude him to be) weary you with his forebodings, at which men of stronger mind laugh. Certain he is that he has been too long used to the sound of his hammer and lapstone to be frightened at it; yet he is not willing to throw it aside so long as he retains the power to rap thereon against those crying evils of the day.

From the day, long gone by, when the primer and satchel were our only companions, we have been wont to say, "all the world's a stage; and now, in the autumn of riper years, it would almost appear unto us, that all religion, so far called so, is a mere bubble as regards the bustling, hurly-burly of its fleshly votaries. The stalls of the

opera-house are bedizened with the presence of those who claim aposto cal succession, and even the Episcopal Palace is said to be thrown open to the call-bird of a besotted world. Nor does the scene brighten if we turn our attention to the Puritanical ranks of modern dissent. They have multiplied their schools for the sons of the prophets; their ambition has been fed to the highest, and their beardless scions are sent forth either to dabble in the agitated waters of political discord, or,