60 HE GOT NOTHING FROM ME. cause. But he who meets the craft and guile of the world, girded in the rigid simplicity of truth, in strict honesty, integrity, and justice, will be the conqueror. He may be beset on every side by pitfalls and snares, but he pursues a narrow way which has been opened by Him who is "the Way, the Truth, and the Life," and which will carry him on in one unbroken, unfailing course, to where the light of truth shines, without the shade of a cloud or the twilight of eve, for ever. J. "HE GOT NOTHING FROM ME." I was passing from the door of the sanctuary, within whose walls I had listened to an impressive and affecting appeal in behalf of a noble Christian charity. A generous response had been given to the pleadings of the man of God, and many had contributed cheerfully and gratefully to the object claiming their benevolence. As I mingled with the throng wending homeward, the sentence that heads this article grated-oh, how harshly! -on my ear. I involuntarily turned to look at the speaker, and saw at a glance that it was not because he was too poor that he had uttered this mean boast. I knew him, and knew that he was far more able to contribute to a benevolent work than many who had done so that day. He got nothing from me! He seemed to triumph that he had succeeded in hardening his breast against its own generous impulses. His better emotions had been awakened. They needed exercise in order to their own healthfulness. But he resolutely said, No! His will would not permit his heart to soften. He was disciplining himself in selfishness; and many there are who are thus educating and strengthening their own selfish propensities, and striving to render themselves odious in their own esteem, and hateful to others. He got nothing from me! It was an ungrateful boast. The God, whose poor he was asked to pity and relieve, whose starving for the bread of life he was asked to feed, had been most bountiful in his benefactions to him. His health was robust, his business prosperous, and there was plenty in his home. How basely ungrateful to deny the calls of that Providence by which he had been so uniformly favoured! He got nothing from me! Who got nothing? He could not mean the preacher, for he asked for nothing for himself. His poor neighbour, prostrate upon a bed of sickness, with a helpless, suffering family, he got nothing from the church. The minister of Christ's Gospel, who, moved by love of God and of souls, had said, "Give me only food and raiment, and I will go and proclaim the blessed Gospel to those who are perishing for lack of knowledge;" to him had he scornfully said, "You get nothing from me. Not a farthing to buy you a loaf shall come from my purse. Let the heathen perish, and the heralds of good tidings to them starve, so far as they depend on my benevolence." He got nothing from me! No, avaricious man! and if the world of mankind were like you, all the channels of benevolence would be dried up. There would be none left to pity the suffering, none to bear the blessings of civilization and Christianity over our world. What a selfish, griping, hardhearted race would ours be, if they were only all moulded after your model! There are too many like you, but there is hope for our race in the assurance that many are very unlike. He got nothing from me! But you have lost more than you have kept by your parsimony. You have lost another opportunity for treasuring up a pleasant memory, for by-and-bye the sweetest reminiscences that can be called back to the soul, will be those associated with deeds of charity and kindness. Be sparing of your seed now, and you will have but a sparse harvest of happy memories to reap. And if God rewards according to the deeds done, you have lost a reward for this refusal, and probably you will have very few to claim. He got nothing from me! And you will get nothing from Him when God calls you into judgment. If you have not a heart to sympathise with the miseries of your fellow-men here, there will be no pity for your wretchedness hereafter. If you are so destitute of love to God and man that you can unfeelingly boast of your own hardheartedness, then there will be no companionship for you among the loving and the holy in heaven. You are not like them in tastes or spirit, and you would not associate with them in intimate fellowship if you could. That mean, selfish nature of yours must be changed by the grace of God, Lessons by the Way; or, Things to Think On. CROMWELL ON TOLERATION. Men who believe in Jesus Christ—that is, the form that gives being to true religion, namely, to faith in Christ-and walking in a profession answerable to that faith; men who believe the remission of sins through the blood of Christ, and free justification by the blood of Christ, who live upon the grace of God-they are members of Jesus Christ, and are to him the apple of his eye. Whoever hath this faith, let his form be what it may, he walking peaceably without prejudice to others under other forms: it is a debt due to God and Christ, and he will require it if that Christian may not enjoy his liberty. If a man of one form will be trampling upon the heels of another form; if an Independent, for example, will despise him who is under Baptism, and will revile him and reproach and provoke him, I will not suffer it in him. If, on the other side, those of the Anabaptist judgment shall be censuring the godly ministers of the nation who profess under Independency; or if those who profess under Presbytery shall be reproaching or speaking evil of them, traducing and censuring them, as I would not be willing to see the day when England shall be in the power of the Presbytery to impose upon the consciences of others that profess faith in Christ, so I will not endure any reproach to them. But God give us hearts and spirits to keep things equal; which truly, I must profess to you, hath been my temper. I have had some boxes on the ears, and rebukes, on the one hand and on the other; some censuring me for Presbytery; others as an inletter to all the sects and heresies of the nation. I have borne my reproach; but I have, through God's mercy, not been unhappy in hindering any one religion to impose upon another.-MS. in British Museum. HOPE OF THE CHRISTIAN. Our daily observation and experience prove to us that hope springs continually into the breast of man. If he undertakes a scheme, and fails of accomplishing it to his mind, hope will nerve him up to the undertaking of another, and so on to the end of life. It is right that it should be so. Were it not for this, life would be unsupportable. But there are times when the delusive hopes of this world cannot give peace to the soulwhen sorrow, trouble, and affliction overtake us-when health, fortune, and friends are gone. How dreary, how inconsolable, how sad our lot, did not the hope of the Gospel incite us to look forward to fairer prospects, and did not one bright spot appear through sor row's clouds, which tells us all is not darkness, that light may yet shine upon us; and while we view this spot, our drooping spirits are revived, and a hope of better, brighter prospects cheers our hearts, and gives light within. Misfortune's storms may rage, and sorrow's waves dash; trials and troubles with a foaming fury rush in on every side, and even death's dark waters be in full view; yet, if we ride in the bark of Christian hope, we need not fear. It will bear us safe through life's tempestuous seas, outride the dark waters of death, and conduct us to the haven of eternal rest, where peace, like a river, will flow to the soul. "CHARITY BEGINS AT HOME." As if the proverb were a vindication of the most self-denying benevolence, when it is nothing more than the miserable sophistry of a selfish heart. Selfishness begins at home; and it is this which is often palmed upon the world for a kind of home charity. The man who refuses a contribution for the heathen world because he beholds needy ones in his own neighbourhood is not usually distinguished for his generosity to them. "It is absurd," said a penurious Christian professor belonging to this class," to be sending money abroad, to be spent we know not how, when there is so much suffering nearer home." "I will give five pounds to the poor at home, if you will give the same," said the Christian to whom the above remark was made. did not mean that," replied the liberal man; "but if you must go from home, why go so far? Think of the miserable poor of Ireland." "I will give five pounds to the poor of Ireland, if you will give the same." "I do not mean that, either," was the reply; a very fair illustration of the real spirit of such professing Christians as seek to hide their sins under the mantle, "Charity begins at home." THE IMMORTALITY OF MIND “I Intellect alone can put on a shape of earthly immortality, and become an everlasting and irrefragable witness of its own reality. Neither poets, nor painters, nor sculptors, nor even historians, can erect living monuments to any but themselves. The exactest copy of the fairest face, or the loveliest soul, becomes in a few years a mere ideal, only commendable as it expresses universal beauty or absolute goodness. Only the painter's or the poet's heart is really perpetuated. All but the mind either perishes in time, or vanishes out of time into eternity. Mind alone lives on with time, and keeps pace with the march of ages. Beauty, ever fleeting and continually renewed, does its work, then drops, like the petals of the blossom when the fruit is set. Valour and power may gain a lasting memory, but where are they when the brave and the mighty are departed? Their effects may remain, but they live not in them, any more than in the fire of the potter. Piety has a real immortality in heaven; its life is laid up with God, but on earth its record is but a tale that is told. But intellect really exists in its products; its kingdom is here. The beauty of the picture is an abiding concrete of the painter's vision. The Venus, the Apollo, the Laocoon, are not mere matter of history. The genius of Homer does not rest, like his disputed personal identity, on dubious testimony. It is, and will be, while the planets last. The beauty of Newton is in the grave, his soul with his Father above; but his mind is with us still. Hence may we perceive the superiority of intellect to all other gifts of earth-its rightful subordination to the grace that is of heaven.-Coleridge. ON PRIDE. I can easily perceive that pride is the cause of all my complaints. I have the best prescription for a cure, yet I get better but very slowly. Well may it be called "The pride of life," for it begins and ends with life, and diffuses its malignant effects through all the duties, dispositions, and actions of men, even of the best. It takes occasion to work on the heart by the meanest things; there is nothing so low but we may be proud of it, and nothing so exalted and sacred but pride may blend itself with it. We can be proud not only of the gifts and abilities which God gives us, but of that very grace which is given us to humble the heart. I have often thought that pride is much like the devil in Samuel's garments, when it appears under the garb of humility; and this is no uncommon case. If I was at this moment to say anything about the dreadful abomination of pride which would please myself, I dare say I should be very proud of it. But of all sins pride is surely the most unreasonable in creatures who are every moment dependent on the free bounty of Jehovah, and have nothing of their own but what is to them shame as well as sorrow. So much for pride; I wish there was an end of it here.-Rev. J. Jones. A LITTLE COAT. In the life of the Rev. S. Judd the following striking thought occurs: He preached a sermon from the text, "His mother made him a little coat," Samuel ii. 19. Passing from the letter to the spirit, he speaks of clothing for the mind and the soul, and endeavours to impress mothers that they should be more solicitous about such little coats than for the fashions and frock-jackets, or other garments of the body. I meet a man in the streets literally clothed in rags, clothed also with tokens of a depraved life. I ask, did his mother, when young, make him a little coat? When I see a person clothed in humility, entertaining a modest sense of himself, rever ent of truth, I say, his mother made for him a little coat. These coats last a long time. Children shall wear them when parents are dead they shall wear them in distant lands; that old family style will show itself in many places and times. What sort of clothes are you making for your children? Is their vesture wisdom or folly ? Is it the true goodness of beauty, or a poor imitation from the drapers? THE IMPORTANCE OF KNOWING WHAT IS IN THE HEART. God left Hezekiah to himself, that by this trial, and his weakness in it, what was in his heart might be known-that he was not so perfect in grace as he thought he was. It is good for us to know ourselves, and our own weakness and sinfulness, that we may not be conceited or self-confident, but may always live in dependence on Divine grace. We know not the corruption of our own hearts, nor what we shall do if God leave us to ourselves. His sin was, that he was lifted up. What need have great men, and good men, and useful men, to study their own infirinities and follies, and their obligations to free grace? That they may never think highly of themselves, but beg earnestly of God that he will always keep them humble. Hezekiah made a bad return to God for his favours, by making even those favours food and fuel of his pride. Let us, then, shun the occasions of sin. Let us avoid the company, the amusements, the books, yea, the very lights that may administer to sin. Let us commit ourselves constantly to God's care and protection, and beg of him never to leave us nor forsake us. Blessed be God, death will soon end the believer's conflict; then pride and every sin will be abolished, and he will no more be tempted to withhold the praise which belongs to the God of his salvation.-Matthew Henry. ADVICE TO A YOUNG LADY ON THE SIGHT OF HER ALBUM. Consider, my young friend, this little book as an emblem of your mind. Few characters are as yet inscribed in either; take heed that the blank pages be filled only with what is valuable. You would not present your album to strangers, much less to sceptics and libertines, to insert what they pleased; and you ought not to venture it into the hands of triflers and flatterers, giving them a liberty which they will be sure to abuse; and remember that your mind is of far more importance and worth than your book. Be anxious to have both furnished with sound principles, bright maxims, wise counsels, pure sentiments, serious warnings, Divine doctrines and promises. To gain and keep such a treasure, there must be select society and choice books, diligence joined with discretion, and vigilance with devotion. Be not vain of accessions, made either to your album or your mind; and beware, lest any memorials of friendship, gratitude, and piety, should be obliterated, blotted, or even sullied with a stain.-R. IMPATIENT HEARERS. One Sabbath morning the Rev. Richard Watson, when engaged in preaching, had not proceeded far in his discourse, when he observed an individual in a pew just before him rise from his seat, and turn round to look at the clock in the front of the gallery, as if the service were a weariness to him. The unseemly act called forth the following rebuke: A remarkable change," said the speaker, "has taken place among the people of this country in regard to the public service of religion. Our forefathers put their clocks on the outside of their places of worship, that they might not be too late in their attendance. We have transferred them to the inside of the house of God, lest we should stay too long in the service. A sad and an ominous change!" THE ART OF HEALTH. Walking is the best possible exercise. Habituate yourself to walking very far. The Europeans value themselves on having subdued the horse to the use of man, but I doubt whether we have not lost more than we have gained by the use of this animal. No one thing has occasioned so much degeneracy of the human body. An Indian goes on foot nearly as far in a day, for a long journey, as an enfeebled white does on his horse, and he will tire the best horses. A little walk of half an hour in the morning, when you first rise, is advisable. It shakes off sleep, and produces other good effects in the animal economy. A SINGULAR DEATH. Died-in Laodicea, the Prayer-meeting, aged one year. The health of this meeting was poor most of the year, and its life was despaired of. But a few anxious friends kept it alive, and sometimes it would so revive as to encourage them. Discouragement, however, at last prevailed, and the prayermeeting is dead. It died from neglect. Not a Christian was present when it died. Over forty were living within a mile of it, and not one was there. Had two only been there, its life might have been saved, for where two are agreed as touching anything they shall ask, it shall be done for them. Two-thirds of the forty might have been there had they been so disposed. But they were not, and the prayer meeting died. ENCOURAGEMENT IN THE WORK OF GOD. Whatever is done towards rendering the word of God generally known and attended to, is like bringing a stone or an ingot of gold towards erecting the temple. This should encourage us, when we grieve that we do not see more fruit of our labours. Much good may appear after our death which we never thought of. Let us not, then, be weary in well doing. The work is in the hands of this Prince of Peace. As he, the author and finisher of the work, is pleased to employ us as his instruments, let us arise and be doing, encouraging and helping one another, working by his rule, after his example, in dependence on his grace, assured that he will be with us, and that our labour shall not be in vain in the Lord.-Matthew Henry. THE GOOD WIFE. How reserve and shrinking delicacy threw a veil over her beautiful character. She was little known beyond her own home; but there she silently spread around her that soft, pure light, the preciousness of which is never fully understood till it is quenched. Her calm, gentle wisdom, her sweet humility, her sympathy, which, though tender, was too serene to disturb her clear perception, fitted her to act instinctively, and without the consciousness of either party, on his most sanguine, ardent mind. She was truly a spirit of good, diffusing a tranquilizing influence mildly to be thought of, and therefore sure. "MY SHEEP KNOW MY VOICE." A traveller once asserted to a Syrian shepherd, that the sheep knew the dress of their master, not his voice. The shepherd, on the other hand, asserted it was the voice they knew. To settle the dispute, he and the traveller exchanged dresses, and went among the sheep. The traveller in the shepherd's dress called on the sheep and tried to lead them, but "they knew not his voice," and never moved. On the other hand, they ran at once at the call of their owner, though thus disguised. (John x. 4.)-Bonar's Mission to the Jews. Biography. MEMOIR OF THE LATE MR. ANDREW NOAL, OF ST. IVES, "THE memory of the just is blessed;" of Christ, who for upwards of fifty years was a member, and for many years a deacon of the church assembling in Lady Huntingdon's chapel in this town, our object will not be to pronounce a panegyric, but to pay a simple tribute to his excellencies. Character like his asks no embellish ment. It speaks for itself. It deserves recording, however, for the honour of religion and for the uses of living piety. The subject of this short memorial was born in St. Ives, in 1785. His parents were pious and respectable, and "trained up their children in the nurture and in the admonition of the Lord." Hence he was made acquainted with Divine things almost from his infancy. At a very early age he became the subject of frequent religious impressions. The ministry of the late eminent Robert M'All was blessed to him. He was one of his first fruits and early converts. He followed him from house to house. He was the boy who held the candle in the markethouse of St. Ives before the present chapel was built, whilst that honoured servant of God preached the glorious Gospel, and pointed sinners to the Lamb of God. As he advanced in years, his piety strengthened, and his love to the Lord's house and to the Lord's people became stronger and stronger. Having given himself to the Lord, he saw it to be his duty publicly to profess Christ, and to unite himself to his people. He was received into the church by Mr. M'All; and during the fifty years he stood in connection with this fellowship, he so maintained the profession of Christianity as "to adorn the doctrine of God his Saviour in all things." The piety of Andrew Noal was no sham. It was not a thing of times and places. It was a constant, enduring, and persevering principle. Religion was the element in which he lived, the air he tranquilly breathed. He walked with God." He was a happy and a cheerful Christian. He enjoyed his religion. It invested his example with the power of a charm, reminding us of the Divine model which he copied, and giving symmetry and completeness to his character; and few could be many minutes in his company without feeling that it is religion alone which gives "sweetest pleasures whilst we live," and sheds a moral glory around us. Thus, as religion was his element, we wonder not that it formed the chief topic of his conversation. He delighted to speak of the goodness of God, and of the glory and preciousness of the Lord Jesus. Christ. He gloried in the cross of spoke of the finished work of Christ He constantly referred to it. This was the sun of his system; the food and refuge of his soul; the rock on which he built; the foundation of all his hopes. To use a sailor's phrase, his anchor was hooked in the cross, as he and others were wont to say. He was also a constant attendant on the means of grace. He was as regular in his pew as the preacher in the pulpit. One might know for a certainty something was amiss if Andrew Noal was not at chapel. When he crossed over to Ireland in the herring season in his boat, one of his first inquiries on landing there, or at the Isle of Man, was, "What chapels are here, and when does service begin?" To his comrades he would say, "Come, boys, let us moor the boat, and go to chapel." Yes, he loved the house of God, and the place where bis honour dwelleth. With what delight might he be seen wending his way thither on the Sabbath morning to the prayermeeting (of which he was the leader), and having secured the chapel key the night before, we well remember him in the winter striking a lucifer match, and lighting a candle, and seating himself in a pew in readiness for his beloved Christian companions. Then at the appointed hour he would read Psa. lxxxiv. or cxxii., or some appropriate portion of Scripture, and sing this verse with others, giving out two lines at a time, from memory: "Here would I find a settled rest But like a child at home." The week-day services were likewise invariably attended by him. He was never absent but from illness, or unavoidable and imperative necessity. His greatest delight was in the service of God. This was his "meat and his drink." And when he engaged in public prayer, no one could listen to Andrew Noal on such occasions without feeling how truly and profitably he was leading the devotions. In social and public prayer he excelled. He seemed at such times to draw near to God, to approach close to the throne like one familiar there. Without any apparent effort, but in a simple, easy, and unaffected flow, how would he pour forth his soul with an unction and a fulness which evidently showed he was engaged in a congenial exer |