ministers, that their faults of character are having a constant transmission to their people, who with confidence place themselves permanently under their ministry. Is their intercourse with their people, in the pulpit and out of it, characterized by a spirit of worldliness and a want of an impression of eternal realities? Does their preaching come from a heart cold and dull? They are conveying this dulness, like a chill of death, through the whole sphere of their influence. Does levity of character and deportment appear prominent in the minister? While the more godly of the people will grieve and labour to counteract its influence, the greater part will gradually become assimilated to it. Is the minister possessed of a contentious spirit? He will give it diffusion by invariable laws of communication. And so of all other vicious habits of mind in the minister; he has great reason to expect to see them reproduced more or less in his hearers. And so if his views of divine truth are defective or erroneous, the seeds of his own errors will be germinating in hundreds of other minds.

This thought is one which might press with great solemnity upon every minister's heart. We go about with all our faults, among a people so ready to receive the tarnished hues of our character; in the discharge of our ministry, our utterances of divine truth, in matter and manner, are so pervaded and marred by our own deficiencies, that our liability to work injury is constant as our breath. If we were to confine the view to this part of our work, we might see cause to abandon the ministry, and leave it to be performed by angels alone. And in any case, we get in this view a stimulus to great carefulness and circumspection-a great enforcement of the apostolic injunction, "Take heed to thyself."

Our encouragement lies in another direction. It is not in the fact, that excellencies of cha racter are capable of being transmitted by the same modes of communication-nor that a minister may have more excellencies than defects to communicate, so that the preponderant result of this impression of the minister on his people may be good; but it is in the fact, that this impression of the minister is but an incidental result, and that the impression of Christ and his grace upon the soul, is the great and proper end secured by a faithful ministry. And he who is a good and successful minister of Jesus Christ, is conveying impressions by the power and spirit of Christ, in comparison of which all impressions incidentally taken from himself, dwindle to nothing.-New England Puritan.

THE FIRST CHAPTER OF ISAIAH. A YOUTH about seventeen or eighteen years of age, waited upon one of the secretaries of the Bethel companies, to purchase a tract. He was asked if he had attended any of the Bethel prayer-meetings on board

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ship. He said, "Yes, the last evening. Yesterday I landed from my voyage; and this afternoon I am bound for Scotland to see my friends. Although that visit to the Bethel was accidental, it has been the means of great consolation to my mind." "I am glad you have found it so," observed the secretary; "were you unhappy?" "I will relate, sir," said he, "what took place during my last voyage. sailed from London in a Scotch vessel, for the West Indies, second mate, the most abandoned and profligate wretch that ever sailed on salt water, particularly for profane swearing. Our captain, though a good seaman, and kind to his ship's company, cared neither for his own soul, nor those of his ship's crew. We had been at sea about sixteen days. It came on night. It was my watch on deck. The night was dark and lowering, and but little wind at the time. We had most of our lower sails set. I was walking up and down on the leeward si e of the ship, when a sudden puff of wind caused the vessel to give a heavy lurch. Not prepared to meet it, I fell against one of the stanchions. Feeling much hurt, I gave vent to my anger by a dreadful oath, cursing the wind and the sea, and (awful to mention) the Being who made them. Scarce had this horrid oath escaped my lips when it appeared to roll back on my mind with so frightful an image, that for a moment or two I thought I saw the sea parting, and the vessel going down. I took the helm from the man who was at it, and put the ship's head close to the wind. All that night my awful oath was before my eyes, and its consequences appeared to be my certain damnation. For several days I was miserable. Ashamed to acknowledge the cause, I asked one of the men if he had any book to lend me to read. He offered me a French novel. I asked if he had a Bible or Testa

ment. He answered by asking if I was going to die; for his part, he said, he never troubled his head about Bible or Prayer-book; he left all these matters to the priest, to whom he left part of his pay to pray for him; if I had done so I should not be so squeamish. The captain I knew had a Bible, but I was unwilling to ask him the loan of it. Several days passed in the greatest torment, this oath always before me. I could not pray; indeed I thought it of no use. On the fifth day I was turning over some things in my chest, when I found some trifles I had purchased for sea stock, wrapped in paper-this piece of paper" (putting his hand into his jacket pocket, and from a small red case pulling out the paper, which was a leaf of the Bible, containing nearly the whole of the first chapter of Isaiah). "Oh how my heart throbbed when I found it was a piece of a Bible!"" At that moment tears fell from his eyes, and he pressed the leaf to his bosom. 66 But, sir," continued he, "conceive what I felt when I read these words: Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool." Here he paused to wipe the tears away. "Oh! sir," he added, "like a drowning man I clung to this life-buoy: on this I laid my soul. I then prayed, and the Lord was graciously pleased to remove in some measure the great guilt from my conscience, though I continued mournful and bowed

down; until last evening, on board the Mayflower, stowed away with the Bethel company. I felt much comforted in the service. It deeply affected me, and I have now reason to believe the Lord has forgiven my great sin. I am now going home to my friends, to tell them what great things God hath done for me."

LITTLE GEORGE AND HIS GUINEA. THE Rev. Mr. was preaching at the town of C, in behalf of the Church Missionary Society. The object of the Church Missionary Society is to send out ministers to teach the little children to know and serve Jesus Christ. Little George was at church that day; and after the clergyman had ended his sermon, George felt his heart open to give all that he had. He said to the governess, who was in the pew (for George's mama was not able to go to church), "I wish you would lend me a guinea, and I will give it to you again when we get home." The governess asked him what he wanted with a guinea. He told her it was to put into the plate, to assist in sending the Gospel to the little heathen children. She replied, "A guinea is a great deal of money, George: you had better ask your mama first." As George's mama lived very near the church, he stepped home after the sermon was over; and running breathless into the house, said, "Mama, will you let me have my guinea, to give to the Missionary Society?" George's mama said, "My dear, your feelings are all warm now, but perhaps by-and-by you will be sorry you have given so much. Suppose you give half of it." "No," said George, "I should like to give it all, mama; there are so many of the little black children." "Well, my dear, if you wish it, you shall; but only remember, you cannot give it and have it too." George's mama give him a one pound note and a shilling; but George returned it, and said he would rather have a guinea. "Why," said his mama, "what difference can it make? it is just the same in amount." "Yes," said George, "but that one pound note will seem so much for a little boy to give. If I had a guinea I could put it between two halfpence, and nobody would know anything about it." His mama was pleased with his proposal; and George having got his guinea, returned to the church, and slipped it into the plate as he intended.

Now, my dear children, I don't know that I should have told you this, but the little boy is since dead; and therefore there is no danger of his being puffed up by people knowing what he has done. But what are you to learn from the history? First, you should learn, out of love to Jesus Christ, to pity the poor little heathen children. You should pray for them, and deny yourself some promised pleasure, in order to assist in sending out teachers to instruct them. Secondly, you should do this in the spirit of little George; so that "your left hand shall not know what your right hand doeth."

If little George had given his guinea "to be seen of men," his offering would not have been pleasing in the sight of God; and very likely he would soon have wished to have his money back again.

HAPPY MAN!

HAPPY man, whosoever thou art, that can'st look by an eye of faith at the Gospel as the charter of thy liberties; at the condemning law as cancelled by thy Surety; at the earth as the footstool of thy Father's throne; at heaven as the portal of thy Father's house;

ZEAL AND KNOWLEDGE.-Young zeal, and old knowledge, make that Christian both happy and useful in whom they meet.-Russell.

Those who suspect all, are to be suspected. They have learned human nature at home.

The Christian in his sick room, as in an antechamber, dresses for heaven.

Scarce any time is spent with less thought, than a great part of what is spent in reading.

The Christian's burden is like the wings of a bird, which she carries, yet they support her in her flight. to heaven.

What must be the fruit of the tree of life, when its very leaves heal the nations?

We may cast our cure on the Lord, but not our work.

but it must not lie too near our heart; we may use it as an inn where we take a bait, but it must not be our home. Perhaps these secular things steal away the heart too much. Good men are sometimes sick with a surfeit, and drunk with the luscious delights of prosperity; and having spotted their silver wings of grace, and much defaced God's image by rubbing it against the earth, the Lord, to recover them of this, hides his face in a cloud. This eclipse hath good effects-it darkens all the glory of the world, and causes it to disappear.

Desertion works for good, as it makes the saints prize God's countenance more than ever. "Thy loving kindness is better than life." (Ps. lxiii. 3.) Yet the commonness of this mercy lessens it in our own esteem. When pearls grew common at Rome, they began to be slighted. God has no better way to make us value his love, than by withdrawing it a while. If the sun shone but once a-year, how would it be prized when the soul hath been long benighted with desertion, oh, how welcome now is the return of the Sun of Righteousness!

Desertion works for good, as it is the means of imbittering sin to us. Can there be a greater misery than to have God's displeasure? What makes hell, but the hiding of God's face? and what makes God hide his face, but sin? "They have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid him." (John xx. 13.) So our sins have taken away the Lord, and we know not where he is laid. The favour of God is the best jewel; it can sweeten a prison, and unsting death. Oh, how odious then is that sin which robs us of our jewel! Sin made God desert his temple. (Ezek. viii. 6.) Sin causes him to appear as an enemy, and dress himself in armour. This makes the soul pursue sin with a holy malice, and seek to be avenged of it. The deserted soul gives sin gall and vinegar to drink, and with the spear of mortification lets out the heart-blood of it.

Desertion works for good, as it sets the soul a-weeping for the loss of God.—When the sun is gone, the dew falls; and when God is gone, tears drop from the eyes. How was Micah troubled when he had lost his gods? "Ye have taken away my gods, and what have I more?" (Judg. xviii. 24.) So when God is gone, what have we more? It is not the harp and viol can comfort, when God is gone. Though it be sad to want God's presence, yet it is good to lament his absence.

Desertion sets the soul a-seeking after God. When Christ was stept aside, the spouse pur

sues after him-she seeks him "in the streets of the city." (Cant. iii. 2.) And not having found him, she makes a hue-and-cry after him: "Saw ye him whom my soul loveth?" (Cant.iii. 3.) The deserted soul sends up whole volleys of sighs and groans; it knocks at heaven's gate by prayer-it can have no peace till the golden beams of God's face shine.

Desertion puts the Christian upon inquiry.— He inquires the cause of God's departure; what is the accursed thing that hath made God angry! Perhaps pride, perhaps surfeit on ordinances, perhaps worldliness. "For the iniquity of his coveteousness, was I wroth; I hid me." (Isa. Ivii. 17.) Perhaps there is some secret sin allowed. A stone in the pipe hinders the current of water: so sin, lived in, hinders the sweet current of God's love. Thus conscience, as a blood-hound, having found out sin and overtaken it, this Achan is stoned to death.

Desertion works for good, as it gives us a sight of what Jesus Christ suffered for us.—If the sipping of the cup be so bitter, how bitter was that which Christ drank upon the cross! He drank a cup of deadly poison, which made him cry out," My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" Matt. xxvii. 46. None can be so sensible of Christ's sufferings, none can be so fired with love to Christ, as those who have been humbled by desertion, and have been held over the flames of hell for a time.

Desertion works for good, as it prepares the saints for future comfort.-The nipping frosts prepare for spring flowers. It is God's way, first to cast down, then to comfort. (2 Cor.vii. 6.) When our Saviour had been fasting, then came the angels and ministered to him. When the Lord hath kept his people long fasting, then he sends the Comforter, and feeds them with the hidden manna. "Light is sown for the righ teous." (Ps. xcvii. 11.) The saints' comforts may be hidden like seed under ground, but the seed is ripening, and will increase, and flourish into a crop.

These desertions work for good, as they will make heaven the sweeter to us.-Here our comforts are like the moon; sometimes they are in the full, sometimes in the wane. God shows, himself to us a while, and then retires from us how will this set off heaven the more, and make it more delightful and ravishing, when we shall have a constant aspect of love from God! (1 Thess. iv. 17.)

Thus we see desertions work for good. The Lord brings us into the deep of desertion, that he may not bring us into the deep of damna