I will

and individual griefs, and cares, and sorrows. rack them to their source-your heart. You cannot hake them off, you know you cannot. You can with reater ease shake off your skin. Are you not heavy aden? Then you are invited. God spake in the olden ime, and said-" Abraham, Abraham ;" and Abraham aid-" Here am I." He called another, sayingSamuel, Samuel ;" and the child, taught by the aged li, made answer— -"Speak, Lord, for Thy servant eareth." Jesus, the Saviour of Sinners, maketh enuiry for the heavy laden; and our reply is-"“ Lord, uch are we.' "I will give you Rest."

...

What do people do amid the multitude of their ares and sorrows, and griefs, and trials, and bereaveents, and-I know not what beside. (None are free om these at all times) what do they do, I say? Whom o they make their friend? To whom do they turn r solace? Isolate themselves they will not, they

nnot.

Do they go to the World? Well! The world can ise a diversion in man's favour. It can get up a ew, a procession, a gaudy gazing stock. But then is soon over. It quickly passes by. Excitement is t ephemeral. And if the world pretends to be a nister of religion, you can see through the cheat. is a mock Priest. He cleanses indeed the outside the cup and the platter, but the inside is untouched, clean ever. The world will not do, brethren, will Have you tried? I have. I do not speak from

hearsay. And yet, alas! when the proud and boastful world struts forth like a Jezebel, with painted face, and tired head, and cries aloud to the sons of men— "Come unto me, and I will give you rest," how many go at her beck and call! She has more followers than Jesus Christ, more by far.

Is it the flesh that some would make their friend? Well! the flesh spreadeth a table, and layeth out thereon many a dainty dish. This is true enough. She hath also secret revels, and quick-winged messengers of lightsome joys. But the table is coarse, and soon soiled; and the revelry is like electric shock; 'tis here; 'tis there; No, 'tis gone! Is this rest? Not to me. And if I may regard my nature as a sample of human nature, not to you! Do I speak the truth? (Let truth be our friend at whatever cost.) The flesh will not do, my brethren, will it? And yet here is a very Goliath; and like his namesake of old, he defieth the armies of the living God. Why, one single captain of his, conquers and enslaves myriads-Drunkenness ! I need not mention Fornication, Uncleanness, Lasciviousness, an Evil Eye. Oh! the Flesh hath a mighty staff. Where is David? Are you David? Am I? Where is our sling?

There is but one other, after the World and the Flesh have gone by. Who is he? Oh! you know. I will not call him by his real name.

No! that would

shock you. By what name would he be called, suppose you? By this" An Angel of Light." That is the

He is

guise he assumes with us to-day; and not to-day only; out to-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow; lightng fools the way to more than dusky death. he deceiver, and the Antichrist. And who would hoose a deceiver for his friend? None, consciously; many unconsciously. Rest! Rest! in sin and Satan? n the bottomless pit? Impossible. But somehow, od allows him to have strange power, he is too much or many of us, alas!

We are not disposed to follow these, my brethren ; hey serve not our turn. And yet these are the ighty triumvirate of rulers that we must obey, unless e obey Jesus Christ.

Having reviewed the pretensions of the three, we e more than ever disposed to submit to the authority the One. Is it so? Then this is a critical moment. trace another mark now that I saw not before-" ye Sour." "Come unto Me, all ye that labour." Your art beats quick; and consciousness of misery, of laur, of sorrow, suggests an immediate compliance h the Saviour's invitation. Your decision-Yes, or ! My commission extends no further. "Thou ne canst order the unruly wills and affections of ful men."

I have tried to shew, dear brethren, that you are sort of people invited by the Saviour; and this in eneral way. If I could go aside from the multitude, speak to each singly; I make no doubt but that hould trace the lineaments of labour, and heavy

laden sinners with more distinct and vivid reality.

But I need not do this, brethren.

selves. This day.

You do it your

Will you be to-morrow what you

were yester-morn? What is the good of preaching, then? But-Hope is enough for the preacher; and, in all labour there is profit.

Rest! The labourer plods his weary way, in hopes of finding rest at home. The warrior fights his way through battle-fields, to find rest in glory or in peace. The tradesman plies his trade with diligence, and thinks of rest in retirement and in competence. The sinner, and yet the saint; a labourer, a warrior, and a tradesman; finds Rest in Christ, his home; his glory; his peace; his retirement; his competence. All harmonious names in one-his Saviour!

Is he called to labour and earn bread in the sweat of his brow? He is more than satisfied. Jesus, he says, was a labourer, and earned His bread thus; but His sweat was, as it were, great drops of blood, falling to the ground; that blood which cleanseth from all sin. If the blood of martyrs is the seed of the church, the blood of Christ is the seed of Rest. "Come unto Me, and I will give you rest." Come, this is our home; sweet, sweet home.

Is the Christian called to fight? To be a man of war? To gird on armour; to clutch shield and sword. He is more than satisfied. Jesus is the Captain of his salvation. He fights manfully under the banner of Christ. He is more than conqueror. The campaign

ended, he exclaims-"I have fought the good fight; henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of life." ... Rest. Rest in heaven; and he hears a voice saying unto him-" Well done, good and faithful servant, enter into the joy of thy Lord;" in other words, "Come unto Me, and I will give you rest."

Is the Christian called to be a tradesman? Think not there is no nobleness in trade; nor suppose, that common-place sound, will mar the dignity of martial prowess. The Saviour hath committed talents to his rust, and said to him-"Occupy till I come." The Christian is a tradesman, and knows that soon he may be called upon to give an account how much he as gained, or lost!

This world is a curious mart of merchandize; and any traffickers resort to the markets; and many a not of earnest men you shall see on 'Change. There much buying and selling; and property changes ands often. Oh! 'tis a busy scene. What is that an doing? Selling his birth-right for a mess of potge! And what is that man so intent upon? Offering oney for the Holy Ghost; bidding for a Bishopric, ayhap; or a more homely cure of souls. A Christian ed be a wise man, to be an honest tradesman in ch commerce as this. Put this question to all the yers and sellers, in this strange and motley market"What shall it profit a man, if he gain the hole world and lose his own soul?" Verily, it shall ofit him nothing; it shall be an infinite loss.

ace.