of the wicked one, to widen the breach and intensify the enmity; that God yearned over His weak and erring creatures; that His love was not like man's, which was so frequently choked in its outgoings by false pride; but that He commended His love toward us in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us; that this really was our joy in this Christmas season-the joy that God had devised means whereby the wanderers might return unto Him.

Old Mr. Gatherall did not exactly wince at this, but I think he felt contrite that he had never devised any means of bringing back his son.

"But," Mr. Thornton continued, "the means devised of God were not easy means-means which occasioned no trouble, caused no sorrow, or involved no loss. We could have no conception of love unless we can perceive what sacrifices love is capable of. Look at the river, rushing with swift, smooth current to the sea; who can estimate its force as it glides noiselessly by? But oppose some obstacle. Cast a huge rock in the midstream, and see, you have awakened powers which slept. So it is with love. Some strange circumstance serves to call forth affections that seemed almost dead; and you see how wrong has been your judgment when you supposed there was no tenderness because tenderness was dormant. So had man's fall, man's misery, drawn forth before the universe the most wondrous manifestation of God's love. God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son. And it was in the proclamation of this reconciliation-in the declaring that God had made Christ, who knew no sin, to be sin for us-that God was in Christ reconciling the world unto Himself that we are brought near by the blood of the everlasting covenant-the ministry of reconciliation consisted. But it was not only in the preacher's lips that this ministry of reconciliation was brought to men's notice-in a Christian land at least. When we had Bibles and the means of grace, we might be reminded of the reconciliation. God preaches reconciliation in many ways. Do we not often meet with incidents so strikingly typical, that they seemed like the voice of heavenly Love pleading with us to be reconciled. The desertion of the prodigal in the land of his adoption, when of his chosen associates none were ready to relieve his wants; when the depth of his distress almost made him

desire the coarsest fare, and the privations of a hard life made him think of his father's happy home, and then, without staying to let pride bid him hesitate, or indolence and apathy kill his repentance, he hurried homewards; and loving eyes descried the long-wished-for form, and a father's embrace welcomed the repentant one. If such a thought has arrested any of our minds, if any circumstance has turned our minds to think of the heavenly home and a Father's love, let it not die: cherish, act upon the prompting on this Christmas morning, when every word breathed of peace between heaven and earth, and on earth. I beseech you, in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to God."

And then the people slowly filed out of church, and busy knots gathered together and nodded their heads significantly, and yet wonderingly, as old Mr. Gatherall passed by—a little child on each side of him, and followed by Miss Rose, who had most calmly appropriated Dr. Oliver's arm.

A few weeks after, the dwarf blinds in Mr. Gatherall's office window were taken down and repainted, and they thenceforth announcedGatherall and Son. About the same time, too, Dr. Oliver took the large house next to the lawyer's, which Dr. Powderson vacated when he retired from practice-with a fabulous fortune, if you believe the gossips; and as soon as Dr. Oliver had settled the new house to his satisfaction, he occasioned no little stir in Strangeburgh, and not a few tears too, by well, of course, by going to church one morning and meeting several members of the Gatherall family.

Mr. Gatherall still lives on in Strangeburgh. He does not do much business now-his son takes that burden. But Mr. Gatherall is not idle: he is continually devising means for doing good. He has instituted a ragged school close to Rumble's Houses. He has grown very fond of Rumble's Houses, for he is to be seen there very often, climbing about the strange passages, as if they were quite familiar to him; and, indeed, I have caught him reading out of the Bible to poor sick people there, while his little granddaughter stands happy and patient beside him, and when I heard him he was reading the parable of the prodigal son, and his voice trembled a little when he came to the words "This my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found."

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HESE words in the last chapter of the Revelations are spoken with reference to a time when man's state of trial has ended. For a long period God waits to be gracious, calling sinners to repentance; at last He waits no longer the sinner cannot any longer change his state; he that is unjust, must be unjust still and he which is filthy, must be filthy still. Again for a long period the faithful are still exposed to dangers. Even St. Paul in the days of his labour expressed a fear concerning his soul's state, lest, while he preached to others, he himself might be a castaway. The humble servant of God knows himself to be set in the midst of many and great temptations, and at times greatly fears lest his weakness yield to them. But a day is coming when all fears shall end, and he that is righteous and holy, relieved from the burden that has long pressed him down, shall reach a state from which he can never fall, and in which he shall enjoy the blessings of his righteousness and holiness secured to him for evermore. When will this day come, when the fate of the faithful and the faithless will be fixed by an irreversible decree for evermore?

Let us now consider the answer to this question. First, in some cases it would even seem that man's fate is practically fixed while life lasts. Many shall we not say thousands of faithful servants of Christ, are so manifestly His people, even while exposed to all life's trials, live so devotedly in prayer and humble dependence upon Him, that we cannot for a moment think they will ever fall from Him. They themselves, however, will be the last thus to look upon their own state with satisfaction. In their humility, they will be painfully conscious of the power of sin still working within their hearts, and will feel every day that it is of God's great mercy alone in Christ that they are kept upright; yet their friends, looking upon them, will not doubt that they are practically safe with Christ, long before life's trials have ended. Others again, are so sunk in dead worldliness, care so very little for the things of

Christ and the realities of another world, and have so long gone on thus carelessly, in spite of the most startling warnings, that we can scarcely think it possible for them ever to be roused. Probably such men also, like their counterpart, the faithful, will be the last to know their real state. They are often not dissatisfied with themselves. They have no thought of the danger to which they are exposed; their consciences are asleep; they are like men who have a deadly disease about them, and whose strength is daily failing, but who are so drugged and kept up by false stimulants, that they never know they are in danger till their last hour. Here is a fearful warning for all who continue deliberately in the neglect of heavenly things. Their hearts become daily more callous to good impressions. At last they may become hardened past cure, even while their life on earth is still prolonged. The Gospel of Christ, indeed, encourages us to preach pardon for repentant sinners to the most hardened as long as life lasts. It would be great sin in us to neglect thus to appeal to them. Many instances are on record of the most hardened heart giving way at last to Gospel motives, and of men at the eleventh hour glorifying and serving Christ, whom they have long despised. But still it is certain also that there is such a state as judicial blindness-blindness sent to the spiritual eyes in judgment, as a punishment for long-continued sin. There is such a state as that which those fell into whom our Lord called blasphemers against the Holy Ghost, who can never be forgiven, neither in this world nor in the next; a state such as St. John calls the state of sin unto death, which is past praying for.

We may say, then, that in some persons-though God alone can know who they are--the irrevocable decision seems to have been passed, even while they are still in this life. Some while still living upon earth being unrighteous, are sure to continue in their unrighteousness for ever; and some being made holy by the Spirit of God, through the blood of Christ, seem sure also to remain hcly always. It is not, however, of such a decision of

pleasant to reflect that these graces are secure now to flourish through eternity; the character we loved no lapse of time can now alter or impair. While we recall the outward look, or word which told of the presence of such graces in the heart, we know that all which made such outward signs valuable to us is living and vigorous now, and will live and continue vigorous in the presence of Christ through eternity. Of the faithful dead it is the greatest comfort to feel that they are past trial. Of the departed, he that is righteous, must be righteous still: and he that is holy, must be holy still. He that loved Christ, can never cease to love Him.

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But, thirdly, if we look to the words which go before and follow the text, we shall see that it applies, in strictness, neither to the way in which men's characters are often settled, as it were, firmly for good or evil while they are still living, nor yet to that final stamp which death sets on them. The speaker in the twelfth verse is plainly Christ Himself: "Behold, I come quickly; and my reward is with me, to give every man according as his work shall be." "I am," says verse thirteen, Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end, the first and the last." And the sixteenth verse continues: "I, Jesus, have sent mine angel to testify unto you these things in the churches." We may, therefore, very naturally refer the words of the tenth and eleventh verses, which are connected with the twelfth without a pause, to the same speaker, Jesus. But however this is, certainly the verse immediately before the text-the tenth -ends with the words: "The time is at hand." And the twelfth verse, following the text, states what time-the time, viz., of Christ's coming: "Behold, I come quickly." The eleventh verse therefore, the text, states that when this time arrives-when Christ comes, and closes the long period of the world's trial-then all the sons and daughters of men shall remain for ever in that state of soul and character in which the close of their probation finds them. "He that is unjust, let him be unjust still: and he that is righteous, let him be righteous still."

Of course, the final close of man's trial settles his condition for eternity. And every year as it passes over our heads is bringing us nearer, not only each of us, to the full development and final settlement, as it were, of our character in life, and to the day of our own death, which seals

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the character; but, also, to that great day, when all things shall be settled for eternity. Many pictures might be drawn of the solemnity of this final settlement; many images might be brought out to impress the mind with awe in thinking of it, but nothing, perhaps, attending it is more striking than the simple fact set forth in the text: that whenever this final settlement does come, it must leave all living souls for ever fixed in the state in which it finds them, whether for endless sin and rebellion against God, or endless love of Him and enjoyment of His presence in holiness. From the state in which that hour finds our souls there can be no escape. God's judgments, however long His mercy may delay them, must at last be final and irreversible.

And here let me observe that the misery of those who die without Christ is here set before us simply as a continuance of their sinful condition. If they are wicked, if they are debased, they must be wicked and debased for evermore. And there is something very striking in this. To be thus left to themselves to follow their own courses, this is punishment enough; further, it includes in it all other punishment. For a soul created by God, and for which Christ died, to be left for ever in a state of estrangement from God, is the greatest of

all miseries. In the state into which the soul passes when its trial is over, there will be no possible means of worldly enjoyments or debasing engagements, and, if it be without Christ, it must be miscrable.

And now, in bidding farewell to the year which we have left behind, and entering by God's mercy on a new term in our probation, think, my readers, how far our characters are ripening for our great change-this great day of settlement. The characters which we have-for good or for evil-loving God in Christ, by serving Him and holding intercourse with Him in prayer and holy ordinances, and doing His will because we love Him; or, on the other hand, regardless of Him, and loving the world far more than we love Him-will, when matured, abide unchanged for ever. God of His great goodness has permitted us to see another year's end, while many around us have been cut off. How, we ask, are our characters ripening? Is the love of God growing in us? are we more truly living by faith-that is, more convinced of the reality of things unseen than we were twelve months ago?

BY WILLIAM GILBERT, AUTHOR OF

N Christmas Eve, 1871, two poor girls, averaging between twenty and twentytwo years of age, quitted a large biscuit manufactory in Rotherhithe, in which they were employed, and continued their way westward toward the Borough, conversing as they went in what manner they should spend the next day. One of them, who lived in Lambeth, said to the other"At our house we intend to have a regular jollification, and I mean to spend eighteenpence of the money I've earned during the week in buying a bottle of good rum, to give my father and mother a treat of punch. And very happy we shall be together, for my brother Tom has just come home from sea, and Martha has got a holiday for three days from the shop she works at in Piccadilly. What do you intend doing, Trottie ?-aint you going to give your people a treat ?"

Trottie, a pretty brunette, replied that she was rather puzzled what to do. "The fact is," she said, "we're in a great deal of trouble at home. Father, who works in the Docks, has been thrown out of employment through the continuance of the east wind, which keeps the shipping from coming up the Channel, and poor John, my brother, who worked in the silk factory, has so sprained his leg that it is probable he will not be able to go to work again for some weeks to come. If it had not been for what I have earned, and mother picking up something at umbrella-making, we should be pretty well starved. As it is, the two little ones, Kate and Johnny, are getting so pale and thin for want of nourishment, it quite goes to my heart to see them. Still, I should like to give poor father a treat if I could, for he's very low-spirited, and it would cheer him up a little, and do him good."

"You'd better do so," said her companion; "and depend upon it, it won't be money thrown away. It's only fair a daughter should think of her father and mother's comforts."

By this time the two girls had arrived at the corner of Tooley Street, in the Borough, and after a very affectionate parting, each wishing the other the compliments of the season, the one hurried southward to her home in Lambeth, and Trottie continued her way onwards over London Bridge, towards the Commercial Road, where, in a bye-street, her parents resided, thinking as she went over the conversation she had had with her friend.

The poor girl was in a state of great indecision. She much wished to purchase the rum, but she had heard her father say it was his intention to take the

SHIRLEY HALL ASYLUM," ETC. ETC. pledge. He knew, he said, several men who worked in the Docks who had done so, and their report was that not only could they perform their work fully as well, and with as little inconvenience to themselves, as when taking three or four pints of beer during the day, but, in point of fact, found themselves in better health than before; that they rose fresher in the morning, and went to bed feeling less fatigued in the evening; also that their wives and families were made the more comfortable, on account of the money economised from the public-house. Still, Trottie argued, her father and mother had not yet taken the pledge, and therefore she would not be tempting them to break it. They could have a happy evening to-morrow, and then become teetotallers, if they pleased, the next morning. And then it occurred to her that, suppose they did not, would she, in any manner, have made herself answerable in keeping them from their good resolution? Other thoughts then came into her head. The family larder was at a very low ebb, and would it not be better to give her mother the money she had earned, to expend in good nourishing food for the family, instead of drink?

Poor Trottie continued onwards in a state of lamentable incertitude. At last she came to a conclusion. On passing a flaring gin-palace in Whitechapel, which, from the splendour of its decorations, probably surpassed Aladdin's palace (with the exception that the quaint Oriental magnificence of the latter might be worthy of some admiration, while the execrable taste displayed in the former was worthy of all reprobation), her eye was attracted by the glare of gas, plate glass, and gilding. She looked at the building for a moment, and found, among other labels, embossed in gold letters, in the window, Fine old Jamaica Rum, eighteenpence a bottle." The words seemed to cast a singular spell over Trottie, and she could not keep her eyes from them.

At last the truth of the proverb, "What is once done cannot be undone," came across her mind, and she resolved to enter the gin-shop and purchase a bottle of rum. But attractive as the show and finery of the place might have appeared from the outside, and although the gilding and appointments on the inside were even more lavish than on the exterior, she soon found she was in a most uncongenial atmosphere. There was a crowd composed of women of the lowest character, working men (and, alas! some also had their wives with them), soldiers from the Tower, sailors, and others, few being quite sober, the majority slightly intoxicated, and some positively drunk. There was a considerable uproar going forward at