words to the hearts which they most nearly and pointedly concern.

There is, I will suppose, an individual here present who has been long engaged in active business; who has been diligently and assiduously exerting himself in his allotted occupation, whose integrity throughout life has been above suspicion; whose character is without a stain. He has omitted no means which appeared calculated to conduce towards the accomplishment of his object. Pleasure has in vain displayed its attractions to turn him aside-vanity has never betrayed him into the besetting error of the present day-the ambition of appearing wealthier than he is-he has for years risen early and laid down late, and eaten the bread of carefulness -and yet all his exertions have been, thus far at least, in vain. One disappointment after another has cast a gloom over all his prospects, paralized all his energeis, dashed the cup of happiness from his lips when he was just preparing to taste of it, and he is, perhaps, at this very time, exposed to all the solicitudes that must rankle in the parental heart, when the means of providing for his offspring appear to decrease as the number of those depending on his exertions is augmented. But even here, however painful, however trying the circumstances, he will, if he is possessed of real faith, though but as a grain of mustard seed, he will not only acknowledge, but endeavour visibly and clearly to recognise the hand of a gracious Director, causing all things to work together for his good. He will not admit the vain idea, that it is a chance which happens to him; that he is encompassed and enchained by a species of fatality-that there is, as people absurdly, if not profanely express it, a spell against his prosperity;— rather will he be stimulated to ask with the patriarch, "What is this that GOD hath done to me?" Why is his hand,

against me? Why am not I, like many with whom I am conversant, a living evidence of the truth of the wise man's saying, "that the hand of the diligent maketh rich ?"—When these questions are proposed in an humble spirit, and with a sincere desire of improving and profiting by the tenor of the divine dispensations, the Holy Spirit himself, through the medium of conscience and of Scripture, will condescend to answer them. "If you possessed riches, He may not unfrequently reply, you would forget that they make to themselves wings, and fly away, and you would put your trust in them rather than the living GOD." There are many dormant lusts and passions in your nature which, did they revive and regain the ascendency, would be the ruin of the soul; and, with regard to these, riches would act as the unnatural and fictitious atmosphere in which exotic plants are reared. These lusts are exotic or foreign to the believer's heart, and accordingly they will not spring and flourish in the hardy soil of labour, and beneath the ungenial skies of poverty; but to you, were you made suddenly or immediately rich, money would be the root of all evil-evil the worst, the darkest, the most enduring, the most irremediable. Be content, then, with such things, as ye have, for He hath said, "I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee :" "count all things but loss for the excellence of the knowledge of Christ Jesus, your Lord." There is nothing permanent in riches; myriads of kings, and princes, and nobles, and merchants greater than princes, are now the dust of the earth, as you too shall be; and unlimited wealth, were you possessed of it, would soon be no more to you than it is now to them. One thing alone is needful; "seek the kingdom of GoD and his righteousness, and all beside shall be added unto you”—

all, that is, that you really need. All are equal in the grave. Though the imperial crown or the lordly coronet be laid on the coffin it matters not; the dust within is not less loathsome, nor is the departed spirit of higher estimation in the sight of Him who made it. There is to all one judgment—there will be to all one Saviour, one acquittal, and one condemnation."

But there are some towards whom Divine Providence operates in a different

manner.

Their exertions have not been thus unsuccessful-no such blight has withered their budding hopes-no such cloud has rested upon their dawning prospects their success, if not memorable or excessive, has been all that they could reasonably expect, and quite proportionate to their own exertions, and with the prosperity of those around them. They have not been wholly free from disappointment, perhaps, (who upon earth can be?) but the blow has fallen lightly upon their heads. They are not free from solicitudes as to worldly things; but these have been only sufficient to ruffle the smoothness of their pillow, and not to plant it with thorns. In the case of these persons, however, though all seems tranquil and smiling without, there may be storm and tempest within though their worldly affairs prosper, there may be those domestic trials which fully counterbalance the pleasure of increasing wealth. The husband may experience in the wife of his bosom, tempests, or propensities, or desires, which mar their mutual happiness; the sharp arrows of the wicked, even bitter words may be interchanged between those who are most solemnly bound to love one another; her extravagance may dissipate his substance-her negligence impair his comfort-her coolness and estrangement may excite his jealousy. So, the Father may have reason to look with sorrow and sad foreboding on his

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children. He may see his pains and instructions wasted, his anxious admonitions disregarded, his natural influence set at nought-he may behold his sons pursuing the opposite path to that in which he would fain guide their steps; or he may feel within himself the seeds of disease, the symptoms of mortality, the indications of premature death. He may find cause to doubt whether he shall survive to reap the profit of all his labour which he hath laboured under the sun. In all such cases it will be his wisdom to ask, "What is this that God hath done to me?" For we are assured by GoD himself, that He does not willingly afflict or prove the children of men; but that like a wise physician, He administers, whereever needed, the efficacious, though bitter medicine that shall be for the healing of the soul. Any path, though it lead through thorns and briars, is good, which conducts the soul to Him. And to consider our disappointments and the drawbacks to our happiness with a view to his mysterious yet merciful design in their allotment, is the readiest and surest way to ultimate concurrence in the blessed experience of the Psalmist-" Before I was afflicted I went astray; but now have I kept thy word.".

Others there are, again, who come under neither of the characters I have described; whose situation, since they are dependant on the exertions of another, or, humanly speaking, exempt from all dependance, frees them from solicitude and secures them from disappointment as to worldly things. While there is nothing calculated to disquiet them in their domestic relations, they enjoy the esteem and regard of those with whom they are connected and conversant; they are satisfied with the present and hopeful for the future, so far at least as the present life is concerned. Yet with all outward appliances and means of

comfort, they are not easy and tranquil-with all that is considered by those around them essential to happiness, they are not happy, they are not even contented; a weariness, a lassitude, a disgust, mingles with and impairs all their enjoyments. They feel that worldly pleasures are insufficient to confer solid gratification, partly because they perish in the using, and partly because they leave, at least in a majority of instances, a bitter memorial behind them. In the still hour of night, when stretched upon the restless couch, conscience seems to unfold before the mental eye a register of follies, inconsistencies, and transgressions, which excite, along with dissatisfaction for the present, alarm and apprehension for the future. There are more persons to whom this description applies than the world are aware of; for it is realised by many who have never betrayed their feelings, not even in the ear of friendship and under the seal of secrecy, much less blazoned them to the world around; but wherever such is the case, we may and should call on the individual, without making confession to us, or to any fellow sinner, to ask of his, or of her own heart, "What is this that God hath done to me? Why hath He excited in me this dissatisfaction with worldly enjoyments, this lively concern and solicitude after a more enduring portion? Why has He precluded me from fully enjoying the temporal benefits that his own bountiful hand has liberally bestowed? Is there not in this a purpose of mercy? Does He not design to show me the intrinsic vanity and nothingness of all that man deems most desirable? Would he deprive me of present gratification unless He intended to confer on me a better and more enduring gift-to lead me in a more excellent way-to endow me with riches that are less perishableto delight me with pleasures that are far more permanent and satisfactory? Let me not refuse, therefore, to hear the voice that speaks in mercy, though it speak through the medium of anxiety, and apprehension, and disquietude; and let me lay hold of eternal life unto which I am called, that so I may find everlasting reason to adore the mercy of my GOD, who, being determined to bring me to Himself, would

not suffer me to rest satisfied with ought on this side the grave.”

There is yet one more character to whom we are bound to apply the question of the text, and whom the Holy Spirit must ere this have taught to apply it for himself. I allude to the believer who is really deserving of the name; who has in time past bowed beneath the weight of sin, and sought pardon and relief at the foot of the cross-who has been renewed unto salvation by the regenerating influence of the Holy Spirit-who has felt that God is gracious, and tasted that Christ is precious-and who fondly hoped that the Sun of Righteousness, which shone out at his entrance on the narrow path, would never again withdraw its radiant and cheering beamswould never again be intercepted by the clouds of error, or obscured by the mists of unbelief-to whom prayer was not only a privilege but a pleasure, and who took so lively an interest in the means of grace, and the services of the sabbath, that he could say with the Psalmist, "I was glad when they said unto me we will go unto the house of the Lord-one day in thy courts is better than a thousand. O, how amiable are thy tabernacles, thou Lord of Hosts!" But now all is changed; the light of life is eclipsed or withdrawn; he scarcely knows whether he is advancing in the path or not, and if he be, his soul is sore discouraged because of the way. The words of prayer, once so copious, so fluent, so spontaneous, are slow and reluctant in their utterance. The more he strives to lift his heart to GoD, the heavier seems the weight that presses it down to earth. The services of public worship, once so eagerly sought, so heartily enjoyed, are now, though not wholly abandoned, tolerated rather than desired. His feet are drawn to the house of God by an impulse which he would, if he could, counteract and overcome; but his attendance there is little more than the service of the lips, the hearing of the ear; his heart no longer ascends, his whole soul is now no longer, as it once was, filled, engrossed, and absorbed by the riches of salvation. Such a person has peculiar reason to enquire, "What is this that God hath done to me?" What error have I committed to draw down