and heat, summer and winter, and day and night, shall not cease."

We have already remarked that every returning season conveys to us a lesson of instruction. Yes, each is adapted to inspire us with thoughts, to awaken emotions in our breasts, that may well elevate us above the objects of sense, while they point to our destination in the life that now is and in that which is to come. I cannot but believe that the things which are seen and those which are not seen are in close correspondence with each other-nay, that they are mysteriously related to each other, the former being as it were types of the latter, by which are revealed to some of us the purposes of the Almighty. All nature addresses us in the name of the Creator, and publishes his mandates and his designs. Happy they who have ears to hear; thrice happy they who listen to her voice and are wise enough to profit by it! In the Spring, the earth is fertilized with alternate sun and showers, and the seed which was committed to its bosom begins to give signs of vitality. The germ swells, it becomes a plant; it is advancing by imperceptible stages to maturity, and we must wait patiently for other seasons to exert their varied influences upon it ere it is brought to perfection. The season of Spring reminds us of youth-of gay, tender and verdant youth. At this interesting, delightful period, it becomes the duty of parents to engraft into the minds of their children the principles of religious knowledge, that those principles may enter as it were into the very substance of their hearts, and in time yield corresponding fruits. Our children are our chief possessions; they are plants entrusted to our care that we may cultivate, nourish and protect them; and we have every reason to hope that by careful culture they may, in a more matured state, become, what it is the anxious desire of Christian parents to see them, "plants of renown," bearing in due season "the fruits of holiness unto everlasting life." Yes, the Spring of the year is the emblem of youthful life.

Then the Summer comes, another resemblance of our lives

on earth, when the cares and anxieties of the world increase, when the greater heat and burden of the day are to be borne, when the largest demands are made upon our bodily strength and our intellectual resources. The Summer also powerfully reminds us of the truth that, in having attained to manhood, we have not only arrived at our utmost vigour, but we may now begin to look forward to declining years; for although the delightful season which is at this moment spreading its beauties before us is so bright and warm, it cannot present itself before us without our being aware of its peculiar character.

It is the season when the industry and solicitude and perseverance of man in the culture of the ground meet with their reward. Cast your eyes abroad, and you will perceive that the earth is covered with plenteousness and beauty. The golden crops, like tents in the embattled field, stand thick upon the land; the reaper's sickle has been busy; the husbandman has been actively engaged in binding up his sheaves and in preparing to carry them into the garner. When a few days have passed, the songs of the happy peasantry will be heard in every direction, on the hill-side and in the valley, as they shout the glad harvest-home.

And can we witness the return of this delightful season,can we behold the sun, like a giant, pursuing his course of blessedness through the firmament, can we look upon the spectacle which spreads itself before us, upon what we may justly call the pride and glory of the year,-without acknowledging the majesty of the omnipresent God? Now, if at any time, the voice of nature summons us to thought and to reflection, while it is calculated to awaken within us the loftiest

sentiments of piety which the heart can feel; well may we bow down with holy thankfulness to Him whose beneficence, while the year completes its mighty circle, never "slumbers nor sleeps," to whom we are indebted for the vernal bloom and the autumnal harvest,-who gives us, for the wisest and the kindest purposes, the summer's heat and the winter's cold,— and who employs ten thousand agencies of love, that He may

cause the earth to bring forth of its abundance for the supply of both man and beast. Can our hearts be unimpressible and unmoved, like the flinty rock? Shall our lips be closed in silence? Forbid it, gratitude and love!

How true it is that in the world's Great Ruler " we live and move and have our being"! How delightful is it to know that "the eyes of all wait upon Him, and that He giveth them their meat in due season"! With what strictly literal accuracy may it be said, that "of Him, and unto Him, and through Him, are all things"! The mercy of God is, indeed, the only fountain of our happiness and the only rock of our hope. To Him be all the praise.

Another solemn and important lesson taught us by the present season is, that all the goodliness of man's mortal frame, and all the glory of his earthly schemes and prospects and hopes, will ere long have passed away for ever. Yes, the present season forcibly suggests to us the changes that must take place in ourselves and in our condition; for there is a very striking analogy between them.

The verdure and the freshness that a few months since appeared, and that have vanished and are gone, the bright flowers that unfolded themselves and then faded,— awaken within us the remembrance of countenances that once bloomed before us, and then were changed, the forms that adorned and cheered and gladdened our homes, and now shrouded in the darkness of the grave. Is there any one of you, my friends, who is insensible of this mournful truth? Where, let me ask you, are those who once diffused light and happiness through your dwellings,-who were accustomed to sit down with you at the social meal, and to be the beloved companions of your evening walks? Their places are vacant; on earth you will see them no more; you will hear their wellknown voices no more. And shall we be thus warned, and still forget how short and how precarious the tenure of our life is? Shall we think on these things, and not resolve to be more wise and considerate, more indifferent to the vanities

and fascinations of this fleeting world, and more earnest in our desires after God and goodness?

Look abroad once more on nature, and you will discover that a change has passed on all that meets your eye, from the loftiest and sturdiest oak of the forest to the humble grass that waves beneath it. Already the symptoms of decay are visible on the foliage and on the flowers. How powerfully does this change remind us of the prophet's words, "Surely the people is grass;" and of the language in which the apostle Peter has reiterated the same truth, "All flesh is grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass"!

Again the vegetable creation is characterized by an almost endless variety, and so is it in the race of man. The beautiful and the deformed, the wise and the foolish, the accomplished member of society and the uninstructed and ignorant, the humble, conscientious Christian and the abandoned profligate, equally with the grass of the field, must droop and decay and die.

Yes, the voice of nature and the dictates of the human heart teach us the same momentous truths; they are in perfect harmony with each other, and their admonitions and threatenings are of unutterable interest. What, then, is our comfort, what the ground of our confidence, amidst the vicissitudes of life? I answer, the immutability of God and the steadfastness of his holy word. We see that the world is all a fleeting show, "the fashion of it passeth away;" but the throne of God is immovable, it endureth for ever; the world is weak, but God is strong; the world is deceitful, but God is true; the world is selfish, but "God is love;". on the teachings and the promises of the world there is no dependence, but the glorious gospel of the blessed God "is the same yesterday, to-day and for ever," the everlasting gospel is its name. He that trusteth in the Eternal shall never be ashamed. Hence it is written, "O Lord, Thou hast been our dwelling-place in all generations.” To Him we may safely commit our prospects and our hopes on earth, knowing that what He appoints is righteous, and will in its issue be just and good. In his hands, if we are

faithful to ourselves, we may cheerfully leave our interests for eternity. In this season of nature's approaching decline, we should strengthen our conviction that it is our duty to give up ourselves to the guidance of his unerring wisdom. While we are pursuing our mortal journey, we should obey his laws and submit to his appointments as peaceably as the humble flower bows its head upon its stalk, and as the ripened ear yields itself to the sickle. In nature there is no resistance to the will of Heaven, no questioning either the rectitude or the benevolence of the Most High. Why, then, should we not receive with the docility of children the lesson which nature is ever inculcating upon us?

Let us habitually live as under the eye of our great Taskmaster, and trust in his word, though He should send forth the decree, "Return, ye children of men ;" and though we must fade away, and mingle with the dust of the earth, we shall then hear the summons without dismay or apprehension. At this solemn hour-for a solemn hour it is even to the wisest and the holiest the only effectual support of the soul will be found in the eternal word of God. This word is the refuge to which we may safely flee in all the chequered scenes and amidst all the storms of our pilgrimage. It was confidence in this word which upheld and animated our blessed Saviour in his last mortal conflict. It was the power of this word which enabled him on the cross to say, "Father, not my will, but thine, be done." "Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit." This word shall endure, though the grass wither and the flowers fade. When our hearts shall faint, and we shall have breathed our expiring sigh,-when, too, we shall all have fallen to the earth like the autumnal leaves,-this word will still be unchangeably the same.

Finally Let us make it the object of our study, of our anxiety, and of our earnest supplication at the throne of grace, that this season may incite us to prepare for that greater and infinitely more important harvest, the moral harvest of the world, when, like the earth, we must render up our final ac