WHAT attribute is God about to show to Moses? His petition is

"Show me thy glory."

Will he show him his justice? show him his holiness? Will he show him his power? break yonder cedar, and show him he is the Almighty?

Will he

Will he

Will he

rend yonder mountain, and show him that he can be angry? Will he bring his sins to remembrance, and show that he is omniscient? No; hear the still small voice

“I will make all my goodness pass before thee." Ah! the goodness of God is God's glory. God's greatest glory is that he is good. The brightest gem in the crown of God is his goodness. "I will make all my goodness pass before thee." There is a panorama such as time would not be long enough for you to see.

Who could ever tell all runs up into the shore Why, every tree and

Consider the goodness of God in creation. God's goodness thêre? Why, every creek that is full of it where the °fry dance in the water. every forest rings with it, where the feathered songsters sit and make their wings quiver with delight and ec'stasy. Why, every atom of this air, which is dense with animalculae, is full of God's goodness. The cattle on a thousand hills, he feeds; the ravens come and peck their food from his liberal hands. The fishes leap out of their clement, and he supplies them; every insect is nourished by him. The lion roars in the forest for his prey, and he sendeth it to him. Ten thousand thousand creatures are all fed by him.

Can you tell, then, what God's goodness is? If you knew all the myriad works of God, would your life be long enough to make all God's creative goodness pass before you? Then think of his goodness to the children of men. Think how many of our race have come into this world and died. We are of yesterday, and we know nothing. Man is as a flower; he lives, he dies; he is the infant of a day, and he is gone to-morrow, but yet the Lord doth not forget him.

"I will make all my goodness pass before thee." I say again, what a panorama! What a series of dissolving views! What sight upon sight, each one melting into the other! Could I stand here this morning, and borrow the eloquence of an angel; could I speak to you as I might wish-but, alas! I cannot break these bonds that hold my stammering tongue-could I loose these lips and speak as angels speak, then could I tell you something, but not much, of the goodness of God; for it is "past finding out."

Since I cannot utter it myself, I would invoke all creation to be vocal in his praise. Ye hills, lift up your voices; let the shaggy woods upon your summits wave with adoration. Ye valleys, fill the air with the bleatings of your sheep and the lowing of your cattle. Ye that have life, if ye have voices, tune his praise; and if ye walk in silence, let your joyful motions show the thanks ye cannot speak. O, ye trees of the field, clap your hands; ye winds, in solemn harmony chant to his glory. Thou, ocean, with thy myriad waves, in all thy solemn pomp, thy motion to and fro, forget not him who bids "a thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain, and write no furrow on thy ever youthful brow."

And you, ye storms, howl out his greatness; let your thunders roll like drums in the march of the God of armies; let your lightnings write his name in fire upon the midnight darkness; let the illimitable

void of space become one mouth for song; and let the unnavigated "ether, through its shoreless depths, bear through the infinite remote the name of him who is ever good and doeth good.

REV. C. H. SPURGEON.

XXXII. THE ISLAND.

THAT Isle, so beautiful to view,
No poet's fancy ever drew;

He had not dreamed of such a thing,
With all the beauty he could bring.
It lay upon the open sea,

It lay beneath the stars and sun-
A thing, too beautiful to be,
A jewel, cast that sea upon!

The winds came upward to the beach,
The waves came rolling up the sand,
Then backward with a gentle reach,
Now forward to the land,

Sparkling and beautiful,-tossing thêre,
Then vanishing into the air.

The winds came upward to the beach,
The waves came upward in a curl,
Then far along the shore's slope reach, ·
There ran a line of pearl;

And shells were there of every hue,
From snowy white to burning gold,
The jasper, and the "Tyrian blue,
The sardonyx and emerald;

. And o'er them, as the soft winds crept,
A melody from each was swept,
For melody within each slept,
Harmoniously blended;

And never, till the winds gave out,
And ceased the surf its tiny shout,

That melody was ended:

Morn, noon, and eve, was heard to be
The music of those shells and sea.

The winds went upward from the deep,
The winds went up across the sand,

And never did the sea-wind sweep
Over a lovelier land;

The northern seas, the southeir shores,
The eastern and the western isles,
Had rifled all their sweets and stores,

To deck this lovely place with smiles;
And mounts were here, and tipped with green,
And kindled by the glowing sun;

And vales were here, and stretched between,
Where waters frolicked in their fun;

And goats were feeding in the light,

And birds were in the green wood halls,
And echoing o'er çach hilly height
Was heard the dash of waterfalls.

Oh! all was beauty, bliss, and sound,
A Sabbath sweetness reigned around;
All was delight, for everything
Was robed in loveliness and Spring;
Color and fragrance, fruit and flower,
Were here within this island bower.

REV. W. T. BACON.

XXXIII. PATIENCE IS GENIUS.

This was the maxim of Buffon, the naturalist. He used to aver that men did not so much differ one from another in the gifts of intellect as in the practice of the virtue of patience: and he held, that by dint of indefatigable industry, perseverance, and labor, nearly all things could be accomplished.

Labor is the price set upon everything valuable; nor has any man, whatever his genius, risen to eminence in art, profession, or calling, except by dint of unwearied industry and patient labor. And Buffon was not far wrong in his assertion that the genius of great men consisted mainly in thêir superior patience.

To be really wise, we must labor after knowledge; to be learned, we must study; to practice self-culture successfully, we must be diligent and self-denying: to be great in anything, we must have patience. Remember the principle of Apelles-" No day without a line;" and the axiom of Napoleon-“ An hour lost is a chance for misfortune in the future."

A young man ought to bring himself to revolt in feeling, at a lost hour, as if it were a crime; he needs to watch himself carefully

hour after hour, and every night, before going to rest, balance the accounts of his day's employment. If he do this, it will soon become a habit, and a most valuable one.

It is astonishing how much may be done by economizing time, and by using up the spare minutes-the odds and ends of our leisure hours. There are many men who have laid the foundations of their character, and been enabled to build up a distinguished reputation, simply by making a diligent use of their leisure minutes.

Professor Lee acquired Hebrew and several other languages during his spare time in the evening, while working as a journeyman car penter. Ferguson learnt astronomy from the heavens while herding sheep on the Highland hills. Stone learnt mathematics while a journeyman gardener. Hugh Miller studied geology while working as a day laborer in a quarry. By using well the spare minutes, these and a thousand more men have acquired honor, distinction, and happiness for themselves, and promoted the well-being and general advancement of the world.

say,

It is will-force of purpose-that enables man to do or be whatever he sets his mind on being or doing. A holy man was accustomed to Whatever you wish, that you are: for such is the force of our will, joined to the divine, that whatever we wish to be, seriously, and with a true intention, that we become." No one ardently wishes to be 'submissive, patient, modest, or liberal, who does not become what he wishes.

One of the most striking illustrations of industry, and of Buffon's maxim that "patience is genius," is afforded in the life and labors of Sir Isaac Newton. It is related of him, that when he was questioned respecting the mental peculiarity of his character, he referred it entirely to the power which he had acquired of continuous attention. "When he was asked," says Mr. Whewell, "how he made his discoveries, he answered, 'By always thinking about them;' and at another time he declared, that if he had done anything, it was due to nothing but in'dustry and patient thought; I keep the subject of my inquiry constantly before me, and wait till the first dawning opens gradually, by little and little, into a full and clear light."" ANONYMOUS.