the course you have pursued; and now, even now, ' flee for refuge to the hope set before you.'

Or are you one of those on whom the original curse has been literally fulfilled; ever doomed to toil and eat your scanty morsel in the sweat of your brow? and do you therefore infer that no account at all will be required at your hands? How stand you affected towards this wilderness, such as you have found it to be? Are you quite willing to depart from it; not merely because you would escape its troubles, but from a well-grounded hope of being with Christ, which you know to be far better than any thing this world affords, even at its best estate? From a retrospect of your past life and christian experience, can you say, with humbleness of mind and with thankfulness, I have fought the good fight, I have finished my course; henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of glory, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that day.' If indeed this should be your happy case,

then be of good cheer; but a few more weary steps, and all tears shall be wiped from your eyes, and the days of your mourning shall be ended.' And while you remain, although of gold and silver you may have none, either to give or to bequeath, you can still continue to dispense, from the treasures of past experience, those lessons of true wisdom for the benefit of the young, which are better than all riches. Remind them that, though once young like themselves, you are now grey-headed and infirm: invite them to consider the contrast: let them survey your earthly tenement, visibly decaying and crumbling to ruin, such as their own must become, unless a premature and unexpected gust should assail it, and uptear it from the foundation. Happy you,

if, yourself like a shock of corn ready to be housed, a few of the ripe ears should be gleaned by the younger around you, to allure them to seek the same grace; to convince them that 'blessed are the righteous, for it is well with them.' It is the

godly, the pious, the growing christian, who can with a glow of thankfulness say, 'I have been young, and now am old.' It will bring many a sweet recollection of that divine mercy which hath led them so many years through the vicissitudes of this wilderness; of that divine grace which has favoured them during the journey, with many an instance of pardon, forbearance, and renewed love.

Let the aged pilgrim abound, then, in these thankful recollections while he may; for in the future world it can no longer be said I now am old.' There all is perpetual youth, or rather perpetual manhood, through the countless ages of eternity. There the eyes shall not be dim, nor the natural force abated; 'being made like to his glorious body,' all shall be perfect, continuous, and shall never fade away.'

No. X.

Whither have ye made a road to day?

1 SAMUEL, chap. xxvii, ver. 10.

TRAVELLER, now the twilight is casting its sombre mantle over the busy scenes in which you have this day been engaged, thus affording you leisure for reflection, it may not be amiss to repose awhile, take a retrospect of the road you have passed, and examine the store you have there collected; of what description it is, and whether it has a fair promise of repaying you for the pains bestowed in its accumulation.

Has it indeed been one of those tranquil days, with which, by an indulgent providence, travellers even in this wilderness are sometimes indulged, to recruit 'the spirits which would otherwise fail before him, and the souls which he hath

made?' Have you alighted on a verdant spot, beneath a cloudless sky, with no enemy near to assail your peace or interrupt your enjoyment? This was a special season, a golden opportunity, to be seized with avidity, and not wasted in indolence: : a cloudless sky affords no excuse for 'standing all the day idle;' and if the path has been thus pleasant and even, have you chosen to walk in it; or have you given the preference to that which was circuitous and indirect? This unhappy propensity habitually influences some tempers, even in their most common concerns; they seek after windings and intricacies, and mysterious ways, in all their movements: disdaining to let their eyes look straight on, they become entangled in mazes and labyrinths; thus, instead of making any progress, they frequently find themselves but arrived at the very spot from whence they first started, if not some paces behind it.

By that lengthened countenance and deep-drawn sigh, we may conjecture that