heard of the great wealth of Mr. E—; you must know that is the man. You have doubtless seen him under different circumstances; you have seen him lolling in a carriage that would vie in splendour with those of our titled nobility. It suits his purpose, however, sometimes to sink his greatness. You must know that he is now going among the tradesmen of London, to make purchases for his household; and he fancies that by going thus humbly dressed, he can get his wares cheaper than he could if he rolled up to their doors in his carriage, or if he sent his orders by post, or his livery servants to order what he required." Had my readers seen the smile of contempt which passed over the face of my friend Mr. H—, as I gave him this piece of intelligence, they would not have forgotten it for at least some months. "Pshaw!" he exclaimed, "how contemptible! I could hardly have supposed that a man could be guilty of such a meanness. And let me tell you, if ever he should chance to stray into my establishment, I will remember him; he shall certainly pay the tip-top price of all the purchases he may make. I should like to catch him there; he should not profit by his threadbare cloak." I can easily understand the feeling of contempt which Mr. H-, as a tradesman, had for such a man as my wealthy neighbour, and have no doubt but he would remember him, if ever he should present himself at his establishment. My feelings, however, as regards the character of Mr. E-, are widely different; with me, he is rather an object of pity than of contempt. And for this reason: that while he is seeking the perishable things of earth at the cheapest possible rate, he neglects those which are enduring, though they are offered to him, in common with all mankind, "without money and without price." It is pitiable, indeed, to see a creature born for eternity live only for time-to see a being capable of enjoying the high and holy pleasures of heaven, delighting only in the things of this world-to see a man striving to heap up wealth which he knows, from daily observation, he must soon leave behind him; and yet neglecting to lay up "treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal." "On life's gay stage, one inch above the grave, The proud run up and down in quest of eyes: THE CHARACTER OF JESUS. COULD we lose sight for a moment of the infinitely merciful object for which the Messiah appeared among men, and fix our thoughts exclusively on his character, we should still find enough to excite the profoundest admiration and wonder. Everything that we can imagine necessary to form the perfection of humanity, the standard of our judgment being the revealed requirements of God, finds its abode and centre in this character. Neither before nor since has there appeared among men such a combination of varied excellencies, such a cluster of mental and moral beauties, as dwelt in "the man Christ Jesus." And these excellencies being such as God himself requires, were inherent and positive; absolutely up to the Divine standard, not comparative, or such as distinguish one mere man from another. The patience that bears misrepresentation and injury; the magnanimity that forgives enemies; the sympathy that weeps with sorrow; the compassion that relieves distress; the love to God and men that fulfils the law; the unwearied zeal that leads to labour, for the glory of the former and the good of the latter; the engrossing solicitude that keeps its eye constantly on the great object of existence; the comprehensive benevolence that disdains all selfish interests; the wisdom that selects the best means for accomplishing the best ends; the faith that wavers not in the dark and cloudy day; the piety that shines with steady light in sorrow and in joy; the perfect holiness that receives no stain from surrounding impurity; the resignation that gathers motives to praise from every Divine dispensation; the spirituality that finds the spring of conduct in the heart; the resolution that founds itself on what is immediately right, irrespective of temporary consequences; the obedience to Jehovah's law which recognises in the will of God the safeguard of the universe; the enunciation of truth for its own sake, however it may clash with patronised maxims; the sincerity which never diverges from its straight course to parley with expediency; the intellectual power that awes learning into reverence; the condescension that attracts the timid child; and the divine philosophy which measures human conduct by an infallible standard, and places all the transactions of time in the light of eternity, was all found in, and exhibited by, "the man Christ Jesus," in absolute perfection. Nor was this unequalled character occasional, transitory, variable. It was uniform, constant, unchangeable. His heart was always pure; his affections were always in harmony, always set on God; he loved him with all his strength, and soul, and mind; and on God's work, he delighted to do it; and on God's fallen creatures, he failed not until he had redeemed them. His understanding was always comprehensive, his intellect clear, his judgment infallible. When he taught, there was no ostentation. When he suffered, there was no murmuring. When he rejoiced, there was no levity. When he rebuked, there was no asperity. When he silenced gainsayers, there was no boast of triumph. When he took up children in his arms, there was no show of condescension. When he walked with the poor, there was no affected superiority. When he dined with the rich, there was no concealment of his opinions. He asked no favour, he sought no patronage, he courted no applause. Whether sitting among the fishermen of Galilee, or in one of the cottages of Nazareth, or in the house of the Pharisees; whether standing before the Jewish priests, or in the presence of Herod, or at the bar of Pilate; whether teaching the multitude, or instituting the eucharist, or bearing his cross, he was the same "Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever." Supremely beautiful character! Who that has looked upon it, as delineated with inimitable fidelity and simplicity in the evangelic history, can fail uttering a burst of surprised delight? It has no drawback, no shade but of keeping, no stain; there is nothing to be deducted, nothing to be added, nothing to be desired more: it is altogether lovely."-The Footsteps of Messiah. 66 THE THREE CROSSES. "On either side one, and Jesus in the midst." THE most celebrated country in our world is Judea, and the most celebrated spot in Judea is Calvary. Nor is the fame of Calvary confined to our earth: it has been heard of in other worlds; nor will time be able to limit its marvellous history: it will form the subject of intense study in eternity. The redeemed and the lost, the good and the bad, will think of it, the former with inexpressible gratitude, the latter with irresistible anguish; for the transaction from which Calvary derives its pre-eminence is not a mere historical episode, the removal of which would leave no blank in the annals of time, but the central truth of a circle of doctrines embracing all time, all men, and all eternity. The history of man, with that of Calvary omitted, would be not only lamentably incomplete, but it would form the most appalling record in the universe. In such a case, dark and sad, sunless and joyless, were the life of man! And the history of Calvary, with that of man omitted, would cover with impenetrable mystery that part of the Divine government which is now luminous with the continued rays of 66 mercy and truth." In such a case, we should not know even "part of his ways!" True, the government of God stands alone. It has neither precedent nor parallel. It comprehends issues far too vast to be embraced by the human understanding. But thus far we can go regarding it. It is not a thing of shortlived expedience, but of immutable principle; not to meet a contingency, but to embrace all events; not for a time, but for all time; and not for all time merely, but for eternity; and not for one world, but for the universe which he has created, and over which he reigns. In different worlds, there may be different manifestations of this government; but there will be no contradiction, however great the diversity: the fundamental principles from which these manifestations spring will be found-if discoverable at all-uniformly the same. Hence, at the throne of God, the centre of authority, there is constant calm, "eternal sunshine," undisturbed repose. The death of a sinless being, for instance, which took place in our world, and by which perhaps it is distinguished from all other worlds, whilst it does not interfere with the principles on which they are governed, brings out with astonishing grandeur the wisdom and mercy of Him who is "wonderful in counsel and excellent in working;" for the inspired book which records this event, takes care to inform us that it was the death of the just for the unjust; and thus the very event which at first sight would seem to prove an exception to the equity of the Divine rule, invests that rule with beauty, attractiveness, and glory. On the principle of substitution, the death of the sinless Jesus is reconcilable with the rectitude of Divine government, but not otherwise. On this principle, Calvary has moral significance which eternity shall not exhaust; but on none other can it be made to harmonize with correct ideas of holiness. Death is the wages of sin. Jesus was put to death "by the determinate counsel and foreknowledge of God." Either, therefore, Jesus was a sinner, or the substitute of sinners. That he was without sin, God himself repeatedly declared. It follows, therefore, that he died for us." Let us, then, read the lessons which the three crosses teach. I. Behold on the three crosses the representatives of all known characters! The holy-the pardoned-the impenitent -are there. To one or other of these classes of mind all intelligent beings must belong. There is no conceivable fourth division. The guiltless, the forgiven, and the guilty, embrace all. Strange that they should all meet on Calvary! Stranger still that the representative of each should be nailed to a cross! But it was not accidental. God intended to read a lesson to the world-say rather to mind in all worlds-by this memorable coincidence. The central sufferer is the Son of God! He occupies the place which belonged to Barabbas; but the murderer escapes, and the Restorer of life is crucified. Two of the banditti are also crucified with Jesus. One of them is awakened from the stupor of guilt, the death of sin, confesses his crimes, believes on Jesus, cries for mercy, and is saved; -the pardoned man represents the church. The other rails on and rejects the Messiah, until exhausted nature forbids further utterance, and he dies in his sins; -the impenitent man represents the ungodly. Their feelings towards Jesus determined their destiny. They were alike guilty when fastened to their crosses; how vast the difference between them 1 now! All men, by reason of sin, lie "in the same condemnation!" How different the destiny of the pardoned from that of the impenitent! The view they take of Calvary determines it. The "great gulf" is related to the cross. The story of Calvary gives heaven its bliss, and deepens the gloom of hell. II. Behold on the three crosses the issue of sin-death! The holy Sufferer dies, for he is the substitute of sinners. His death is vicarious: "Christ, our passover, is sacrificed for us." The pardoned sufferer dies; but he is complete in Christ," and enters paradise with his Redeemer that day. The impenitent sufferer dies, and is driven from the presence of the Lord whom he reviled and rejected. Sad death! By the side of the cross, and within sight of the Saviour! Now here, if I mistake not, is a forcible illustration of the equity of the Divine procedure. The law exacts its penalty from the holy Sufferer as the substitute of the guilty. "It was exacted, and he was made answerable." "The Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all." He took the sinner's place, and bore the sinner's doom. To have relaxed the law would have destroyed the idea of substitution. Three things were essential ;-first, the personal sinlessness of the Substitute; secondly, the voluntariness of the sacrifice; thirdly, independent existence. These essentials met in Christ. He was sinless as a man ; "he gave himself" as a sacrifice; he was "equal with God" as an independent Being. The sacrifice was without spot, and there was self-surrender of the body prepared for him "who was God." He had power to lay down his life; he chose to lay it down; he undertook to pay the penalty incurred by the guilt of other beings: there was, therefore, equity in exacting that penalty. The law exacts its penalty from the penitent sufferer. He looks to Jesus, who has magnified the law and made it honourable, and for his sake he is justified, acquitted, saved! The law is satisfied; its claims having been fully met by the blessed Redeemer, “with whom" the poor man was considered as "dead," and with whom, therefore, he shall "live." Here also there was equity; grace triumphs, but not at the expense of law; faith does not make it void; God is just in justifying this sinner. The law exacts its penalty, in likę manner, from the third sufferer. He continues impenitent, rejects Jesus, and is "sent to prison." Here, also, there is perfect equity. Mercy is rejected in the only way in which it can be honourably extended, and law must take its course. There is no alternative. He who refuses mercy offered in harmony with justice, must have justice without mercy. Love and law concur in saving the soul that flies to the atoning Substitute; but if Jesus be rejected, law takes its course. The penitent robber has "a right to the tree of life," through the merits of his Saviour; the impenitent robber rejected Jesus, and must "die the death" of a transgressor. The gospel, then, proclaims a just God and a Saviour." The angels who kept their first estate shall not be able to challenge the privileges of the redeemed in heaven; for they are there in consequence of their union to Christ. They are there honourably on the part of God. For the same reason, the lost shall not be able to find fault with the arrangement which secures bliss to the saved. "Who shall lay anything to the charge of God's elect?" But, in conjunction with this exhibition of justice, behold the triumphant career of Divine mercy! Mark the race of love! What affluence, what expansion, and what adaptation to the state of man! "In this was manifested the love of God towards us, because that God sent his only begotten Son into the world, that we might live through him. Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us, and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins." III. Behold on the three crosses a foreshadowing of the last judgment! Jesus shall occupy the centre again, but not on a cross. Then shall he sit upon the throne of his glory." "How unlike the man That groaned on Calvary !-yet he it is; That man of sorrows! Oh, how chang'd! What pomp! In grandeur terrible all heaven descends; And gods, ambitious, triumph in his train !" He shall again occupy the centre between two opposite classes of character, the penitent and the impenitent, the redeemed and the lost, "the precious and the vile." "Before him shall be gathered all nations; and he shall separate them one from another, as a shepherd divideth his sheep from the goats; and he shall set the sheep on his right hand, but the goats on the left." Again the three classes: the holy, the pardoned, and the impenitent! The pardoned, "purified and made white" in the blood of the Lamb, shall hear addressed to them the glorious invitation, "Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world." The impenitent, who trifled away the accepted time, and neglected the great salvation, shall be compelled to listen to the terrific sentence, " Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels. These widely-different issues, it may be repeated, spring out of the different impressions made by the doctrines of the cross in this world. How fearful the result of unbelief! How glorious the issue of faith! How precious the great salvation! And how earnestly should men examine themselves! May the Spirit of grace lead to the work! THE INDIAN PASS. W. L. HEADLEY, of America, in his "Letters from the Woods," says: A The famous Indian Pass is, probably, the most remarkable mountain gorge in this country. On Monday morning a council was called of our party, to determine whether we should visit it. teamster from the settlements had agreed to come for us this day, to take us out the next; but some of our number, fearing his inability to get through the woods in one day, proposed we should abandon all further expeditions, and make our way homeward. But the Indian Pass I was determined to see, even if I remained behind alone; and so we all together started off, some of us quite lame from our excursion to Mount Tahawus. It was six miles through the forest, and we were compelled to march in single file. Now skirting the margin of a beautiful lake, now creeping through thickets, and now stepping daintily across a springing morass, we stretched forward until we at length struck a stream, the bed of which we followed into the bosom of the mountains. We crossed deer paths every few rods, and soon the two hounds our hunter had taken with him parted from us, and their loud deep bay began to ring and echo through the gorge. The instincts with which animals are endowed by their Creator, on purpose to make them successful in the chase, is one of I the most curious things in nature. watched, for a long time, the actions of one of these noble hounds. With his nose close to the leaves, he would double backwards and forwards on a track, to see whether it was fresh or not; then abandon it at once, if he found it too old. At length, striking a fresh one, he started off; but the next moment, finding he was going back instead of forwards on the track, he wheeled, and came dashing past on a furious run, his eyes glaring with excitement. Soon his voice made the forest ring, and I could imagine the quick start it gave to the deer, quietly grazing, it might have been, a mile away. Lifting its beautiful head a moment, to ascertain if that cry of death was on his track, he bounded away in the long chase and bold swim for life. Well; let them pass. The cry grows fainter and fainter; and they, the pursued and pursuer, are but an emblem of what is going on in the civilized world from which I am severed. Life may be divided into two parts-the hunters and the hunted. It is an endless chase, where the timid and the weak constantly fall by the way. The swift racers come and go like shadows on the vision, and the cries of fear and of victory swell on the ear and die away, only to give place to another and another. ever, we came where the fallen rocks had made an open space amid the forest, and spread a fearful ruin in its place. Near by was a huge rock, that, in some former age, had been loosened from its high bed, and hurled, with the strength of a falling world, below. It was a precipice of itself, from which to fall would have been certain death. This was "the church" our guide had spoken of; and it did lift itself there like a huge altar, right in front of the main precipice, that rose in a naked wall, a thousand feet perpendicular. The top of this "church" could be reached on one side; and thither we clambered, and lay down to rest ourselves, while from our very feet rose this awful cliff, that fairly oppressed me with its near and frightful presence. Majestic, solemn, and silent, with the daylight from above, pouring all over its dread form, it stood the impersonation of strength and grandeur. I never saw but one precipice that impressed me so, and that was in the Alps, in the Pass of the Grand Scheideck. I lay on my back, filled with strange feelings of the power and majesty of the God who had both framed and rent this mountain asunder. There it stood, still and motionless in its grandeur. Far, far away heavenward rose its top, fringed with fir trees, that looked, at that immense height, like mere shrubs; and they, too, did not wave, but stood silent and moveless as the rock they crowned. Any motion or life would have been a relief—even the storm; for there was something fearful in that mysterious, profound silence. How loudly God speaks to the heart, when it lies thus awe-struck and subdued in the presence of his works. In the shadow of such a grand and terrible form, man seems but the plaything of a moment, to be blown away with the first breath. Thus musing, I pushed on, until at length we left the bed of the stream, and began to climb amid broken rocks, that were piled in huge chaos up and up as far as the eye could reach. My rifle became such a burden, that I was compelled to leave it against a tree, with a mark near it to determine its locality. I had expected, from paintings I had seen of this Pass, that I was to walk almost on a level into a huge gap between two mountains, and look up on the precipices that toppled heaven-high above me. But here was a world of rocks, overgrown Persons not accustomed to scenes of with trees and moss, over and under and this kind would not at first get an adebetween which we were compelled to quate impression of the magnitude of the crawl and dive and work our way with precipice. Everything is on such a so much exertion and care, that the gigantic scale; all the proportions so strongest soon began to be exhausted. vast; and the mountains so high about Caverns opened on every side, and a it, that the real individual greatness is more hideous, toilsome, break-neck tramp lost sight of. But that wall of a thousand I never took. There was a stream deep feet perpendicular, with its seams and down somewhere; but no foot could fol- rents and stooping cliffs, is one of the low it, for it was a succession of cas- few things in the world daguerreotyped cades, with perpendicular walls each side, on my heart. It frowns on my vision in hemming it in. It was more like climb- my solitary hours, and with feelings half ing a broken and shattered mountain of sympathy, I think of it standing there than entering a gorge. At length, how-in its lonely majesty. |