WEDNESDAY.

"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." MAT. XI, 28.

Ан, how many "heavy laden" ones there are in this world of sorrow! One is labouring under a painful disease. Another is sick and weary of a false world. Another's heart is full, and ready to burst, with some hidden inward grief. Sin is the weight which bears down a fourth.

Well, whatever be our peculiar case, here is a word for each and all of us. Here is a word from One who has power to relieve us.

He says, "Come unto Me." And how shall I come? I must come humbly, feeling my own unworthiness. I must come "in prayer believing." I must come just as I am, without

waiting to be worthier. I must come like a needy beggar, with nothing to offer, and with all to receive.

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There is not a moment to lose. have waited too long. The sand in my hour-glass may be nearly run out. Who knows but that there may be only a few grains of sand left? My Saviour now says, "Come." His invitation still sounds in my ears. His long-suffering is not yet exhausted. Oh, God forbid that I should trifle with His mercy for a single instant longer, lest perchance it be soon withdrawn. I will kneel down at this very moment, and say to Him, "Lord, I come as thou hast bidden me: I am guilty, wash me, and make me clean: I am oppressed, undertake for me."

And what is it that Jesus offers me? It is "rest." This is just what I need-rest for my poor burdened

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soul. What! and is this rest then really for me? Is there pardon for me, who am the chief of sinners? Is there peace for my wounded conscience? Is there acceptance for one who has so often refused to come, that he " might have life"? Yes, there is all this, and even more. There is a heaven held out to me; the door is open; and the words, Welcome, Welcome!" are written as it were over it.

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Oh, wondrous mercy! How is it that I have shut my eyes to it so long? There is rest here in Christ, joy and peace in believing:" and a better rest above ; "There remaineth a rest to the people of God."

THURSDAY.

"The Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me."-GAL. II. 20.

WHAT! did He love me? Long have I lived with hardly a feeling of love towards my Saviour. I loved my family; I loved the world; I loved myself. And I did worse; for I loved my sins. sins. But, alas! I felt little or no affection for my Saviour. My heart was alive to earthly things; but was cold and sluggish towards Him. And can it be that, in spite of all this, He loves me?

Who is it that speaks thus? It is St. Paul. Ah, no wonder he could speak of his Saviour's love, for he was a holy apostle. But stop: does he not say (1 Tim. i. 15), "Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief"? Does

he not say, too, that he was "once a blasphemer, a persecutor, and injurious"? Then I too may take courage, and say, "He has indeed loved me."

Poor and ignorant as I am, undeserving and vile as I must appear in His sight, still, still His feeling towards me is that of love.

And how has He shown His love? He has "given Himself for me." I have earthly friends, who I believe would give me money, if they had it. Some of them would give me up a portion of their time, if they thought it would be of service to me. Jesus, my best and dearest Friend, what has He given? His own life— His very self.

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Is not this enough to win my heart? Does it not touch me in the tenderest part? I can think of God's anger, and still remain stubborn. But now that I think of His love, my