nument of the truth and glory of disinterested benevolence; for she was active and devoted in Christian duty long before she gained any stimulus from a hope of heaven. She served God from the noble motives of right and duty, love of holiness, and moral excellence.

Let the reader follow on one or two pages here if it is dry, for it may be that you will find a principle here developed which will make or mar your fortunes beyond the grave.

It is the first impulse of the natural heart, when aroused to a consideration of the claims of religion, to ask, "Can I in this way better gratify my own selfishness? Can I get paid for being good? If so, I will be a Christian.”

And in this way he goes on, stimulated by a hope of advancing his own interests, takes up a hope and joins the church, and then all is quiet. At last death strikes the blow, and he flies to the throne of God only to discover that his conviction was nothing but a fear of hell; his conversion only getting a hope that he shall escape its horrors; and that his zeal was only sustained by the hope of aggrandizing himself in eternity without any recognition of God's claims or God's feelings.

There are multitudes of such persons in the church, who can relate a brilliant experience, that will almost make a saint despair, who are influenced, in all their religious zeal and observances, only by the hope of reward; who would not keep one iota of God's good law unless they thought they could in that way better secure their own personal fortunes; who would have no motive left for serving God, unless they could be rewarded for the service.

Selfishness is the oundation principle of such religion, it is not the religion of the benevolent Saviour; for if the Bible declares one truth with more plainness and point than another, it is decidedly explicit on this: that impenitence and depravity are nothing more than a course of self-gratification, without regard to right and holiness; and that regeneration consists in a change of this disposition, so that selfishness is no longer the grand stimulus of action. The subject of it sees that he has lived without any regard to God's law or God's feelings thus far, and solely for the sake of self-gratification. He sees that this is the very essence of all sin; that it is departing from the end of his being; making war upon God's interests and kingdom, by regarding a lesser good

as the grand object of pursuit. He repents. His controlling motive of action is now changed, and he is influenced by the same motive which governs his Maker, viz. a desire to advance his glory, and the holiness and happiness of his creatures. He now asks himself in his actions, "Will this advance the glory of Christ? Is it right? Will it honor God and do good to men ?"

The man who has met with this change is a new creature, and no other. And it often happens that he does not think of a hope, or possess any, and goes on serving God without any hope at all. This is the religion of benevolence. Thus it was with Mary. She was faithful in duty for years before she cherished a hope that she was "born of the Spirit."

I have dwelt with some length and earnestness upon this feature in her history, for it is a point of cardinal magnitude in practical theology. It is something more than a philosophical distinction; and its immensity of interest, as a revealed distinction and a controlling principle of holiness, is felt by all true Christians.

If the lights of inspiration assist us in forestalling any of the stupendous scenes of the Great

Day, they assure us that men shall then be tried by this standard: for nothing merits the name of repentance except abandoning sin because it is wrong, and espousing holiness because it is right; and that nothing merits the name of godliness, except those actions which are prompted by a love to God and holiness as such.

This disposition to practise holiness is always attended with faith in Christ, and a confidence in God's integrity in all his administration. Peace of mind is the necessary offspring of this willingness to do right, and submit to God. And a sweet consciousness is awakened in the soul, and the heart beats with ecstacy at the thought that "I am in the hands of God, who will do all his pleasure. And whether I am saved or not, whether my interests are secure or not, God will do right; and I would not have him tarnish his fame or injure his character to secure my interests. No, I would rather have all my hopes quenched for ever!"

Hence the fear of death is often banished from the soul, and the harassings of a guilty conscience no longer shake the bosom. I have known many bright examples of this truth, but none so brilliant as in the life of Mary. From early

childhood she expected soon to die; but yet she felt no fear of death at any period of her life. She would always converse about dying with cheerfulness and composure. She suffered so much from constitutional weakness, and frequent and painful attacks of illness, and also from a consciousness of her spiritual depravity, which she said pained her more than all; her social life was so dreary, that she longed to forget all her troubles in the tomb. "For," said she, "if I die, I know God will do right, and I am glad I am in the hands of a being who cannot do wrong."

She often said that she had not passed a day of freedom' from bodily pain, and her sufferings were often acute and distressing. But her sister has told me that she never heard a murmur escape her lips.

For a number of years her mother was confined to her bed, and Mary's time was almost constantly passed in administering to her infirm and widowed years. This chapter of her life was one of exquisite suffering. She was too tender and delicate to endure hardships; but she was called every hour from a sick bed of her own, to minister at her mother's. But the writer recoils from a more minute picture of her woes.