SUBMISSION.

There is a secret in the ways of God,

With His own children, which none others know,
That sweetens all He does: and if such peace,
While under His afflicting hand, we find,
What will it be to see Him as He is?
And, past the reach of all that now disturbs
The tranquil soul's repose, to contemplate,
In retrospect unclouded, all the means

By which His wisdom has prepared His saints
For the vast weight of glory which remains!
Come, then, affliction, if my Father bids,
And be my frowning friend: a friend that frowns
Is better than a smiling enemy.

We welcome clouds which bring the former rain,
Though they the present prospect blacken round,
And shade the beauties of the op'ning year,
That, by their stores enrich'd, the earth may yield
A fruitful summer and a plenteous crop.

SWAINE.

CHAPTER IV.

Lesson of Courage for the Hour of Fierce Conflict.

"Lo! I am with you alway, even unto the END OF THE

WORLD."

HERE is a touching fact related in

the history of a Highland chief of the noble house of M'Gregor, who fell, wounded by two balls, at the battle of Prestonpans. Seeing their chief fall, the clan wavered, and gave the enemy an advantage. The old chieftain, beholding this effect of his disaster, raised himself up on his elbow, while the blood gushed in streams from his wounds, and cried aloud-"I am not dead, my children; I am looking at you to see you do your duty."

These words revived the sinking courage of his brave Highlanders. There was a charm in the fact that they still fought under the eye of their chief. It roused them to put forth their mightiest energies; and they did all that human strength could do to stem and turn the dreadful tide of battle.

And is there not a more powerful charm for thee, O Christian, in the fact, that you contend, in the battle-field of life, under the eye of your Saviour? Wherever you are— however oppressed by foes-however exhausted by the stern strife with evil—the eye of Christ is fixed most lovingly upon thee. Nor is Jesus the only observer of your conduct; you are compassed about by a cloud of witnesses." Human and angelic minds, animated-the good by love, and the evil by hatred are the spectators of your actions. Thus is the theatre of your life made sublime; and you contend for salvation under circumstances sufficiently grand, and with results before you sufficiently awful, to arouse your most latent powers, and to stimulate you to strive bravely, vigorously, and perseveringly, even unto victory.

But the good man is apt to forget he is

observed. The terrestrial and visible exclude the celestial and invisible. Ceasing to walk by faith, he loses sight of the innumerable witnesses who surround him. Then he magnifies his difficulties-forgets the sources of his strength-his confidence grows weak-his strength diminishes-his resistance becomes less stern and resolute-his foes take the advantage they renew their efforts fiery darts fall upon and wound him-discouragement seizes upon him, and the danger of a complete and disastrous defeat grows imminent.

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In such a critical moment as this, the Christian needs to be reminded that his Master and Saviour ever liveth," and ever looks upon him. Through every cloud of blackness that Eye, which closed in the agony of death for him, pierces, to watch for his welfare. Above all the noise of battle and the roar of human voices His word is heard, saying, "I am with you, my disciple. I am looking at you, to see you do your duty." Listening to that voice, gazing on that eye, how can any true disciple fail of being inspirited anew, and roused afresh to contend with irresistible energy for the victory?

Reader, are you discouraged?

Is your

heart sad? Is it oppressed and grieved? Do you walk in darkness, seeing no light? Are your enemies getting the advantage? Have you come to a stand, leaning on your sword, in the midst of the battle? If so, look up a moment, this moment, to Jesus your Saviour. Behold Him-the man who wept with the sisters at Bethany at their brother's grave; the man who lived, suffered, died, arose for you; the God-man, who loveth you. See! His eyes are fixed upon you, full of compassionate interest. Hearken! His voice-how gentle its tones!-addresses you. "Come

unto me, weary and heavy-laden one," it says, " and I will give you rest." Is not this enough? Can you despond with that eye upon you, and that voice speaking to you? No, you cannot. Away, then, with doubt, and fear, and sorrow. Rejoice in Christ, and go cheerfully to the remaining strifes of life. As the eye and voice of the dying warrior cheered his clan to battle, so let the eye and voice of your living and mighty Redeemer, and the presence of a cloud of august witnesses, cheer you, until you are permitted to stand on the edge of your grave, and to adopt the sublime strain of the apostle, "I