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dowed with great fortitude and patience, which enable them to bear up under poverty and suffering, with unfailing submission, and unflinching resignation to God's will. And never do they give a fairer representation of Christianity, and never do they appear so amiable, as they do when in the furnace. Like good metal, the hotter the furnace, the severer the test is, the more transparent and beautiful their virtues appear.

Abraham was distinguished for the strength of his faith. And how greatly was his faith tried. The more it was tried, the stronger it appeared. His faith was tried by the delay of the promise of Isaac. But much more so, on one of Mount Moriah's mountains, chosen by God for the place where Isaac should be offered up, chosen becanse of its suitableness, but especially because it was to be the place where a greater than Isaac should be afterwards offered, even Christ, whom Isaac typified. The Father and the son, the Offerer and the offering, ascended the mountain alone, but not empty. They carry with them “the tire and the wood.” The thoughts of each dwell on the errand on which he goes, but one only knows what has been commanded. Isaac said, “ My father, behold the fire and the wood, but where is the lamb for a burntoffering ?” And Abraham said, “ My son, God will provide Himself a lamb for a burnt-offering.” Isaac was not yet aware that he was the offering. They reach the mountain top, the place of sacrifice. It is a solemn place in itself; rendered far more so, by the sacrifice about to be offered. Other mountains and hills had been the scene of sacrifice, but never had mountain or hill been the scene of such a sacrifice as this. The altar is built, and Isaac hears, for the first time, that he is to be the offering. What a secret to be told by a father's lips, but the offering is ready bound and laid upon the altar. Surely Abraham's faith is sufficiently tried now ? no, the work is only partly done, and what remains is still more trying than what has already been done.

Here is a knife ! to slay the sacrifice, but what hand is nerved to use it, to slay such a sacrifice? There

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is a hand, a hand nerved by faith, it is the hand of Abraham. It seizes the knife, the hand is stretched out, the knife glitters in the sunlight, nnstained with blood. Does uot the faith of Abraham fail ? no, nor is the trial yet over! There! the aim is taken, and in another moment the blood of the offering would have streamed down the altar. But it is enough! The hand is stayed, not by the failing of Abraham's faith, but by God Himself, who cries, Abraham, Abraham, lay not thy hand upon the lad, neither do thou any harm unto him, for now I know that thou fearest God, seeing thou hast not withheld thy son, thine only son, from me." The trial was severe, and the result was satisfactory in the highest degree. Never did the faith even of Abraham appear so great.

Job was distinguished for his patience, and it was put to the severest test. The loss of cattle, the loss of children, and the loss of health, gether with the desertion of friends, came in close succession. But in the midst of all, his patience sustained him. “He held on his way, waxing stronger and stronger."

And Lazarus, like muny of God's loved ones, was chosen in the furnace of affliction. And in few instances has the furnace been heated hotter than it was in his case, but he nobly stood the fiery trial. If his religion had been a name, a something professed, such trial must have detected its spuriousness, and made it appear to every one. Base metal would have sent up thick, foul, worthless dross, without reflecting a single feature of the purifier, sitting by watching the process, and awaiting the result, the reflection of his own image ; but the ore was good, and with the increased intensity of the furnace, the ore became increasingly brilliant, and the looked-for image became beautifully clear and distinct. Lazarus murmured not against the providence of God, because of the hardness of his lot, but humbly bowed to the will of Him who makes all things work together for good to them that love Him. And how great is His reward ! And so it will be with all who like Lazarus say,,say by their life, say in their deepest

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poverty and greatest suffering, “Not my will, but thine be done."

He was carried by angels to Abraham's bosom."

The Apostle John, designated" the Disciple whom Jesus loved,” leant upon his Master's breast at supper time. Perhaps there is reference here to the custom observed among the Jews.

The Jews regarded Abraham's bosom as the place of the greatest honour, privilege, and happiness, and our Saviour says that Lazarus was carried thither by angels. He was an heir of salvation, and angels had been his ministering spirits. And after attending through a life of poverty and pain, this poor and suffering child of God, they watched his dying moments, and then carried his freed and happy spirit to its place of rest, to Abraham's bosom. Happy saint! great and many were thy trials, exemplary was thy patience ; great must have been thy faith, and great too is thy reward. Thy evil things are passed, all passed and for ever passed. And thy good things are no longer objects of faith and hope and contemplation, but of full, glorious, and eternal fruition. Thy soul in Abraham's bosom, and thy body sleeping its last peaceful, dreamless sleep. But ere long, it shall awake and ari-e, no longer capable of hunger, pain, weariness, and death, but fashioned like unto the Saviour's glorious body. Soon, yes, very soon, thy glorified soul shall be rejoined by thy then glorified body, to live in happy intercourse, and reign triumphantly with Christ in heaven. And a word for the poor, tried, tempted, suffering Christian, thou hast a full cup often, and sometimes thy cup runs over. But hope on, pray on, trust on, wait on a little longer. Thy "evil things" shall soon end, and thy "good things” begin never to cease. And when thy lot seems hard; when a feeling of discontent struggles within thy breast, when the murmur or the sigh trembles on thy lips, think of the Beggar, and ask, is my lot harder than his ? Take heart again, dejected one, thou art now receiving thy evil things. But even now thou art a child

God; angels are thy ministering spirits even now. Be faithful unto death, and angels shall carry thy spirit to

Abraham's bosom, as they carried Lazarus. And I would say to those who would like to enjoy the reward of honour and happiness, which the Beggar is now, and shall for ever enjoy, and who would not like at death to be carried by angels to Abraham's bosom, but who are either strangers to that grace, which, while it was also sufficient to support him under his deep poverty and extraordinary suffering, at the same time so fully qualified him for his glorious reward, remember that if we have not the Beggar's poverty and suffering, we must have his piety, holiness without which no man can see the Lord, or we never can be carried by angels to Abraham's bosom.

R. BRICKWOOD.

KNOCKING AT THE DOOR.

A TRUE STORY.

The glowing sun of a midsummer afternoon poured through the curtainless windows of the little village school, and small curly heads drooped like delicate flowers in the languid air. Among them all, little Katie's sunny ringlets fell the lowest ; and if you had lifted the golden veil, you would have seen that the weary eyes had forgotten to con the long line of hard words in the worn spelling-book, and that the silken fringes of the drooping lids were pillowed lovingly upon the sweetest little cheeks in the world. Yes, in the heated air, soothed by the lazy drone of the hungry flies, and the restless hum of young student voices, Katie had fallen asleep.

She was dreaming, too! She was dreaming of the little brother, darling Charley, who, in the bright spring timewhen the violets were opening their sweet blue eyes after their long sleep-had strayed away from earth, and passed through those gates of glory always open for the entering of little feet. And she dreamed that she clasped him to her little lonely heart, and begged him never to leave ber again. And ainid the greatness of her joy she sobbed aloud, and started to find Belle's soft arm around her, and to hear her whisper

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“What is the matter, darling ? ”

Before poor Katie could well collect her thoughts to i answer, the school was dismissed, and she heard the teacher exclaim, as he pointed to the darkening west,

“Hurry home, children, or you will be caught in the shower."

But Katie could not hurry, and as she walked slowly out of the door, again little Belle's sweet voice criedPoor Katie, sick ?"

Then Katie poured into the sympathising ear of her little friend all her troubles, and finished by saying, “ I could not bear to find it only a dream ; I feel as if I must see Charley once more.”

“Where do you think he is ? ” asked Belle.

“In heaven, I know,” replied Katie ;“and mother says he cannot come back to us, but we can go to him some time ;” and her sobs broke out afresh.

" Why don't you go to him now?" cried Belle.

“I don't know the way,” said Katie. “I was very sick when they took him away in the little coffin, and I don't know were they went."

“ Are you sure ? ” said Belle eagerly. “Oh, I know it,” said Katie.

Then,” said impulsive little Belle, “then I can show you the way. I saw where they put your little brother." The glad light in Katie's tearful eyes was beautiful to behold.

“ Will you, will you show me, Belle, now, this very afternoon ?"

“Yes, indeed,” cried Belle, and with clasped hands, unmindful of the gathering gloom, these little pilgrims set forth on their journey to heaven.

Once on the way a doubt oppressed Belle. sure, Katie, that you can get in ? "

“Ah,” said Katie, with sweet assurance,“ how Charley would run to open the door!” and her cheek flushed with anticipation.

Do you suppose Charley is very happy ?" urged Belle. * Very," said Kati., emphatically.

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