14

MY DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS,

W

HEN travelling in Perthshire once, I noticed by the side of the road, what you may see often when you take a stroll into the country, a wood, or plantation, which contained only a very small sprinkling of big trees, each about fifty, sixty, or seventy years old, and these were growing at regular distances from each other, and the most of them bore the sign of the forester's axe-that is, they were marked to be cut down forthwith. The other portion of the ground was filled with young trees, consisting chiefly of larch fir, -all under sixteen years of age.

Now I thought that the old and thinlyscattered trees fitly represent the elderly people everywhere around you, who, like the old trees, are marked off in course of Providence, and soon to be cut down by death (and oh that the OLD were all preparing for their latter end!), while the young trees resemble you, dear boys and girls, to whom this letter is addressed. But, say you, "Had the young firs any signs of decay?" They had;-the entire plantation seemed to be infected with a deadly disease, which foresters know has of late years overtaken that variety of plant in many localities-so much so, that thousands of them are only fit for the burning.

You, my young friends, have been born in sin and brought forth in iniquity-so that, "from the sole of the foot even unto the head there is no soundness in it; but wounds, and bruises, and putrefying sores;" and being in this sad condition, you are naturally on the road to the pit of destruction, "where their worm dieth not, and

their fire is not quenched." But say you again," Will we not live, like the big trees, to the age of fifty, sixty, or seventy?" We fear, not very many of you. Ah! is not Satan busy, busy, making you believe that you have many years yet before you ? Why, you may be mouldering in the dust in ten days hence!

It is only a few weeks since I attended. the funeral of three young children of one family, who died suddenly of scarlatina, and they were all buried in one grave-a touching scene it was, and a sore stroke to their bereaved parents! Every churchyard is full of dead bodies exactly your own size-are they not?

Now, my young friends, it is time to seek the Lord. See that you come to ! Jesus. Give your hearts to Him now, and if you are Christ's, by being born again, do try to be useful in helping forward the Lord's work. Be much in prayer, in reading the Bible, in attending the house of God, and prayer-meetings.

Oh! it is refreshing to think how the Lord is stretching forth His Almighty arm in these days, and saving sinners in our own land and elsewhere, and especially young sinners. Are you willing, or are you

not?

May the Holy Ghost draw you, and make you His!

Yours affectionately,

PETER DRUMMOND.

FIERY trials make golden Christians. If the furnace be seven times hotter, it is to make us seven times better.

Scarlet and Crimson, Not Black.

COME now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; and though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool."(Isaiah i. 18.)

"What would you call a wicked, bad deed?"

"Oh, I should call it black."

'But God calls sin scarlet and crimson." Now, shall I tell you why? The dye that produces scarlet and crimson is the only ineffaceable dye. Anciently taken from a little shell-fish called the Purpura, in modern times from the Cochineal, it is also the only animal dye. Chlorine, which bleaches all other dyes, and makes black white, cannot remove scarlet and crimson. send your scarlet and crimson articles to the dyer's and have them dyed any dark colour you please, but the application of chlorine will entirely obliterate the covering dye, and your scarlet and crimson will be scarlet and crimson still. Send scarlet and crimson rags to the paper mills, and pink blotting paper will be the result.

You may

The scarlet and crimson are twice dyed, -dyed in the warp and dyed in the woof. Now, do you not see God's wisdom in choosing this comparison for sin? Sin is ineffaceable, as far as all our efforts are concerned. We are twice dyed in sin-being sinners by nature and sinners by practice. And it is only the blood of the spotless Lamb of God which was shed for us that can make us like Jesus, even as white as | wool; while our garments may shine as His did on the Mount of Transfiguration, exceeding white as snow, so as no fuller on earth can white them.

To-Morrow" and "To-Day."

15

OD'S call is not a call for to-morrow. G To-day, if ye will hear His voice, harden not your hearts." God's grace always comes with despatch ; and if thou art drawn by God, thou wilt run after God, and not be talking about delays.

To-morrow! it is not written in the almanac of time. To-morrow! it is in Satan's calendar, and nowhere else. To-morrow! it is a rock whitened by the bones of mariners who have been wrecked upon it; it is the wreckers' light gleaming on the shore, luring poor ships to their destruction. Tomorrow! it is the idiot's cup, which he fableth to lie at the foot of the rainbow, but which none hath ever found. To-morrow! it is the floating island of Loch Lomond, which none hath ever seen. it is a dream. To-morrow! it is a delusion.

To-morrow!

To-morrow! ay, to-morrow, you may lift up your eyes in hell, being in torments!

Yonder clock says, "To-day !" Thy pulse whispereth, "To-day!" I hear my heart speak as it beats, and it says, "To-day !" Everything cries, "To-day!" and the Holy Ghost is in union with these things, and says, "To-day, if ye will hear His voice, harden not your hearts."

Sinners! are you inclined now to seek the Saviour? Are you breathing a prayer now? Are you saying, "Now or never! I must be saved now!"-Spurgeon.

BURDENS heavier than our faith can lift drive us to a Burden-Bearer, and make us feelingly find out our weakness, empty us of all self strength, and teach us to run to where alone we can get help.

16

The Stream of the Year.

YAUNCHING on the stream, brother, of another T&

year;

Whither is thy vessel bound? Whither dost
thou steer?

As the rippling waters pass thee with a song,
Ever in an onward course bearing thee along,
Hast thou ever thought, brother, as the moments go,
Where this winding stream will end-where these
waters flow?

Launching on the stream, brother, of another year;
Is it still the stream of sin, swelled by many a tear?
Falls are just before thee! hear the torrents roar,
Dashing from the fatal brink up and grasp the oar!
Be not thou deluded, friend, while the siren stream
Bears thee on its placid breast, smiling in thy dream.
Launching on the stream, brother, of another year;
Christian, 'tis the stream of love, hush thy every fear!
All thy hopes committing to His sovereign will,
He who hitherto has steered waits to steer thee still.
Trust to Him the future course, all unsailed by thee-
Trust in Him who trod of old Galilee's rough sea.
Launching on the stream, brother, widening as it goes
Ever on its merry course, deepening as it flows:

Drowning every sorrow in its mighty depths,
Wider than our utmost need in its mighty breadth;
Mercy, like a river, where thirsty souls may swim;
Streams with God's infinity flooded to the brim.

Mercy ever flowing, constant as the day,
Gushing from eternal springs, springs that never stay;
Flowing in the spring-time, ending winter's gloom;
Flowing in the summer, when the flowers bloom;
Flowing in life's autumn days for the reapers' thirst;
Flowing to the closing year, staying not for frost.
Launching on the stream, brother, of another year;
Though among the rocks, brother, never, never fear!
Scenes may change around thee-now the sunny glade,
Now the mountain's shadow, now the evening's shade-
But the crystal river, bearing thee along,
Still as pure as ever, lifts its cheerful song.
Wholly trust the Lord, brother, though the torrents