To whom? There a Fred whom I have found friend above a curs. Se was my mother's friend, and she taught me to risk i Es name. I have looked to Eim from my childhood and chugi mosi mworthy of His love, He has never falled me. Ee has hic me in a pavilion from many of the evils to which others are exposed; but I know that from sin, in all its firms and consequences, He is mighty to save. I cannot look for one to befriend you among your own gay and gaming acquaintance-for the tender mercies of the wicked are cruel. Those who now play with you would go to a court of justice to see you tried for theft or murder, and would sit as unmoved to pity as a statue. They would go to Newgate to see you hung, and would watch your last agonies with an opera-glass, as coolly as they would look upon the writhings of a worm. The law of the wicked is—" Take care of yourself, and sacrifice others." We have sometimes found cruelty in the Church of God, and among professing Christians. Even the disciples of Incarnate Kindness are sometimes cruel to each other. What must we then expect among the ungodly? I look for a friend among thong willing to help you, but I find no sufficient friend there. Your mother's soft hand cannot break the chain of your sinful habits, nor could your sister's gentle fingers even loosen one link from another. Even your father's strong arm cannot save you. I know but of one Frand Manau, is Jesus. God calls Him-His Chria Heaton & Go and the Son of Man. He was on carti-Ha'a vera makanaĄ in heaven. Still His connection with r

and real. He knows you! Yes-He zume you' Us swe always known you. He knows that you pus when and where. Would you be call upon Him-believe in the Lord

shall be saved.

Men and brethren! mothers! fathere

do to check gaming in our country? Let us put away all games of chance from our children and from our houses. Let us avoid every complacent or indifferent reference to play of every kind. Let us try to find pure and healthful recreation for our young men. Let us do our utmost to make home the sweetest place in the wide world. Let us open our doors to young men far from home. And shall we petition our Par liament not to suspend their sitting for the Derby-day? Shal. we entreat our honoured Queen and her truly illustrious consort to withhold their sanction from Ascot? Shall we keep out of our houses every book and newspaper by which gaming may be made familiar and attractive to our children and servants? And shall we add to our common intercession the petition, that from the gaming-house, the betting-house, and the race-course, the good Lord would deliver this great city and our whole fatherland?—this great city, of which it has been said:

"O mighty mystery, London, there be children still who hold,
Her palaces are silver-roof'd, her pavements are of gold:
And blindly in that dark of fate they grope for the golden prize,
For somewhere hidden in her heart the charmed treasure lies.
Such glory burning in the skies, she lifts her crown of light
Above the dark, we see not what we trample in the night.
O merry world of London! O aching world of moan,

How many a soul hath stooped to thee, and lost its starry throne!
There Circe brims her sparkling ruby, dancing welcome-laughs
All scruples down with wicked eye, and the crazed lover quaffs
Until the fires of heaven have left white ashes on his lips.
And there they pass whose tortured hearts the worm that dies not grips.
The stricken crawl apart to die. There many a bosom heaves
With merry laughters, mournful as the dancing of dead leaves.
There griping greed rich heaps of yellow wealth of bank and shop,
As autumn leaves grow goldenest when rotten ripe to drop :
And many melt the marrow of their manhood, burn its bloom
In passion's serpent arms, and with her kiss of fire consume.

And day by day on each highway, from many a sunny shire,
The country life comes green to wither 'fore the hungry fire.
All into London leaping, leaping flows the human sea,

Where a wreck at heart, or a prize in arms, the waves flash merrily.

While ever and for ever goeth up to God for doom

The city's breath of life and death, in glory or in gloom.

And there it rings each spirit round, of light or darkness woven,
And they shall wake and walk their self-unfolded hell or heaven.
Nightly a merry harvest-home the devil in London drives,
And gathers on the shores of hell the wreck of human lives."

This poetry describes awful realities. London at this day is what these words portray. But as Shadrach, Meshech, and Abednego walked through fire unhurt, because they walked with the Son of God, so our young men may pass through London life uninjured, if they will take care that Jesus Christ is everywhere holding their hand.

Young Brothers! the question is this: Will you allow yourselves to be driven by Satan through a course of transgression to ruin and to hell? or, Will you suffer Jesus Christ to lead you through faith and obedience to salvation and to Heaven?

Gambling.

EVIDENCE

IN SUPPORT OF STATEMENTS MADE IN THE

LECTURE ON GAMBLING,

BY THE

REV. SAMUEL MARTIN,

OF WESTMINSTER CHAPEL