"buts" or "althoughs." any questioning, or hesitating, or exceptioning about minor and unimportant questions of detail. If the three propositions of the Archdeacon are true, we must all every one of us, stand by him to the full. Do not let us vex him with quibbles or fritter away GOD's Truth, with feeling about for what "people may think." Let us all who are really and bona-fide on his side, and that of the Church, and of GOD, think, speak, and act as though we knew we had the truth, and felt it. This prudential way of dealing with our faith-this beginning with a loud assertion, but then ending with a qualification which destroys all that we said and leaves the mind in a maze, without anything real to rest upon -guarded words-guarded-not for clearness of expression but for the sake of pleasing as many as we can-this is not the part of the honest, the generous, or the brave. To be pushed out of our quiet and comfortable fire-sides, when the snow-storm is drifting on the hills is not the part of the via media; but there is such a thing as honour, and duty, and 'truth; and the Church wants her people, her spiritual children, who are faithful, in every Diocess and Parish, to come to the rescue of the true Faith, and that promptly. We know full well, on the one side, that everything that the intimidation of the Law can effect has been done to thrust an heretical doctrine upon the Church. Let us feel certain in our own hearts, on the other side, that when the law by force of deprivation shall have done its worst, it yet will have failed to alter one iota of the truth which still will remain buried in our hearts as deeply and as firmly as before. There may be, as it is too evident there are, timid minds, who are deterred from confessing the Faith at present. Let us pray the rather in their behalf, that GOD may endue them with a firmer courage, that they may come forth in due time. There may be, as no doubt there are, Dissenters on every side watching the struggles of the Church, and expecting her to fall never more to rise; let us, on the other hand, remember the Lord's injunction, "In your patience possess ye your souls." There may be some few, I trust, very few, who shaken by the storms they may fancy now approaching, may throw themselves wildly into the schism of Rome. Let us, on the other hand, abiding stedfastly in the ship, remember the words of comfort given to Elijah, when he was bewailing, as he thought, the failure of His Church and people-"Yet have I left Me seven thousand, all the knees which have not bowed unto Baal." ADVENT THOUGHTS. THE Christian year is closed aud gone- Will see another year begin,- Another mortal strife with sin. Before that Advent dawn shall rise Upon the opening Christian year, Lord! I would backward turn my eyes Upon the closing one's career. Alas! the scene that meets my gaze The sins of word, and deed, and thought, The sinful and self-chosen ways, The works without Thy blessing wrought. The eager wish-the vain regret→→→ The wild repining at Thy will- How has Thy blessed Spirit striven With gracious pleadings in my soul, Drawing me on to Thee and Heaven, And I have spurned His sweet controul? Unto Thy pierced Feet I cling, I come without defence or plea, Forgive, my Saviour, every word, And every deed and thought of mine: The very best are sinful, Lord, And need Thy cleansing Blood Divine, Forgive, and help Thy child; and may Let Thy first Advent bring to me Thoughts lowly, pure, and full of love,Born of Thy "great humility," Which brought Thee down from Heaven above. And bring Thy second Advent, too, In thoughts before my awe-struck soul; When Earth and Heaven shall both be new, And these shall vanish as a scroll: And give me grace, that I may cast The "works of darkness" far away; And gird my armour firm, and fast, And on my knees await That Day. With vows of service more sincere, Then, ere the Christmas joys depart, OUR SHELTER. THE excitement of the re-opening of S. James's, and the bustle caused by the influx of strangers on that occasion had subsided, and the little village of Hurstbury had settled down to its usual quiet. Nature, too, was settling down, for the bright hues of summer had gradually disappeared in the rich mellow tints of autumn. But the Church went on her changeless way, struggling through difficulties, and pursuing her onward, though rugged path steadily and unflinchingly. Many a little babe had been admitted into her fold since the restoration, and had received the precious gift of the Holy Spirit to begin its Christian course; and many a weary soul had also finished its course, and departed to everlasting rest, leaving its worn-out earthly tenement to sleep under the shelter of those hallowed walls till summoned to rejoin it at the last great day. And now another cause of excitement was springing up. The Bishop had announced his intention of holding a Confirmation in Hurstbury. This holy rite had not been administered for some years; and until now the villagers had been obliged to go to Langton, the nearest town, whenever it took place; a custom fraught with bad effects, and entirely destroying the solemnity and quiet which ought to accompany that which is the turning point of so many lives. The intelligence caused many hearts to beat high with anxiety, though some, alas! turned wholly away, not choosing to think it could concern them. Some there were who, through the mere accident of never having been in the way at any place when a Confirmation was held, had gone through more than half their lives without it, but had been admitted to the Holy Commu nion on the promise of thus publicly renewing their Baptismal vows, and seeking the Bishop's blessing at the first opportu nity. More there were who had but lately come to a sense of their obligation to comply with this rule of the Church, and of their great need of the renewal of their Baptismal Grace. Some, (but these were the very few,) who had but lately received that precious gift, having either been wholly neglected by their parents, or brought up designedly without the Fold. These had with their own lips made the three solemn vows of renouncing sin, believing the blessed truths of God, and keeping His holy Will and Commandments, and these earnestly longed to confirm their vows and receive fresh gifts of grace as a stepping stone to being admitted to partake of the precious food, which would nourish their souls to eternal Life. Besides all these, there were the young, and these perhaps the most happy, who had never known any other teaching than to look forward with earnest desire to the day of their Confirmation. In reviewing all these different classes in his spiritual charge, the Vicar had many anxieties. Earnestly did he pray for guidance that he might not, through any oversight of his, lose any of that "beautiful flock," of which a strict account would be one day demanded of him; and he spared no pains to encourage, exhort, and teach. At the bottom of the lane which led up to the Church stood a neat looking cottage within a small garden. It was very near "The Grange," and Helen Jackson often visited its inmates. There were but two, an elderly woman and her only child. The days were fast shortening, and there was no light in the cottage save the fire which Mrs. Gray was endeavouring to revive with the help of some sticks. "Such a long sleep will make 'ee better, Ruth, I'm thinking," she said, looking towards a low bed, which stood in one corner of the room. "If you can bide here a bit, I'd be glad, because I'll go on an errand," said Mrs. Gray. Couldn't I go for 'ee, Mrs. Gray," replied Vinnie. 66 66 No, she do want 'ee, and I shall be glad of the breath of air." And in a few minutes the two girls were left alone. "You've been asleep most all the afternoon, Ruth. Be' better?" said Vinnie. But as she got accustomed to the fitful light of the fire, she felt startled at her friend's appearance. The bright colour of her cheeks contrasted so strangely with the pallid forehead and large dark eyes; she thought she had never before seen her look as she did then. "Yes. I don't feel any pain now. But Vinnie, I've summat to say. Is no one there," and she seemed straining her eyes to look all over the room. "No one dear, your Mother's gone out." "That's right. Now Vinnie, answer me, do you think I shall live till the Confirmation ?" "Yes, to be sure I do," said Vinnie. "No, that's not it. Do you think I shall be able to be confirmed ?" "Well, dear Ruth, you bean't very strong, now," replied Vinnie cautiously. "You mean I shan't be." In truth, as Vinnie gazed on the transparent hands and wasted form, she could not have any doubt on the subject, yet, by one of the sudden changes of this disorder, the poor girl had been able to walk in the garden, but the week before, and her present sufferings appeared to proceed from accidental causes. She hardly knew what to reply, for Ruth had never intimated until this moment that she considered herself in any danger. "Vinnie dear, stoop down-that's it, now listen. Mother and all of ye think I'm going to be better, but I know I be very bad, and I shall die soon. 'Shan't see another Christmas-tree Vinnie. But oh! if I could have been confirmed!" "Oh Ruth, dont'ee talk so." "But Vinnie, I'm not like you. Remember when I could have been I wouldn't, and now I would, and I can't, and if I bean't confirmed, I can't have the Holy Communion." "Hav'ee talked to the Vicar about it, Ruth ?" "No. I ha'n't a see'd he since, I be took worse, and I didn't think it upon afore. May be he'll come to-morrow." 'Well, I don't know, she didn't seem to think much about it." "Oh Vinnie, p'raps, if she see'd I lying here, she'd think. Tell her to come to me.' "I will dear-but now you musn't talk more, for the cough will come back, if you do." And, indeed, Ruth looked much exhausted, the hectic flush had gone, leaving her cheeks like marble, so Vinnie kept her quiet, and soon Mrs. Gray released her from her watch. Ruth Gray was one of a numerous family; her father had died when the youngest child was but four years old, and Ruth being then a strong, healthy girl of thirteen, was taken from school and sent to service. At the end of two years she returned with a good character from her mistress, but she was much altered. She had been living in a town, and had been accustomed when not hard at work in-doors, to dawdle with other girls about the streets with a baby in her arms, and two or three children clinging to her frock. Poor Ruth! this mode of life weakened at least the early impressions, and broke the good habits with which she had left Hurstbury, and on her return, she felt strange, she knew not why. By degrees, she returned in some degree to better ways, but she had learnt things not easily forgotten, and had become a giddy, thoughtless girl. After a few months she entered another situation, in the same town, where she had lived before. Her old associates got round her again, and unfortunately her mistress did not care much how her servant behaved, provided her own work was done. Instead of saving up her money, all was spent in gay ribbons, and bits of finery-and many a time when sent to Church on Sunday afternoon, she would take a walk with some other girls, to display her new bonnet instead of going to the Service. A Confirmation was held in the Parish Church at this very time, and the Rector exhorted her to take ad vantage of it. So far she did, as to attend his catechizing and lectures, and seemed impressed and anxious to do better; but just before the day, she was assailed by a sore temptation. Some of her giddier companions pressed her to go with them to a fair, which was to be held in a neighbouring town, on the very day of the Confirmation. For a long time Ruth refused, but in an evil hour she gave way. After a long wet walk, she stood the whole day in a drenching rain, and certainly did any thing but enjoy herself; when she got back, her mistress dismissed her at once, and she returned home to her mother, full of shame. During her absence, her poor mother had seen the deepest sorrow. In one month, her four youngest children had been carried off by scarlet-fever. Her eldest daughter had died of rapid decline before that, and now Ruth, her only remaining child, came back to her in disgrace. The widow's heart was well nigh broken, her only comfort was in the real sorrow, which Ruth shewed for her fault after a time. At first, her pride prevented her from owning it, and she had to bear many mortifications, ere that was subdued. Her greatest punishment was, being forbidden to sit with her former companions in the Sunday School, and in Church, or to attend the Evening School. It was not till the Vicar was quite satisfied of her penitence, by her voluntary acknowledgement of her sin, that he permitted her to take her place once more, as she used to do. And when she did, her humble subdued manner, yet happy countenance, told the reality of her repentance, and of her happiness, at being restored. In all this period of probation, Vinnie Grant had been her constant friend, and although two years her junior, Ruth looked up to her for counsel and support. As much time as she could possibly spare from her home duties had been spent by Vinnie in the last three months, in soothing as far as affection could, the sufferings of her friend, for Ruth had not been long in feeling the effects of the drenching she had got at the fair. At first she called it a cold, but the hoarse voice, and short cough, soon betrayed the insidious disease, which now was gaining rapidly upon her. On returning from her visit to Ruth, "Dear Charlotte, look at I. One year ago and less I was as strong as you be now; and I might have been confirmedbut you do know, now I can't. If you do lose this time, may not God try you, too, as He is trying me." come Charlotte looked thoughtful, and Ruth went on. "Now do'ee learn by me, and leave off those thoughtless ways. Do'ee, dear Charlotte." Whenever the time comes, and you know it must once, for you to lay a-dying -you'll remember every time you have laughed in church, and made others laugh, and refused to kneel, and all the idle words you've said, and you'll feel that t'isn't only you that remember them, but that God knows them all, and heard them all; and then you'll wish, oh! you'll wish so much to live to do better, and it may be too late.” She stopped to take breath, and the tears stood in Charlotte's eyes as she said, "Oh, Ruth!" "Yes, dear Charlotte, indeed it is true. Blessed be GOD that He brought me to repent before He cast me down in sick ness. Now do 'ee promise. Go and promise yourself, your own self, to give up all that is bad, and resolve to try, and then God will give you His Holy Spirit once more, and strengthen you, and help you to keep your vow." Again Ruth stopped, and sunk back on her pillow, but she kept fast hold of Charlotte's hand, fixing her eyes full upon her as if she would read her inmost thoughts. Charlotte did, indeed, cause much pain to her teachers by the levity of her behaviour. She had not a bad heart, if once it could be reached, but it lay deeply hid in a froth of thoughtlessness. She really never thought of GOD at all-never knelt by her bedside to commend herself to his protection by night or by day, and was always ready to laugh at the first thing that came before her, even in the time of the Holy Services. Often and often had her teacher been interrupted in her own devotions by the whispering and giggling of Charlotte, and one or two more like her; and it seemed impossible to make her think. But she had never seen death so near, or thought of it as possible to come to her. Now she saw the companion of her youth, one of her own age, stricken by GoD's Hand. All the warnings and rebukes she had so often received with neglect, if not scoffing, rose up in her mind, and her conscience told her that she shrank from Confirmation, not from fear of being unable to fulfil the solemn vow, but from not wishing to bind herself by it to give up her bad ways. There was a great struggle within her; but those unnaturally bright eyes were still fixed upon her with such an earnest, anxious gaze, and those thin hands held hers with such a tight, nervous grasp. She could not escape. little pause she returned the pressure, and, stooping down, gently whispered, "I will, dear Ruth." After a "Thank God!" was the murmured reply. (To be continued.) The glittering grass, with dew stars bright So soon is meant to melt away. Yet hath GOD given these drops a power, To raise the grass and cheer the flower. All the hot noon their grace shall bide, And fresh shall fall at eventide. So, day by day, O LORD renew And evermore that gift bestow, That still to heaven my growth may tend, Whytehead. RESIGNATION. THERE is no flock, however watched and tended, But has one vacant chair! The air is full of farewells to the dying, The heart of Rachel, for her children crying, Let us be patient! These severe afflictions But oftentimes celestial benedictions We see but dimly through the mists and vapours; What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers, There is no Death! What seems so is transitions; Is but a suburb of the life Elysian, She is not dead,-the child of our affection,- Where she no longer needs our poor protection, In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion, Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution, Day after day, we think what she is doing Year after year, her tender steps pursuing, Thus do we walk with her, and keep unbroken Thinking that our remembrance, though unspoken, Not as a child shall we again behold her; In our embraces we again enfold her, But a fair maiden, in her Father's mansion, And beautiful, with all the soul's expansion, And though at times, impetuous with emotion The swelling heart heaves moaning like the ocean, We will be patient, and assauge the feeling We may not wholly stay; By silence sanctifying, not concealing, "When trees are much loaded with fruit, the quantity bends, nay sometimes breaks the branches; whereas, those which are not so loaden remain straight-and when the ears of corn are full, they hang down, so that the stalk seems ready to break, but when they stand straight up it is a sign that there is little in them. Just so it is, as to spiritual things. They who bear no fruit shoot still upwards, but they who are loaden with the the fruit of grace and good works are always hanging down their heads in an humble posture; they make the favours they have received from God a subject of further humiliation and fear"-Rodriguez. |