figs, amongst the provisions which Abigail brought to David-so that when there was a scarcity of them, it was a bad time. From the clusters of grapes the wine was pressed. It was used in sacrifices and libations to God, and also by man; so that when it failed, it was deeply felt by them. The "olive" yielded berries of an agreeable taste, and out of which oil was extracted, which the Jews used instead of butter. So that when its fruit failed, it was a great loss on many accounts. When no herbage could be found for the beasts, and no corn for the service of man, a famine must be felt by both. The "flocks" of sheep, cut off from the fold, either by the hand of God, or by some disease being sent among them, or driven away by the enemy and killed for foreign use. No oxen in the stalls, where they were kept and fattened for use. By all these images the prophet would represent to us the case of the greatest possible degree of destitution-no food to eat, no raiment to put on. This is indeed a melancholy picture, every support gone, and the hopes of next year blasted; every thing dark and melancholy around. What case of temporal distress can be greater-a case not altogether imaginary, but one which has been realized. Now, what will the prophet do under such circumstances?

This leads us to consider, 2ndly, His Resolution-" Yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my salvation." He determines to commit himself to his God, and to rejoice in him no less when bereft of all the necessaries of life, than when surrounded with a fulness of all earthly comforts. 1st, He will commit himself into the hands of his God, and look up to him to supply all his wants. He will endeavour to comply with his Saviour's command: "Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment ?" (Matthew vi. 25.) Our Saviour teaches us that over-anxious cares about the body, such as unfit our minds from attending to our souls, are unbecoming the

professed disciples of Christ. "After all these things do the Gentiles seek." That they should be making anxious enquiries about the things of this life we do not wonder, because they know of no higher object to be pursued, nor of any God who is able and willing to undertake for them. But does such conduct become us who know that there is a God, and have been taught to call him by the endearing name of "Father"? Us, who profess to regard this world but as a passage to a better, and to have our affections set entirely on things above? To what purpose have we been instructed in the knowledge of God, and in the great mystery of redeeming love? To what purpose have the unsearchable riches of Christ been opened to us, and the ineffable glories of heaven revealed, if, after all, we are to live like the heathen, careful about the body as if we had no soul, and depending on ourselves as if there were no God? Excusable as corroding care may appear to men, it proceeds from atheism in the heart, it overlooks God's providence, it usurps his place, it puts self upon his throne. Hence, the real Christian strives to be careful for nothing, "but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, he makes his requests known unto God." "He casts all his care upon him, knowing that he careth for him." His interest in Christ secures for him the precious promise that "all things work together for his good; and that all things are his, whether the world, or life, or death, or things present, or things to come." (1 Cor. iii. 22.) The "Lord reigns” and he rejoices. We learn, also, from the prophet's example, the blessedness of living upon Creator fulness. "There is a sun which never goes down, a fountain whose streams can never dry up. He that lives upon creature excellency will want both food and comfort, when that excellency dies, for they must die with it, when the period of its flourishing is over. But the soul that draws all from Jesus, the God of his salvation, will have Jesus and his salvation to live upon, and to be an everlasting source, when nature, and all its varieties, ceases to supply."

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2ndly. The Christian rejoices in his God. The happiness of God's children does not depend upon any earthly thing whatever. It is fixed upon God, who is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever. When he has anything, he enjoys it in God and for God; when he has nothing, he enjoys all in God. He rejoices in the Lord. He knows in whom he has believed. He remembers what God did for the Israelites of old; and takes courage. How God supplied their every want-water from the flinty rock-flesh and bread from heaven, and clothes that waxed not old. remembers the widow's cruise, and the barrel of meal. The ravens feeding Elijah—bringing bread and flesh in the morning, and bread and flesh in the evening. He looks to God as his Father. He contemplates him as the Creator, Upholder, and Governor of the world. He knows that all things are overruled by Him who ordereth all things after the counsel of his own will. But he specially "rejoices in the Lord," as the God of his salvation. Tais implies that he knows God in Christ, as a friend-allsufficient-tried. One who will not leave nor forsake him-who never did, will, nor can fail his people. He has not a God to seek in time of trouble. In some versions this passage is rendered, "Yet I in the Lord will rejoice-and will exult in Jesus my God." This the Christian can do. He can rejoice in the Lord Jesus Christ; in his person, the greatness and glory of it; in his offices, the Prophet, Priest, and King of his Church; the Mediator and Almighty Saviour; in his relations, as the Head, Husband, Brother, and Friend of his people; and in his fulness of grace and righteousness. He rejoices in the salvation of God-so great, so glorious, so suitable, so complete, and so perfect. But that which gives peculiar sweetness to his meditations is, that he is enabled to claim God as his Saviour, who has already been the God of his salvation, and is daily his strength, and will be an effectual Saviour, making his feet like hind's feet, and causing him to “walk upon his high places." I will rejoice in the God of my salvation, In the DECEMBER-1846.

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God who has loved me, and given himself for me-has died for merisen again for me-intercedes for me. I will rejoice in that salvation which has not only been wrought out for me, but brought and applied to me by the Holy Spirit, who witnesses with my spirit that I am a child of God, an inheritor of the kingdom of heaven." In God he enjoys a suitable, all-sufficient, everlasting good-he has that which fully satisfies the desires of his soul-(Psalm iv. 6.)-which makes him regardless of all his wants or trials—(Ps. xlvi. 1—4.)—and which is unchangeable both in its operation and existence. Happy, indeed, is the man who can thus afford to look on his affliction, in all its magnitude, without incurring the least danger of troubling the springs of his comfort. He possesses a remedy which, so far from requiring a diversion of thought as essential to his comfort, acts through the medium of thought, and only makes his trials the means of discovering the ample provision for their support and sanctification. We have, in the PrayerBook version of the passage last referred to, a truth which the child of God is often privileged to experience. "The rivers of the flood thereof shall make glad the city of God." When the Spirit of God accompanies them, they only leave a fertilizing effect. What an exalted, happy, independent character is the real believer!

In conclusion, I would address the over-anxious Christian. Think of our dear Saviour's words, "Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things, but one thing is needful." Get your hearts more filled with the love of God, and the cares of this world will be dissipated as clouds before the rising sun.

To what end is all your anxiety? You cannot make one hair white or black. Cast away all these anxious feelings. Cast yourself upon God. Do not only take your burden to him, but leave it with him. Remember the words of Christ, that "a sparrow cannot fall to the ground without the will of your heavenly Father," and that the " very hairs of your head are all numbered." See how much you live below your privileges-of how

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much happiness you deprive your. selves-what dishonour you bring upon your profession! Do not live like the heathens. Shew the reality of your faith, by simply depending upon God. Of what use is your religion if it will not support you in the hour of trial? Has God forgotten to be gracious? Is his ear heavy? Is his arm shortened that it cannot reach or save? Oh! no. By the help of your God you have stood until this day, and by the help of your God you shall stand.

To the timid Christian I would say, Though dead to the world, you have not that joy in God which it is your privilege to possess. You meditate

too much upon your own infirmities, and too little upon the perfections and promises of God. O brethren! look unto God as the God of your salvation, and you shall have your fears turned into confidence, and your sor

rows into thanksgiving and the voice of melody.

To the rejoicing Christian I would say, Hold fast your confidence unto the end. Keep looking simply to your God; and "whilst praising him for all that is past, trust him for all that is to come."

If the glorious privileges of which we have been speaking belong only to the child of God, how wretched must be the state of the unconverted sinner! To whom will he go in the hour of his distress? He has lived without God in the world, and is alike ignorant of the God of salvation, and the salvation of God. Oh! seek an interest in Jesus now. Seek to be reconciled to God through the blood of Jesus, and then you will have a throne of grace to go to in all your trials, and a Father of mercy ever ready to give you all you need, for support here, and glory hereafter.

WE passed our first Sunday at Cologne. The town is dirty and offensive, and we had been warned against the hotels. We consequently crossed the bridge of boats to Deutz, where we found the Bellevue Hotel every thing that a traveller could wish for. It is a handsome, spacious building, beautifully situated on the banks of the Rhine, and commanding the finest view of Cologne. Nothing can exceed the civility and attention of Monsieur Renner, the master of the hotel, who we learnt, as is often the case abroad with persons in his line of life, is one of the most influential persons in Cologne. Happily for us, a London party arrived about the same time as ourselves, on the Saturday, from whom he had received attentions when in England, and to whom he was shewing all possible hospitality. His champagne and choicest wines were set before them at our table-d'-hote, where he himself was a guest; and what was of greatest moment to myself and fellow-traveller, we were invited to join them in their visit to the cathedral, which we saw to peculiar advantage under his auspices in the evening, with the additional comfort of his own private carriage. It is supposed that sufficient money is in hand to complete the cathedral, which it is expected will be done in about twelve years, when it will rank amongst the finest specimens of Church building in Europe. Its height is most imposing, of which we were the most sensible at the elevation of the gallery above the lofty arches. We saw the shrine of the Three Kings, or Magi, who came from the East with presents for the infant Saviour. Their bones are said to have been obtained from Milan, when that city was taken by storm, and presented to the then Bishop of Cologne. The case in which they are deposited is of plates of silver gilt, and curiously wrought. The vast treasures which once decorated it were diminished at the time of the French Revolution, but those remaining are said to be worth six millions of francs, or £240,000. The

skulls of the three kings are exhibited through an opening in the shrine, crowned with diadems, (a ghastly contrast). In the sacristy are deposited many relics of saints, including a bone of St. Matthew, all of which, on certain high-days of religious observance, are elevated and carried in procession. In the Church of St, Peter we saw the famous altar-piece of the crucifixion of that saint, which Rubens regarded as the best picture he ever painted.

But how shall I describe our first Sunday in a foreign land? At eight o'clock in the morning, a band of music started up in the tea-gardens beneath our windows, and played at intervals throughout the day. As we passed through the town to the cathedral at ten o'clock, not only were the shops all open, but the marketplace was filled with stalls of general merchandize as well as vegetables and fruit. If there had been an English service, I doubt whether I could have deserted it for that which motives of curiosity chiefly prompted me to. And yet never having been inside a Popish place of worship before I came to the Continent, I really felt that it was not only excusable, but desirable, once in my life, to witness its worship. This is done under the most imposing circumstances in the Cathedral of Cologne on a Sunday morning. We went early to secure places in the choir, which we did very comfortably in the stalls, and for half an hour or more after we were seated, some of the priests were engaged in bawling out most vociferously their prayers in a sort of chaunt. Presently the Archbishop made his appearance in his splendid dress of rich red satin, with a short vest of the finest lace, and a red cap. On taking his throne he placed a gold band round his neck, and the regular service commenced. I cannot say too much of the bewitching and imposing character of the singing and the music; though the introduction of various instruments, in addition to the organ, was anything but in accordance with one's feeling of what