THE FOURTH STEP.

"Often had I been cautioned against the insidious approaches of intemperance; and my father's maxim was, they only are positively safe who refrain from taking the first false step. This caution I soon learned to ridicule. It was well enough, I thought, for those who had no power of self-control, to avoid all contact with the exhilarating cup; but as for myself, I had too good an opinion of my own resolution to doubt my power of abstinence, whenever I pleased to exercise it. I felt no difficulty in enjoying myself in this way in moderation, and even should I, for the sake of good companionship, indulge in excess, now and then, I could prevent it from falling into a slavish habit. Thus I reasoned, and thus I blinded myself. I made the first false step; for some time I advanced, but still could perceive no danger. I began moderately, and only increased in quantity as I felt my system, from a little practice, abler to bear it. For several years I was sensible of no very serious evils resulting from the enjoyment, but at length I suffered the shame of a public exposure in a state of beastly intoxication. For a moment I relented, and determined to tax my resolution for an entire reform. It shall be so, I said; but it was not so. I felt chained like a galley-slave; my efforts to abstain only convinced me that I had placed myself under the power of a demon who could retain his prisoner. I was, in short, a hopeless drunkard; and each succeeding day only sunk me deeper into the depths of disgrace and ruin, from which I might have been saved by guarding the first step.

"Similar has been my career in other vices; the lustful thought has entailed licentious habits; anger in the heart has led to malice and revenge; and here, at length, lies the victim of those vices, worn out in body, broken down in reputation, lost in self-respect, shocked at the recollection of the past, affrighted in view of the future. Oh! how different might it have been, had I been careful to guard against the first step in sin.”

THE INFIDEL ON HIS DEATH BED.

THE writer of this was called about midday to visit a young man in the last moments of life.

He was a pro

fessed infidel, and refused any spiritual aid, or the services of a minister. On entering the room, the scene was truly awful—the young man was dying-near the bed sat his widowed mother, and sisters. He was struggling to hide his fears, and appear calm and collected in the conflict with death. As I approached him, the window was slightly opened to admit sufficient light; and as he turned towards the window, his eye rested on me. It was only a moment, however, for he quickly turned away, and with his face towards the wall, seemed determined to prevent my conversing with him. I took his hand—he withdrew it; I asked him to look at me, and talk about his latter end—he groaned and hid himself beneath the bed-clothes; again I held his hand, and by gentle force turned him towards me. His countenance was intelligent, his features good, his appearance indicated 20 or 21 years of age. "Shall I pray with you, my friend?" "No, no, no," said he; "I don't believe in prayer." "Shall I read a portion of God's holy word?" "No! oh don't worry me; I don't believe the Bible; why add to my sufferings with such things! I tell you I am an infidel, and all I ask is to be left alone." "Do you know you are dying, my young friend?" "Yes! I know it well enough-I never shall see that sun rise or set again -I wish it was over—I wish I was dead-I wish you would leave me, I did not send for you-mother, mother, send this man away; it is useless to talk with me." "O my boy," cried the almost heart-broken mother, "do listen to the word of truth, you will soon be beyond its reach-you are fast hastening to the judgment-oh! my child, 'tis a fearful thing to meet God unprepared.' Her sobs choked her utterance. I knelt by his side, and prayed for God's Spirit to bring the wanderer back. He rolled and tossed in his bed, and constantly interrupted me during prayer. I then read from the Bible

such verses as I thought would lead his mind to right reflection. He hid his face, placed his finger in his ears,

begged me to desist, and groaned so audibly as to alarm those in the room.

After several ineffectual attempts to get him into conversation, I rose to leave the room. As I passed towards the door, I grasped his hand, and said, "Farewell, my friend." He raised his eyes towards me, and seemed to be willing to listen. "Suppose," said I, "we were on board a ship together, and in some violent storm the ship was wrecked-I had secured a plank, and as I clung to it for safety, refused to let you take hold. What would you think of me?" "Think of you!" said he, "I would think you were a selfish wretch.” "We have been wrecked; here (pointing to the Bible) is the plank on which I rest; the billows of death are riding over you, and will you lay hold, before it is for ever too late? Before you is the shoreless ocean of eternity; the voice of mercy may yet be heard-turn you, for why will you die. Your infidelity is no security for such a storm. Think of your Saviour; oh! look to him as your only staff, your only sure support." He kept my hand; the tear started in his eye; his whole soul was centred in the gaze of agony. "It is too late, too late; there is no mercy, no hope for me; I am lost, for ever lost!"

Before the sun set, his soul was in eternity. At twelve years of age he left the Sabbath-school, entered a printing office, associated with infidelity, drank the poison. At twenty, summoned to the bar of God, without a ray of light to cheer the darkness of the valley of the shadow of death. Young man, think of this sad story, and flee from sin to holiness and God.

SATURDAY EVENING.

SATURDAY evening! It is the evening of preparation for the holy day. How important that it should be spent in a profitable manner. On this evening, God seems to speak to his people in the language which he commanded Joshua to speak in the ears of the children of Israel, "Sanctify yourselves against to-morrow."

Especially does he thus address himself to those who are called on the Sabbath to stand in the solemn and responsible stations of Teachers to immortal beings in divine things. I have often reflected on the interesting topics which are brought before the mind of the minister of the altar, or the Teacher of the Sabbath-school, by the return of this evening. The idea of meeting once more his beloved flock, to point them anew to the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sin of the world, must awaken solemn reflections in the mind of the faithful minister. I have often thought that if we were permitted to stand by the mercy-seat above, and listen to the ascending prayers of the saints below, we should, on Saturday evening, hear the agonizing supplications of many labourers seeking for grace to assist them in the solemn duties of the coming Sabbath. Is there nothing, more

over, in this time, to interest the Sabbath-school Teacher? Has he not a little flock, over whose spiritual welfare God has set him as a watchman? Should not the return of Saturday evening be to him a solemn time? It is the time allotted to him to withdraw his thoughts and feelings from the worldly pursuits and avocations of the week, and to prepare his heart and mind for the sacred duty of imparting spiritual instruction to the immortal souls committed to his charge.

How diligently should he seek to improve this evening! It should be to every Sabbath-school Teacher emphatically holy time. It should be spent in prayer— earnest, humble, devout prayer. On this evening should be kindled the fire of devotion, which is to burn brightly on the Sabbath. On this evening should the heart be aroused to that earnest desire for the salvation of his scholars, which will make the Teacher, while in the Sabbath-school, faithful, affectionate, and persevering in seeking their spiritual good. On this evening should the Teacher's prayer go up for the descent of the Holy Spirit upon his little flock, that they, being watered from on high, may be as trees planted by the rivers of water, whose leaf is ever green, and whose fruit never faileth.

FAITH.

FAITH is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. It is a secret, cordial, holy exercise of the understanding and affections in receiving God' testimony concerning Christ, and in reposing all the trust and confidence of the soul on the merits of that Saviour for everlasting life. It is not merely a general, cold, historical assent to certain truths, but a particular, affectionate, living, practical belief of them, on the authority of God, and an acting fully on them as infinitely good and important. It is not simply a notion, a creed, an established hereditary sentiment; but a holy principle, springing from a personal sense of our lost condition, and apprehending for ourselves the blessings of Christ, and relying upon them for everlasting salvation.

Faith is the eye which looks to Christ, as the brazen serpent which Moses raised; it is the foot which flies to him, as the manslayer fled to the city of refuge that he might escape the avenger of blood; it is the hand which receives, as a needy beggar, the inestimable gift of God freely offered to him; it is the ear which hears with eager solicitude the voice and invitation of mercy, that it may live; it is the appetite which "hungers and thirsts after Christ," and "feeds on his flesh, and drinks his blood, that it may have eternal life."

Faith, like Noah, prepares the ark, and enters it for rescue. Faith builds on Christ the sure foundation. Faith puts on Christ as the robe of righteousness, and the garment of salvation. Accordingly its effects corresponds with its divine origin, and the matchless benefits it receives. It works by love; it overcomes the world; it sees him who is invisible; it glories in tribulation; it purifies the heart; it anticipates heaven; it quenches the fiery darts of the wicked one; it produces uniform, spiritual, cheerful, willing obedience.

Let any one read what the Scriptures assert of Faith, what they ascribe to it, and the earnestness with which they enforce its necessity, and he will be convinced that it is totally different from that dead, speculative assent to the Christian scheme, which is often confounded with it.