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one who wishes to live with devils and lost spirits, and to be cast into the lake that burneth with fire' and brimstone, where the worm dieth not, and the fire is never quenched; but every one wishes when they depart this life, to go to Heaven, and to be with God for ever. Indeed, there probably is not a sinner, however bad his conduct towards God and man, but will, at times, try to pacify the elamorous cries of conscience, with the deluding hope that all may end well at last. The whole human family are divided into two classes, the righteous and the wicked, and we all belong either to the one or the other. "No man can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other, or else he will hold to the one and despise the other: ye cannot serve God and mammon." As we have just stated that there are but two classes, let us just take a glance at each of them in a dying hour. First, let us view the death-bed of the sinner. "Be not deceived, God is not mocked, for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap," is the language of holy writ. To understand his character more fully, let us take a review of his past life. It may be he has had a pious Father or mother; perhaps both, whose prayers have frequently ascended up to Heaven on his behalf. He has been led to the house of God in early life, either by his parent or Sabbath-school teacher, and taught there truths whereby he might have been saved. Notwithstanding all this, when he has arrived at maturer years, what has he done. Has he consecrated his life and powers to God! or has he gone into the world. Can it be possible that

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one for whom so many prayers have been offered up-one who has had line upon line, and precept upon precept-should be an avowed enemy of Christ, and yield himself up to the dominion of the prince of darkness. Alas! alas! it is so. The conduct of numbers of young persons at the present

time, shows that it is. Now he goes on in sin, and wanders far from his "father's house." He heweth out to himself cisterns, broken cisterns, which can hold no water. He sees the goodness of God in every thing around him, still it leadeth him not to repentance.

"Ten thousand times his goodness sees;

Ten thousand times his goodness grieves."

The Spirit of God still strives with him, it warns, t threatens, it entreats, it even woos him to be reconciled to God; still, in the language of Felix he says, "go thy way, for this time, when I have a convenient season I will send for thee." It is true that God delighteth in mercy; yet he is just as well as merciful.

"For mercy knows th' appointed bound;

And turns to vengeance there."

The Spirit of God will not always strive with man, and it may be grieved, take its departure and never again return; and now he goes on in sin, and fills up the measure of his iniquity, until it is said of him, as it was of the barren fig tree: cut him down, for why cumbereth he the ground. Now sickness seizes him, he is confined to his chamber; still he flatters himself with the hope of recovery. However, in a short time, he is convinced that he must die; now he tries to pray, but his neglected

opportunities stare him in the face: he dares not even to think of that God, whose offers of mercy he has so often slighted and neglected. The messenger of mercy visits him, and endeavours to impart to him the consolations of religion; but now the ear of mercy is deaf to him, and seems to reply, "let him that is filthy be filthy still, let him that is unholy be unholy still." Now his life is fast wasting away, and soon he must appear before the bar of God; and, oh! my dear children, imagine to yourself what will be his feelings at this solemn moment. Perhaps something like the following may be his thoughts: "I shall have to see that mother who used, in my infancy, to clasp my little hands, and teach me how to pray to Him who would now have been my friend, had I but loved and served Him. Oh the misery! to think that I must dwell throughout the countless ages of eternity in anguish and despair, while I might have been enjoying the happiness which she now does in yonder heavenly world. I must see the ministers too who have so often warned me to flee from the wrath to come. I must also see my Sabbath-school teacher, who has so often endeavoured to lead me to Christ'; but they will only rise up as witnesses against me, and condemn me. "Oh! miserable wretch that I am; better would it have been for me, had I never been born." He now entreats his family not to follow his example, but to seek the Lord while he may be found-to call upon him while he is near. Stern death enters his chamber, he sighs, he groans, and departs, having no hope, and without God.

(To be concluded in our next.)

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ARTHUR SAMPSON, THE PIOUS BOY.

ARTHUR SAMPSON was one of the most agreeable companions I ever met with in my school-days. He was not a wit, like Charles Murphy; but he possessed sound sense, and his conduct was of the noblest kind. He scorned to join in any pastime that was not innocent, albeit he loved fun as well as the best amongst us. Charles Murphy has often observed to me, that he could not make Arthur out; for that, whilst he enjoyed his sports, he always kept himself free from blame. "Philosopher though you are," he would add, "he comes off better than you, for our preceptor has never had occasion to reprove him; no, not even for vanity."

The secret by which Arthur kept himself free from blame was this: he was pious. Yes, my

young readers, although Arthur Sampson could spin a top, fly a kite, or play at any game, as skilfully as the best amongst us, he had the fear of God before his eyes.

One day, when Charles Murphy was wondering how Arthur could love sport so well, and keep himself so blameless, I explained this to him: "Charles," said I, “Arthur, I believe, is wise in the truest sense of the word. You often see him reading his Bible; and I have no doubt that he derives from thence the rules by which his conduct is guided. I have often heard both my parents and Mr. White say, that there only true wisdom can be found; and I remember a prayer, which I was taught very young to repeat every morning and evening. It was this:

"O Lord, I am a simple and sinful child! Enable me to read and love thy holy word, for therein only can I hope to find wisdom! Grant ths, for Jesus Christ's sake! Amen.'

“I wish, Charles, that I did not so often forget this; for I fear that I stand as much in need of wisdom as I did when I was a little child at home."

"Nonsense!" replied Charles, hastily; “how can that be?-why you know you are a philosopher."

"You are pleased to call me so," I rejoined; "but, even if I were, what of that? Our preceptor said to me, one day, as I sat with him in the summer-house, that all philosophers were not truly wise; and that most of them were ignorant of the word of God, which is the true source of wisdom.

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