corner of St. Giles' Church, preaching salvation, through sovereign grace, by the blood of Christ. In the course of that period, he was eighteen times put in prison for preaching; but it never once daunted his energy or zeal. Often he was made the song of the drunkard, and laugh of the scorner; but, with his Bible in his hand, he was ever ready with an answer from the Word. And we have seen the poor outcasts of the High Street melted to tears, ning words of the old soldier, telling of Him who "receiveth sinners." In 1810, at Berhampore, the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God, pierced the heart of the poor blaspheming soldier. God, who commanded the light to shine out of dark-while they listened to the winness, shone into his heart, to give the light of the knowledge of his glory in the face of Jesus Christ. He became a new creature, and all the activity and energy to which he had been trained as a soldier, he now showed in his love and zeal as a good soldier of Jesus Christ. While yet in India, in the Isle of France, and in Ireland, he held meetings, and preached, wherever he could, to his fellow-soldiers, the faith he once had destroyed. While in Edinburgh Castle, he was twice confined in the blackhole for persisting in preaching. But, nothing daunted, he used to preach through the bars of his prison to his fellow-men. In 1817, he obtained his discharge from the army, and from that year to the time of his death he resided in Edinburgh. In Bruntsfield Links, in front of the Theatre, and most of all in Parliament Square, many of our older citizens will remember how, night after night, Sabbaths and workdays, wet or dry, Robert was to be found mounted on his chair at the But the old frame was to wear out at last. Palsy laid him low, and for many months he was confined to his bed. Another stroke came, a few days before he died. We saw him the evening of his last Sabbath on earth. He lay as if with a light on his old familiar face, breathing glory to God, and goodwill to the little band of men, most of them fruits of his unwearied ministry, who had met to sing and pray at his dying bed. Early on Tuesday morning, 8th September, he fell asleep. A great multitude followed him to his burial. The recruiting parties of soldiers in Edinburgh at the time, at their own request, carried him to his long home, in Grange Cemetery. On the top of the coffin lay, not the sword of war, but his old Bible, with which Robert, since he began his better warfare, for nearly fifty years had fought the battles of his Lord. And a great multitude of citi zens, old and young, who knew him and esteemed him highly in love for his work's sake, followed after, and many women, and between two and three hundred children,-many of whom used to cluster round him when he preached, and to whom he had always a word of kindness and counsel when he met with them, for which he generally made way by some sweeties gently slipped into their hands. And the weeping eyes along the line of the streets by which the funeral passed, showed how many true mourn ers and children in Christ the dear old saint had left behind him. Reader, learn from all this what a reality conversion is. What a change from the drunken, blaspheming soldier, amid the toil and blood of Indian warfare! Robert had some peculiarities, at which some laughed, and others scoffed; but the great peculiarity was the self-denying, never-tiring faithfulness with which, counting himself not his own, but bought with a price, he sought to the last, to glorify God in his body, and in his spirit, which were God's. QUENCHING THE SPIRIT. A FEW years ago, says a worthy minister, as I was labouring in a small village, an individual rode up, and taking me by the hand, inquired earnestly, "Will you go and see a dying young man? He is in and says agony, there is no hope." There was no time to be lost. I went with him. After climbing many a rocky ascent, I came into an open path, which soon conducted me to the house. Anxious ones stood weeping without, and soon held both my hands, conducting me up a long flight of steps, to the room of the dying man. Not a word was spoken. Other hearts were too full, and my own was sinking beneath a weight of responsibility. Earnestly seeking the Divine blessing, I ascended the steps. On reaching the top, a venerable mother approached me, saying, "I'm glad you have come. Do speak to my son; perhaps he may yet be saved." I pressed the hand that led me in, and, in a moment, the most heart-rending scene was before me, a young man, in the agonies of death, rolling his eyes, and flinging his arms wildly about him, crying out, "Oh, I am lost! hell is before me! In a few minutes I shall be among the damned!" He ceased speaking, and I feared his spirit had taken its flight He for the region of woe. soon revived again. Seizing the opportunity, I repeated slowly the words, "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved;" "the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from all sin." Seeing that you to-day, but to-morrow I will not." Pleased with present victory, they led him on from pleasure to vice, the card-table, and the social bar. He took wine, he laughed, and was the gayest of the gay. Conscience raised her warning voice, and bade him pause; but he rushed heed I had his attention, I spoke of I spoke to him again, but he hopelessly said, "It is of no use; I am hastening to eternity." No tears fell. He manifested no contrition for sin, no ray of hope. A wild, piercing cry wrung our hearts with anguish, and he sank upon his pillow. Reviving yet again, he said thoughtfully, "Once I was brought to feel myself a sinner. For days and weeks I was anxious about my soul. Something said, Now is the accepted time. My heart said, Not now, to-morrow. But when to-morrow came, I still put it off. My gay companions laughed at my seriousness, and tried to allure me back to the follies of sin. I said to myself, I will go with He stated that, one pleasant Sunday morning, a young man met him when on his way to join his companions, and taking him cordially by the hand, said, Friend, you seem to be enjoying yourself; come with me, and we will have better enjoyment still." He joined him in a walk which ended at the house of God. Startled, he drew back, and would have fled from the sanctuary, had not his friend urged affectionately, "Do come in a little while." He yielded to the entreaty, resolving it should be only a little while, and took his seat amòng the worshippers. Here conscience, as if roused to a final conflict, reminded him of broken resolutions, and bade him seek Christ to-day. "No, not to-day." was his response to the gentle whispers of the Spirit. He remained through the morning services. His friend, encouraged by his stay, drew him into a Bible-class, where the teacher faithfully enforced the duty of immediate preparation for eternity. The young man was impressed, and sat thoughtfully revolving the question, "Shall I, or not? I will decide now, or else put it for ever out of mind." The class was dis missed. The words, "To-day prepare to meet thy God!" rang in his ears, as he walked down the room. The decision was made: "Not to-day, but to-morrow I will." From that moment all was darkness, terror, and dismay. Ere the night had passed over him, he was seized with a malignant fever, which in two days left him in the state I found him. "And now," he added, "I have cursed my Maker, and am dying without hope without hope!" I still urged him to flee to Christ, but in vain. Despair only was his; one deep groan and shriek of terror, and he expired with these fearful words on his lips, "Lost, lost, LOST!" Quench not the Spirit of God. Heed his gentle admonitions. Once grieved away, he may never return; and in another world the memory of his pleadings will pierce your soul with anguish "past hope." "You might, but you would not. I entreated, but you refused to hear. I stood long waiting, again and again urging your acceptance of offered mercy. Now it is too late. The door of mercy is shut, for ever shut." THE PRECIOUS BLOOD OF CHRIST. MOST of our readers have read of the rock of Gibraltar. It is a high, rugged rock, being connected with Spain only by a low, narrow isthmus. This isthmus, and the whole rock, are completely undermined, so as to form under-ground magazines and batteries. Two soldiers were one night guarding the passage under this isthmus, when an officer, returning from the main-land, demanded the watch-word. One of the sentinels had just become a Christian, and, deeply absorbed in his meditations on the love of Christ, exclaimed, "The precious blood of Christ." Then, immediately recollecting himself, he replied correctly. But his words, the precious blood of Christ, were not lost on his companion. They brought relief to his burdened heart; he found his Saviour, and soon after, being sent to Ceylon, he obtained a discharge from the army, and completed the translation of the Bible into the language of the Ceylonese. Ah! to how many aching hearts have those words, the precious blood of Christ, brought relief! When the soul has been wrung with anguish on account of its sins, when it has quailed before its offended God, and nothing seemed left but despair, how have those words, the precious blood of Christ, burst in like sunshine through the clouds, and diffused a peace passing all understanding! "Tell us that again," cried the Greenlanders, as the faithful Moravians preached to them of this precious blood. "Oh! that is the very Saviour I have all my life been seeking," exclaimed the Hindoo, who for years had rolled him self on the ground, and now first heard the name of Jesus from the lips of Schwartz. The precious blood of Christ! How many sins has it covered, | how many sorrows wiped away, how many tear-streams dried! What but this "can do helpless sinners good?" THE PRESENCE OF GOD. IF God's earthly presence is so good, what is his heavenly presence? There is joy in God's gracious presence,but in his glorious presence there is fullness of joy. There are pleasures in approaching to God here, but at his right hand there are pleasures for evermore. The presence of God's glory THE IDLE To be idle is to be-not like Christ. "Wist ye not that I must be about my Father's business." To be idle is to neglect to glorify God. "In this is my Father glorified, that ye bear much fruit." To be idle is to be false to the Church. She needs help; she is entitled to the service of all her sons. "Here am I; send me." is in heaven, the presence of his power is on earth, the presence of his justice is in hell, and the presence of his grace is with his people. If he deny us his powerful presence, we fall into nothing; if he deny us his gracious presence, we fall into sin; if he deny us his merciful presence, we fall into hell. CHRISTIAN. from the error of his way shall save a fool from death." To be idle is to hinder a blessing. "Bring all the tithes into the store-house." To be idle is to be weak; but exercise thyself unto godliness. Idleness has no promise. "So run that you may obtain." "Let no man take your crown." Idleness brings a curse. "Curse ye Meroz; curse bitterly; because they came not up to the help of the Lord against the mighty." To be idle is to be cruel to dying souls-as cruel as one who would leave a wounded The idle are liable to a disman to perish by the way-side, astrous end. "Cast ye the unwhen he might save him. "He profitable servant into outer which converteth the sinner darkness." WHAT CAN I DO? As God called me by his grace, he has said to me-"Go, labour in my vineyard." I desire to obey, but what can I do? I can watch over my own growth in grace. I can study God's wordmeditate on his character |