eyed speculation may attempt to pry into the secrets of the future, may pretend to foresee and classify the fluctuation of trade and commerce, and may hope to guard against all hazards, and reap the golden fruits of success. Presumptuous self-confidence, or ignorant rashness, may assume the mantle of the prophet, and tell of vials to be poured out, and new phases of history to be evolved. The varied fancies and fears, in short, of the human heart, may fill up every day of the year on which we have entered, leaving no room for the hand of Him who determines the times and the seasons, and fixes the bounds of our habitation.

But, as it is not the province of man to direct the Spirit of the Lord, or, being his counsellor, to teach him, all that our hearts may now suggest, or our fancies picture, will, in all probability, prove nothing better than the vague surmises, or unfounded hopes and fears of men, who attempt to give shape and substance to the shadows of a dream. The eye of Omniscience alone beholds, and the hand of Omnipotence alone can marshal and control the events with which the future teems. The fears of anxiety, and the visions of hope, will alike, in a thousand instances, fail of realization. The predictions of matured wisdom, as well as the assumptions of folly and ignorance, may be rebuked. The confident may be cast down, and the timid and the fearful may be lifted up. The sky that is now brightest may be overcast, whilst that which is cloudy, and charged with the elements of tempest and storm, may become serene and sun-lighted. The times and the seasons-the future and all its undisclosed events, are in

the keeping of God; nor can man or angel be permitted to intrude on that unknown and sacred province. The future is a sealed book, and can be opened and read by finite beings only when it becomes the present. It forbids all presumptuous and prying curiosity, as neither wise nor safe. For, as looking with profane and prying curiosity into the ark at Bethshemesh drew down the avenging displeasure of God, so a disposition to pry into the secret things of the future oftentimes entails disappointment and suffering.

At the commencement of a New Year, then, as far as mere human sagacity and foresight are concerned, we resemble voyagers launching on a sea overhung with impenetrable mists --we resemble soldiers listening to the first trumpet-note that calls them to a conflict, which may issue in victory or defeat. We must advance; we cannot turn back-an irresistible tide sweeps us on. But it is a veiled and untrodden future that lies before us, whose darkness enwraps all that we hope or fear, and seems to gather around us in deeper and more impenetrable shadows in proportion to our anxiety to read its secrets.

Our refuge and security, then, is God, and not man-our beacon-light, to guide and warn, is the Scripture, and not the suggestions of our own hearts our heaven-inspired conductor is faith, and not experience, or the forecastings of human sagacity. And hence the call of the New Year, addressed to each of us, is, "Trust in the Lord, and do good, so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed. Delight thyself also in the Lord, and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart. Commit thy

way unto the Lord; trust also in him, and he shall bring it to pass. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths."

As this year may be our last, its commencement calls the Christian to increased activity and devotedness.

The solemn possibility that the year, on which we have now entered, may terminate the period of our active service for God on earth, and may close all our opportunities of winning souls to Christ, surely presses upon every Christian, in loud and emphatic tones, the duty of increased zeal and devotedness.

Every Christian, it

should ever be remembered, is sent on a mission intimately connected with the honour of Christ, and the salvation of the world—with the spread of truth and the overthrow of error. To his care and stewardship talents have been committed, on the right and diligent employment of which, the improvement of the neighbourhood around him, the rescue of sinners, as "brands plucked out of the fire," his own final acceptance, and the brightness of his crown, are dependent. The charge which every Christian has received from his Lord and Master is, "Occupy till I come;" and the stimulus and warning which are perpetually sounding from the sacred page are, "We must all appear before the judgment-seat of Christ; that every one may receive the things done in his body, according to that he hath done, whether it be good or bad."

The impressive thought, that before this year has reached its close, we may have passed away from the post of usefulness which we now occupy, and from the opportunities of selfimprovement and growth in grace which we now enjoy-that the talents

committed to our hands may have been recalled, and our place assigned us among the great company of the dead, ought surely to arouse, and quicken us to increased activity and zeal, as if an angel spoke. The day is already far spent, and the night is at hand. The hour is speeding on, and this year it may strike, when we must cease from our labours on earth, and give an account of our stewardship. And that hour will be calm and peaceful, and gladdened by the ministry of waiting angels, in proportion to our diligence and devotedness in the sphere where our lot has been cast, and our willingness to count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ, and the high honour of a "well done" whispered by His lips. It is not zeal for a creed, or party, or church, but zeal for Christ, and the salvation of men, that testifies to true Christian devotedness, and will stand the test of a death-bed. Amid the solemnities of the last hour, which may now be throwing its shadows around us, names and parties, churches and ceremonies, will vanish away, leaving us alone with Christ, who will receive us with the benediction, "Well done good and faithful servant, enter into the joy of thy Lord," simply on the ground of our faith in His righteousness, and our earnest, child-like, and untiring efforts to spread the glory of His name.

If now, with the ear of faith and humble trust, we can catch the whisper of our Lord and Master saying, "You have done what you could," the consciousness of this, as a token of His presence and encouragement, combined with the thought that our efforts for His glory on earth may

speedily come to an end, should stimulate us to higher and more self-denying acts of consecration to His service. It should quicken us to increased efforts for the true prosperity of the Church with which we stand connected -for the salvation of the families to which we belong for the enlightenment of the neighbourhood where, we dwell—and for the spread of the Gospel throughout the world at large. As the time to attest our zeal for Christ, and to hang fresh trophies around His cross is short-as its end is rapidly drawing near, our diligence should be augmented, and our steps quickened, like travellers, around whom the shadows of evening are gathering, and to whom warning voices call, telling them that "the night

cometh."

If, on the other hand, our hearts condemn us- -if the conviction will thrust itself upon us, through every subterfuge, and the thickest web of self-deception we can weave, that we have been unfruitful in the work of the Lord; that we have sought our own things rather than the things of Christ; and that our place must be assigned us among the luke-warm and the indifferent, surely the New Year calls us to decision, and faithfulness to the profession we have made. If we feel that, as our Lord and Master swept His eye, at the close of the year, over the position and doings of His followers, He said, in reference to us, in mingled tones of sadness and condemnation, "Behold, I came seeking fruit on this fig tree and found none; surely, the startling thought that the

day is far spent, and the night is at hand-that the bridegroom may be about to summon us to go forth to meet him-and that our lamps may be untrimmed and going out, loudly calls us to deal faithfully with ourselves, to test our principles by the standard of Divine truth, to weigh and examine our professions, and to cast loathingly from us all mere forms and shams. We are called upon, not only to be true to the professions which we make, and to unite with our fellow Christians in efforts to promote the glory of Christ and the salvation of man; but to see that what we do is not marred, and rendered offensive, like the gift of Ananias and Sapphira, by the part which is kept back in the spirit of dishonest and selfish concealment, or in the coldness of unbelief and half-hearted indifference. Let, then, the solemn thought be realized, that this year we may die, and it cannot fail to lead at once to deep searching of heart, and more earnest and unreserved devotedness to the service of God. He who really feels that his opportunities of honouring Christ, and extending His kingdom, may speedily terminate, will be found active, vigilant, and prayerful. He will neither slumber at his post, nor unrighteously withhold what his Lord demands. His doings will be in accordance with his means, and his welcome, when the hour of his departure has come, will be: "Well done, good and faithful servant; thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy Lord."

THE earth reeling to and fro like a drunkard, its foundations being removed; the stars falling from heaven, like as a fig-tree casteth her untimely figs when she is shaken of a mighty wind; these are grand images consecrated by inspired usage to represent great national disturbances, decisive political revolutions, with the passing away for ever of place and power, pomp and pride, from royal or imperial dynasties. They have their reality in the observed facts of nature; the former in the dread convulsions of earthquakes; the latter in the frequent apparition of the so called shootingstars, occasionally exhibited in immense numbers with startling magnificence, forming a shower of "fiery tears." These last have been poetically described, in harmony with Mahommedan legend, as

"Starry brands, Flung at night from angel hands, At those dark and daring sprites, Who would climb the empyreal heights." More properly, in accordance with enlightened teaching, fancy has indulged the conception of them as "the candles of the Lord," or "the fireworks which His angels made above," suddenly lit up in celestial space by hands invisible, and as suddenly lost to view in the darkness of Ichabod.

On clear nights, in every climate and at all seasons of the year, but most frequently towards the close of autumn, the shooting-star may be seen gliding down the sky, followed by a trail of intensely white light. Swift and noiseless is the meteor,,

variously resplendent, according to its magnitude and height in the atmosphere; but of course appearing the brightest when the sun has been long set, and the moon is absent from the hemisphere. Often has the watch on deck gazed wistfully at the luminous arrow on its flight; and many a time has the wayfarer benighted on the road, been brought to a momentary pause by a vision of the aërial traveller. The oldest literature in the world refers to the phenomenon, as Hebrew prophecy, when picturing the complete and sudden overthrow of a heathen king and his monarchy :—

"How art thou fallen from heaven,
O Lucifer! son of the morning."

Virgil connects an unusual display aloft with atmospheric commotions below, as their common precursor :—

"And oft, before tempestuous winds arise, The seeming stars fall headlong from the skies,

And, shooting through the darkness, gild the night

With sweeping glories and long trains of light."

Homer compares the hasty passage of the goddess from the peaks of Olympus to break the truce between the Greeks and the Trojans, to the speed of the radiant streamer in the sky.

But there are great meteoric epochs when these remarkable objects flash into visibility, not singly, but in troops and battalions, which spread their trains and corruscations over the entire vault of heaven for hours in succession, and form a host too mighty for our arithmetic to reckon the components. Medieval chronicles to this