Oh! my soul, come not thou into the secret of his sorrows!

How shocking must thy summons be, O Death!
To him.-

In that dread moment, how the frantic soul
Raves round the walls of her clay tenement;
Runs to each avenue, and shrieks for help;
But shrieks in vain! How wishfully she looks
On all she's leaving, now no longer hers!
A little longer; yet a little longer;

O! might she stay to wash away her stains;
And fit her for her passage! Mournful sight!
Her very eyes weep blood; and ev'ry groan
She heaves is big with horror. But the foe,
Like a stanch murd'rer, steady to his purpose,
Pursues her close, through ev'ry lane of life;
Nor misses once the track; but presses on,
Till forced at last to the tremendous verge,
At once she sinks to everlasting ruin!

CHAPTER IV.

Sympathy between Beanen and Earth.

"I have seen

A curious child, that dwelt upon a tract
Of inland ground, applying to his ear
The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell,
To which, in silence hushed, his very soul
Listened intently; and his countenance soon
Brightened with joy; for, murmuring from within
Were heard, sonorous cadences! whereby
To his belief the Monitor expressed
Mysterious union with its native sea-
E'en such a shell the universe itself
Is to the ear of faith."

THE spirit-world is inhabited by beings of a social order, which communicate with each other; do they also communicate with earth? We know of at least three distinct order of beings who dwell together in heaven in the highest and holiest fellowships-divine, angelic, and human. Do they sympathize with mortals? May the footsteps of their presence be seen on earth? Does the light of their social influence fall upon the path of human life? and is the animating power of their sympathy felt in the sphere of human experience? In short, in what relation does the church militant stand to the church triumphant, and

what fellowship and sympathy is there between them?

These are interesting questions; they are often asked, and still oftener do they silently employ the minds of men with the deepest meditations. They are, moreover, questions which are prompted in us by a pious spirit, and by a feeling that is inseparable from the life of a pilgrim. The generation in which we live passes on around us towards the world of spirits; among them are many of our dearest friends who fade from our sight almost daily; in the earnestness of grief we follow after them to the verge of these mortal borders, and when they are gone entirely beyond our sight, we ask, Are they now entirely gone and separated from us, or do their sympathy and love remain with us as fresh and warm as the remembrance of them is treasured up and cherished in our hearts? We know that if they died in Christ they are in heaven, but that does not satisfy our feelings, even if it should satisfy our faith. Though our minds may be quiet, yet our hearts cry out, Do they remember us and love us still?

The impression exists at the present day among many, and it seems to be gaining ground, that the present world and the world of spirits stand at a cold distance from each other, with little or no living sympathy. It seems to be the idea of some, that just as a man who, by some sudden and fortunate change, has been elevated to a higher stage in society, forgets all beneath him, so the saints who die, being elevated higher, forget in this happy change all the relations in which they formerly stood, take no more interest

in the friendships of earth, and would find it a check upon their upward aspirations even to think of those they once loved, but have now left behind. Thus it is supposed that though we look after them with the intensest interest as they go up, they look not back on us though we love them still, they love us no more!

It is acknowledged that the two worlds did once stand in very tender communication with each other, and that the earth once shared very largely and warmly the sympathies of the heavenly world. This is admitted to have been the case during the old Jewish economy, and also during the time of the Saviour and his apostles at the commencement of the new dispensation. Then not only angels appeared among men, but also departed saints, as in the case of Moses and Elias during the transfiguration on the mount. Since then the gates of the heavenly world are supposed to be closed, and all communication to have ceased. Even angels, it is thought, because they are no more seen, have retired from us. The sentiment of the poet that "angel visits" are

"Few and far between,"

has become so popular that it has passed into a musical proverb, which flows in cold eloquence from the lips of all! Even the pulpit has endeavoured to baptize this poetical infidelity, and accordingly it has been set as a gem into many an eloquent sermon. The declaration of the Psalmist that the angels have charge over us to keep us "in all our ways," is not so beautiful as the chiming "few and far between"

of the poet! It may be beautiful poetry, but it is cold theology; and it is a sentiment that could only become popular in a rationalistic age.

There was a time when heaven "for a little while" withdrew its sympathies from the earth, and in a manner spurned it from its presence. O! what a night of despair was that! It was when man had sinned, and was driven, in consequence of his sin, from the presence of God. Not only did God retire, but all heaven put frowns of anger on. The angels, which had no doubt before been the companions of the happy pair in paradise, were commissioned with orders and power to banish them from Eden. See heaven and earth separate! See God retire! See Adam and Eve, now fallen, the other way

"With wand'ring steps and slow,

Through Eden take their solitary way."

Alas! was ever an hour like that? Eden lost! God's favour lost! Communications with heaven closed! Paradise guarded with the flaming sword of the cherubim turning every way, forbidding man to return to that place late so lovely, so full of heaven. How dreadfully do their countenances reflect the holy displeasure of that God, whose will they are executing against man! But oh! how dark and dreary to Adam and Eve is a world without a God! They look, first upon the wilderness before them, deepening in gloom as their despairing hearts sink within them, and then they cast a last wishful, but almost hopeless glance back upon the Eden from which they are now banished. A sad farewell!