In that great day, not only men's actions, but their words, and the secret thoughts of their hearts shall be tried. To the man that walks in the ways of his own heart it is said, "Know thou that for all these things God will bring thee into judgment." "Every idle word that men shall speak they shall give account thereof in the day of judgment." 'Judge nothing before the time," says the apostle, "until the Lord come, who both will bring to light the hidden things of darkness, and will make manifest the counsels of the hearts."

66

Who then shall stand before the Lord? None in his own strength. "If thou, Lord, shouldest mark iniquity, who shall stand ?" "They that are under the law shall be judged by the law," and by the deeds of the law "there shall no flesh be justified in his sight." "But the righteousness of God by faith of Jesus Christ is unto all and upon all them that believe," "being justified freely by his grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus." Before him shall be gathered all nations, "and he shall separate them as a shepherd divideth his sheep from the goats." He shall separate them with a perfectly just and true discernment of their state, with a thorough and entire discrimination of their character. "He cometh to judge the earth." "With righteousness shall he judge the world, and the people with equity."

III. The third particular proposed for our consideration was the terrors of Christ's coming to the ungodly and its glories to the godly. And here first let us try to realize faintly realize to ourselves the terrors of that day which are awaiting the ungodly.

We find in Scripture various descriptions of the great day of reckoning as it affects them that havo lived and died without God. In one place it is the day of wrath and revelation of the righteous judgment of God; in another it is the day of judgment and perdition of ungodly men; in another it is the day of vengeance on them that know not God, and that obey not the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ, who shall be punished with everlasting destruction from the presence of the Lord and from the glory of his power. For these, the sentence being passed, shall go away into everlasting punishment.

Surely, then, you must agree with me, it is a day full of terrors, exceeding the utmost stretch of our conception, for them that are ungodly-the heavens passing away, and the elements melting with heat, the terrible doom pronounced, "Depart from me ye cursed into everlasting fire prepared for the devil and his angels!" Oh let us think well of these things now. Let us not wait to have them proved to us by what our eyes shall then see, and our ears shall then hear, and our fainting hearts shall then feel, but let us take it on God's testimony, and be preparing for that day.

That same day that is the most terrible to the wicked is the most glorious to the godly. And why is it so? Why if to the former it is a day of terror and dismay, and anguish, to the latter is it a day of rejoicing and of triumph?

The King who comes down from heaven with a shout is Zion's king, whose subjects, and servants, and soldiers they are. The Judge that is seated on the throne is the same who was condemned and crucified for them on earth, and in the fountain of whose blood they washed away the guilty stains of their transgression. The heavenly host is glorious in their eyes because they have come to do homage to him whose name is all their boast. Are the heavens rolled together

125

as a scroll? Is the earth and all that it contains burnt up? It is to make room for the new heavens and the new earth, where they are about to dwell in righteous

ness.

The face of the King frowns not on them, but bears the smile of love. He invites them to take their placo beside his throne as his assessors in the judgment, for the saints, we are told, shall judge the world. And to them the words of the King shall be addressed, “Come ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was an hungered and ye gave me meat, and was thirsty and ye gave me drink; I was a stranger, and ye took me in; naked, and ye clothed me; sick, and ye visited me; I was in prison, and ye came unto me. Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." "The righteous shall go away into life everlasting."

We have now laid before you the doctrine and testimony of the holy Scriptures concerning the judgment day. It is well to meditate on this high theme, but your duty is not ended there; it will be of no avail if there is nothing more than wonder and fear and admiration and solemn thoughts. If this were all, it might be said to us, as it was said to the disciples, "Why stand ye gazing up to heaven?" There is duty to be done both as respects yourselves and others; hasto ye to the performance of it.

And first we say to you, make friends with Him who is coming to be your judge. This great King from his heavenly throne is sending you overtures of mercy and messages of love. He is bidding you to turn from all your sins by a true repentance, and he will forgive you your sins, yea, however great, however aggravated. If ye will repent of them and turn from them, he will blot them out every one, and grant you a full and free pardon for the greatest as well as for the least. He is saying to you, Look to me and be ye saved. "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved." To him give all the prophets witness that whosoever believeth on him shall receive remission of sins. He is saying unto you, "I am the bread of life, he that cometh unto me shall never hunger, and he that believeth on me shall never thirst." He is saying to you, "Whoso eateth my flesh and drinketh my blood hath eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day." He is standing like the father of the repentant prodigal, with arms outstretched ready to welcome you back to his love, and saying to you there is joy among the angels of heaven over every sinner that repenteth. He promises his Holy Spirit to all who earnestly pray for mercy and for grace.

Every day you live, every hour of your life, brings you a step nearer to that judgment throne; you know not but what another may be your last. Now is the accepted time, now is the day of salvation.

And you who have fled to this refuge, and have found Christ as your Saviour, it is your duty to be waiting on him constantly; enquiring from day to day what he would have you to do; laying yourself out for him; not saying, My time is my own, and my gifts are my own, and my talents are my own; but saying, All are his. I hold them all from him, and I am bound to use them all for him who loved me and gave himself for me.

It is your duty also to walk in godly fear. Have you no need to watch and pray that ye enter not into temptation? Is there no such thing as backsliding on the part of a Christian? Were Paul and the other

apostles speaking words without meaning, wholly superfluous, when they warned and besought the converts not to be conformed to the world, but to be transformed by the renewing of their minds, and to walk worthy of the high vocation whereunto they were called-to walk in the Spirit, and to live in the Spirit?

Lastly, there is a duty you owe to others in view of the coming judgment. All around you that are not in Christ, however respectable they may be in the eyes of man, are in peril. If not in Christ, they are lying under condemnation, and except they believe and aro converted they will perish in the day of wrath. Surely you would not have it so! If you feel that you have yourself escaped, it is impossible you can be indifferent on a point like this. Enquire then what you may do and can do to save them that know not their danger, and are hurrying on heedless and reckless to their utter and eternal ruin. "Knowing," says Paul, "the terror of the law, we persuade men." Do you this as you may have opportunity. Persuade men kindly, affectionately, meekly, in all humility and self-abasement. Persuade men to turn from their sins to God, to embrace a willing Saviour, to look and live.

And if you persevere with Christian prudence, patience, gentleness, and faith, joining much prayer to much pains, surely your labour shall not be in vain in the Lord. In that day when they that sleep in the dust shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt, it is written that "they that be wise (in the margin, teachers) shall shine as the brightness of the firmament; and they that turn many to righteousness as the stars for ever and over."

Sabbath Thoughts.

MAN'S TIME; GOD'S ETERNITY. "The evening and the morning were the first day." -Gen. i. 5. "Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst formed the earth and the world, even from everlasting to everlasting, thou art God."-Psa. xc. 2.

THIS record of the first day of creation, contrasts in a striking manner with the eternity and the awful infinity of the Creator, With him there was no first-there shall be no last day. The divisions by which short-lived mortals measure out their time, reach not up to his throne; "one day is with the Lord as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day." But for us, in our little lives on earth, every day has its own burden of deep significance, as it passes swiftly away from our grasp; and the evening and the morning of each sabbath should specially remind us that time is passing and eternity is at hand. We pause to look back and to look forward, like travellers resting by a milestone with hearts full of their own histories of the past, and their own fears or hopes for the future. Then it is that the Christian feels how great is the privilege of being able to look up to him who is from everlasting to everlasting-as a friend-as a father! "I will say of the Lord, he is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust." Abiding in him, we are safe; in his strength, we may go forth fearlessly, weak as we are, on the untrodden path yet before us; his love, through Jesus Christ, is able to do for us, both now and ever, " exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that

worketh in us."

"Nor death, nor life, nor earth, nor hell, Nor time's destroying sway,

Can e'er efface us from his heart,

Or make his love decay.

Each future period that will bless,
As it has blest the past;

He loved us from the first of time,-
He loves us to the last."

Pages for the Young.

THE GOLD MEDAL.

III.

HE toll-house consisted of two ground floor rooms and one attic. The larger of the former was the Leslies' kitchen and parlour; in the smaller David slept beside the twins, in order to hear and get up directly if any late traveller knocked at the turnpike. David took that duty on himself, as more suitable to his manly character, and Jeannie was never expected to leave the attic which she occupied for knock or call." Let them wake me," the brave boy would say, "I am sure they won't have to make much noise. I sleep as light as Farmer Wilson's sheep dog, and that turnpike is always on my mind; don't you come down in the night to get cold, Jeannie." David was generally as good as his word, but on that particular night the pulling of the turnips, and the after sitting over the toll-house accounts made him sleep fast and sound. Jeannie thought she must have done knocking and shouting at the turnpike, as if some traveller so too, for the first thing that roused her was a tremendous had been kept waiting till his patience failed. "Poor David is tired, and don't hear them," she said to herself, thrusting on her clothes and hurrying out to the gate. There stood a chaise, she could just sce it by fitful gleams of the moon which shone out through stormy and broken clouds. The driver was thundering away with the handle of his whip at the turnpike, and a gentleman with his head out of the window was shouting for somebody to come and open it.

"I am very sorry, sir," said Jeannie, as she did her accustomed duty, for which lantern or candle were never thought of in the darkest night, "I am very sorry, but my brother and I were tired, and slept too sound; we did not hear you, or one of us would have come directly: threepence, if you please." "Have you got it, James ?" said the gentleman out of the window, as the driver began to fumble in his pockets.

64

Only twopence, sir," he said, finishing his search, "but the girl can give us change, I'll warrant."

"I can't, sir, indeed I can't, there is not a copper in the house," said Jeannie, deeply impressed with the fact, and anxious to get the full toll. The gentleman muttered something about botheration, searched his own pockets, and cried, "Here is another penny." The driver caught it from his hand, placed it and his discovered twopence in Jeannie's, and drove on his way, just as a heavy cloud passed over the moon. Jeannie locked the gate, secured the toll-house door, and as the moneybox had been put away for the night, took the threepence up to her own room, carefully deposited it on the little table close by her bed, and was soon fast asleep again. When she rose next morning, it was her first care to take it down to the money-box, but what was Jeannie's surprise to see that the third coin she had received was not one of the large copper pennies current in those days, but a gold piece of much the same size, with a strangely-dressed figure on the one side of it, and on the other some foreign words which she could not read.

"It is a medal," said David, when she showed it to him, and told how it came into her hands. "It is a medal, and of pure gold, I saw one just like it with an old soldier who helped to cut down Farmer Wilson's wheat last autumn, but his was only brass; he said he had got it after some great battle in India, I

think he called it the Burmese war."

"The gentleman in the chaise must have been an officer then; he had no scarlet coat on that I could see," said Jeannie, "but I am sure I should know his face again, for the moon shone on it. We will keep the medal, David, safe in our mother's drawer; the gentleman will come back for it no doubt; what a mistake it was to give me the like for a penny!"

David thought she had hit on the proper course, and the medal, after being duly admired by all the Leslies, was deposited in a certain drawer which had the only lock about the house,

and was still called their mother's. David went to his work at Farmer Wilson's. Jamie and Willie went on their way to school, but in doing so they had to pass Mrs. Ashton's shop. The good woman happened to be looking out at her door, and she stopped them with the usual question, "How is all at home?" The little boys being brimful of the great gold piece their sister had got from a gentleman at the turnpike instead of a penny, lost no time in relating the wondrous tale. Mrs. Ashton heard it with open eyes and mouth, took the children into her shop, which happened to be clear of customers, ques

tioned them closely on every particular, ana concluded her examination by giving each of them three raisins, and a strict command not to mention the gold piece to anybody else, on pain of her highest displeasure.

As soon as they were gone, Mrs. Ashton ordered her husband to keep the shop while she put on her bonnet.and cloak, and hastened down to the toll-house. There she found Jeannie as usual sewing at the front window, and directly demanded to sce the gold piece. Jeannie brought it at once from the drawer, rehearsed the story of its coming into her hands, while Mrs. Ashton inspected, admired, and pronounced David to be right that it was a medal, and of pure gold.

"Jeannie," said she, assuming her wisest look and most managing tone, "this is just a godsend to you all; you know you want winter things; the gentleman who gave that piece for a penny will never think where he has lost it, or know what has become of it. You just keep quiet about it. A close mouth is the sign of a wise head, Jeannie, and keep it in the drawer for a month or so, for fear the gentleman might remember and come back, and you get into trouble. But if he don't come by that time, it is my opinion he never will. I'll take it off your hands, and get you winter things for it, Jeannie; it is just a godsend."

Mrs. Ashton was an honest woman in her own opinion; she had never done anything against law or custom, probably because a temptation to do the like never came in her way. But that gold piece glittered in her eyes, she felt sure that the gentleman who had given it so carelessly would never inquire at the toll-house for his medal, and she believed that a travelling jeweller of her acquaintance would give a splendid brooch, which she could not bring her prudent mind to buy, in exchange for it, and half the value would be enough to spend in winter things for the Leslies. But Mrs. Asnton did not calculate on the orphan girl sceing the case in a different light, and when Jeannie answered, You know, ma'am, the gold piece is not ours, the gentleman gave it by mistake," she got first astonished and then very angry.

"Of course, I know all that, and you are going to keep the thing till he comes back for it, but don't say a word to anybody," and Mrs. Ashton fidgetted on her chair.

"But if we don't say a word, how is the gentleman to know. where he left his medal? If Mr. Ashton had been a stranger, how should our father have found out where to send the half sovereign, ma'am?" Jeannie had thrown fuel on the fire without intending it by that argument. Mrs. Ashton saw she had committed herself, suspected that her not very creditable scheme might be guessed at-people who have such schemes generally think the like-and her wrath burst over all bounds. What did Jeannie mean by setting her own wisdom up against a woman of her age and standing, and as much as saying that she would advise anything dishonest? Hadn't she been a friend to her and her brats of brothers? hadn't she kept them out of the workhouse in a manner? and this was her reward! But they might beg or starve for aught she cared in future. People who wouldn't be advised should be left to drink as they brewed; they were every one ungrateful wretches. And without giving time or hearing for Jeannie's defence, Mrs. Ashton flounced out, slammed the door, and rushed home to her own shop, where she was observed to be in very bad humour for the rest of the day. Poor Jeannie sat down again to her needlework in much vexation and some perplexity. She and her brothers had few friends, and could not afford to lose one. Mrs. Ashton had been kind to them, and they did want winter things, "but it would be a bad way to get them," thought Jeannie. "I am sure I was right in refusing to take her advice this time, though it is hard to be called ungrateful, and told about setting up one's own wisdom." A shadow passing the window made her look up, and there was Mr. Wentworth on his daily march through the parish. He never passed the toll-house without looking in to inquire after the orphan family, and Jeannie lost no time in laying the present concern before the worthy minister, not forgetting Mrs. Ashton's advice, and that good woman's anger at its not being taken, winding up the whole with, Do you think I was right, sir?"

Perfectly right, my girl," said Mr. Wentworth. The medal is not yours to keep or to count on; the gentleman will doubtless miss, though he may never know where it is without proper advertisement. I can give you no directions where to find him, but I will tell you what it is best to do. This gold piece is not safe for you to keep. There are bad characters about the country; your little brothers will talk about it; so will Mrs. Ashton, I am sure; and some one might come to steal it." "Will you take charge of it, sir?" said Jeannie. "I'll do better than that, my girl, I will give it into Sir

127

William Hunsden's care, he likes a little bit of quiet business, having nothing to do, and being so much shut up, poor gentleman; he will advertise the medal in the county paper, and get you some small reward for your honesty. That is, I hope he will," continued the minister, but if you get nothing of the kind, remember, Jeannie, that the best reward is a good conscience, and the approbation of the Master whom we are all bound to serve. He knows what you and your brothers want, and he will enable you to get the needful things in some honest way without profiting by a stranger's mistake and loss."

Mr. Wentworth departed with the medal in his charge. David was well content with the arrangement, when he came home, and Jeannie related the whole story, including Mrs. Ashton's counsel, and her refusal of it. "You did right, sister," said the honest boy; "better to want winter things than to get them in that fashion, though we will be bare, and I'm afraid the weather is going to turn frosty."

Perhaps it is, David, but, as Mr. Wentworth said, there is One who can supply all our wants. May be it is foolish pride in us not to speak to the minister for part of Sir William's Christmas givings. I'll try to do it the next time he comes if nothing turns up," said Jeannie, with a sigh.

The minister came a few days after, told them how much Sir William was pleased with getting charge of the medal and the business about it, and also with their conduct in the case; that he had advertised it in the county paper, promised to get them a suitable reward if possible, and that Jeannie was to hold herself in readiness for going up to the Hall at a moment's notice to recognise the gentleman who might apply for it, as she only had seen him, and Sir William was determined that no impostor should get the medal out of his hands. In spite of her resolution against foolish pride, Jeannie could not bring herself to speak of the family wants that day. The cold was not yet great, and Mr. Wentworth would come again, she thought; the gentleman might apply for his medal, and might be generous enough to give them something. But time passed, and no gentleman applied; though Sir William made inquiries in all directions, none of the county gentry had the least acquaintance of any one who ever owned such a medal; and though it was advertised from week to week in the county paper, and also on the door of the village church, nobody had as yet come to claim it, either at the Hall, the Parsonage or the toll-house. Never had there been so many calls at the toll-house, and such visiting of the orphans, as took place after the good people of Mossdale heard of their getting a gold piece from a fine foreign gentleman at the turnpike. Mrs. Ashton had made them acquainted with the fact far sooner than any advertisement in county paper or on church door could have done. The lady of the shop had no motive for keeping quiet about the medal, seeing she was not to profit by it. The tale was therefore published and republished over her counter from hour to hour.

In such an out-of-the-world place as Mossdale, a less surprising occurrence would have been sufficient to create a sensation. The story of the Leslies' luck, as it was called, went from house to house along the valley and over the surrounding moors, getting, as all surprising stories do, many alterations and additions from bad hearing and worse repeating, till in the uttermost bounds of the parish, people were not sure whether it was a purse of gold or a piece of valuable plate, that a gentleman either mad or intoxicated had left at the toll-house. As Mr. Wentworth had told Jeannie, there were bad characters about the countrywhat district is fortunate enough to have no such inhabitants? And as bad characters are generally the lowest and most ignorant of every community, those in the vicinity of Mossdale bélieved, some of them in the piece of plate, some in.the purse of gold. The poor orphans knew nothing of the prize they were supposed to have in store, till one night almost a month after Jeannie's getting of the medal, when their evening prayer was said and the little family retiring to rest, a furious knocking at the door of their solitary toll-house brought David out of his room to inquire who was there.

"It is the gentleman come for what ho left by mistake," said a gruff voice outside.

That is not like his way of speaking," said Jeannie, as she came forward with her candle; "but open the door, David, and we'll tell him where to find his medal." Her unsuspecting brother drew the bolts directly, and in rushed three fierce rough-looking men with blackened faces and great sticks in their hands. Where is the purse the gentleman left?"

"Where is the gold cup?" cried one after another. "There is no purse, no cup here," said poor Jeannie, while she trembled like a leaf; and David stood beside her trying to look manly and encourage his sister; "it was a gold medal the gentleman left, and Sir William Hunsden has it up at the Hall. Where is the owner, I am sure I should know him?"