THE SUNDAY EVENING RESOLVE.

One Sunday evening, early in the year 18-, two members of a Baptist church in one of the Midland Counties were returning from the sanctuary in company. Their conversation turned upon the low state of their much-loved Zion. From what they said it was evident that its prosperity was their chief joy. Presently they found themselves at the door of the house of one of the deacons. They both entered. After a while three or four more christian friends called and joined them. The whole party was soon engaged in an interesting chat on the subject which had absorbed the attention of the two friends when coming from the house of God.

After the conversation had proceeded some time, the christian brother at whose house they were, pulled out his pocket Bible, and deliberately and audibly read the following.

"Be careful for nothing; but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God." 66 Verily, I say unto you, Whatsoever ye shall bind on earth shall be bound in heaven: and whatsoever shall ye loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven." "Again, I say unto you, That if two of you shall agree on earth, as touching anything that they shall ask, it shall be done for them of my Father which is in heaven. For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them."

"Now," said he, "if we can do nothing else we can do this, and do it without delay too, and, therefore, let us do it now, for now God is willing to hear our prayers, for now we have an opportunity of testing the Divine mercy, yea, now is the accepted time, and now is the day of salvation."" His suggestion was complied with. The proposer himself first engaged in prayer, and then another brother, and another, until all the brethren present had by supplication and prayer made known their wants unto God. All present also resolved to meet and do the same every Lord's-day evening, after the other duties of the day were over. Yea, the language of the prophet was individually theirs: "For Zion's sake I will not hold my peace, and for Jerusalem's sake I will not rest, until the righteousness

thereof go forth as brightness, and the salvation thereof as a lamp that burneth.",

The church of which they were members, and of which we are writing, had been in existence more than one hundred years. It had produced, and had been adorned with, sainted men, -with men who had proved pillars to the cause of God, and who had walked worthy of their high and holy calling; but after serving their generation according to the will of God, they were gathered to their fathers. One by one they entered into the rest which remains for the people of God, and but few with like spirit rose up and were baptized for the dead; so that at the time of which we are writing the members were too generally lukewarm or cold. Many of them were worldlyminded, having the form but not the power of godliness. Some were slack in their attendance at the institutions of the Lord's house. Others were proud, and would have nothing to do with the poor of the flock. Likewise too many had itching ears, so that the truth as it is in Jesus did not exactly suit them.

As the result of this state of things in the church, those that were without its precincts were regarded with indifference. The ungodly were never warned to flee from the wrath to come. The unconcerned were not pointed to the Lamb of God that taketh away the sins of the world. Even the children of the members, in many instances, were allowed to have their own way; and, instead of rising up and calling their parents blessed, their glory was their shame. There was no Sunday school to occupy the leisure of the members on the day of rest, and to train the children of the place up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. There were no tract distributors, no visiters of the sick, no inviters to the place of worship, no village preachers. No, nothing of the kind. Apparently the church had forgotten that its mission was to do good unto all men, especially to those who are of the household of faith.

"But who, and what, and where, was the pastor?" some of the readers may exclaim. Well, he was a good man, and laboured hard in his way for the good of the people. Yes, we repeat he was a good man, and a diligent labourer; but the result showed that he did not manifest his good

ness in the right way, that he laboured in vain, and spent his strength for nought. When he first came amongst this people he was accustomed to read his sermons from manuscript. This he did because his memory was treacherous, and, moreover, he was desirous of guarding against giving vent to unpremeditated things. But this reading of his sermons did not please all his hearers; so, to become all things to all men, he first wrote off his addresses, and then learnt them. Well, having to preach three sermons every Lord's - day to the same people was toilsome work, especially as he had to write every word of them, and learn every word of them; therefore he was obliged to be in his study from the first thing on Monday morning to the last thing on Saturday night. In this way he became almost a living martyr to his work. This course allowed him no time for pastoral visiting, and when he did venture to spend an evening at one of the deacons, which was but seldom, he had to make up for it by midnight study. As might be expected, this severe mental toil ultimately told upon his health and spirits. His body, in appearance, was a mere skeleton, and his mind seemed destitute of vivacity. Especially was this the case in the pulpit. His sermons, though clear and sound, were delivered without energy. They possessed no attractions to those without; hence but few attended his ministrations except the members, their families, and their connections. Of a truth the ways of Zion did mourn, and the tear was upon her cheek, and but few came to her solemn assemblies, and upon the walls might have been consistently written the word, ICHABOD.

But how about the prayer meeting on Sunday evening? Well, that was repeated the next week, and the next, and the next; yea, it became an accustomed thing for above half a dozen praying individuals to retire to the brother's house immediately after the evening service, to commune with Him who is invisible, and to give Him no rest until He made Jerusalem the praise of the earth. At first this meeting attracted little or no attention; indeed it was known but to few besides those who regularly met. But by and bye, upon its becoming known to the church generally, additions were made to the number of those who had agreed to ask the Lord touching this one thing. However, too many, alas, who named the name of Christ, regarded the meeting

with indifference, and still indulged themselves in their spiritual sloth and slumbering.

When it became known to the pastor, we need not say that he was glad. Although it was regarded with great coolness by too many of his supporters, he ventured to announce it from the pulpit, and then the brother's house soon became too strait for those who attended. As the result, the prayer meeting was held in the vestry of the chapel. This made way for another meeting. For strange to say, for years there had been no week-day service of any kind. But now arose the question with some, "Cannot we have a service of this kind during the week?" Having found it profitable and good to meet together for social prayer, they desired more of the same thing. This was natural,-good begets good; like generates like. Bear this in mind, reader, whether saint or sinner, and you will do well. Well, the proposition was agreed to, and the weekly prayer meeting was held. Not with any great success at first, but after a while it was better attended, and the spirit of prayer seemed to be enjoyed. When there was a short attendance of praying brethren, the pastor gave an exposition, or an address, without premeditation. Soon, however, this was unnecessary, as there was always present a full supply of those who called upon the Lord; and the service increased in numbers, in vigour, in interest, in delight, and in those things that made it holy and acceptable in the sight of the God of prayer, and delightful and profitable to the people of prayer.

But the people could not dispense with the pastor's unpremeditated and simple addresses. Oh, no, that they could not! Many of them liked them far better than his laboured compositions which were rehearsed to them every Lord's-day. But what was to be done? They solicited their pastor to have another service during the week, and deliver such addresses as he had given occasionally at the prayer meetings. He agreed to it, and the thing was done. It was thought by some that this would be too much of a good thing, and, in addition, that it would spoil the prayer meeting; but not so, the prayer meeting was attended as well as ever, and the other services better than the prayer meeting. Some who not long before thought it impossible for them to find time to attend one service,

found that with a little contrivance they could conveniently attend two. It was evident that the spirit of the fathers was reviving, and its effects were alike felt by pastor and people.

The pastor, finding his week evening addresses generally so acceptable, brought a little more of the spirit of them, and the manner of them, into his sermons on the Lord's-day, until his pulpit addresses became very different to what they were formerly. Of course this did not suit all, but they were very few who complained, and these few were those who were never seen at the prayer meeting or the lecture. The majority, however, were glad at the change, and by it they were built up, and better qualified to go on their way rejoicing. But not only was the church benefited, but the world shared in the advantage. The congregation increased, better attention was manifested, and the people seemed to hear gladly all the words of this life. By and bye the question arose from some, a strange question it was from that congregation,— "What must we do to be saved?"

Months rolled on, and a public baptism was announced. A strange sight it really was in that old chapel, and a strange multitude it attracted. The baptistry had not been opened for many a long year. Its opening now seemed like a first resurrection. Those who were buried with Christ by baptism, did indeed come forth to newness of life. Some amongst them originated the Sunday school in connection with the place. This prepared the way for tract distribution, village preaching, and other good things. A gradual change came over the whole church. Old things passed away, and all things became new.

Zion arose,

and shook herself from the dust, and put on her beautiful garments. Her converts multiplied, and her inhabitants shouted aloud for joy, for God blessed her, and caused his face to shine upon her.

And all this must be traced, directly or indirectly, to the SUNDAY EVENING RESOLVE!

THE THIEF-MAKER, AND HOW HE WAS SAVed.

A middle-aged man of most dissipated habits, who lived by training young thieves, was a sad annoyance to the superintendent of one of the Ragged Schools in the east end of London. His house was a hell upon earth, and Satan had had his seat in it for

many years. By cunning and duplicity this thief-maker managed to keep out of the grip of the law, and he gloried in setting at defiance the preachers of the gospel. He proclaimed himself an infidel, and made his infidelity a cloak for his sensuality.

But this pious superintendent resolved that he would, through God's grace, effect this wicked man's conversion. He felt that nothing was impossible with God, and he had the faith which removes mountains of difficulties and casts them into the sea. And he sought to exercise his faith by combining the wisdom of the serpent with the harmlessness of the dove. His first care was to find out the susceptibilities of the thief-maker's nature. Case-hardened against reproof, it was ascertained that he could yet be moved by kindness, and that the power of music had been known to melt the savage heart to tenderness.

One Sabbath afternoon, the superintendent was on the watch for the wicked man. He had come to know that he would pass down the lane where the school-house is situated, about the time the school was being taught. He stood in the doorway, and at length the thief-maker appeared. As he was passing, the superintendent said, in very kindly tones, "Well, my good friend, and how are you to-day ?" The man stood stock-still. He could scarcely believe one should address him thus. But he replied in a few words, and was then about to pass on, when the superintendent gently put his hand on his shoulder and said, "Now, my friend, I know you are very fond of music -I see it in your eye-will you just step in and hear how nicely my boys sing?" He consented, and the superintendent placed him unobserved on the end of a seat near to the door. He then called all to their seats the lessons being just over-and a teacher led, we think, the beautiful hymn,

"Plunged in a gulf of dark despair, We wretched sinners lay, Without one cheering beam of hope, Or spark of glimmering day," &c. And as the melody rose in its pathetic power, he watched the effect on the countenance of the stranger. It was all be desired. Then changing the subject, he led the beautiful and melting hymn,

"Oh, how he loves!"*

And as it was being sung by a hundred voices, he seated himself quietly by the man, and opening the Bible before him,

asked, "Can you read?" "A little," was the reply. "There, then, read that," said the superintendent, and he put before him such passages as this," As I live, saith the Lord, I have no pleasure in the death of the sinner; but that the wicked turn from his way and live: turn ye, turn ye from your evil ways; for why will ye die?" and this," God so loved the world, that he gave bis only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." "What does that mean?" asked the man, very earnestly; "what book is that?" And the superintendent told him it was the Bible, and meant his salvation. And the thief-maker became full of thought. By this time the music ceased, when another hymn,-a "lament" on the death of Christ, was sung, with great tenderness. This fairly overcame the thief-maker. He could stand it no longer; his heart was melted, and tears flowed. Then the superintendent, in a whisper, but faithfully and affectionately, preached Christ. Conviction, deep and earnest, was produced, and while conscience seemed to raise a thick cloud of darkness before his eyes, the devoted teacher, fearing that the devil was about to preach to the man in the language of despair, again led the music, and now in a song of triumph, which inspired him with hope.

The school was dismissed. But the superintendent did not leave the pupil to go home alone. He went with him, read to him, conversed with him, prayed for him, invited him to his house, and never ceased to labour and to pray until the man's soul was saved.

And, oh, it was a glorious triumph! Five years have passed away since the thief-maker was brought to the feet of Christ. He has been since then engaged in a most responsible public situation, and has distinguished himself by his consistency and devotedness in the service of the Lord. The native force of character which made him so dangerous in the service of Satan, has made him, by the power of God's grace, most useful in the service of God. Instead of training boys to become thieves, ke trains boys to become christians; and having had much forgiven he loves much.

And ought not this case to stimulate God's people to go and do as this superintendent did? We are not half in earnest for the salvation of souls. If the indifference, apathy, negligence, selfishness, want

of tact and perseverance which prevail among christians, were characteristic of those engaged in the business of life, the Gazette would be filled week after week, from the title to the imprint, with bankrupts' names. But "the children of this world are wiser in their generation than the children of light." They realise the truth, "the hand of the diligent maketh rich," and they "reap the fruit of their labours." Now the Lord blesses according as we use means. 'Tis true he can save souls without our instrumentality, but his will, and his rule, and his law are to bless as his people labour and pray; and his exhortation is, "Prove me now, saith the Lord of Hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it."

Are we then to prove God thus? Have we not soul-destroyers, if not thief-makers, on every side? and may we not, if we resolve and determine, in God's strength, to save them, save them all? Brethren, be it ours to provoke one another to love and to good works. Every christian is a king and a priest to God,-a king to rule by God's might, a priest to intercede by prayer for the world and the church. Oh, let us be in earnest in thorough earnest-and let us work "while it is called to-day, seeing that the night cometh in which no man can work."

THE RE-BAPTISM.

A STORY FOR PASTORS AND PEOPLE.

The pastor was old. Many years had gone by since that solemn day when he had been consecrated to the public service of the Most High. Its remembrance was fresh in his soul, it could never be forgotten; as life seemed waning, this early memory grew even clearer.

Ever since that day, he had ministered to the same people. He had known but one roof. This quiet habitation he had entered with the glow of hope and joy that belongs to early manhood. Here his children had grown up around him,-small feet had pressed the stairs, childish voices had echoed from the walls.

We have said that the pastor was old. Yes, he was. The silvery hair lay on the ample brow, where dark locks had clustered, and the voice clear and stirring like a trumpet, had become (people said so) weak and tremulous.

The young people wanted a new minister. To be sure they loved the old one, but they wanted, they said, "a smart man." Perhaps they had less reverence for the old than was meet, but this, as has been often said on other topics, was the fault, not of the individual, but of the age in which he lived.

They wanted a change. The old pastor knew it. He felt sad. His home was lonely, his sons were gone away into the great world, to act their part as they best could. His daughter-his only one-her grave was new, there was no stone as yet; had the pastor's purse been better filled, this omission might not have been. There was a weight on his spirits. Sitting by his study table, he took up a moroccocovered bible. It was always there, that small book with the red covers and gilded back. It had belonged to the wife of his youth. She was dead too. He opened at random-no; it had been so many times opened at one place, that, as he held it in his hand, it opened of itself at the very chapter that she had loved. And the minister read that matchless prophecy of our Lord, which has been, not unaptly, declared to be a key to unlock the mysteries of the sacred book. As he read thoughtfully of the coming advent of the Saviour, he came upon the words, "He is despised and rejected of men." Here he stopped. He became lost in thought. His past life seemed mirrored before him. The early days of his ministry, the crowded assembly, the breathless attention, the troops of admiring friends. Possibly, too, he saw the mixture of ambition, of worldliness, that had sometime dimmed his holiest services. Who of mortal mould, as he looks with scrutinizing gaze over the past years of life,

can fail to detect illusions, to say no more?

The last words that he had read came back as though a pen of diamond had written them on his heart. Despised and rejected of men!

Directly there came another text of the sacred Word,-" The disciple is not above his Master." It seemed now almost as though an audible voice had spoken, and the pastor exclaimed in reply, "Nor the servant above his Lord."

How changed was now the colour of his meditations. Often had he prayed that he might be like his Master, and he realised now that it might be God's will that he also should be despised and rejected of men. But how had the sadness of neglect vanished by the one thought, that the path he was treading his Master had trod. What strength is breathed into the soul that knows Christ in the fellowship of suffering. The bonds, in which the world would fetter even the holiest of men, break at once when the soul grasps with its whole power the truth, when it sees, as in an open glass, the love of God in its embodiment, Jesus Christ. It was a fresh experience, a re-baptism of love.

The angel-like benignity, the unsullied joy, that heightened the declining days of the pastor, was marked by many. The deep blessedness that had gladdened his soul diffused itfelf. The pious came and kindled anew their altars from the flame that burned on his; they rallied around him with a love strong as the strongest ties of blood. His name was sacred in the hearts of his people long after death had closed his eyes, but the many knew not the unseen hand that supported his footsteps, leading him through life's labyrinth paths, onward to the perfect day.

"NICODEMUS, WHICH AT THE FIRST CAME TO JESUS BY NIGHT."

"The same came to Jesus by night." There is no denying it,-the sentence looks suspicious. Was it so heinous a crime to come to Jesus? or was it so ridiculous a thing, that a natural objection to be laughed at prompted the secrecy of the visit? The popular idea is certainly not favourable to Nicodemus. In spite of the meek protest

of charity, and her suggestive "peradventure," judgment is often pronounced, and the Pharisee condemned to be morally gibbeted. The words do look suspicious, -we admit it. Turn them which way you will, look at them how you please, there is concealment unmistakably indicated in that phrase, "by night;" and, unless there was a better reason for it than unmanly timidity, or unhealthy sensitiveness, that concealment must be regarded as a crime in itself. We