recompense for it. It must then import something singula Such was the established opinion of the better sort of the Hebrews; and our apostle confirms it—he " was translated. that he should not see death."

And he was not found." They sought him then They made the hills and valleys resound with his name: "Where is Enoch?" Was it not some heavenly communication that satisfied them at length, and their posterity through them, of the singular fact, that God had taken. him? He was removed, body and soul, from them, t another place-another world.

To them this event was of great importance and service Adam, their first parent, and the progenitor of all mankind. had died. That was the removal of an extraordinary persorage from the earth, and in a humiliating way. That body, so marvellously formed by the Creator, so wonderfully preserved, endowed with so many singular qualities, inhabited by a soul that had conversed with the Creator in person, they had seen to fall motionless, and lie to moulder in the dust. But here they see that our flesh may be restored; and that good men, in their own persons, body and soul, are eventually to be with God.

To us it is an intimation, not of the resurrection of the body, but of that which will be equivalent to it; and of which information has been given us in the latter portion of the sacred volume. It may serve to illustrate the change which the apostle describes as coming upon all the living believers at the time of Christ's second appearance, when spiritual qualities will be given to them, in lieu of this animal life; and "in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye," without one pang of dissolution. the mortal shall put on immortality;" and death be swallowed up in victory.

How would this translation raise the thoughts of the good men of that day up to heaven! "There is Enoch there we shall be." But how superior is our attraction! They heard nothing of Enoch afterwards; where he was, and what he was. But we know that Christ sitteth at the right hand of God, and that he shall come to receive us to himself, that we may be with him where he is, to behold his glory. Oh what effusions of his love will he then pour upon us! With what delight will he receive the spirit, and renew the body, which he has redeemed. and which we had solemnly committed to his hands! And

are we afraid of being admitted to the presence of Jesus, and of being in his arms? If we may not escape death, as did Enoch, let us at least, with Paul, be "willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord," 2 Cor. v. 8.

"By faith Enoch was translated." Faith in God was the root of all that excellence of character which led to his translation. Faith in God's promise-faith, too, in his character, his goodness and graciousness-that he is the rewarder, as well as the acceptor, of all "them that diligently seek him." What faith of this kind ought we to have from our more abundant promises and manifestations!-we who live after the proof of the Divine love, which the appearance of Jesus has supplied! He has lived, he has died, he has risen, to be the Saviour of mankind-that is of us, "who by him do believe in God, that raised him up from the dead, and gave him glory; that" our "faith and hope might be in God," 1 Pet. i. 21.

Most fitly does the apostle join the example of Enoch to that of Abel. There we see how the reprobate hate piety; here, how God loves it: there, how its possessor was persecuted for it, by his unnatural brother; here, how its possessor is rewarded for it by its Divine Author: there, how much God may oblige us to suffer for him and his cause; here, how much he obliges himself to recompense us for suffering.

Immortality and eternal life have been proclaimed to men in all ages. Before the law of Moses, the translation of Enoch elevated the hopes of the pious. Under the law, the ascension of Elijah confirmed the Jews in the same expectation. But under the gospel, the ascension of Christ has added demonstration on the subject, and opened the kingdom of heaven to all believers.

It is faith that obtains the promises. Enoch believed God, and walked with him, and was taken to be with him. Faith had its eye to the recompense of reward, and conducted its possessor to its attainment. Our faith will obtain for us the same recompense, though not in the same way. What was done for Enoch at once, will be eventually done for us, but at two different times. It will obtain paradise for our spirit at death, and immortality for our body at the resurrection. But this alarms us-to "be unclothed," divested of the body; to enter as a naked spirit into an unknown world! Could we ascend, body and soul

at once, as Enoch and Elijah did, or as the last living believers will do, we should have no fear. Yet our lot has some advantages. The illness that precedes dissolution weans from earth, and reconciles to departure. It allows of time to trim our lamps, to revive our faded graces, fan the embers of our languishing piety, and set our houses in order. It gives an impressive pathos to the last words to others, which no former words possessed. The dying chamber may be the greatest scene of usefulness in our whole lives. Finally, it allows a great scope for faith, to trust our naked soul to the Redeemer's hands; and it conforms us more entirely to him, who went, through death and the grave, to glory.

What God has joined together let us never put asunder a holy life here, and a heavenly one hereafter. We must now walk with God, if then we would live with him; now be trained to his worship and service, if we are to dwell in a world of universal and perpetual worship and devotion. Through the kingdom of grace only, can we come to the kingdom of glory. "Without holiness no man shall see the Lord."

What an incentive to eminent piety! It pleases God. Look not to low and degenerate Christians, to comfort yourself in a weak state of grace, by the thought that you might be worse. If I do look at them, let it be with fear and trembling, lest I degenerate to their level, and be one of the last in the ranks of the blessed. I contemplate individuals of exalted and eminent piety, and ask, Why should I not be like them? Have I not received the same privileges, the same reconciliation to God, the same grace of regeneration and sanctification, the same outward means and opportunities of advancement? Why, then, that distance between them and me? It shall not remain. By the help of God it shall be filled up at least lessened. Some, my youngers in years and grace, have surpassed me in holiness and usefulness; as Enoch, the youngest of his contemporaries, lived longer than them all by living so

well.

"Nor love thy life, nor hate;

But what thou liv'st, live well:

How long or short, permit to Heaven."

Let the great be solicitous for the praises of mortals to swell their epitaphs and emblazon their tombs; for myself, I wish no higher honour after death than to have this one

line inscribed upon my tomb, and let me be ever seeking to render it appropriate :---

"HE PLEASED GOD."

FRAGMENTS FROM MEMORY,

NO. II.

MY FIRST SUNDAY IN A STRANGE LAND.

Ir is sometimes said, "We know not the value of a blessing until we lose it;" and of the truthfulness of the remark I had proof during my nine weeks' voyage across the Atlantic. Every day was so much like every other that the returning Sunday scarcely broke the monotony; there was no working day toil or anxiety to produce longing for the sabbath rest; and when the morning of the holy day broke on us it brought no cheerful Sunday chime, no waiting Sunday-school class, no cheerful company going up together to the house of the Lord. There was the same little cabin, the same limited walk on deck, the same monotonous waste of waters. The only change was that the sailors put on their best clothes, spread the ensign on the capstan, and assembled with us for worship. And yet these were hallowed seasons, in which we often enjoyed the presence of the Lord, and proved that wherever there are hearts to worship him he will make that place a sanctuary and pour his blessing upon the contrite and believing spirit. Those Sundays on board ship were not without their joys, and I trust not without their fruit. Perhaps, in the great day, it may appear that in some sailor's heart was awakened the memory of a mother's affectionate counsels, or a father's earnest prayers; that the "seed of the kingdom" was deposited in "good ground," and brought forth fruit in after times. We never heard of any good result, for we have never since met captain or crew; but how much good is done which is never heard of! Dear reader, hesitate not to embrace every opportunity of working for God, even though you never know of an instance of usefulness. "In the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thine hand; for thou knowest not whether shall prosper, either this or that, or whether they both shall be alike good."

But pleasant as were the Sundays on board ship, we often sighed at the remembrance of those we had enjoyed

in dear old England, and looked forward with strong and pleasing anticipations to the Sundays we should spend on shore, in the strange land to which we were slowly approaching.

How sad it is that even in Christian England the sabbath is so undervalued. It is well described as "the green oasis, the little grassy meadow in the wilderness, where, after the week-days' journey, the pilgrim halts for refreshment and repose; where he rests beneath the shade of the lofty palm-trees, and dips his vessel in the waters of the calm, clear stream, and recovers his strength to go forth again upon his pilgrimage in the desert with renewed vigour and cheerfulness.'

We had accompanied a dear friend to his "mountain station," where for several weeks we enjoyed the hospitality and Christian communion of a truly godly family. It was at the "station " where our friend was missionary pastor that we were to spend our first Sunday, and we looked forward to the engagements of the sacred day, amid scenes so entirely new, with no little interest. The sabbath morning came, and almost with the dawn the services commenced. The pastor's house was situated in the midst of a large free-village, in which the newly enfranchised peasantry had found a safe and happy retreat from oppression, and where in their own little homesteads, surrounded by well-cultivated plots of ground, varying in extent from half an acre to two or three acres, they enjoyed the sweets of freedom and reaped the fruits of their honest industry. The mission house was a woodframed building, raised on brick pillars; and the under part formed a large room, which had been fitted up for week evening services, a night school, and other purposes collateral to missionary work. In this room the first service of the sabbath was held at six o'clock in the morning. The villagers were summoned by the sound of a bell, hung from a stout branch of one of the trees in the garden. In a short time most of the inhabitants of the village assembled, and in the quiet morning hour the incense of praise and prayer was presented by many devout hearts before the Lord. No missionary station is considered complete without a Sunday and day-school; at this station both existed in a very efficient condition. After breakfast, therefore, we went to the Sunday-school: here we found about five hundred children, black and coloured.