fall; full of hesitation, he asks for sensible evidence; they desire him to look—he makes an effort, but the darkness of the night, and the injury his sight has sustained, only permit him to view the object of his wishes obscurely and indistinctly. Belief and doubt contend for the empire of his mind, and by keeping it in an equipoise, prevent it from making any decisive choice.

Thus far the situation of the child resembles that of the soul who feels his need of salvation. The understandings of both are enlightened; the judgments of both are convinced by the force of evidence; they appear to assent to the truths which are proposed for their belief, and still neither of them has escaped to the place of safety, or city of refuge, which lies before him. Both, however, have found the way to escape the impending ruin; and to him who thus spiritually seeks after Christ, it may be said, Thou art not far from the kingdom of God; but still one thing is lacking, that is, to venture on the Saviour for salvation.

Thus far, in the allegory, the child has made no effectual effort to escape from within the burning walls; while lingering in his room, in a state of indecision, agonizing for deliverance, without using the means of obtaining it, feeling a measure of confidence in his friends below, but not enough to venture, the flames burst into his apartment and scorch him in his last retreat. Alarmed at the immediate prospect of death, he concludes-If I remain here I shall surely die, and if I cast myself down from the building I shall but die.

Fully impressed with this truth, he once more repairs to the window; he pays more attention to the call of his friends, particularly to that of his father; the difficulty now appears somewhat less, and the prospect of safety greater, than what he before imagined. Encouraged by these favourable appearances, as well as driven by terror, he commits his soul to God-he casts himself into the arms of his father below. In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, he falls! he is caught and embraced by his father; he finds everything prepared for his reception, as he had been promised, and he now feels himself in a state of safety. With tears of grateful joy, and a heart overflowing with thankfulness for his deliverance, he gives glory to God, and finds his bosom filled with

peace.

This is the case of every soul who, by faith, ventures his all on Christ. But who can find words to express all that is conveyed by this simile? Every one who has cast himself into the arms of

Q

his heavenly Father through the atoning sacrifice, can feel it, but adequate expressions are not to be found. Human language is too poor to unfold, in all their branches, the things of God, and we are often under the necessity of resorting to such expedients in order to find a medium to communicate our thoughts.

We see by the allegory that none are in a state of safety till they have actually ventured on Christ for salvation. The soul may be convinced that there is no other way of salvation but by venturing on Christ, but unless it acts and puts forth an effort, there is no salvation. The youth in the burning house may be convinced he must leave it if he would save his life, but he may, perhaps, think there is no immediate danger if he stays in the house a little longer; it will take some time, he thinks, for the fire to consume the foundation on which the floor of his apartment rests. The very reverse of this may be true-the fire has almost reached him, and he knows it not; all that supports the platform on which he stands is well-nigh consumed, and he may be precipitated in a moment into the burning flames below. So the soul may be rationally convinced, that if it remains in its present state it must be for ever lost, yet thinking that there is time enough yet to attend to the subject of the soul's salvation in earnest, and wishing to remain in its present state a little longer, to have “a little more sleep, and a little more slumber, and folding of the arms to sleep," sudden destruction may come in a moment—the cords of life may be snapped asunder, without a moment's warning, and sink the soul into the flaming billows, to rise no more.

We will suppose that the youth in the burning house, instead of trying to get out of it as soon as possible, should stop to ascertain by what means the house took fire-who set it on fire—this man or the other, or whether it took fire accidentally or not-would not every spectator call him a fool for troubling himself about such questions while his life was in such danger? Would not the cry be, Escape for thy life-tarry not-look not behind thee-leave the burning house instantly? Equally foolish would that soul be who, convinced of his guilt and danger, instead of flying to Christ for salvation, should spend his time in trying to find out the reason why sin was suffered to lay waste the works of God—could it not have been prevented—and many other subjects of the like kind, equally unfathomable by the human mind.

It must be observed that the faith exercised by the youth in the burning house caused him to act and venture his life on the issue.

Perhaps he might reason that, his being at such a distance from his father and his friends, who stood on the ground below, it would be impossible for them to save him from being dashed to pieces, should he cast himself down; there may be a strong conflict between belief and unbelief, but genuine faith will conquer. The soul that is truly and savingly in earnest about his salvation, not only believes in a general manner that the Bible is the voice of God to man, but his belief must induce him to hearken to that voice, and consider its threatenings as denounced against his disobedience; he must, in order to obtain salvation, fly to Christ, cast himself upon His mercy, and claim the promises which are made to the soul that puts its trust in His mercy and power.

The youth in the burning house discovers that there are no back stairs by which he can reach a place of safety, for they are already either entirely destroyed by the fire, or nothing but a burning mass, so that escape by them is utterly impossible. In like manner the truly awakened soul will see that there is no other way of escape but to leave the state of sin and death, as there can be no salvation while remaining in it. But if the soul will go forward and cast tself into the everlasting arms of love and compassion, He who cannot lie promises salvation.

"Broad is the way that leadeth to destruction, and many there be that go in thereat.

Narrow is the way which leadeth unto life, and few

there be that find it."-MATT. vii. 13, 14.

The Path of Life, and Death's frequented way,
Who can describe? what pencil can pourtray?
The way of Death is broad, with downward slide,
Easy and pleasant to man's lust and pride;
'Tis thronged with multitudes who glide along
With gold, and drink, and dance, and wanton song:
Nor these alone-but some of decent mien,
"Harmless" and "useless," on the way are seen;
In ruin's gulf it ends. See! rising there,
Thick clouds of blackness and of dark despair.

The Path of Life lifts up its narrow breadth,
High o'er the realms of darkness and of death;
Sky-rising, still laborious and straight,
Leading directly up to heaven's gate;

'Tis wondrous strange, and yet, alas ! 'tis true,

The Path of Life is travelled but by few,

Though ending where the shades of night ne'er fall,
But one eternal Light encircles all.

HERE is depicted the path of life and the way of death. The way of death is exceeding broad, and on an inclined plane. It has a downward tendency; it is occupied by a vast multitude. Some are seen throwing themselves off the way headlong, others are bearing aloft the terrible banners of war. They are elated with victory. Here the man of pleasure revels in delight. The drunkard is dancing with wild, delirious joy, and the miser groans beneath his bags of gold. There are, however, some sober, respectable people on the way. These appear to look grave and thoughtful. The way ends, you perceive, in total darkness. Thick clouds of curling blackness, rising from a pit or gulf, cover the extremity of The travellers enter the dismal shades, and we see them

the way.

no more.

From the way of death you see another way, or path rather, stretching up, as it were, into the clouds. This is called the path of life. It is extremely narrow. It is, moreover, difficult on account of its upward tendency. Few persons are seen walking on it; these scattered here and there. This path appears to end well. We can see where it does end. A beautiful palace opens its golden gates to receive the wearied travellers. From its open

portals bursts forth a dazzling light that illuminates the pathway beneath.

By the way of death is signified the way of sin, that leads to death eternal. "The wages of sin is death." Its downward tendency denotes that it is much easier to go wrong than to go right. The way of sin is easy and pleasant to man's corrupt nature. He delights in it after the inner man. Were it not so, surely so many in all ages would not be found walking therein. The Creator Himself gives us the reason: "The thoughts of the imaginations of his heart are evil, only evil, and that continually.' Hence man follows the bent of his inclination. He goes with the stream; " every one in his own way." To do otherwise would require self-denial and vigorous persevering effort.