giveness, on me and my household be thy wrath; for in me is the guilt, and let not the sword drink the blood of others for my offence."

Mercy took the sceptre the sword returned to his scabbard -a propitiating sacrifice and an offering of deep-felt gratitude blazed on the altar, by the threshing floor of Ornan. The sweet singer of Israel, humbled and subdued in heart; the multitudes of Jerusalem, snatched from the jaws of the devourer, sent up with pious gratitude their hymns of praise. Joy sat on every countenance-neighbors greeted each other in the gladness of their hearts-mothers with streaming eyes pressed their infants to their bosoms-husbands, fathers, brothers, embraced in living health the partners, children, and sisters over whom the red sword of the destroyer was but just now fearfully gleaming; and one united paean of praise went up from the walls of Jerusalem to the God of Israel.

Editorial.

CLAIMS OF RELIGION ON THE YOUNG.

THE idea which many, and especially the young, have of religion, is that it is a system of gloomy and cheerless demands and observances, at variance with their hopes and prospects. Life, the close woven chain of friendship and affection, is too dear in their estimation, to have its brightness dimmed, and its texture broken, by the abstractions of faith, and the grasp of its stern obligations and discipline. The serious mood and the contrition of heart required, belong, as they feel, rather to the autumn of their years; when life has. lost its charms, and trifles are become burdens, and the soul is almost impatient to quit its earthly tabernacle and be gone. They wish no such darkened cloud to overhang their smiling way. To be happyto enjoy each fleeting hour as it comes and goes-this is the end and object for which they live. Hence their ready re

sponse to every call that invites them to the choice of religion, "Not now, but hereafter."

It is true, doubtless, that the inference thus drawn and acted on, which so belies heavenly wisdom, is often the result of too faithful an observation of the conduct of many who profess to belong to Christ. They live more as if driven to duty, than as if drawn and sweetly corresponding in the heart to the service which they acknowledge to be necessary. Their purpo¬ ses of elevated consecration to God are faint and few; and they seem as if the claims of a Master, rather than the love of a Father, were urging them to any act of homage. With many a wishful look and almost aching heart, they throw back their gaze to the merry companions they have left, and the pleasures in which they once shared; and soon perhaps they may be seen retracing their steps, to pluck again some of the flowers that hang out their poisonous sweets, to tempt the longing thought and errant hand. Conscience is not wholly at ease; they dare not be bold in sin, as they might once have been; and yet, with such hopes as their own, they are not satisfied. Thus gloom and sadness may gather on the brow, and the countenance become too certain an index of the disquiet of the mind and heart within. Their testimony, when seen and read, will be, that they have not found peace and happiness in the trial they have made of religion. If for others it has worn its charms and breathed forth its blessings, to them no smile has clad its features; its look has been to frown on their desires, and to forbid their hopes. It seems but the stern aspect of the Mosaic economy, rather than the milder loveliness of the economy of grace by Jesus Christ, that they have found. The joys in promise recede further and further, the longer they press forward; and it but remains, that they sit down to mourn over the sacrifices they have made, or turn their backs on visions so delusive, and plunge anew into the world and its oft regretted scenes of gayety and mirth. Such, alas! is the experience of too many, from whom the youthful borrow the dark shading which they throw over a religious life, as it asks their acceptance. To those to whom to forsake the way of the natu

ral heart is itself distasteful, a testimony like this is enough; and gladly they avail themselves of its voice to confirm their own opinions-adverse as these are to the truth of God—that the ways of religion are not pleasantness, nor her paths peace.

Theirs is a mistaken view; the judgment they have formed is an unfair one. Religion has had no just trial. The impleadings against her have falsified her character; it is false testimony on which they rest; and these, so injurious, have wrought her condemnation. The verdict is an unrighteous one. Her appeal is to the tribunal of the candid, to those who have been willing, to allow her true character and relations to be exhibited and felt. There is an antecedent probability that religion should be a source of happiness, and not of gloom and sadness, to the young. It has God for its author; a being of infinite benevolence; well acquainted with all that passes in that heart just bounding forth in all its buoyancy of admiration of nature, life, and the thousand thousand hues which give a coloring to the scenes we are passing, and are to pass on earth. He has nicely strung the whole frame, and in that harp of wondrous mystery, has placed a chord of feeling which may vibrate to every touch that hope or fear, joy or sorrow, love or friendship can give. In every such adaptation, religion is full; promises she has to beckon on and to cheer; warnings she urges to keep us from sin; consolations are hers to pour upon the stricken, wounded heart; and voices of love, and scenes of coming blessedness, to attemper our earthly affections, and win them to a purer and holier state. There is nothing, on the other hand, which might be supposed to produce gloom; to take away the brightness of youth's best aspirations. The favor of an unforgetting and blessing God has no gloom in it; the still small voice of the Spirit, as it comes to the heart, and whispers of the love that passes knowledge, and tells us it is ours, is not a voice of gloom; the opening portal of Heaven at the end of our pilgrimage, and the welcome of our Father, our Redeemer, what is there in these that speak of gloom? what to sadden the youthful, confiding heart? But then there is self-denial. Ah, how

hard! Denial of what? Of nothing, indeed, that can elevate, refine, expand, and bless the soul. The sources of every pleasure, that can bring with it peace, are open to the youth who lives for heaven, as well as to him who lives for this world. Nature's voice is as eloquent, ay, more so, in her teachings; the senses can as quickly, as exquisitely, feel the influence of her charms. Her changing array, as the seasons come and go, and all the thousand means of delight with which she makes her appeal to those who would observe and watch her varied moods, are yet more full of power to wake the soul to rapture for the Christian, than for one who is not such; for a Father's hand, a Father's wisdom, and a Father's love is seen, is heard and felt in all.

Sacrifices, it is true, must be made; they are those only of fleeting joys of such as often leave a bitter sting after they are gone; but religion never asks the young to check the springing fountain of feelings, that buoyantly rises and marks where its waters flow on through life by the fresh green pastures beside them, and thus often, too, betray their hidden course; she would make it a purer, richer source of sparkling loveliness, and win for it a truer smile of admiring love. The heart that is new formed, is, too, the heart of warm affection, of delicate sensibility, and is yet more exquisitely alive to the objects which may impart pleasure. After a time, at least, fashion may pall on the worn-out spirit; the world's charme may win the gaze and admiration of some other, while they leave a keen sense of wasted blessings, of lost hopes, and of dreaded anticipations, to the votary who has drunk to satiety of its maddening cup, and neglected a soul destined for higher things.

Yet we would not wish to blind the young to the fact, that reproach and the abandonment of former friends may be the result of a life of devotedness to God; the askant eye of prejudice, the cool contempt of the scorner, the pitying look of the selfsatisfied moralist, may alike be directed upon such a one; and to a heart alive to every generous feeling, and conscious that there is no cause that should so change the countenances of well

known companions of former days, these things will bring pain. But there is an Eye too that will beam with approbation, a voice that whispers, "well done, good and faithful servant!" worth them all. There is a sweet and heavenly calm, unlike the perturbed swelling of the breast o'er which the rude gales of passion sweep; there is a strengthening of trust and hope, aspirations unchecked by the narrow limits of earthly thoughts, which open to the inquiring spirit sources of more exalted contemplation—and these will richly repay the loss of those less enduring and less satisfactory enjoyments.

It is to the

look, if we

Thus the youthful disciple of Christ has often found it when counting the cost; placing in the scale the things of time, and those of eternity, the immense superiority and value of the latter to the former have been seen and felt. The tinsel has dimmed its lustre and lost its beauty; but the true gold has brightened and is prized the more after the trial. experience and testimony of such that we must would learn the truth of a practical adoption of God's service in the morning of life. It is to those who have proved its promises, and can testify whether reliance may be placed upon them. Their decision is one which has the greater weight, for it has the double advantage of having been drawn from a knowledge at once of what the world can give, and what religion can bestow. Search then the biographical records of those who began early to love and to serve their Redeerner, of either sex, and in almost every circumstance of life, and let them teach what we may believe. Has regret of too early a choice of eternal life ever sent one pang into the bosom, to sadden the dying hour-has the thought of delay and rejection of its blessings proffered in the days of almost lisping infancy, ever shed one beam of light and gladness over the soul, and made it hymn its triumph over the grieved Spirit of God, as it is ushered from probation to meet him, and hear from him its sentence of retribution? It would seem like mockery to our readers to pursue this style of interrogation; but does not testimony like this urge the young to hasten and secure a better choice, and seek their all in Christ?