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ployed. I will-I have turned them into another channel; Alphonso shall be my child, and I will provide for him."

Philip had always been remarkable for great strength and tenacity of purpose; what he resolved, that would he perform, in spite of every obstacle. His resolves sometimes bordered even upon the impossible; but this best suited his ardent and restless temperament. With an innate consciousness of its own strength, his mind loved to grapple with difficulties; and he would not have deemed it worth while to live, had he been unable to consecrate his life to the achievement of some high and noble aim. In the present instance, strange as it may appear, he amply fulfilled his promise. Hours devoted by those of his age to sleep and recreation, he employed in unremitting toil, and in acquiring a perfect knowledge of his trade. His efforts were crowned with complete success; the burden of Alphonso's support was not felt, and more than four years were passed by the little family, if not in comfort, at least, without feeling very keenly the pangs of indigence.

The scene described at the commencement of this tale, took place in the summer of 1572, when those four years of comparative tranquillity had just expired. As soon as she had finished reading, Lisa Van Rosenveldt carefully returned her book (the Bible Réné had brought from Louvain) to its place of concealment, and busied herself in preparing supper; not a very arduous task. The black bread and "sauer kraut were soon laid upon the table; but almost before these simple preparations were finished, the door was hastily opened, and Philip entered the room with an eager step, and a face glowing with excitement.

DEBORAH.

THE PATH OF LIFE.

“Thou wilt shew me the path of life,” Ps. xvi. 11.

THERE is a path which lies across this dying life, which He who knows the end from the beginning has called "the path of life." Thousands there are of

roads, and ten thousands of travellers, but this is only one, it is "the path of life." Little and narrow it seems to be, for it is only a path, but it joins the two eternities—the eternity of the Father's love with the

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eternity of the sinner's glory. inscribed in largest characters, though they who are running there heed them not "to death, to death;" on this, at every turn, the direction is written as with a sunbeam, and God's finger points, "to life, to life."

The important question therefore presents itself to us, What is this path of life-where does it risewhither does it go? Now it were hard to say where the path of life begins-often behind clouds of mys tery-very often in places to human judgment the most unlikely-almost always in that which the world knows little of. And still as it traverses this present existence, it is a path which loves the valley. Some times, indeed, it stands out to view clear and conspicuous, and now and then it reaches up to the heights of earthly greatness; but more often does it lie deep and untraceable, and thorns and difficulties are the index of its course. Here and there it seems to stop, and you might fancy it was lost; but again, as by a secret power, it stretches itself along, and makes for its appointed end. And still, as it proceeds, a brighter and a brighter light shines upon it from above.

And if the passengers be few, yet are they united together in such love and fellowship, as beguiles the way, and makes its roughest passages most pleasant. But that which chiefly marks the path is, that everything you find there is real and living-a principle of eternity is in it and it lives. Living friendships, living efforts, living joys are there; prayers that can never die, though the lips be closed that uttered them; influences that defy the grave; loves that may be separated, but cannot be broken; hopes that never disappoint; promises that are yea to-day and amen

to-morrow.

And when this little span which we call life is over, still mark the path. It goes down where you cannot follow it; but at the bottom of the valley of the shadow of death, it is the path of life still-nothing pe

rishes all is locked in the everlasting covenant. Across the mystic river that divides the two worlds it makes its highway, and it comes forth again, and onward, upward it mounts to the fields of higher glory; and by that way, in God's good time, the glorified body, re-united to the perfected spirit, shall travel up to its prepared mansion, when they shall come to Zion with everlasting joy upon their heads, and they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away."

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But meanwhile, who shall describe that inward and deeper process, which makes the path of the life of the experience of every believer's soul. The Holy Ghost coming in contact with a man's inmost feelings impregnates them with the seeds of divine life. From that date the life begins, and with the life the struggle-a struggle often bitter, always felt-but a struggle in which, so long as we do struggle, the victory is sure. For every hope and affection of the man is now bound in the bundle of life; and this is the Saviour's own assuring argument, "Because I live ye shall live also." Accordingly, the believer's heart can now make answer, "The life that I now live in the flesh, I live by the faith of the Son of God." Life is the parent of peace-peace of love and love of labours. Without, his is now the career of usefulness-blessings drop as he goes-works are done, and faithfully done for the glory of Godduties grow into privileges-souls are influenced-the Gospel spreads-Christ is thrown into the life, and the life loses itself again in Christ. And within, communion with God becomes the habit of the soul

prayer its breath. And so the spiritual life grows; faith stretches towards assurance; graces ripen into glory; foretastes of heaven make feasts by the way; and love is the pledge of love, by which, at length, the forgiven and happy soul soars away over death and the grave on the wings of light, to the bosom of God.

Oh! call it not life to draw God's air, and not to

know the breath of the Spirit as He moves upon the mind-to tread God's earth and trample on his laws -to walk under the heavens and have no home prepared, no life hidden within the veil. Call it not life, that poor uncertain thing, whose foundation is in the dust, and which is crushed before the moth. But call it life, when every part of the man begins to live indeed; the mind to think, the body to serve, the heart to feel, the soul to soar. Call it life, when under the quickening touch of God, with powers that cannot fail, you pursue objects, satisfying objects, that never pass away. Call it life, when each to-morrow finds you nearer heaven than to-day.

O blessed path of life! which is none other than Christ Himself, who, by his holy life and precious dying, and glorious rising again, has made a way for all his ransomed to pass over from this vale of sorrow. O blessed path of life! which arches over death and sin and hell, and spans the earth with the heavens; which goes so straight from the depths of humiliation to the throne of glory. O blessed path of life! by which all they have trodden who have gone before to their bright seats. O blessed path of life! where angels seem to be waiting even now, and beckoning us

to come.

Dear young reader, in this broad wicked world, there are thousands of Satan's roads-tempting and welltrodden-and they all go down to Hell. And in this wilderness with many tracks, how shall you find the one right path, of which Job says, "There is a path which no fowl knoweth, and the vulture's eye hath not seen." You must ask God to shew it to you, for you will never find it for yourself. Go to Him and urge that promise; it is certain to all who truly plead it, "Thou wilt shew me the path of life."

Have you gone on these many years, wandering in this world's varied and deceitful ways, and never turning towards the path of life, or choosing to enter upon

it? Then delay no longer. Arise at once, and by God's grace, take the first step in this narrow, but. heaven-leading road. Do not say, it is too late. It is not too late. There is not a spot this side the grave from which the path of life does not spring. You may be a happy traveller to Zion yet. The path is Christ. Go to Him as a sinner-place yourself very low, and Christ very high; and He will do all for you-all for time-all for eternity.

But are you walking there? And are you faint and weary because of the length of the way? Hold on a little while; lean more on Christ; look up-believewatch. The end is very near, and what an end is there! "In thy presence is fullness of joy; at thy right hand are pleasures for evermore."

J. V.

THE NEW YEAR.

Oн morning full of gladness! the birthday of the year,
One of the ancient mile-stones which time erecteth here;
I stand with mingled feelings, to gaze upon the past,
And o'er the hazy future mine eager glance to cast;
Ring forth your gladsome music, ye early bells to-day,
And cheer a youthful pilgrim along life's arduous way.
The path which lies before me I cannot clearly see,
Nor would I draw the curtain which veils futurity;
I look for hours of sunshine and moments of delight,
When landscapes robed in beauty shall burst upon my sight.
I look for hours of darkness when stars their radiance hide,
And fears, like spectral shadows, around my steps shall glide.
Both joy and grief are coming, oh new-born year with thee;
The "when" and "how" I ask not, but walk on quietly;
The future to Him leaving who rules the worlds above,
And guides his trustful children with his unerring love;
In pleasure, and in peril, his hand will safely lead,
Will aid me in each conflict, and succour all my need.

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