better for Christians, if they knew by a deeper experience, what it means. Our safeguard is not so much from without, as from within. We may multiply all external excitements, and defences of the heart-make a man a flaming, noisy, religionist, but such an one will be easily tempted of the devil; while he has no strength from within, gained by the nourishment of his soul on God. Spiritual life and vigor, come by feeding upon the "hidden manna," the constant assimilation in the spirit of the bread of heaven." Above all," says Paul, "taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked." Now faith is nothing more or less than such an apprehension of spiritual things as makes them real. "Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." It is such a contemplation of that which is "unseen and eternal," as serves to open our spirit-eye, and show us, like Elisha's servant, the mountains round about, full of horses and chariots of fire.

III.-The method of the Divine interposition.

What a perfect charm there is in the narrative, when the angels show such an affectionate solicitude for the righteous man! "And while he lingered, the men laid hold upon his hand, and upon the hand of his wife, and upon the hand of his two daughters; the Lord being merciful unto him; and they brought him forth and set him without the city." Surely this may well be called visible providence-the literal fulfilment of the promise, "He shall give his angels charge over thee." But though we see now no such palpable ministry, how often there may be in a good man's life, interpositions as critical-protections as mighty, as though we saw the encampments of celestial spirits round about the righteous. Who knows what legions of heavenly attendants keep watch and ward over the saint, or how, when assaulted by his spiritual foes, "they fight from heaven" for him; or when Satanic power sits close at the ear of his soul, whispering hellish temptations, some mighty Ithuriel starts him up with the point of his spear into his own proper ugliness? It may not be permitted us to know just how and when the ministering spirits perform their office; but we need not doubt, that their labor of love corresponds with the emergency of our case; and that such ethereal defences are afforded us, as our unseen enemies make necessary. The fact of Divine interposition is what we ought to be assured of, so far as we ourselves have this testimony, that we please God. My argument would be this--if under one dispensation, God employed angels and visible signs and providences in behalf of good men; He will under any dispensation, interpose in behalf of the righteous, to protect them in the hour of danger, and employ such agencies to effect their deliverance as are appropriate to their case. If it be said, that having given us a revelation and a rational soul, all that is needed to ensure our safety is obedience

to known laws; that God will not interpose to save us by a miracle; I grant that we have no right to expect anything supernatural where we violate nature; but I would nevertheless, invigorate a good man's heart with this persuasion, "If I strive humbly to do God's will, and seek His gracious protection, He will in some way keep me in the hour of temptation, and deliver me from the evil." Now you may work it all out, if you will, and try to show that the good man has no more interposition in his behalf, than what comes of natural laws. You may say that it is "the order of nature" that "none shall harm us, if we be followers of that which is good;" but if in your mind and heart that be not a divine order, so that God is instant in it, and above it, if need be, then I say, you have got a heartless speculation merely, and not the Christian's faith. "Just as if the order of nature had been constituted by some other and greater Being, and intrusted to the Almighty to be administered under an obligation, never to suspend for a moment the fixed laws." I confess myself yet to be so weak, if you will, that I cannot sit down with a philosophic composure, in the hour of spiritual peril, and wait for what will come as an iron necessity. I remember the words of Christ to Peter-" Satan hath desired to have you, that he may sift you as wheat; but I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not" and then I think, that if there was a way to keep Peter from utter apostasy; if Christ could thwart the arts of Satan by any agency, there must be some weapons in God's armory that will suit my case; and I will ever go to Him like a little child, and ask Ilim to keep me from falling. There is no faith that I would instil into a child's heart so carefully as this: God has a peculiar care and guardianship over all who love Him and do His will. I would read this story of Lot and the angels with this end in view, that he might have the actual proof of divine protection wrought out before him, and be assured that God had ways of delivering him out of temptations, as truly as though He sent his angels to do it.

Our religious faith in the household never rises into such a beauty and sublimity before the eyes of our children, as when in our prayers and conversation, we approach the style of those men of olden times, who like Abraham could go to the mount of sacrifice, with an unshaken confidence, that God would fulfil his promise even when He appeared about to break it most cruelly. Their strongest defence of virtue and piety is laid in the conviction, that God will cause all things to work together for good to them that love Him-that in keeping His commands there is a great reward-that there is no spot where duty calls them, or temptation assails them, where if they maintain their integrity, they will not find a great legion of heavenly guardians, and even their enemies to be at peace with them.

IV.-The separation which is to take place when the Divine interposition is rejected.

I do not know but one reason why we are not powerfully af fected by the prospect of a final separation of the righteous and the wicked; that is, it does not often take place in a sudden and awful visitation of wrath. The angels do not before our eyes, lead out the good man to the city of refuge, while their retreating steps are the signal for the slumbering fires to fall. No marked and violent crisis of doom generally appals our hearts, when Eternal Justice takes the wicked out of the world. He dies perhaps in his bed, with all the decencies of friendship about him-nay, his very pillow may be smoothed by the hand of piety, and his mother's heart of faith may devise all sweet appliances to subdue him, in that sad hour, to a penitent cry for mercy. We are not shocked by any such visible display of the Divine vengeance, as that which marks the vale of Siddim. But we do greatly mistake if we are so deceived by appearances, as to think a man can die rejecting a more than angelic ministry-refusing the interposion of the Lord of angels, and not be as terribly cut off from the true believers as those whom Lot left behind. I would fain persuade those who now see no line of separation drawn-who may even feel somewhat complacent, that their friendships are intermingled with those of the Christian family, and thus be less alarmed as living under the roof of hallowed influences; that yet it may be only the dullness of their spiritual faculties which apprehends no peril. You might not be left to deem your christian friend a mocker, who warns you of the wrath to come-you may even keep him company towards the city of refuge, so far as to get out of Sodom-but there may be such a love of this poor world still, that like Lot's wife, you will perish midway to the "Rock of Ages." "What an admonition " have we in that pillar of salt," to the relatives of a pious person, to go the whole way with him to the eternal refuge!"

Christ never sounded a false alarm, but yet he tells us there is a greater guilt and a more fearful doom than Sodom's. That guilt is his, who wilfully or indifferently neglects the great salvation; that doom is his, for whom "there remaineth no more sacrifice for sins; but a certain fearful looking-for of judgment and fiery indignation." I would it were with us, my brethren, more often as with Lot, when the angels came to Sodom. Not indeed that they should be our guests for the last time, and the prophets of doom to those we love; but, that their heavenly friendships and admonitions, might stir us to a solemn earnestness, in warning our kindred to flee from the wrath to come. What prophetic intimations of ruin to them are suggested to our own minds by every visitation of the celestial ones in our own musings at eventide. How often when the Spirit touches the soul, and graces her mean abode, are our eyes opened to see their peril, who never

gave entertainment to the great Comforter. Ah! when we are in the upper chamber of spiritual communion, and we hear the step of His presence, whom death could not hold, and He whispers, "Peace be unto you;" does it come over us with saddening power-where are those we love, who have followed us to the outer door of Faith, but have never lifted the latch to come in? By and by they shall begin to stand without, and knock at the door, saying, Lord, Lord, open unto us--but its golden hinges shall no more swing open at mercy's bidding. Those white-winged ones shall have gone up, and Echo shall repeat the sound of their retreating footsteps, "He that is filthy, let him be filthy still."

"Am I my brother's keeper?"-GENESIS iv. 9.

THESE words were a part of the reply of the first murderer, when interrogated by the Almighty concerning the brother, whose life he had just taken. In the exceedingly brief sketch, which Moses has left us of the first centuries of the world's history, not much space would naturally be occupied in portraying the character of an individual. A few dashes of the inspired penman gives us all that can be known of Cain. Yet the few incidents, that are related by him, leave us in no doubt as to what he was. The first that we read of him is his putting on a show of devotion, in presenting to the Lord an offering of the fruits of the earth, which it was his employment to till. But his offering, being a mere form, does not find acceptance with God. Finding that it is rejected, his pride is wounded. He is angry with his Creator, and envious towards his brother. This envy settled into a fixed hatred, which at length finds vent in that climax of atrocities, a brother's murder. His hands, yet reeking with blood, his Maker, not for the sake of obtaining information, but to awaken in him a sense of guilt, and thus lead him to repentance, propounds the inquiry, "Where is Abel, thy brother?" Had Cain been innocent, and not lost to natural affection, this inquiry, so formally made, would have awakened his anxiety for his brother's welfare. But his reply evinces a moral callousness and lack of brotherly sympathy, naturally enough associated with his high-handed crime. He first tries to hide his guilt by downright falsehood, flatly denying that he had any knowledge as to