III. ZEBAH AND JAMBRES.

ZEBAH, the priest, stood by the altar of the morning sacrifice, calm as the ascending column of its smoke, and glowing with devotion as its lambent flame. His spirit, like Manoah's angel, seemed to ascend in the flames of the sacrifice. His tears were as the dew of Hermon, and his eyes," as the eyelids of the morning;" for he saw, in the shadows of good things to come, glimpses of their substance-CHRIST CRUCIFIED." "He shall be led as a lamb to the slaughter," said ZEBAH, "and make his soul an offering for sin. In faith of that real atonement, I present this typical one. We may not worship the God of our fathers otherwise; for without shedding of blood there is no remission." JAMBRES, the Sadducee, overheard the old man, and cast a scornful glance upon the priest and the offering. As Zebah retired from the altar, Jambres laid hold of his phylactery, and said, "Is not the God of Abraham our FATHER? I

am a father; and to-day my children blessed my nativity. My first-born honoured my birthday by a song of DEGREES, and the child of my old age brought me a bunch of wild flowers from the banks of Siloam. I accepted both with equal pleasure, because both were offered with equal sincerity. And will not the God of Israel welcome any form of sincere worship?" "Son," said Zebah, "remember CAIN brought of the fruit of the ground an offering unto the Lord: but unto Cain and his offering, the Lord had not respect. ABEL brought a lamb to the altar; but unto Abel and his offering, the Lord had respect. Fire from the Shechinah consecrated the sacrificial worship only. And had JAMBRES forbidden an offering of wild flowers, the gift would have been an insult."

No. II.

CHRIST'S PARABLE OF DEVELOPMENT.

THOSE of us who have been related to, or intimate with, a very eminent Christian, have often felt more than reproved, whilst studying her character we have felt discouraged by the very excellences which most endeared her to us, because it seemed impossible for us to imitate them successfully. This is chiefly felt, when she is very eminent in those points of character, in which we ourselves are most defective. If we are rash or irritable, her calmness and prudence seem beyond our reach. If we are slothful, or soon weary in well doing, her diligence and perseverance, whilst they show us our duty and make us ashamed, lead us also to suspect that our irresoluteness is unconquerable. If we are peevish or impatient under the trials

of life, her meekness and submission appear impracticable in our own case. If we are unguarded with our lips, or capricious in our deportment, her equanimity and wisdom seem too much for us to acquire; and if we are not very devotional in our spirit, nor very spiritual in our conversation, her holy unction, and her high relish for divine things, awaken a fear, that we shali never excel in heavenly-mindedness.

Discoveries of this kind are both mortifying and painful to every heart which desires to be "right with God." It is, indeed, humiliating to see and feel the defects of our own character and spirit, and to feel too as if we should never get over them, nor be able to subdue them!

Some make a bad use of this humiliating discovery. They conclude that there are certain points about their character which cannot be rectified, and thus come to reconcile themselves to their own faults and failings. They see that these things will be sad drawbacks upon their respectability, and comfort, and usefulness; but they make up their mind to risk

these consequences, rather than encounter the trouble of trying to be consistent. They are conscious that they cannot be loved or esteemed much through life, and that they will not be at all missed by the church or the world when they die; they are sure that their character will have no weight, and their memory no fragrance; aware that they will not gain friends, nor conciliate enemies; and certain that if they are just borne with in society, that that will be all they can expect; and yet, in the face of all this, they will not make an effort to emancipate them. selves from the galling chain of temper or habit! but recklessly submit to live unloved, and to die unmissed.

Now as this might in our own case, be the effect of giving way to the rash idea, that it is impossible for us to acquire a holy consistency of character, it is of the utmost importance to guard against such a suspicion. There is no real impossibility of becoming what others have become, nor of being what they have been, so long as there is no lack of the grace which made