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Wayside Notes.

"Watchman, what of the night? Watchman, what of the night

ISA. xxi. 11.

OH, thou seer of Israel! as the door of 1870 for ever closes, and we look out upon the untrodden space before us, we respond to the LIT. It appears to us that the night is far spent, that the world is growing sut in wickedness, and that the great and terrible One, who sitteth 7760 circle of the heavens, looking down upon all, cannot long stay His hand in its destruction, preparatory to which He is fast gathering home His peque to Himself.

But have you not taken up the pen in a censorious spirit? Why think the world is growing old in wickedness, when the general idea is that a s highly religious, and many declare that it will soon become converted? O thou mistaken watchmen, that blow not the trumpet of the Lord! In the language of Dante, "Ye go forth and preach impostures to the world;" and in the language of a far greater: "The prophete prophwy lies in my name. I sent them not, neither have I commandei tem neither spake I unto them: they prophecy the deceit of their own bear" Does the world grow better? Has the cherished maren of er brought about the promised universal brotherhood? Or has the inte ence of International Exhibitions bound the nations of the earth. vgter, as it was thought they would? Let the disastrous wars of 1875), and their attendant horrors, answer the question.

Two hundred thousand of our fellow creatures have fallen by the sword, and their gory bodies lie a few feet only under the surface of the mona earth. Oh! does the world grow better? Let the widows wall and the fatherless children, who are as grasshoppers in the land, respond to the inquiry. There is something deeply humiliating in the facts that surround us; and, in their contemplation, the soul of the Christian weeps in secret places because of the abounding wickedness of the world, ani the painful lessons the past eventful year has taught us.

But some will say, You are taking only one aspect of the world. Look at the upper strata of society, where surely all is excellent. Ah, feathered and flounced refinement! thy secrets lurk in the dark; and that under thy fine and fair show there lies a heart of deceit, let the outrageous "baby farms" of the present day bear witness. Does the world grow better? But let us turn from it. tid bro


Oh! sickening world, we are heartily tired of t
for the living family of God, the salt of the earth,
putrefaction; but where are the members of His
scattered, how few are the kindred spirits who lov
Jesus! There may be a few favoured spots where
around the faithful preaching of the Word, but mostly
rows alone on the house top.'
"Tord is thining H
ones-many in one's own circle dur
past year have
for binding, t

as one sorts the numbers of this M

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