September 16

favour? He is merciful, but his mercy is exercised in harmony with all the perfections of his nature. And his goodness is designed to lead us to repentance. And now is the accepted time, now is the day of salvation. His Spirit is now striving with you, but if you refuse to fall in with his motions he may righteously decline to address you in future, and hide from your eyes the things that belong to your peace. You cannot deserve his grace, but you may provoke his wrath, and nothing is so sure to provoke it as your "doing despite unto the Spirit of grace."

But such an instance of mercy should encourage you if you are disposed to return to the Lord. Then, however guilty, you have no reason to despair. "Come," says he, "and let us reason together; though your sins were as scarlet they shall be white as snow, though they were red like crimson they shall be as wool."

And let it animate us in our concern for others. Whatever lengths they have gone, let us never consider any of our fellow-creatures abandoned, so as to give up prayer and the use of means—And let us use them in the faith of him who is mighty to save—Is any thing too hard for the Lord?

SEPTEMBER 16.—"I was wounded in the house of my friends."—Zechariah 13:6.

FRIENDSHIP is a boon which has always been highly valued and extolled. It has been called the charm of life, and the balm of grief. He is deeply pitiable who has not a friend; and he is in a most privileged condition who has never had reason to complain, "I was wounded in the house of my friends."

We are formed for society; we love society: we need society; we derive much of our happiness from society; and yet in one way or another our connections are very expensive things. There are here, so to speak, four kinds of wounds. First, those that arise from the honest and salutary reprehensions of our friends. Solomon commends these by way of contrast: "faithful are the wounds of a friend, but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful." Instead of complaining of these, we shall be thankful for them, if we are like-minded with David; "Let the righteous smit me, it shall be a kindness; and let him reprove me, it shall be an excellent oil which shall not break my head: for yet my prayer also shall be in their calamities."

Secondly, Those that result from their sufferings. Paul speaks of the comforts of love: but it has its sorrows too. If I love another, and in proportion as I love him, I shall make his case my own: I shall weep when he weeps: I shall bear his burden when he is oppressed: and perhaps suffer as much by sympathy as he himself suffers, when I hear him cry, "Pity me, pity me, O ye my friends, for the hand of God hath touched me."

Thirdly, Those which are produced by our being bereaved of them. There are few but have felt these losses; while some have had peculiar reason to sigh, "I sit, and am alone, as a sparrow upon the house-top"—"Lover and friend hast thou put far from me, and mine acquaintance into darkness." Oh! the anxieties that precede—the anguish that accompanies—the dreariness that follows—the feeling of heart-desolation that arises at the sight of the walks in

which we communed with them, the seats they occupied, the books they folded down, the flowers they planted—the nightly visitations of thought when darkness and wakefulness let in busy memory, to recall the past, and open the wounds afresh which time had tried to heal!

Fourthly, Those which are inflicted by their improper conduct. Even the sincere are imperfect; and may wound us by ignorance, rudeness, wayward temper, misapprehension, and censure without cause. But some are altogether vanity and lies. Their friendship is a mere flash of feeling. It is the working of selfishness, during which they make you their scaffolding, and then lay you aside. They only elevate to depress: they only flatter to spread a snare for your feet; they only insinuate themselves into your bosom to prove the viper there.

Thus therefore we often hear of being wounded in the house of friends. But though many make the complaint, few seem concerned to improve it. And thus they bleed in vain, while it is possible for them to derive a remedy for the poison, and to turn their losses into gain. In all these murmurings or lamentations about friends, we should do well to inquire whether we have done nothing to deserve what we suffer: for often we may trace our sin in our trials. The blame is not always on the side of the censured: the most complaining is frequently the most culpable. He that will have friends must show himself friendly; and attachment must be supported in the same way that it was gained.

We should also consider whether we do not complain without just cause. We talk of the wounds we have received, when perhaps they are hardly incisions skin deep. We are not to look for perfection; but remember that as every relation in life is filled with fallen creatures, so it will necessarily partake of human infirmity. And what, are we to exact from others a faultlessness which they never met with in us? Neither should we become in these cases, misanthropic; harbourers of suspicion; and railers against our fellow-creatures at large. David said, "All men are liars;" but it was "in his haste;" and he acknowledged his rashness and injustice.

We may, however, regulate and modify our regard, and especially our dependance and expectation: and we ought to hear the voice of the word, when it is feelingly enforced by events: "Cease from man, whose breath in his nostrils, for wherein is he to be accounted of?"

"Then let us trust the Lord alone, And creature-confidence disown: Sure as on creatures we depend, Our hopes in disappointment end."

Blessed is the man who trusteth in the Lord; and whose hope the Lord is. He will not, he cannot fail us. See the use the Prophet made of what he was compelled to acknowledge—"Trust ye not in a friend, put ye not confidence in a guide: keep the doors of thy mouth from her that lieth in thy bosom. For the son dishonoureth the father, the daughter riseth up against her mother, the daughter in law against her mother in law; a man's enemies are the men of