compassed with daily dangers. Our going out and our coming in, our rising up and our sitting down, expose us to a variety of accidents. So frail are the materials of our earthly fabric, that the movement of a limb, the stretching of an arm, the displacing of a muscle, may cause instantaneous sufferingssufferings which cannot be moderated by the skill of man, and which can only be terminated by the hand of death. "Our life contains a thousand springs, But fails, if one be gone: Strange, that a harp of thousand strings Our existence hangs upon a brittle thread, which the slightest breath may snap asunder. It is the mighty power of God alone that can preserve that thread unbroken to His own appointed time. And many and marvellous are the gracious interventions of His providence, by which he effects. that preservation. Appropriate and necessary for every human being is the prayer to be delivered "from battle, and murder, and from sudden death." To the true believer sudden death is, indeed, sudden glory; but to him it should not be merely on that account, the more desirable. Believers from the beginning of the world have generally been privileged to glorify their God in their departing moments: sudden death is an exception to the general rule. Even the most advanced believer should hesitate to express a desire for sudden removal. The cowardice of our nature too frequently conceals itself beneath this specious wish. Through fear of death, many are all their life-time subject to that bondage, from which the Saviour came to deliver us, Heb. ii. 15. Why should we be afraid to know that we are drawing near to the close of our earthly journey? An escape from this knowledge, and its accompanying sorrows, is all that can be really gained by sudden death. Glory is as sure to him who pines, as to him who drops in death. "Rather," should the Christian say, “Rather would I face the last enemy, than not be privileged to know that I am going so soon unto my God." The wish for sudden death is far too selfish in its character, to be indulged in by any true Christian. This wish is not in harmony with this thanksgiving of the Psalmist; and, though he will avoid, indeed, a conscious personal conflict with his last and dreaded foe, yet he will lose the opportunity to glorify his God, while his family and hist friends will be overwhelmed with deeper grief. Be not selfish then, O Christian, but rejoice when thou art preserved, and thank God, like David, when thy life is redeemed from destruction. Consider the conse Review thy various deliverances. quences to thyself, if thou hadst not been snatched from destruction. Had death surprised thee in an unprepared state, where now should be thy soul? Was not, therefore, the redeeming of thy life, at that moment, a twofold deliverance in one—a deliverance both of soul and body? Review thy various deliverances. Recall the expected shipwreck which was averted, the deadly battle where you fought unhurt, the alarming pestilence which raged around thee, and passed away. Remember the far distant land where death threatened thee amid a world of strangers or the hospitable board, where the very food thou wert enjoying well-nigh deprived thee, in a moment, of all vital power. Canst thou not recall a day to memory when thou hast left a house, a room, a chair, and speedily some accident occurred, which, but for that removal, had crushed thy limbs, if not destroyed thy life? A party of relatives and friends, had assembled in an ancient baronial mansion. A fearful storm had raged throughout the night, and the various details of its devastating effects, cast a gloom, in the morning, around the social board. As they were conversing, the proprietor, glancing toward one of the windows, vehemently exclaimed, "My favorite tree-my favorite tree!" Instantly he rose, and his friends followed him. The lady of the house was left alone at the head of the table, in the distant end of the room. Suddenly a high stack of chimneys fell heavily through the ceiling, and carried everything before it, sweeping the table and the centre of the floor, in a moment, to the lowest story of the house. A margin of floor, next the fireplace, remained firm, and there was the lady seated, safe but motionless, gazing with horror into the yawning chasm opened at her feet. The various members of the company were also safe. From the deep recesses of the different windows, they were gazing anxiously upon that favorite tree, as it rocked to and fro under the fury of the tempest; and little did they conceive that the Great Preserver of men was at that very moment, by their fear for its loss, redeeming their own lives from destruction. Hast thou, Reader, ever experienced any such deliverance ? Hast it ever been said to thee, "One foot further, one moment longer, and you must inevitably have been lost?" Who thus directed thy movements with such timely precision? Who snatched thee from the danger thou then sawest? Thy ever-watchful Lord-thy ever-wakeful friend. Be thankful: be very thankful. Acknowledge gladly, and gratefully, thy preservations from all dangers seen and felt. Forget not also to bless God for mercy vouchsafed in all the unseen and unknown dangers from which he has redeemed thee. Eternity alone will reveal how many, and how wonderful, through this mortal life, have been our deliverances unawares, from destruction by the ever-watchful care of our heavenly Father. Review thy various deliverances. In the dark night, how many have they been, and in the bright day, how varied? Thy walks abroad for health-thy toil and labor for the daily bread-thy movements to and fro, on land and sea, are all dependent upon God. Fire might seize thy dwelling-or the midnight robber disturb thy slumbers-an unnoticed descent might cause thy fall, or a rough elevation trip thy foot, or the smooth ice occasion thy stumbling-the everwatchful providence of God, in each or all of these, it may be, has redeemed thy life from destruction. Perhaps, however, Reader, not one of all these evils has ever once come nigh to thee? It may be, therefore, that thou hast never thought of any deliverance, or offered to thy God any thanksgiving. Take shame to thyself. Thou hast been enjoying continual deliverance; and because it has been unbroken, thou hast not noticed it. Shouldst not thou rather, therefore, have been the more observant, and have given the greater praise? Alas! that we should need the occasional approach of danger to remind us of our general safety! O how we prize our blessings when we have feared to lose them. Because we have no trials, we look upon our uninterrupted security as a matter of course. Mercies are rained about us, daily, as the manna from heaven, till we cease to regard them as blessings direct from God, or indeed as blessings at all. How many like Hezekiah "render not again according to the benefit done unto them." 2 Chron. xxxii. 25. An almost miraculous deliverance may have rescued a sinner from destruction, and yet not a spark of gratitude be elicited from his adamantine heart. Vows are uttered, and prayers are offered, in the prospect of danger; but no sooner is that danger passed, than the vows are forgotten, and the prayers are discontinued. Strive, Christian, to retain a thankful spirit. Pray for a heart ever sensible of thy Saviour's goodness. Abhor ingratitude. Cultivate a lively remembrance of mercies received. It is a grievous thing after awhile to forget a benefactor. To begin to give our affections to the world and to turn them away from Him who has redeemed our life by the sacrifice of His own, is altogether unpardonable. God is nearer to thee, O believer, than the nearest danger. If it be His will to redeem thee, nothing can possibly destroy thee. The enemy may be close in pursuit behindthe mountains may encompass thee on either side-and the impassable sea may lie before thee. Destruction may seem inevitable, and deliverance altogether impossible. But all |