our judgment in the use of them, these two rules must be our guides. In different latitudes the mariner's compass varies, and is not always an unerring guide; but the sailor still by it steers his. course, for were he to forsake it he would soon be lost upon the world of waters. So our rules may not always unerringly guide us; but throw them overboard, and we are at once without course, aim, or object.

Aiming, then, at the spiritual profit of our readers, and considering everything else subordinate to that, it may be well supposed that our first inquiry must ever be, "Is the writer of this piece a gracious man? Does he bear marks of possessing an experimental acquaintance with the truth as it is in Jesus? Is he evidently taught of God?"

If, as far as we can judge, such be the case, our next inquiry is, "Is there any power or savour accompanying the piece? Does any dew or divine unction rest upon it? As we read it, do we feel our own souls sensibly profited! Are we reproved and condemned by it; are we strengthened, encouraged, revived, melted, softened, humbled; is any spirit of prayer felt, any faith, hope, or love drawn forth; does it enter into our conscience, touch the secret springs of the heart, fall with any weight or power upon our spirit; does it detect sin and make it hateful, discover Jesus and make him. precious; does it draw a sigh from the bosom, or a tear from the eye; does it separate from the world, give strength to fight against a wicked heart, and to mourn over its continual backslidings; does it draw us near to the tried and exercised children of God, and open to them our heart, our lips, our purse; in a word, does it edify and profit our soul?"

That any one piece in our monthly pages should do all this, how can we, how dare we expect? And yet if it do none of these, if no such effect in any degree be produced, why was it written, and above all, why was it inserted? If our pages are idly read, listlessly gaped over, and then carelessly thrown aside, how does the Gospel Standard differ from a newspaper? If no good, be done by it: no sad heart comforted, no drooping heart revived, · no doubting heart encouraged, no erring heart reproved, no cold heart warmed, no hard heart melted; if it convey no reproof, correction, instruction, or consolation; if it mislead instead of guide, harden instead of soften, engender carnality, worldliness, and death, instead of spirituality, heavenly mindedness, and life, why should we trouble ourselves any more with its publication?

Why weary eye, and heart, and head; why incur the odium of rejecting, and the responsibility of inserting pieces; why thrust ourselves forward among the churches as worthy of being listened to? But because it is our belief that good has been done, and is doing by us, we are encouraged to persevere.

The mode, degree, and effect of spiritual profit are sometimesmistaken. It is not the great and strong wind, the fire, or the earthquake by which the Lord usually speaks; but the still, small voice. Thunders may shake the sky, lightnings furrow the ground, hailstones desolate the earth, but these do not make the desert rejoice, nor the wilderness blossom as the rose. It is the stilly dropping rain, the gently falling snow, the calmly distilling dew which make the earth bring forth and bud, that it may give seed to the sower and bread to the eater... Thus good may be done by many a piece in our pages which does not lacerate by sudden conviction, nor fill the heart and mouth with songs of triumph. “Line upon line, line upon line; here a little, and there a little," is the usual mode of divine teaching.

"As in the days of flesh he grew

In stature, wisdom, grace;
So in the soul that's born anew,

He keeps a gradual pace."

İf, then, no sudden conversion nor marked deliverance attend the wide diffusion of the. Standard, if no cloud of witnesses rise up to call it blessed, as owing to it. instrumentally life from the dead or beauty for ashes, let it not be said that it labours in vain or spends its strength for nought."

An amount of silent good may be done by it; an unknown, unnoticed blessing may rest upon it; for the kingdom of God cometh not with observation, and is as the seed which springs and grows up we know not how: first the blade, then the ear, then the full corn in the ear. In villages and hamlets far distant from any preached gospel, among churches and congregations where the.. ministry is a dry breast, in the sick room whence persecuting relatives banish the Christian minister or friend, even in foreign lands where truth is neither preached nor known, in the Australian hut or Canadian loghouse, a piece from Rusk, or a letter from Huntington, not to mention liying correspondents, may be a messenger of mercy. "Cast thy bread upon the waters, for thou shalt find it after many days."

.

The edification, then, of our readers being our chief end and aim,

as we are bound to do all we can to promote it, so are we equally bound to avoid all that may hinder it. True religion, vital godli ness, the grace of God in the heart, is the most precious gift which the Lord can bestow. It is not only a blessing to its favoured pos sessor; it is a blessing to others also. But false religion, the mere show and pretence of grace, an empty profession destitute of all life and power, is but a curse—a curse to its miserable owner and to all that come under his influence. How culpable, then, should we be, knowingly and wilfully to foster any such delusion. But of this we should be guilty, if we admitted into our pages much that in our day passes for true religion. Dry and useless discussions; flattering letters to 'dear ministers" and "dear sisters;" the feeblest evidences, or no evidences at all, magnified into conspicuous deliverances; bitter and angry controversies; party spirit instead of the spirit of the gospel; light and foolish anecdotes; a hard, dry, general tone, as if to profess a sound creed were the same thing as faith in the Lord Jesus; a haughty preference of self and contempt of all others; great swelling words about gospel liberty and assurance, and keen cutting strokes against doubts, fears, and exercises-to all such miserable, soul-deadening matter would we say, "Get thee hence!"

But this necessarily circumscribes our range. By rigorously excluding all but what we think likely to profit the soul, we confine ourselves within narrow limits. And this has led some to complain that the Standard wants variety. What variety do they want? A variety of gossip and religious news? A variety of tell-tale rumours about divisions in churches, ministerial changes, setting up of new causes, number of persons baptized by Mr. So-and-So, steam-boat trips and tea-drinkings? Do they want a variety of anecdotes and old wives' tales, such as at anniversaries form the staple of pious conversation? Do they want the newest jest of the Rev. Mr. This, or the last slander of the Rev. Mr. That? Or do they want a sharp and angry controversy, abundantly spiced with personal reflections? They are not the first who want variety. Their predecessors in the wilderness said, "Our soul loatheth this light bread." They too wanted variety. Always manna from heaven, and always water from the rock, palled their appetite. "Our soul is dried away; there is nothing at all beside this manna before our eyes." O for a little variety!-a few "cucumbers, and melons, and leeks, and onions, and garlic," just to vary the manna! "Who will give us flesh to eat? We remember the fish which we did eat in

Egypt freely." To such a depraved appetite we hope never to

minister.

It is true that in the word of God there is divine variety. History, prophecy, song, proverb, narrative, letter, all contribute to diversify the inspired page. "The tree of life bears twelve manner of fruits." But be it borne in mind that, though there are "diversities of gifts, it is the same Spirit; though differences of administration, yet the same Lord; though diversities of operations, yet the same God which worketh all in all."

Following this divine pattern, we too would have variety. And have we it not? Have we not a piece from Rusk, a sermon from Erskine, a letter from Huntington, or some gracious correspondent, an Obituary sometimes, or an Experience?

As far as we can have variety consistently with our main object— the profit of our readers, let us have it. But do not let us seek variety for the mere sake of variety, lest our craving for variety lead us away from truth. If once we give way to this appetite for variety, why should we not go the whole length, if once commenced? We have professed Calvinism a good many years. Would not Arminianism be a variety? Always free grace! Would not free-will be an agreeable change? Must we always be Baptists? Would not infant sprinkling be a variety? Experience, experience, experience! must it always be experience? Hard, dry doctrine would surely be a variety. And to be always talking, writing, and preaching about power, and dew, and savour, and the blessing of God; why not a little sometimes about the power, and ability, and strength of man? All this would be variety, and to many, perhaps, of our readers an agreeable variety.

But it is to be feared that all this hankering after variety really springs from an iguorance of the power. Readers of experimental books are many of them like hearers of experimental ministers. Feeling no power nor sweetness in the word preached, it is to them a dull monotonous tale. They want something to touch their natural feelings or inform their judgments, and in many cases to take away that uneasy accusation of conscience, "If this be religion, I have none." Therefore they cry, It is always the same thing over and over and over again. We want something fresh, something new." And led away by this cry, some ministers have sought variety; and what have they found? Death.

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Here, then, we take our stand. If we can have variety consistently with power and savour, let us have it; but not variety at

the expense of edification. Gold, silver, brass, shittim wood, blue, purple, scarlet, were accepted as gifts for the tabernacle; nor were badger's skins, nor even a lock of goat's hair, refused. Here was variety. But all for the service of the tabernacle—all purified by blood, and sanctified by oil, and consecrated by the fire from heaven upon the altar, and the cloud-of glory on the mercy-seat.

Thus we do not object to variety, if similarly given and consecrated. Let it be a badger's skin or a lock of goat's hair, it will not be refused if purged with blood, anointed with oil, and consecrated by the Spirit. But let us not have such a variety as shall bring confusion into our pages, darkness into our mind, and death into our soul.

THE EDITORS.

THE CHOSEN GENERATION AND ROYAL PRIESTHOOD,
WITH THEIR TRUE MARKS AND CHARACTERS.
BY CHRISTOPHER COB.

"But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people; that ye should show forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light." (Peter ii. 9.).

"Go around about Zion; tell the towers thereof. Mark ye well her bulwarks, consider her palaces, that ye may tell it to the generation following. For this God is our God for ever and ever: he will be our guide even unto death." (Psalm xlviii. 12-14.) And again "He will surely hear the afflictions of the afflicted, and answer their cry," though they may now seem forsaken and forgotten, though abject and outcasts in the eyes of the world-as Christ was: " Disallowed, indeed, of men; but chosen of God, and precious." So was it with our Lord and Master, and so will it be with all those on whom the Father hath set his love in like manner. However the world may look on them, or they judge of themselves, yet in the eye of God it is thus: "Ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a peculiar people; that ye should show forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light."

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Now, there is great need to distinguish between one thing and another, that the trumpet may give a certain sound. Who are these chosen people" that are thus beloved? For it belongs not to all men: "I am not sent but to the lost sheep of the house of Israel." Many widows were in Israel, but only to one poor widow of Sarepta was Elijah sent. "It is not meet," saith Christ, "to take the children's bread, and give it to the dogs." Some are dogs, as some are children; and Peter tells Simon Magus plainly, "Thou hast neither part nor lot in this matter.". Lest every one should thrust in, there are bounds set; not all, but "ye, are a chosen generation." Not every one that 'says, Lord, Lord,' shall enter;" not even one that comes, and hears, and sits in the house among the children, is