observed that he must take care of his health, he replied, "That is left in the hands of another," and he hastened off to catch his train. A few days later the sad intelligence was received that he had breathed his last, having succumbed to a severe attack of inflammation of the lungs. Those who knew the deceased believe that he led a blameless and useful life, that he was quite prepared for his summons, and that he will receive the high commendation of the Great Judge-"Well done, good and faithful servant."

On

at Heywood, and, with the rest of his family, attended the New Church place of worship in that town. He had previously spent some time in business engagements at Burnley, where, in conjunction with several other New Churchmen, he laboured hard amid many discouragements and with much selfdenial to establish a Society. Some measure of success for a time attended this effort, but his removal from the town, combined with other courses, led in the end to the dissolution of the Society. Mr. Bentley manifested the same interest in the cause of the new dispensation at other places; but where- Died, Nov. 22, 1876, at Nottingham, ever his lot was cast, he ever considered Mr. W. Thornton, aged 49. Our deit to be his duty to remember his con- parted and deeply - lamented friend nection with the Society at Ramsbottom. became acquainted with the doctrines of He joined this Society many years ago the New Church at Melbourne, during when it was first regularly organized, the pastorate of the late Rev. W. and maintained his fellowship with its Mason, for whom he always entertained members to the end of his earthly life. a profound respect and reverence. He was one of its first trustees, and his removal to Nottingham he joined the took an active interest both in the Society there, and by his wise counsel, Church and Sunday School, cheerfully for many years, contributed largely to undertaking whatever duties his abilities its "peace and prosperity." He was a enabled him to discharge in a useful man of vigorous intellect, which he manner, and readily assisting every exercised chiefly in New Church_philoeffort to promote the general welfare of sophy. Seldom, indeed, have we known these institutions. Those who com- a man so thoughtful, so deeply percep menced and advanced in life with him remember him as a steady, industrious, and upright business man; as a Christian, who in all his relations with the world, and under all the circumstances peculiar to our earthly condition, kept in view the important truth that this world is only a preparatory state for an infinitely better world, and that life here is only valuable as it is made the groundwork for the happier life to come. Although in later years Mr Bentley was prevented from keeping up his regular attendance at his own Church, on account of its distance from his home, yet his visits have been frequent, and his smiling face, his kind and genial disposition, and the hearty cheerfulness with which he entered into any work, have often encouraged his Ramsbottom friends in their severest struggles. The circumstances attending his last visit to this place are somewhat remarkable. His signature was required in order to release the Society from an awkward position with respect to its new premises, and after having signed the document, on his bidding his friends farewell, one of them, noticing that he seemed unwell,

tive, so kind, and so manly in all his ways and words and deeds. But, physically, he was infirm, subject to periodical affliction, which he always bore with extraordinary fortitude and resignation. On several occasions he represented the Nottingham Society at Conference, and so became known and respected by many friends of the Church. During his last illness he passed through severe and protracted suffering, but no murmur ever escaped his lips. "The statutes of the Lord had been his song in the house of his pilgrimage," and they still continued his comfort and consolation. On the day he died he had a long sleep, the result of a composing draught; when he awoke, he asked how long he had slept, and on being told three or four hours, he replied, "It has been beautiful!" He partook of a grape or two, and then remarked, he had not had his sleep out," and "if I sleep long," he continued, "let me have it out, and then it will be beautiful!" He did sleep long and quietly too, but on awaking his friends saw that the parting hour had arrived. He never spoke again.

"And He said unto them, Which of you shall have a friend, and shall go unto him at midnight, and say unto him, Friend, lend me three loaves; for a friend of mine in his journey is come to me, and I have nothing to set before him? And he from within shall answer and say, Trouble me not: the door is now shut, and my children are with me in bed; I cannot rise and give thee. I say unto you, Though he will not rise and give him, because he is his friend, yet because of his importunity he will rise and give him as many as he needeth."-LUKE xi. 5-8.

THE parables of our Lord, considered simply as natural illustrations of religious truth, are distinguished for their simplicity, their beauty, and their power. In all these respects nothing can equal the parables of the good Samaritan, the prodigal son, the rich man and Lazarus: the good Samaritan, as illustrating the nature of unsectarian and disinterested charity; the prodigal son, as exhibiting the tenderness of Divine love and the efficacy of sincere repentance; the rich man and Lazarus, as showing death to be the great leveller of all outward distinctions, and eternity the revealer and the rewarder of good and evil.

There are, however, a few, and only a few, of these charming pictures on which there rests some degree of obscurity. The parables of the labourers in the vineyard, the unjust steward, the unjust judge, present points seemingly at variance with the subjects they are intended to elucidate. The parable of the labourers seems to teach that the earliest and the latest possible entrance on the religious life secures the same measure of reward; the unjust steward appears to commend the wisdom of the serpent without the harmlessness of the dove; and the unjust judge seems to teach that God grants to impor

D

tunity what He refuses to give to earnest prayer. This same doctrine seems enforced in the parable of the man who went to borrow three loaves from his friend at midnight. Reluctance on the part of God to grant the petitions of His creatures is, of course, only an appearance. That we do not always receive at once an answer to our prayers is true. But that the Almighty withholds His gifts to assert His sovereignty, or to test the faith and patience of His creatures, is a mistake. Whatever hindrances there be to the descent of God's gifts, they are all on our side, not on His. It is either because we ask amiss, or that our faith is too weak, or our desires too languid, that we ask and receive not. Prayer works out its own purpose, not because it changes the mind of God and makes Him more willing to give, but because it changes our state and makes us more ready and fit to receive. The promise therefore is not merely to prayer, but to persevering prayer; not to a single act, but to a sustained effort. It is often in the darkest states that the mind is impelled to seek relief in prayer, and that the need is felt of the good which we seek from the Author of good. The darkness cannot be dispelled at once. It was at midnight that one was supposed to go to his friend to borrow the three loaves. Midnight is a crucial time. It is the end and the beginning, the turning point between the day which has gone and the day which is to come, between the setting and the rising sun. In the spirit it is the state which is intermediate between the old life and the new, and between an old state and a new, when the mind begins to turn from the past to the future, and when sadness for the departed glory is succeeded by hope for the coming brightness. It is the crisis of our spiritual state-the time of decision. It was at midnight that the cry was raised, "Behold, the bridegroom cometh; go ye out to meet him." It was then that the virgins awoke from their slumbers, and arose and trimmed their lamps; and that the wise went in with the bridegroom to the marriage, and the door was shut; and that the foolish vainly prayed the bridegroom to open and admit them. There, in the parable of the ten virgins, the beginning of the new life is a marriage, and He whose advent, whether into the world or into the individual mind, makes all things new is the Bridegroom. Here, in the parable we are considering, He is the Father of the family. His children are with Him in bed. The angels repose in the bosom of His love, safe under the protection of His wisdom. The suppliant at the door of heaven is not like the foolish virgins, who had neglected all their opportunities. He is the Bridegroom's and Father's friend. A

sudden and unforeseen demand is made on his hospitality, which he is unable at the moment to supply. In this emergency he seeks to obtain from his friend the means of entertaining a friendly guest. His friend refuses to listen to his unseasonable petition; but what he would not give to friendship he at last grants to determined importunity. And this is given to us as an encouragement to ask, and seek, and knock, assured that every one will receive by unwearied perseverance what he may fail to obtain by any single act of impassioned devotion.

Without understanding more of the parable, or supposing there was nothing more in it to be understood, we may see clearly enough the highly useful lesson it was designed to teach. Yet Divine wisdom does not clothe itself with unnecessary expressions or unmeaning symbols; and those who can pierce its outer covering, and find its recondite sense, obtain an ampler and a richer instruction. One great advantage we derive from the interior meaning of the Word is this: it enables us to know more of God and more of ourselves; for the Word is at once a revelation of the mind of God and of the mind of man. It teaches the relation that exists by creation between them, and it shows how the mind of man, now fallen and alienated, is to be brought again into harmony with the mind of God, and into conjunction with Him. Conjunction with God is the end of all religion, therefore of all the graces and virtues of religion—of love and faith, piety and works. These bring us into harmony with God, and make us at one with Him. But conjunction with God is the result, not simply of the presence, but of the conjunction of love and faith, of piety and works; and so of the will and the understanding, and of the inner and the outer man. The great Archetype and origin of all this harmony and unity in the human mind, is the union of Divinity and Humanity in the Person of the Lord. He and He alone is perfect Man. In Him all things are harmonized and united that finite and fallen man had put, and still puts, asunder. And regenerate humanity, however highly perfected, can never be more than a faint image of Him who reconciled all things unto Himself, whether they be things in earth or things in heaven (Col. i. 20).

It is for this reason that we can see the work of reconciliation between God and ourselves imaged in every work of reconciliation that regeneration effects between the discordant elements of our own nature, and the conjunction it effects between the acquired graces and virtues of the kingdom of heaven. Viewed in the light of this analogy,

the parable before us may yield us some still more searching knowledge and more edifying application of Divine truth.

Instead of heaven as a place above and beyond us, where God in His Humanity dwells in the presence of His angels, let us think of heaven as a state within us, or as a region of the mind, where the Lord is present in the good affections He has generated, either in the innocent heart of our childhood, or in the consenting will of our riper years. And instead of the world as a place without and around us, let us think of it also as a state within us, or as a region of the mind, where our worldly and natural affections reside. These two may be called the heavenly mind and the earthly mind-the spiritual and the natural. By one we have communication with heaven, by the other we have communication with the world. In fallen man these two minds are at variance with each other. The purpose of religion is to bring them into harmony and to unite them, so that of the twain may be formed one new man. In the parable these two minds are, however, represented as being not enemies, but friends; yet not in such perfect harmony as to reciprocate, instantly and freely, each other's affections and purposes. But the want of reciprocation seems to be only on the part of the higher and better mind. What can be the cause of this seeming want of sympathy where we should expect to find it strongest?

Let us reflect. When even a Christian is engaged in the concerns of this world, and is attending to his own temporal interests, his natural man with his thoughts and affections are awake and active, but his spiritual man with his thoughts and affections are inactive and asleep. For the time the door that communicates between the spiritual and the natural mind is shut, and his children are with him in bed. Then also is the spiritual night of his mind. Such is the state which the outset of the parable describes. But in the very midnight of his state, when his affections are turned earthward, and his thoughts are intent on temporal things, he is startled by the arrival of a friend who is on a journey, and whose claims to hospitality entirely change the current of his thoughts. It is not now of himself, but of his guest, that he thinks. The claims of friendship silence the calls of self-interest; and he whose thoughts were only of himself is now wholly occupied with the idea of providing for another. But he remembers or discovers that he has nothing to set before him. He had only provided for himself and for his own, and now when the affection of charity is awakened in his heart, he finds he has none of