soul," and being "satisfied," His joy will become their own!

(2.) The thought of His being near them and with them will impart to them joy.

It makes us happy to have those near us we love. We never enjoy friendship so much as when that friend is by our side. We may be #cheered from time to time by an absent brother's letters, his kind messages, and warm expressions of attachment; but the written epistle does not supply the blank of the living one-we long to see him face to face ere our joy can be complete.

So in Heaven with Jesus. "In Thy presence," O Saviour! "there is fulness of joy." Then and there shall that presence be fully unveiled;-the prayer of Moses for the first time fully fulfilled, "I beseech Thee shew me Thy glory.'

If even in this twilight world the Christian can say, in the enjoyment of a present Saviour, "It is good for me to be here," how good to be there! If even now the messages of this absent Elder Brother, through His Word and Spirit, be cheering and joyful, what will be the vision and fruition of the Brother Himself! If the manna from the banqueting table be precious, what will it be to have the vision and fruition of the Master of assemblies!

(3.) The thought of His not only being with them and near them, but EVER with them, and EVER near them, will greatly intensify their joy.

A friend or brother comes from a distant land. His visit is cheering at the time, but it is only a passing glimpse. The joy of his home-coming is soon damped by the necessity or summons again to return. The joy of the disciples in having their Lord with them in the days of His flesh was sadly clouded by the announcement, "It is expedient for you that I go away." "When He said these things unto them," we read, "sorrow filled their hearts."

Not so will it be with His second and more glorious coming. "The Master is come," will be the joyful message and cry, "and He will never more be taken from us"-He will be no longer "a wayfaring man that turneth aside to tarry for a night"—no farewell tear will ever again be shed,no Olivet in Heaven, like the earthly one, where He is to be "parted from them!" Oh, the joy comprehended in that key-note to the song of the Redeemed, "And so we shall be EVER with the Lord!"

(4.) One other element of the joy of the Redeemed in Heaven in having Jesus with them, is that His presence will through eternity be the pledge and guarantee of their safety.

The Tree of life in the first Eden was the guarantee of Adam's safety, so long as he continued faithful to his Maker. Christ is the Tree of Life in the midst of the heavenly paradise-the immortal pledge of His people's covenant security. "Because I live ye shall live also." Their happiness through eternity is secured by His meritorious work; they are there as His blood-bought trophies; -their presence in heaven is an answer to the prayer we are now considering;—it is the glorious Victor claiming His purchased rights, "Father, I WILL." And not till He revokes that "will"-in other words, not till an unchanging Saviour be

come changeable-can His people's happiness be altered or impaired.

Reader! learn as a practical lesson from all this, how little it matters where the locality of Heaven is. It is "with Christ." That is enough. In vain need we speculate where Scripture is silent about the circumstantials of a coming world of bliss. But be this world where it may, Jesus is there! "With ME! where I AM!" and the Christian needs no more. The last words of invitation of Jesus to His Church, when that Church is taking its transition step from the militant to the triumphant state, will be, "Come, ye blessed of my Father!" Observe, it is not, "Go, ye blessed, to some paradise of my providing. I am about to return to my heavenly throne. I have marked out some new Eden for you. Some blissful solitude where you can reign alone. But though separated from me, I have made provision for the fullest measure of joy.” No; this would hush every harp, and cloud every spirit. It would be like sending them to a universe without a sun. It would be to tell them they were to be dependent on the fitful lustre of glimmering stars. But it is, "COME, ye blessed! Come with ME! I ascend to my Father and your Father-to my God and your God. We go together. I will be your forerunner. I will shew you the path of life. My glory is to be your glory. My gladness is to be your gladness. Enter ye into the joy of your Lord."

Oh, in some exalted sense, may we not put the words of the apostle into the mouth of his Lord and Master, and suppose Him thus to address His saints on the great day-"What is my joy or crown of rejoicing? Are not ye in my own presence?"

The prayer of Jesus we have been considering, is ascending now. It has been ascending and fulfilling for six thousand years. Though unseen to mortal eye, He, the great covenant Angel, is even now standing before the throne, with the breastplate of His unchanging priesthood. The hand that was once transfixed to the tree is pointing to the names engraven there, and saying, "Father, I will" that those here imperishably inscribed "be with me where I am."

With what solemn significance may we connect the utterance of that prayer with every believer's death-bed! The Church on earth may be weeping and mourning over some bright light on the eve of being extinguished, wondering, perhaps, at the mysterious providence which is about to carry bereavement into some stricken household. Could they listen to the transactions in the upper sanctu ary, every repining word would be hushed into silence. They would find the death-bed on earth was the answer to the request in Heaven-"Father, I will that this saint whom thou hast given me be with me where I am.

Christian! exult in this "blessed hope." Covet the possession of this fulness of joy ;-beholding Jesus as He is, rejoicing over you with all the joy of His infinite Godhead and glorified humanity. Here we are merely among the shallows of this ocean of infinite love; what will it be when we shall be "able to comprehend with all saints what is the height and depth, and length and breadth, and to know the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge!"

"HE'S RISEN!"

THE sun had set in gloom-
The Hope of Israel lay
Within a guarded tomb,

A form of lifeless clay;

And deep'ning shades of sorrow's night Crept o'er the hopes till then so bright.

"The Saviour promised long,
We trusted had appear'd-
Our glad hopes, were they wrong?
Can it be as we fear'd?

He whom we hail'd our King and Guide
Hath been condemn'd and crucified!"

So spake, in failing faith,

Two sorrow-burthen'd men,
While musing of His death,
And traversing again,

In anguish'd thought, the hour of dread
That saw their Lord to prison led.

What were His birth to them,
His life of purity,

His bitter death of shame,

The "It is finish'd!" cry? These had not proved Him strong to save, Had He not risen from the grave.

But scarce had early dawn
Illumed His vaulted prison
On that third glorious morn,

Ere the blest words, "He's risen !" "The Lord is risen!" Angels said, "Why seek the living 'mong the dead?"

Oh, joy too deep to tell!

The victory is won! Vanquish'd are death and hell By God's beloved Son : No charge against us can be made, Our death-involving debt is paid!

"No condemnation,"-none! No more desponding tears! Nought hath been left undone, No cause remains for fears: All who in Jesus now believe, Full pardon, endless life receive!

No separation,-none!

The Saviour lives for ever!
And we, in Him, are one,

Who is of life the Giver;
We shall arise, as He hath risen,
And meet Him in the clouds of heaven!

All doubts and fears o'erpast, Firmly "within the veil" Hope's "anchor" now is cast, Where storms can ne'er assail: The safety ours!-the love and praise Be Thine, O Christ, through endless days!

Now calmly of the dead,

The faithful fallen asleep, We think; their risen Head Will all His members keep: Their lives and ours are "hid" with Thee In God from all eternity.

Yes; and the time draws on When, earth encampments o'er, The battle fought, the victory won, We shall go out no more From the blest home the God of love Hath made for His redcom'd above.

-

WHEN we look around on God's works and see the laws by which they are regulated, the adaptation of part to part, the traces of design and exquisite workmanship everywhere visible, and how a presiding Spirit overrules the endless train of events, bringing light out of darkness, order out of confusion, good out of evil, we may well exclaim, Herein is wisdom. When we survey the vast masses that roll in space, giving light and heat in their appointed places at the appointed seasons, the mighty influences at work in nature, the thunders and lightnings, storms and winds, before which human power sinks into insignificance, and how these are ruled, as easily as the intention guides the hand, by that voice which says to the roaring sea, "Hitherto shalt thou come and no further, and here shall thy proud waves be stayed," we may well exclaim, Herein is power. When we see the happy tendencies of things how the same heaven bends over all how all the creatures are made to minister to man's enjoyment- and how the wants of every living thing are satisfied by the exuberance of each returning year, and all this in the face of aggravated and unnumbered sins, we may well exclaim, Herein is goodness. When we travel in thought to that dark land where hope and opportunity are for ever at an end, where death reigns in its most appalling forms, and nought is heard but the cries of tormented outcasts, and when we think that, throughout ages innumerable as the drops of rain, there will be no abatement of their sorrow and no dawn of hope on their despair, we may well exclaim, Herein is justice. When we contemplate that heaven where God sits in the midst of a rejoicing family-" a multitude which none can number, out of all tribes, and kindreds, and peoples, and tongues, and nations,"where all is light and love, and into whose pure transparencies "there shall in no wise enter any thing that defileth, or that worketh abomination, or that loveth or maketh a lie, but only they whose names are written in the Lamb's book of life," we may well exclaim, Herein is holiness. But it is when we turn to Calvary, and look at the Sufferer who there poured out His soul unto the death, amid tears, and agonies, and cries, and think that there the Son of God, himself the King eternal, immortal, and invisible, became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross, so that all the perfections of the Godhead were at once displayed and glori ously vindicated, that mercy and truth met together, righteousness and peace kissed each other, it is then we reach the climax of the song, and say, "Herein is love,-not that we loved God, but that He loved us, and sent His Son to be the propitiation for our sins," Calvary is one blaze of love.

year's absence from his family. Here the last letters for home were landed, and the vessel's head turned seaward.

The drifting ice, which invariably obstructs the passage to Baffin's Bay, was reached next day; and after an attempt to find a middle passage, in the course of which they were once caught in the margin of the floe, and only escaped by the assistance of the screw, it was resolved to look for an opening on the north. On the 12th, they reached Melville Bay, in lat. 79 deg., but found the whole sea to the northward blocked up by the ice. It was too late in the year to retrace their steps with a reasonable hope of reaching Barrow's Straits before the season closed; and in the hope of the autumnal winds drifting southwards the pack, and so opening up a passage, they anchored to a berg, and, after three days' calm, were gladdened by their anticipations being realised, and finding themselves steaming along a widening lane of water through the ice to the north-west. But on the following evening the pack closed in around them, and they were cut off from all power either of advancing or retreating.

The drift next day continued to the north-west, and carried the little vessel, of course, along with it; but on the 20th it ceased, and M'Clintock already began to apprehend the possibility of having to winter in the pack. It was a trying thought; but he could only abide his fate, and resolve, if it was to be such as he feared, "to repeat the trial next year, and in the end, with God's aid, perform his sacred duty." The next two days they drifted seven miles westward, and on the 27th, succeeded in forcing the yacht a mile and a half through the ice. It again closed in upon her, and in the two weeks that followed, they made by drift only twenty-seven miles. On the 13th September, they were within twelve or fifteen miles of comparatively open water, but the pack held them fast.

It was clear, at last, that there was to be no escape till spring, and the preparations for wintering were forthwith begun. They faced the gloomy prospect of more than half a year of absolute inutility with cheerful resignation; and the disappointment which the delay would entail on the highly-wrought expectations of Lady Franklin, appears to have caused more regret than any mere selfish anticipations as to themselves.

A school was opened on board by Dr Walker, the surgeon and naturalist of the expedition, and the spirit of inquiry shewn by his pupils is spoken of by M'Clintock as gratifying in the extreme. This, with the exercising the men in the construction of snow huts, as preparative for their spring travelling, and the hunting the seal and bear, did much to while away the monotonous days of their imprisonment. On the 1st of November, they bade farewell to the sun; on the 30th, the thermometer had descended to 64 deg. below freezing.

On the 4th December, the first death took place on board-the engine driver having fallen down a hatchway, and received such injuries that he died two days afterwards. "A funeral at sea," writes M Clintock, "is always peculiarly impressive; but this evening, at seven o'clock, as we gathered around the remains of poor Scott, reposing under a unionjack, and read the burial service by the light of lanterns, the effect could not fail to waken very serious emotions." And now, too, a steady drift from the north set in, and, day by day, they became

aware that, in their icy prison, they were driving further and further from their destination. In the course of December, they had been carried north- ! wards sixty-seven miles; and when the sun at last appeared above the horizon on 28th January, were close upon the latitude of Upernavik.

They had been aware of very narrow escapes from the rupture of the ice during the darkness that had now passed over; but daylight revealed to them "evidences of vast ice movements having taken place when they had fancied all was still and quiet, and they now saw how greatly they had been favoured, and what innumerable chances of destruction they had unconsciously escaped." By the 1st of March, they were south of the 70th parallel ; and on the morning of the 7th, the high lands of Disco were again seen.

But the lanes of water in the pack now began to open, and deliverance seemed near at hand. They had still, however, a perilous race to run before it was gained. While the pack remained entire, they were at least comparatively safe; the danger commenced, in the true sense of the word, when the vessel had to be steered among its shattered and heaving fragments. The month of April was full of days of anxiety and excitement. Gales from the north told severely on the continuity of the ice; and on one occasion a rift was escaped with difficulty. At last, on the 17th, the ship was fairly adrift, and, in a heaving gale, running fast along the narrow channels that opened up to the south and east; but only to be again frozen up on the following day. A week later, and the great swell of the Atlantic was felt for the first time, "lifting its crest five feet above the hollow! of the sea, causing its thick covering of icy fragments to dash against each other" and the little bark. "The pack had taken upon itself," as Dr Kane had expressed it, "the functions of an ocean," and, amidst a chaos of contending masses and shattered bergs, they had to steer their course to the open sea.

i

"How," writes M'Clintock, "can I describe the events of the last two days. It has pleased God to accord us a deliverance in which His merciful protection contrasts-how strongly!-with our own utter helplessness, as if the successive mercies vouchsafed to us during our long winter and mysterious icedrift had been concentrated and repeated in a single act. Thus forcibly does His great goodness come home to the mind." Knowing well that near the edge of the pack the sea would be very heavy and dangerous, he had yet taken advantage of a favourable wind to run what he well calls his ice-tourna ment, and make an effort for escape. A few hours after the wind failed, and the vessel had to trust to her steam-power alone. By this time the swell of the ocean, covered with countless masses of ice and numerous large berg-pieces, to touch one of which, latter must have been instant destruction, was rising ten feet above the trough of the sea. The shocks became alarmingly heavy; it was necessary to steer head on to the swell, which was sufficient to send the waves in showers of spray over an iceberg sixty feet high, as they slowly passed alongside. Gradually, as the day wore on, the swell increased into a sea; but still, as by magic, they escaped all contact with any but the young ice, and, by the afternoon, found the latter become more loose, and clear spaces of water visible ahead. They steered on at greater speed-received fewer, though still more severe shocks-had room at length to steer clear of the

heavier pieces-and at last, at 8 p.m. on the 25th, "emerged from the villanous pack, and were running fast through straggling pieces into a clear sea. The engines were stopped, and Mr Brand (the engineer, and the only one since the death of Scott able to work them) permitted to rest, after eighteen hours daty." "Throughout the day," says M'Clintock, "I trembled for the safety of the rudder and screw. Deprived of the one or the other, even for half an hour, I think our fate would have been sealed. . . . On many occasions the engines were stopped dead by ice checking the screw; once it was some minutes before it could be got to revolve again. Anxious moments those! After yesterday's experience, I can understand how men's hair have grown gray in a few hours. Had self-reliance been my only support and hope, it is not impossible that I might have illustrated the fact. Under the circumstances, I did my best to insure our safety, looked as stoical as possible, and inwardly trusted that God would favour our exertions. What a relief ours has been, not only from eight months' imprisonment, but from the perils of that one day! Had our little vessel been destroyed after the ice broke up, there remained no hope for us. But we have been brought safely through, and are all truly grateful, I hope and believe."

During the 242 days in which they had been imbedded in the ice, they had been carried southwards

no less than 1385 miles, the longest drift ever known. They now steered for Holsteinborg, a port of Green| land; and, after a short stay to take in provisions, began again to coast southwards to their old quarters in Melville Bay, which, after more than one hard battle with the ice, and a narrow escape of leaving their vessel on a reef of rocks near Buchan Island, on which she ran aground, they reached on the 19th June, two months earlier than in the previous year. The passage across Baffin's Bay to the mouth of Lancaster Sound was still one of extreme difficulty, in the course of which the imprisonment of last year seemed more than once likely to be their fate again; but, on the 16th July, they were fairly over, and "dodging about in a tub of water" off Cape Warrender.

The ice still blocked up the whole of Lancaster Sound, and three weeks were devoted to a visit to Pond'e Bay, some seventy miles further north, and to a close interrogation of the Esquimaux tribes in the vicinity, as to some rumours of wrecks reported to have taken place in their neighbourhood, but which it was ascertained were unfounded. On the 9th of August they were again off Lancaster Sound, now comparatively open; and, two days later, anchored off Beechey Island, where, as already mentioned, Franklin spent his first winter.

On the 16th, the Fox sailed from Beechey Island for Peel Channel, by which it was hoped that an

locked ice streaming out of the opening. The next day they had forced their way half through, but the lock to the west was so consolidated, that though seventeen days were spent in repeated efforts, and they were at last enabled on the 6th September to steer right through the passage, all further progress was at last abandoned as hopeless, and the yacht, on the 28th, made secure for the second winter in a little creek on the northern shore. "To-day we are unbending sails and laying up the engines, uncertainty no longer exists, here we are compelled to remain; and if we have not been so successful in our voyaging as a month ago we had good reason to expect, we may still hope that Fortune will smile upon our more humble, yet more arduous pedestrian explorations-Hope on, hope ever!'"

(To be continued.)