Idol itself is placed as a stone step at the porch, so that every worshipper as he enters the sanctuary may tread the object of former adoration under foot. While we rejoice in this and every other instance of the overthrow of darkness and superstition before the light and power of truth; and while on looking at the building and the fallen Dagon, we should probably exclaim with serenity, "What hath God wrought?” we might also gather from the circumstance some materials for close home reflections, and great searchings of heart.

Perhaps we think very highly of this change from heathenism to Christianity, and count it as a most remarkable proof of the practical effect of the preached word, and of what manuer of entering in the missionaries must have had when these Indians, like the Thessalonians, in St. Paul's time, thus "turned from idols, to serve the living and true God."

But the deceitful heart, who that knows any thing of its depths and winding, and desperate wickedness, but is aware how possible and even easy it is to trample some idol publicly under foot; to feel complacence in having put away some ignorant notion, and received a purer and more enlightened form of doctrine, and yet to be really an idolater still. The poor Hindoo, when once convinced that an idol was nothing at all, and that as a stock or stone it could neither hurt nor deliver him, might without much effort or self-denial give it up, treat it with scorn and contempt; and each Sabbath as he passed the threshold of the sacred house, and trod on the image before which he had once bowed down, he might be amazed at the thought that he ever could have been so

deluded; yet with all this fair show of Christianity, he might not be a Christian indeed. His outward acts might be satisfactory, yet his heart, will, and affections be on the side of sin. And so with many a professor. It is true that in many things to which he was once devoted he now sees nothing. He wonders how he could have been so taken up with dances, sports of the field, cards, songs, jovial parties, and such like; yes, he can now trample them under foot, and blame and lecture those who still follow them. Yet in turning away from these empty vanities, he may not do much violence to his inclinations. Circumstances may have occurred to alter his views, and in the society of religious people, and much engaged in religious exercises and employments, he may gradually have lost the taste for such pursuits. But is there no heart idol, no secret object in the chambers of imagery to which he cleaves? And when he reads the word of Christ, saying, "Give me thine heart;"

They that are Christ's have crucified the flesh, with the affections and lusts;" can he bring out every thing, and cast it down before Jesus? He feels, he owns, the truth of the divine word, he may even be conscious that happiness alone is to be found in a cordial surrender of the heart to the Saviour, but is it not then too true that some master lust, some besetting sin, which it is, nevertheless, folly and madness to allow, shakes for him his vesture of flesh, and whispers, must we part for ever!

Again, it is very possible to say with Jehu, "Come and see my zeal for the Lord." We may sacrifice health, strength, time, money, to the service of God, the professor may leave the social cirele, quit his

comfortable fire side, and amidst rain and wind, traverse the wild open moor to visit some sick bed, or expound the Scriptures to a few humble cottagers, yet this may be sacrificing to his own net, and be a far easier work than to turn away the eye from beholding some forbidden attraction, and to lift up the voice in hearty prayer for strength to hate every false way.

The mere professor, equally with the genuine disciple, may groan being burthened, and cry out, "My soul cleaveth to the dust;" but the truly regenerate heart, will not lie on the ground, but get up, put away the accursed thing, and implore to be quickened according to God's word.

Are we then conscious of some idol, some mastersin, which, though we have openly professed Christ, is secretly nourished in our bosom, and impedes the work of God? Do we know what it would cost us most to abandon? What it is which would be like plucking out an eye? O if we would have freedom of soul, a rejoicing in Christ, an assurance of acceptance, a good hope of salvation; if we would walk at liberty, converse familiarly with Christ, and experience the favor which God beareth unto his people, we must bow the neck to the easy yoke of Jesus, and submit every thought to him.

Let us beware of imposing npon ourselves by thinking that we by our zeal and usefulness are doing God service, and rendering ourselves acceptable to him. Behold to obey is better than sacrifice, for

'What can sacrifice of thine,

Offered in thy strength and will,
Gain thee at that inner shrine,

Where he seeks obedience still.'

deliverance is possible. Man's extremity is God's opportunity. In our weakness thoroughly felt God appears. Exercising faith in the death of Christ. Much and earnest prayer for the sanctifying grace of the Spirit, and resolutely and prayerfully avoiding the outward sources of temptation. These are the means by which the effectual grace of God works his perfect work on the hearts and wills of his believing people. O may every poor struggling captive soul who reads this be able to say with the blessed Augustine, 'Lord, I am thy servant; thou hast broken my bonds in sunder. The whole of my evil lay in a will stubbornly set in opposition to thine; but thou didst cast out my free will, freed me from my infatuating vanities-to love which had been my dread, to part with that which is now my joy.' TRE.

SCRIPTURE REFLECTION.

"Commune with your own heart.”

In

THE duty inculcated by the Psalmist in these few words is a most important one: and exceedingly profitable will the right performance of it be found. Nothing, under God, tends so much to our spiritual growth and advancement in the divine life, as this communing, or talking with, our own hearts. auother psalm (the 77th.) David speaks of himself as practising what he here counsels others to do. "I commune," says he, "with my own heart! and my spirit made diligent search!" We are, all of us, more or less, apt to pry with undue inquisitiveness into the

religious state of our friends and neighbours; neglecting, at the same time, and as a natural consequence, the means of obtaining a knowledge of our own. The true Christian continually strives and prays against this tendency though, indeed, he feels a lively interest in the welfare, temporal and spiritual, of his fellow creatures; though he sympathizes with them in their distresses, and rejoices with them in their unpolluted joys; yet his great concern is, not whether such or such a person is in the "narrow way," has a good title to heaven through faith in the Redeemer's blood and righteousness; but whether he himself has a clear undoubted title to an "inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away." Influenced by this salutary feeling, he is more forward to hold converse with himself than to criticise the conduct, and search into the state of those around him: and often, therefore, will he be setting himself to the important duty of communing with his own heart. Now, though serious, secret, meditation and reflection is not a work to be performed occasionally; now and then, just as particular circumstances or inclination would seem to invite-for it is a daily duty, and should be an habitual one-yet there are certain seasons and times which more peculiarly call us to this wholesome exercise of mind. The evening of the Sabbath, for instance, is a time not only most fitting in itself for self-examination and reflection; but it is also a time when, having just enjoyed unusual blessings, the soul is emphatically called upon to enquire how she has used them. O my soul, what good hast thou obtained the past day, a day of means and mercies? Hast thou been helped on and refreshed in thy pilgrimage to Zion?