Thy times are in His hand alone,
That hand which deals thy daily bread:
To him the coming hour is known,
That lay thee with the silent dead.

Would'st thou, a worm of earth, explore His counsels, hid from angel eyes? Indulge the impious wish no more,

Nor tempt thy God-"God only wise."

Enough, if through life's path to heaven, He deign to guide thy devious way; Enough, that grace and strength be given, Sufficient for the passing day.

1

WHERE ARE YOU GOING?

NOTHING can be more simple or more common than the question, "Where are you going?" yet, if rightly considered, it is a very startling inquiry; and should excite much serious thought in him to whom it is addressed. Whatever more immediate object he may have in view, whether he be preparing for a long journey, or a short excursion, walking into the garden, the next field, the next house, or the next room; or whether we remain stationary, still one reply may be rightly given by all-old and young, rich and poor, all, without exception, can answer, "I am going to the grave: from thence I going to judgment; and from the judgment-seat 1 am going either to heaven or to hell."

am

"I see you are putting on your holyday

clothes, and by your looks I judge that you have a great deal of pleasure in prospect: pray where are you going?" "I am going to the grave." How strange would such an answer sound in the ears of a thoughtless companion! but is it not far more strange that it should so rarley occur, seeing that it is the simple and obvious truth? If a man was informed that an immense property had been left to him, and you met him travelling towards the spot, it would appear quite natural that he should answer your question with the joyful intelligence, “I am on my way to take possession of a valuable estate." If you met a wretched criminal approaching the place of execution, would not the melancholy reply be expected, "I am going to suffer the penalty of the laws which I have broken." In either case, though some time and distance, and many objects might intervene between either of these persons and the end of his journey, the importance of the event in view would render them inconsiderable in his sight; and you would see nothing extraordinary in the replies as given above. Certainly the thoughts of each would be most intently fixed on that end: and little in

terest would be excited by any passing event on the road, that did not refer to it.

Compare the anxiety of these people with the almost universal indifference that you behold among those around you, every one of whom is really and certainly on his way, either to a throne of glory, an eternal inheritance of blessedness, or to a state of everlasting misery and despair. Ask them seriously-to which of these places are you going?—and some will wonder at you, others will mock and jest, while the remainder, perhaps, will courteously reply, that they hope they are going to heaven. And what is heaven? The habitation of God: the place where his immediate presence irradiates the throne of his glory; where a great multitude, which no man could number, of all nations, and kingdoms, and people, and tongues, stand before that throne, and before the Lamb, clothed with white robes, and having palms in their hands: where the voice of many angels, even ten thousand, and thousands of thousands, is continually heard, yielding glory, and praise, and thanksgiving to the Lord God omnipotent; where the unceasing song of happy spirits ascends to the Lamb,