So we write as politicians, and so we feel. But there is a higher view of the subject, which in these pages it would be strange and almost unnatural to omit. In Ireland, that realm of spiritual darkness, light is bursting in, and Antichrist is trembling in one of his chief dependencies. No wonder, then, if Satan, no longer allowed to keep his goods in peace, should stir up his agents and pour out his impotent wrath. But it is for those among whom the true light has shined so marvellously of late, to return good for evil, and to repay Romish anathemas with hearty prayer for the conversion of their benighted fellow countrymen. Among the many evidences that the Irish revivals are in the main the work of God, none are more satisfactory than that which arises from the altered conduct of the Orange party, especially on the 12th of July. Father Matthew reduced large districts for a time into complete subjection to his teetotalism; but the spell vanished, and drunkenness resumed her sway. Animal passions may be subjugated for a time by a stronger passion; but the deeper instincts, pride, and hatred, and revenge, and the sense of insult longing to retaliate, these are only driven out by what Dr. Chalmers calls "the expulsive power of a new affection." And when their opposites are introduced, and their forsaken home is occupied by the spirit of love, by long-suffering, and a hearty desire to promote the happiness of those we hated and who hated us, the change must be of God. This is the infallible test: "by their fruits ye shall know them."

Upon the whole, the retrospect of 1859 may give rise to these reflections. Our country has passed through a crisis of no ordinary danger. Whether peace or war impended, seemed to hang upon the decisions of one mind whose mysterious reserve his own council is not allowed to penetrate. Upon this point some of our countrymen affect to be incredulous; but their speeches within the last few weeks show that they are utterly in the dark as to the real intentions and policy of Napoleon; for no two of them agree. What is the meaning of his gigantic army? of his now powerful navy, in ships of the line, till within the last few months, superior to our own? True he has no cause of complaint against us; but what ground of quarrel had he with Austria in January last? The necessities of his position and the ambitious restlessness of his army drive him onward, and as a nation we ought to feel grateful that we close the year in peace. From war we at least have nothing to hope. Conquests we disdain; of military glory we have had enough; we wish to cultivate the arts of peace and enjoy its blessings; and if we prepare for war, it is on the ancient maxim, that we desire peace.

It is an astonishing proof of the elasticity of our resources, that commerce and trade, and the internal state of the country, show signs of prosperity. The revenue steadily increases; the gaols and workhouses have fewer inmates. The strikes of the masons in London, and of other trades in different parts, prove the increasing demand for labour, and the accumulation of capital. Would that we could speak with equal satisfaction of our progress in morals and religion. But trade morality is low amongst us. The confession is made publicly, and with shame and apprehension, by our great mercantile men. religion we can only speak with hesitation; for it is to so great an

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extent an affair between the soul and God, that no outward tests, except those of a negative kind, can be applied with certainty. There seems to be more earnestness, and amongst pious people more humility, a deeper sense of our national transgressions, and an earnest desire for more of brotherly union and for a higher standard of spiritual life in the church and these are hopeful signs.

And thus we enter upon another year. May we once more be permitted to invite our readers to join no small number of their fellow Christians in dedicating not only the first of January, which is Sunday, but, if possible, the following day, to prayer and intercession. Dr. Marsh renews his invitation to united prayer for a special outpouring of the Holy Spirit. We have before us a similar appeal from our brethren in India, countersigned by a number of excellent men, churchmen, presbyterians, and dissenters at home. They suggest that the second week in January should, as far as possible, be consecrated as a time of special prayer that God would now pour out his Spirit upon all flesh, so that all the ends of the earth might see his salvation; that on the first day, that is, on Monday the 8th, be a holy convocation for solemn fasting, humiliation, and prayer, and that on the last day, that is, Sabbath the 14th, be a holy convocation for thanksgiving and praise; that the intervening time be spent in private and social exercises of prayer and praise, as the circumstances of each community may dictate; that all God's people, of every name and nation, of every continent and island, be cordially and earnestly invited to unite with us in a similar observance of that time." There is something peculiarly affecting in such a circular coming from a heathen land. Our missions are beginning to re-act upon ourselves; and as of old the Macedonian converts stirred the zeal of older churches, so in these later days British Christians thankfully receive the monition of the new born churches of India, to join with them in wrestling mightily with God. Both we and they have our peculiar trials and especial blessings, and to both alike is given the privilege of humble intercession, for each other, for the whole family of Christ, and for the world without, which still "lieth in wickedness."

TO CORRESPONDENTS.

WE must repeat a request we have already made, and we regret that we should be compelled to do so. We are constantly solicited to give Reviews or Notices of books, laudatory they are expected to be of course,-out of regard to the feelings or religious views of the author, or our friendship for him, or his necessitous circumstances, or the charitable object he has in view. To comply with these solicitations would be an act of dishonesty on our part. Our office is, in its humble way, a judicial one; and if we recommend a book on any other grounds than its own merits, we betray our trust and mislead our readers. How long would the Christian Observer, or any other publication, survive under such a course of treatment, if it were found out? And if it be kept secret, are we not guilty of a palpable breach of good faith with our subscribers? Each applicant thinks his own case a rare exception; but we are ashamed to say that such exceptions come to us in almost every parcel we receive from our publishers. Charitable appeals must be made through other channels, or at least, if made by us, made openly and not under the disguise of a commendatory review.

"THEY rest not day and night." Who among mortals would have supposed that this is said of happy beings? So needful is rest to us, so intimately associated with our notions of happiness, this description sounds at first like an aggravation of torment. And yet it is said of the cherubim before the throne of God. How widely different, then, must their condition be from ours. With them there can be no fatigue after exertion; nor is the longest application of their faculties followed by exhaustion. This, as we know by painful experience, is not man's case. Perhaps it was never intended to be; for even in his perfect state, the day of rest was appointed and enjoyed.

This word has become one of the most expressive and delightful to human ears. We cannot live without rest. Our faculties fail, our powers are exhausted, if it be long denied. Almost any burden may be borne, if intervals of rest be granted; but restlessness who can bear? Rest, or relief, which is only another form of it, is perhaps our keenest sense of enjoyment. Toil, exhaustion, fatigue, perturbation, anxiety-these constitute a burden so heavy, so galling and irritating to the mind, that deliverance from them gives for the time more pleasure than the highest forms of positive delight. Hence the Divine Redeemer, who had taken our nature and our burden upon him, knew what feeling most effectually to appeal to in drawing sinners to himself: "Come unto me all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you REST." (Matt. xi. 28.)

Rest is best understood and most enjoyed in times of activity, in seasons of long-sustained labour or suffering. The idle man can never feel it; the man of mere routine tastes little of its sweets. The blessing is for him whose powers of body and mind

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are taxed and strained in doing or suffering the will of God. Ours is a day of activity and energetic labour, of constant occupation and bustle, often of anxiety. There is a continual tension of mind; and even simply to make ourselves acquainted with what is going forward in the world, and in the church of Christ, requires a great degree of mental toil. Never was rest more needful than in this headlong age; and for want of it, thousands break down. In the pride of self-confidence many scorn it. Many who seek it know not where it may be found. Like a sick man whose disease is unsubdued, they turn from one position to another, but find it not. How happy, then, are we to whom the secret is made known, that all true rest is found in Christ.

It is worthy of note that, in the passage just referred to, mention is twice made of this expressive word. Nor is it improbable that an important distinction is thus intimated. It would seem that the blessing of rest is presented under two different aspects, as belonging to different stages of christian experience. Such, at least, is our view of the passage.

The first promise of rest we should be disposed to limit to the carly experience of the christian believer hearing and obeying the Saviour's call. It is that relief, that rest for the weary spirit, which Jesus bestows upon the awakened sinner when he brings to Him the burden of his sins and fears. This rest, be it observed, is spoken of as a gift. "I will give you rest." He who called the heavy-laden one takes off the galling yoke and the oppressive burden with such words as He alone can speak within the heart, "Thy sins are forgiven thee." Then there is rest. There is now no condemnation; even the accusing conscience is hushed; for the voice which might have pronounced the sentence has spoken the pardon and dispelled all fear. Estrangement has given place to reconciliation between the soul and God. The result is rest and peace; such rest as the weary foot of the prodigal found when it crossed the threshold of his father's house; such peace as then took possession of his heart. Look upon that guilty and unhappy wanderer, as he sits beneath the once distant roof, gazing now upon his father's smile, now upon the robe, the ring, and the shoes. Ask him whether in the far country he ever experienced delight and joy equal in intensity to that rest which now pervades his soul and invigorates his limbs. Such rest, such happiness, his elder brother never knew. Beautiful emblem of that rest which Christ bestows upon the repentant sinner! He gives it. It is the result simply of coming unto him. How supremely important the inquiry, Has he given it to me?

The rest spoken of in the following verse wears another aspect. It is not, if we view it rightly, the result simply of coming to Christ weary and heavy laden; but rather the result of another process thus described: "Take my yoke upon you and learn of me." Neither is it represented as a gift. Given it undoubtedly is, and must be; but not directly, as in the first instance. It is rather

a continuous result, reached by a continuous course of action: "Take my yoke and learn of me, who am meek and lowly in heart, and ye shall find rest unto your souls."

The man who has just brought his burden to Christ, and received the gift of rest, has felt the misery and danger of that heavy load. It was that which compelled him to come. He has seen,

however, but very imperfectly as yet, its cause. He knows it to have been sin worthy of condemnation. But hitherto he has regarded it chiefly, if not entirely, as an accumulation of actual transgressions against the justice and goodness of God. Now, as he rests, freed from guilt and fear, he looks again at those transgressions, and finds that they came forth from the fountain of his evil nature within. And if he should forget to do this, not understanding that his newly-found rest is to teach him these things, to fit him to bear the Saviour's yoke, and to invigorate him for the arduous journey of his new life, he will soon be painfully reminded of the fact by the workings of that evil nature within him. It may be that he who is now rejoicing on the bank of the Red Sea safely passed, will ere long be found murmuring and desponding in the wilderness. He now discovers that it was the continual and almost unchecked outgoings of that corrupt heart, accumulating from day to day, which constituted his heavy burden, and defied all his efforts to remove the pain. He sees the nature and the source of his moral disease, and where the remedy must be applied. That which is now born of the Spirit must war against that which is born of the flesh; and the conflict begins. He will therefore still need rest, fresh rest, even as the wearied soldier does. From the first, his Saviour warned him of this; for when He took off the heavy burden, the galling yoke, He presented another to be worn instead. "Take my yoke upon you; for my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."

If that evil heart be still allowed, "like the troubled sea, to cast up its mire and dirt;" if the old self-will is to remain unsubdued; if the desires, the motives, the passions, are still to be under no controul, or in any measure under the controul of the carnal mind and a darkened understanding, there can be no continuous rest. "There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked." If the law in the members war so successfully against the law of the mind as to bring it into captivity to the law of sin, then instead of rest there will be the moan: "O wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me!" The restored prodigal, if we may again take up that illustration, may not be idle in his father's house, nor leave unnoticed and unsubdued that wandering disposition, that insidious self-will, which led him astray at the first, nor those evil habits which he afterwards contracted. If he do, his rest will ere long be exhausted, and even his father's house may become irksome again. He may remain in it for safety; but he will not find rest unto his soul. Let him become the most will