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GOD has been good to our land, and we may hear his voice in the words of our text. Light came to us, and still shines on us in all its bright beams, while large parts of the world are still in the gloom of death. Christ, as the Sun of truth and the Source of life, has sprung upon us, and shed on us his rich rays of love. Well may God say to us, "Walk while ye have the light." A man who is on his road home, if he does not know the path, will walk while he has the light and can see, and sleep when it is dark: he dare not stir then for fear he should lose his way. We have God's Word, like a bright lamp in our hand, and we have men of God to guide us, who watch for our souls: let us, then, walk while we have the light of life. The shades of night may soon close in, and then, if we have not found the gate to God's heart, the door of Christ's fold, what must be our lot? Let us take heed to the light while we have it, and find our way to God-our way to his home and ours in the skies. Why should we lie down and sleep in the dust of the world, while we have so far to go, and such a march to take? The world, and the god of this world, will cry to us, "Take your ease, eat, drink, and sleep. It will be quite time to think of Christ and God when you get sick and come to die." "Yes," will flesh and blood say to you, "do; take your fill of this world's good now that you can; laugh and grow fat; drive off care; make the most of a short life; live high; dance and sing; leave dull drones to sing psalms and talk of Christ, if they will." But what says God? "Walk: go on. Do not lie still like the dead in the grave of sin, and in the soft lap of the world. March on through the world's wide waste, nor

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stay your speed till you reach the gates of pearl. Walk, while ye have the light." We may learn from this, that the light may one day be put out in our land. The foe may quench it for a time, and he would at once if he could. Let us prize it while we have it, and make the best use of it we can. There are some birds which look dull and rough when on the ground, but when once they spread their wings, and fly up to the sky, we see their wings flash with gold, and their rich hues glow in the light of the sun; and so it is with the good gifts of God: we do not think much of them while we have them, but let them take their flight, and we see their worth then, when it is too late. Let us take care it is not so with the light of God's truth. We may well have our fear that God may take it from us, for we have made but a poor use of it. The god of this world does not sleep; he walks to and fro, and throws wide the seeds of sin through this land, as well as the dark lands of the earth. What is the state of the world now? Just like the waves of the sea, which sleep in a dead calm, when a storm is near, The first breath that stirs the air, the first wind that blows, may call up a war which may cast down thrones which have stood firm for years, and build up new ones which may last as long. The signs of the times are by no means such as the heart of the good man can think of, and be still. No: they are such as to stir us up to act, and to pray that the storm, if it comes, may not wreck the land in which we live, and that the great ends of truth and right may spring from all that takes place on our globe. May God give us each grace to walk, while we have the light, in the straight path which the light makes clear, and look with faith at that Lamb of God to which the light points; and may God keep his truth in our land like a bright light, to light us who dwell in it, and to cast forth its beams so as to light the whole world.

AN ITALIAN. FUNERAL.

PERHAPS it is not until the English Protestant has visited a foreign country, and witnessed the funeral rites and ceremonies of other lands, that he can fully value or appreciate the tender beauty and form of the burialservice of his own church. The contrast exhibited between the careless prayers for the dead, recited in an unknown tongue, on the one hand, and the beautiful and touching language of inspiration on the other, cannot fail to make a deep impression upon his mind. It has fallen, most probably, to his lot, when in his native land, to follow to the grave the mortal remains of a beloved relative or friend; and, at such a time, how have the consoling truths of divine revelation come home to his heart, and poured in all the balm of heavenly consolation! "I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord. He that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live; and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die." Surely to the heart of the bereaved and mourning Christian these precious words of immortality and life must come with a peculiar force, and arouse him from a contemplation of his own loss on earth to an exercise of that lively faith which will enable him to view the beloved one he has lost as risen with Christ, and as in the present enjoyment of all that blessedness promised to those who die in the Lord.

It was while staying for a short time at Nice that I first witnessed the rites and ceremonies used by the Italians in the interment of their dead. Returning from a visit to the cathedral, I fell in with a funeral procession, and was led, by the desire I felt to know the difference between Roman Catholic and Protestant customs, to follow at a little distance.

A number of men (each bearing a taper in his hand, and arrayed in a scarlet dress) preceded and followed the body of the deceased person. The one who walked first carried a crucifix, with a dead Christ; and over the cross, to add to the dismal effect and death-like appearance of the figure, was a black canopy. As the

procession proceeded along the narrow streets of Nice, the priest chanted a part of the prayers for the dead, the whole fraternity joining in the responses. Upon arriving at the church, the tapers were all immediately lighted and, surrounding the body, more prayers for the repose of the soul of the deceased were chanted by the brotherhood. The coffin was of painted wood, without a pall, and was intended but as a temporary resting-place for the body it bore: its then occupant, having been a poor man, upon reaching the grave, his remains would be taken out of even this humble receptacle, and deposited in their mother earth, uncoffined. There was no appearance of sorrow amongst any of the attendants; and it is scarcely natural much should be evinced, as it is not customary for the relations of the deceased to be present; after death, the body being left entirely to the care of hired persons, or some one of the numerous fraternities existing in most places in Italy.

After the prayers for the dead were finished in the church, most of the brethren retired, except a few who remained to accompany the corpse to the burial-ground, or campo santo. This (at Nice) is situated on a high hill that overlooks the town; and the ascent is so steep, that the bearers of the coffin had considerable difficulty to keep their burden in a level position. As much haste was made to reach the place of destination as was possible; and the impression left on my mind was a painful one; as I could not but be struck with the utter carelessness and indifference with which the funeral rites were conducted. Surely it is a solemn thing to die; and how little calculated is a scene, such as I have above described, to arouse proper and suitable reflections in the minds of spectators.

While witnessing this Italian funeral, I called to mind a retired churchyard in my own loved land; and one particular scene in it was brought to my remembrance. It was the performance of the last rites for a poor but devoted servant of God, who, having been called in his Providence to pass through deep waters of ffliction, had, by patient suffering and continuance in

well doing, abundantly testified of the grace bestowed upon her. When dying, she had expressed a wish that her beloved minister, who was then absent (for the benefit of his own health), might bury her; and her wish was granted. The scene presented that Sabbath afternoon is still vividly before me, when the mortal remains of Mary M., being brought into the church, followed by her bereaved husband and children, the minister, to whose faithful exhortations the departed Christian had so often listened with delight, addressed his people, and, with the earnest affection of the true ambassador from heaven to sinful men, urged them even now to be reconciled unto God through Christ. As he pointed to the coffin of Mary M., he earnestly entreated all to seek that grace which had enabled her to rejoice in all the circumstances of affliction through which she had been called to pass, and prayed that young and old might hear a voice from the dust of their departed friend, "Prepare to meet thy God." The simple and beautiful hymn afterwards sung at the open grave; the clear voice of the minister, as he read with deepened emphasis the words, "In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ;" the tears of the family and of the villagers, who had all known and loved the deceased, conspired to render the interment of this humble Christian a scene long to be remembered by all present. I love to dwell upon its recollection, and to believe that, perchance, in that season of universal sympathy, when each heart felt for the loss of the bereaved family, some hitherto thoughtless sinner, softened by the influence of the solemn event, might be led to supplicate for the same grace that had been bestowed upon Mary M., and thus her death prove a source of eternal life to others. Such circumstances can rarely, if ever, be connected with funeral rites in Italy; for, even should the deceased have been a true child of God, who had, through the mists of Roman Catholic superstition and error, sought and found acceptance through the Saviour of

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