THE VINE. 123 



The infant martyrs of Bethlehem, who laughed 

 with unconscious glee at the glittering of murder- 

 ous blades, just poised to impale them — wherein is 

 their crown less bright than that of our confessors, 

 who voluntarily mounted the pile, and fixed the 

 chain, and welcomed the torturing fires of popish 

 oersecution? There is, surely, no difference in 

 me recompence of Christ's sufferings, bestowed 

 alike on each : but very sweet, and surpassingly 

 dear, must be the retrospection of those who had 

 forsaken all to follow him, after counting the cost, 

 and fully comprehending what lay before them. 

 The act of renewing a sinful nature, must needs 

 furnish a song of praise for eternity : a long cata- 

 logue of wilful transgressions, also blotted out by 

 the blood of the cross, may well raise the tone of 

 exstacy much higher. But it will be as with the 

 manna in the wilderness, where he who gathered 

 little did not lack, and he who gathered much had 

 nothing over. This is never the case with aught 

 of man's providing ; but when God furnishes the 

 table, it cannot be otherwise. 



When the eye rests upon the pleasant green 

 foliage of a favourite tree, how smoothly can the 

 billows of thought roll on, in the untroubled mind, 

 each insensibly disappearing before its successor. 

 To dream away life, would accord with most dis- 

 positions ; and to ponder on the works of others, 

 often appears somewhat of a meritorious work in 



