THE UNCERTAINTY OF TIME.

Boast not thyself of to-morrow; for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth.

THERE is nothing which forms a more uncertain ground of calculation than the continuance of time, and yet there is nothing on which more extravagant calculations are based. The scheming and ambitious confidently look forward to the object of their desires through a long vista of years. The scholar, while exhausting the midnight oil, and, in the intensity of his application, imperceptibly, but fatally undermining his health, is sustained by the expectation that, in coming years, he will receive the meed of applause. The soldier, with his eye fixed on the highest rank in his profession, presses towards it through fields of blood and slaughter, as if he himself were invulnerable to the stroke of death. The agriculturist, in his successful operations, lays down his plans for pulling down his old barns and building larger ones, unmindful that in the midst of his preparations, his soul may be required of him. The merchant, forgetting the casualties of long voyages and journeys, makes his arrangements to go to a distant city, and there to abide a year, buying, selling, and getting gain, although he knows not what may be on the morrow. The young man and the maiden, in the commencement of their career, behold in long perspective, the prosperous and happy scenes through which they expect to pass, little imagining that

the shadows of death may settle on the brow in which age has ploughed no furrows. Thus men, in all situations of life, are engaged in trading on an imaginary capital.

"What is our life? It is even a vapour which appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away.' Human life is of such brief continuance, that it is numbered by days, months, and years, and not by centuries. The Holy Scriptures so beautifully, and yet so affectingly describe the brevity and uncertainty of our earthly sojourn, as to supersede the necessity of all other language. "Man that is born of woman, is of few days and full of trouble. He cometh forth like a flower, and is cut down; he fleeth also as a shadow, and continueth not." "Our days on earth are as a shadow, and there is none abiding." swifter than a weaver's shuttle." swifter than a post, they fly away. away as the swift ships, and as the to the prey." "Lord, make me to know mine end, and the measure of my days, what it is, that I may know how frail I am. Behold thou hast made my days as a handbreadth, and mine age is as nothing before thee; verily every man at his best estate is altogether vanity."

"Our days are "Our days are They are passed eagle that hasteth

In view of this, may we not well say, "Boast not thyself of to-morrow, for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth." Stake nothing on those calculations which involve the probability of life's continuance; but whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might. There may be for us time in reserve, but there may not be. Our mortal frame may, for a long series of years, withstand the shocks which fall upon it. It may escape the flood and earthquake,

remain unscathed amidst the pestilence, triumph over disease, and be destined to sink under the gradual decays of age; but-it may crumble into ruins under the first rude assault, and in its prime and vigour, the decree may be executed, "dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return." The point of observation from which we now, in fancy, view the scenery of future years, may be the last we shall reach. The next step may be a descent into the dark valley and shadow of death. Is it so? The experience of the world, confirming the testimony of Scripture, assures. us that it is.

Yet how much is dependent on this vapour, which may vanish in a moment! The eternal destiny of the soul! Its salvation or ruin! Life, brief and uncertain as it is, is the only period allotted for preparation to meet the great Judge of quick and dead. If squandered, the injury is irreparable. No work or device is to be found in the grave. No future opportunity will be afforded for further trial,-for the correction of mistakes. Irreligion then is madness. It places the unhappy sinner on a brink, from which, at any moment, he may be precipitated into ruin. Who that desires the salvation of his soul can remain indifferent to the motives which press him to an immediate decision? God is merciful, Christ is gracious, the Holy Spirit is ready to pour forth his influences. The Holy Trinity calls upon the sinner to awake to a just concern for his soul, the open grave utters its warning, and death keeps suspended his poised javelin before he strikes! The present moment is the sinner's opportunity, the promise waits, but death is ready to affix his unalterable seal on the character and destiny of the soul.

My soul, thou art connected with a frail tabernacle, which is every moment liable to fall into ruin. When this connection fails, thou wilt return to God to be judged according to the deeds done in the body. Employ the time allotted to thee in making thy calling and election sure. This done, thou hast nothing to fear; death is despoiled of its sting, and the grave of its victory; and although a voice from heaven shall soon declare, "time shall be no longer," thou mayest rejoice that to them that believe in Jesus, it shall be succeeded by an eternity of blessedness.

THE CONCLUSION.

ALTHOUGH in the preceding selections we have confined ourselves to the Book of Proverbs, we cannot part company with the reader, without, for a moment, directing his attention to Ecclesiastes or the Preacher, another production of the wise king of Israel, which may be regarded as a suitable companion to the Proverbs.

It has been supposed, and not without reason, that it was written by Solomon in his old age, and was designed to exhibit his views, on a serious and deliberate review of life. Succeeding to the throne of his father David in early life, under peculiar marks of divine favour; in the enjoyment of youthful vigour, and possessed of princely wealth and power, all the sources of earthly happiness were open before him. His situation exposed him to peculiar temptations, and he was not proof against their insidious power. He drank too deeply, for his own peace, of the captivating, but poisoned chalice. From this dream, however, he was awakened, and reviewing the past with regret, he has left to the world the advantages of his experience. The spectator of his outward glory might have been led to pronounce him a truly happy man, and to envy him his estate; but his own heart pronounced the vanity of all earthly enjoyments, while it approved only of the heavenly wisdom which he commended to others. How forcible