ow each fact must
be brought to light upon _evidence_ whose truth cannot be questioned.
Upon that day, mere assertions will not be sufficient to establish the
right or the wrong condition of any one before the judgment-seat. The
universe must know the truth! Evidence must, therefore, be adduced
which will "convince all;" and that evidence, too, will be sifted.
Before sentence is passed, overwhelming proof will demonstrate the
righteous ground on which each individual must take his place among
those on the left hand or on the right. Let us see if we can discover
any sources of evidence for the detection and discrimination of
character.

"THE BOOKS SHALL BE OPENED."

1. _The Book of Providence will be opened_.--In this book has been
recorded, and from its pages can be shewn, by Jesus Christ, everything
which has been done to us, and for us, by Himself, since the hour of
our birth till that of our death. Every temporal mercy or
spiritual blessing--every advice given by ministers, relations,
or friends--every Sabbath which dawned upon us--every stirring of
conscience within us--every visitation of sickness or domestic
affliction--every item, in short, of that immense sum of things which,
in His providence or by His grace, was given us each successive hour
of life, and which was intended to mould our characters according to
the will of God;--all shall be revealed at judgment, that the universe
may know what Jesus Christ, the King, has really done for each one of
His subjects, and what each subject has been, and done, in relation to
Him.

2. _The Book of Memory shall be opened_.--An awful volume! It seems
almost certain that anything once known to us must for ever abide in
memory, and can never be absolutely and for ever lost. Out of sight it
may be, but never really out of mind. It may appear to be dead, though
it only sleeps, ready to start into vigorous life when touched by some
hand which can reach it in the dim mysterious recess where it lies
concealed. It is thus, before returning, after a long absence, to the
home of our early life, we are unable to discover any page in the
volume of our memory inscribed with more than a few incidents which
filled up those early years of gladness. Every page seems a blank, or
its records, if not obliterated, can hardly be traced. But when we
_do_ return, what a magic influence is exercised by every tree, rock,
and stream, and by the old home itself with which these were once
i