he fatherly feeling of a
real, not a conventional bishop. A lay brother engaged in prayer. In
spite of its boisterous tone and stentorian _Ohs_ and _ands_ it was deep,
and heartfelt, and impressive, and invoked the responses which custom
permits in a Wesleyan chapel alone. Then came a short sermon from Mr.
Osborn, from the text in Jeremiah which tells how "the harvest is past,
the summer is ended, and we are not saved." In his hands the text
suggested three thoughts--1. There are special seasons for men to become
religious. 2. There is a possibility of letting such seasons pass away
unimproved. 3. A time will come when the consciousness of such neglected
seasons will awaken in the mind bitter memory and unavailing regret. The
sermon was in its way wonderfully ripe and full. To every man living
under the Gospel is salvation offered. To some that offer is made in
youth, or by the preaching of the Gospel, or by providential
dispensations, or by revivals of religion occurring in their
neighbourhood. But God never coerces any one, nor interferes with man's
free will. Human law proceeds upon the supposition of man's perfect
ability to control his actions, and God does the same. The grace of God
is resistible, as the Bible shows in the case of the Antediluvians, of
Pharaoh, and Jerusalem; but too late people who resist that grace will
remember it, and that remembrance will form the most bitter ingredient in
their lot. As it is, when people are going wrong, they refuse to think.
The preacher then dwelt on the last words--not saved. Most powerfully
did he carry out that meaning as he pictured the shipwrecked mariner who
sees the sail that was to have saved him pass out of sight; or as the
besieged army behold the succour that was to have rescued them cut off;
or as the criminal left for execution hears there is no reprieve for him;
or as that poor woman with her babe and little ones, who found the other
night (alluding to a tragedy which had just occurred) the fire-escape
failed to reach them, and fell a sacrifice to the devouring flames. But
whilst there was life there was hope; and then the preacher appealed to
all on that last night of the old year to accept God's offer of life, and
to cast themselves at His feet. For about ten minutes every head was
bowed in silent prayer. In that great assembly I saw no wandering eye;
and then, just after the clock had struck twelve, all rose to sing--

"Come let us anew