porter asked Christian several questions, as who he was, and where from, and what was his name, and whither he was going, and why he came so late, all which interrogatories Christian ingenuously answered, especially the last, confessing his sinful, sorrowful sleep.

There are some important lessons to be learned from this Hill Difficulty, as first, the folly of thinking to gain heaven without trouble and self-denial. In nothing else in this world do men ever act on this principle. If there be any great thing to be gained in this life, all men are sure that it is going to cost great effort, and they are ready to make such effort; nor is it a light thing that will turn them aside. They will go up a Hill Difficulty, without drinking at any spring but that of their own sanguine expectation, and without deigning to rest in any arbor by the way, much more without losing time by sleeping in it. And if there be lions in the way, they will go at them at once; yea, if a loaded cannon stood in their path, and a bag of gold beyond it, or the cup of sinful pleasure, they would go on. If there be mountains which they cannot overtop, they will dig through them; and they will suffer days of weariness and nights of pain, they will make long pilgrimages, will expatriate themselves for years, and suffer banishment from families, friends, firesides, into strange lands, will cross oceans, and encounter perils of every name and shape, to accomplish and realize the object of their earthly ambition; and after all, what is it? A dream, a straw, a bauble, a flake of foam on the surface of a river. They pluck it, it

is gone, and they are gone with it. While they snatch at it they pass into eternity, and death finishes their plans forever.

But even the poor things they seek for in this life, they do not expect to gain without labor. And shall we expect to gain heaven without labor? Is not heaven worth laboring after? And is it not the part of wisdom so to run not as uncertainly, so to fight, not as one that beateth the air? Now we ought soberly to say, I expect difficulties, and I mean, by God's grace, not to be discouraged when I meet with them. They are, in truth, the very means which God must use for my discipline. It is only by meeting and overcoming them that I can be fitted for heaven. And as to the dangers in the way, the best way of safety from them is to come up boldly to them. If we stand afar off and tremble, they seem much greater than they are. If we march strait on, confiding in Christ, we always find that the lions are chained, and can only roar at us, and do no harm. At all events, it is better to go forward than backward. Be not like Mistrust and Timorous. It is more dangerous to run down the Hill Difficulty than to clamber up. And he that putteth his hand to the plough and looketh back, is not fit for the kingdom of heaven.

We see here, likewise, the repetition of that lesson that nothing is so hard to bear as a wound ed conscience, a mind not at peace with God. There is nothing so hard for the Christian to bear as that; and when the light of God's countenance is hidden from him by reason of sin, be you sure that there is not a creature in the world so misera

ble as he. But if sin and conscience can make
him so miserable, who has only fallen for a season
into its power, as Christian did in the arbor, and
who has a Saviour to go to, and will go to him,
and stay at the foot of the cross even amidst the
darkness, what work must it make in that man's
soul who never asked forgiveness, never went to
Christ-what work will it make, when sin and
conscience, long hidden, concealed, sleeping, are
developed, roused up and busy in the soul? Oh,
if the fire that is thus kindled begins to be noticed
first, not until the soul enters on the eternal world,
then it will never go out.
So beware how you
have conscience for an enemy.

O Conscience! who can stand before thy power?
Endure thy gripes and agonies one hour?
Stone, gout, strappado, racks, whatever is
Dreadful to sense, are only toys to this.
No pleasures, riches, honors, friends can tell
How to give ease in this :-'tis like to hell.

Call for the pleasant timbrel, lute, and harp:
Alas! the music howls! The pain 's too sharp
For these to charm, divert, or lull asleep:

These cannot reach it; as the wound's too deep.
Let all the promises before it stand,

And set a Barnabas at its right hand;

These in themselves no comfort can afford,

"Tis Christ, and none but Christ, can speak the word.

There goes a power with his Majestic Voice,

To hush the raging storm, and charm its noise.
Who but would fear and love and do his will,
Who bids such tempests of the soul be still!

FLAVEL.