What though the world deceitful prove, Still would I cling to thee! Oft when I seem to tread alone Some barren waste with thorns o'ergrown, Though faith and hope a while be tried, The soul that clings to thee! They fear not life's rough storms to brave, Since thou art near, and strong to save; Nor shudder e'en at death's dark wave, Because they cling to thee! Blest is my lot, whate'er befall ; What can disturb me, who appal, While as my Strength, my Rock, my All, Saviour, I cling to thee? Youth Renewed in Age. JAMES W. ALEXANDER, D. D. CHRISTIAN Confidence and hope in God give freshness, strength and joy, even in the period of old age. "They that wait on Jehovah," or, in modern English, they that wait for him, who evince their trust in his goodness and power by patiently awaiting the fulfilment of his promises-they, though no longer young, "shall renew their strength; they shall mount up on wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, and they shall walk and not faint." The same thought is in the thanksgiving of the one hundred and third Psalm, v. 5: "Bless Jehovah, O my soul, who satisfieth thy mouth with good things, so that thy youth is renewed like the eagle's." From both we may conclusively gather that divine grace has influences to bestow which can counteract and often annul the debilitating tendencies of old age. We are not authorized, it is true, to teach that any degree of religious affection can turn back the shadow on the dial-plate, restore its auburn beauty to the gray head, or neutralize the physical causes of distress; though even here, such is the power of spirit over matter, that history shows marvels of an almost youthful gladness in blessed Christian old age. But we may and can assert that he whose habits have been formed in a perpetual waiting upon God, receives a hallowed unction of grace, which, so to speak, makes him young again, or, more properly, keeps him from waxing old within. In the most rapid survey we have considered some of the causes which make this season of life formidable. All ages have observed them; all philosophies have sought to destroy or lessen their force. The most accomplished of all Roman authors has left nothing more finished than his celebrated tract on Old Age. Short of the meridian beam of revelation and its reflections, nothing ever showed more nobly; yet the ray of its consolations is but a beautiful moonlight. In vain is the venerable Cato introduced to teach us secrets which Cato never knew. In this gem-like treatise Cicero refers the troubles of age to four classes. Old age, so he tells us, is feared because (1) it withdraws from the affairs of life; because (2) it brings infirmity of body; because (3) it abridges or ends our pleasures; and (4) because it leads to death. Already, in treating of these several heads, much is said truly, ably, and to a certain extent satisfactorily, on the first and third topics; but on the last there is nothing but melancholy conjecture. Even in regard to the other heads, of business, health and pleasure, the suggestions are infinitely below those known by the humblest Christian rustic. For what did this great and eloquent Roman know of the oil which grace pours into the sinking and almost expiring lamp? It is not to be denied, when we come with candour to the investigation, that, as a general truth, old age withdraws men from the employments of life, and seals up the active business years. In the majority of instances, however, this retreat from labour is voluntarily sought long before the access of grave infirmity. Indeed, in prosperous communities many retire too early, under a chimerical hope of enjoying an elegant repose, for which they have made no provision by mental culture and discipline of moral habits. There is, it is true, another sort of recession from productive labours which we occasionally observe in old men, and which arises wholly from an unchastened selfishness. Let any one grow wealthy without the warming and expanding influences of benevolence, and he will more and more lose his interest in all that is going on in the world. Even wars and revolutions touch him only in their finan cial aspects, and the daily journal is to him not so much a courier of news as a barometer of loss and gain. Without religion, the circle becomes more contracted. Friends have departed by scores, if not by hundreds. What cares he for mighty movements in behalf of humanity and holiness around him? What cares he for posterity, the country or the world, so that he can exalt his own gate, or die worth some round sum which floats before him as his heaven? In the same degree he wraps himself in his mantle, which is daily shrinking to his own poor dimensions. This is misery indeed.. Take away the blessed sun, and everything becomes wintry, frozen, all but dead: take away more blessed love, and the heart is dumb, cheerless, insulated, meanly poor, so that the Latins named such a one MISER. Let us leave him, shivering in his cave, overhung with icicles, and come out into the evening sunshine to consider the aged believer. He is, like Mnason, "an old disciple." He still learns. The Greek story tells us that when Solon lay dying, and overheard some conversation on philosophy in his apartment, he raised his head and said, "Let me share in your conversation, for though I am dying I would still be learning." Ten thousand times has this been more reasonably exemplified in dying Christians, who consider the whole |