Yes, that I am yet existing is but, Lord, a loan from thee;
Thou my days of life inscribest in thy book of destiny.
Therefore to thy sovereigu goodness I my feeble strain will raise,
Oh! Allwise, Alltrue, Almighty, let my spirit speak thy praise!
Praise to thee for every bounty which the vanish'd night conferr'd--
For thy blessings so responsive to the prayers thy mercy heard.
Thou hast quiet rest secured me, safe and undisturbed by foes ;
By thy help in health awaking, from my tranquil couch I rose-
To behold thy cheering sunlight, and my friends anew to greet ;
All, O Lord, is of thy mercy, let my soul her thanks repeat !
While the darkness o'er me brooded, still thy Spirit's light was höre ;
Ne'er did thy compassions leave me, when no human help was near.
While unconsciousness en wrapt me, thou didst all my being guide ;
While in death's still semblance lying, thou didst in my breast reside.
Graciously by thee protected, Satan's wiles in vain were spread,
And the mischief of the wicked fell with shame upon their head.
Now this morning hour, devoutly, shall thy benefits record,
And a thankful heart's oblation for thy constant grace afford;
How through all life's fleeting changes, from thy father-hand benign,
Midst my conscious undeservings, prompt and full supplies were mine.
How thy power creative rais'd me, out of nothing's blank abyss,
How thy rescuing love redeem'd me from despair and wrath to bliss :
How thy renovating Spirit mov'd my fall'n, perverted will,
And to this day hath upborne me, though so prone to error still.
All, yes all, is from thy fulness, ev'ry good hath flowed from thee:
Since I find with this new morning, all thy gifts renew'd to me.
Yea, myself, like new found being, life and health again partake,
Lord, my all, a scanty offering, to thy sovereign love I make!
Let me now, Lord, and for ever, thee confess and thee adore,
Love and praise, and highest worship, from my lips and heart outpour,
Soul and life and all within me, to thy service hallowed be,
Still to celebrate thy goodness, here and in eternity.

II.-Petition. Yes, my Lord, thy welcome daylight shines around me once again, But thou knowest each day's circuit brings its destin'd care or pain. Knowest that I still am sinful, weak, necessitous, and frail, And the allotted share of sorrow, daily must my heart assail. Therefore, O this day permit not thy own grace to disappear, Cast me not from thy blest presence, leave me not to sin and fear! O let not the foe of goodness, with fell might my soul appal, And with arts infernal urge me to a dire and fatal fall. Pardon that my heart hath yielded to ill thought or passion base ; Vain desires and dreams unholy let thy light and love efface ; O permit not, sovereign Saviour, that this day which beams on me Should become the hapless season of a dark apostacy! That thy priceless grace contemning with a hard and blinded heart, I should choose in awful exile from that grace and heaven to part. Lord, my conscience quite awaken, thou who art the light of men, That no death-like sleep may seal it, while thy day-spring beams again. Let me meditate no evil, nor in word or act offend, Lest thy wrath and sore destruction on my wayward course attend. Let the hour and power of darkness vanish like the midnight gloom, Let me ne'er thy bounties idly or in selfish sloth consume. Never like a child of darkness may my soul thy light misuse, Nor thy gracious sunbeams aid me an unhallowed path to choose. Reckless error and disorder, deeds unchristian, words untrue, Put far from me ; and whatever thou, my Lord, wilt have me do, Let me so commence and finish, that the circle of this day May not in my right vocation slothful negligence betray. Help me to do nought remissly, nought forgetfully postpone, Nought attempt inopportunely, nor to vain delays be prone; Towards seductive paths of ruin suffer not my steps to bend ; Both 'gainst men and beasts malignant, o'er me, Lord, thy shield extend.

If I shall, this day surviving, still on earth a pilgrim be,
Lord, at eventide discover still thy grace and love to me!
Finally, remove whatever burdens or disturbs my breast,
Graciously avert or shorten ills which this weak heart molest ;
And if this day be my latest, let not, Lord, thy mercies cease,
But my closing hour make happy, and my death-bed crown with peace.

III.- Prayer. Father, whose unfailing bounties with each day-break re-appear, To my lowly supplication now incline thy gracious ear. Oh! impart the gifts most needed through this day's revolving hours, In its various tasks, to render, unto thee, Lord, all my powers. If it please thee, life protracting, health and strength and sight preserve, And this feeble mind enlighten, thee with faithfulness to serve. Grant me, Lord, thyself revealing, light in thy own light to see, Like the early dews distilling, kindly pour thy grace on me. Let my thoughts, and words, and doings, filial fear towards thee espress, And towards all my fellow-beings, equity and gentleness. Grant me to be faithful, upright, modest, temperate, and wise, Ever circumspect and earnest to secure the immortal prize. Heavenly Saviour, guide and guard me, that whate'er I shall pursue, In thy name and strength be purpos'd all I think, and speak, and do. Cheer me in the weak beginnings, through each hour thy succour lend ; Let the means by thee be prosper'd, and thy blessing crown the end. Give me firmness my vocation well and truly to fulfil, Aims, and hours, and toils dividing, in accordance with thy will. Fit occasion, Lord, vouchsafe me, for whate'er shall best increase Thy own praise, the weal of others, and my own essential peace. If for good, let morning's mercies be prolong'd to evening's shade ; Still my daily bread providing, this day's efforts bless and aid. Make the heaviest care more easy, fears and perils turn away; Let me with a patient calmness bear the burdens of the day. Lord Triune, myself I render, to thy just and sovereign claim, All I am, possess, and hope for, spirit, soul, and earthly frame, Speech and silence, rest and action, take, I pray thee, Lord, as thine ; Life and death, my God, thou rulest ;-unto thee I both resign. How thou magst my lot determine, to thy will I meekly leave ; Let me, this day and for ever, from thy grace my all receive. Angel, who redeem'st from evil, let thine eye my spirit shield ; From the dawn to latest shadows, strength supply and refuge yield. God the Father, let thy greatness evermore my way protect ; God the Son, O let thy wisdom every hour my steps direct ; Holy Spirit, still uphold me, by thy grace sustain, defend, Both in life and death my Guardian, Comforter, and heavenly Friend. Lord of glory, bless thy servant; from all ill my shelter be ; Let thy beams my heart illumine, and the powers of darkness flee. On thy child, restor'd, adopted, cause thy glorious face to shine ; Let thy peace, thy full redemption, Lord, eternally be mine!

IV.-Intercession.
Loving Father, who dost visit not alone thy chosen race,
But the thankless and the evil, with the beams of light and grace,
O let each partake thy mercy, that no human heart this day,
In the direful path of ruin, may continue, Lord, to stray !
Let all Christendom obey thee, with new earnestness and zeal,
And designs and deeds of peace still advance the public weal.
Let, within each several household, useful aims and ends abound,
And the hours by none unhallowed, to thy rightful praise redound.
Hear thy suppliants, who, devoutly, lift to thee their early prayer,
Pity and convert the godless, who to slight thy mercies dare ;
Who the prayerless hours will lavish, without faith or holy fear
As if light and time were granted, only to be wasted here.

Those who journey guard from perils; for the needy, food provide ;
Be the Helper of the friendless, be the weary pilgrim's Guide!
Let the willing hands find labour, and their meet requital gain;
And affliction's rising torrent, for each sufferer, Lord, restrain !
Let each one with faithful service, his appointed work fulfil;
With thy blessing crown each effort to perform thy holy will.
Those whose tasks are fraught with danger, by thy mighty power defend ;
On each spirit sorely burden'd, let reviving grace descend.
Father, to thy sovereign goodness, I commend all human kind;
Those still more whom kindred, friendship, nearness, to my spirit bind.
Yet, good Lord, the unknown, the stranger, e'en the foe that seeks my harm,
Visit thou with heavenly kindness, shield by thy protecting arm !
Guide by thy divine compassion all with whom this day I meet,
Lord, throughout the wide creation, be thy work of love complete !

CALVIN'S COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE. We are all familiar with the tale of Howard travelling amidst the sumptuousness of palaces, the stateliness of temples, and the remains of ancient grandeur, yet almost unmindful of their existence by reason of the intense interest he felt in dungeons, and hospitals, and lazarettos. And it is reported of Andrew Fuller that, when walking among the most attractive sights of Oxford, he turned to his companion and began to discuss the doctrine of justification by faith. But neither the enthusiastic philanthropist nor the meditative theologian, occupied as they were by substantial affairs, and slight as was their appreciation of the toys and graces of human life, was proof against the universal passion. We remember to have seen a book presented by Mr. Fuller to the lady he afterwards married, in the fly-leaf of which were two intertwined hearts (traced by a pen), and beneath them a suitable sentence, also written by the lover. But John Calvin seems to have been as free from all such infirmities as was Elijah the Tishbite. To protect the persecuted Waldenses, to establish the Presbyterian discipline, to maintain a rigid censorship of morals, to advance the Reformation throughout Europesuch were the purposes on which his heart was set. As for Calvin being brought under the tyranny of love, about as readily might the sunbeams have dissolved all the snows of Mont Blanc. As his friends wished him to marry, he would do so to oblige them, and forthwith he authorised them to enter into negociations for the purpose.

Several ladies were proposed to him, but were not deemed entirely suitable. The following extracts from his correspondence upon this subject will be interesting. At the time of writing he was about thirty years of age.

Negociations in the first case seem to have gone so far, that he writes to Farel : “An excellent opportunity will occur for your repairing hither (Strasbourg), if, as we hope, the marriage shall come to pass. We look for the bride a little after Easter. But if you assure me that you will come, the marriage ceremony might be postponed until your arrival." This is very unlike the rapture of a young lover of thirty on the eve of marriage! The match, however, was broken off; and a few months later he again writes to his friend, who was engaged in the quest, and who seems to have reported a hopeful discovery: “Always remember what I expect in one who is to be my companion for life. I do not belong to the class of loving fools who, when once smitten with a fine figure, are ready to expend their affections even on the faults of her whom they have fallen that pass."

in love with. The only beauty which allures me is a woman who is chaste, not too fastidious, patient, economical, and if there is hope that she will interest herself about my health. If, therefore, you think well of it, you may set out immediately, lest some one else should be beforehand with you.

But if you think otherwise, you may let About a year subsequently, when the storm of opposition and persecution was gathering very thickly around him, he writes again, “Nevertheless, in the midst of these commotions, I am so much at my ease as to have the audacity to think of taking a wife. A certain damsel, of noble rank, has been proposed to me, and with a fortune above my condition. Two considerations deterred me from that connection--because she did not understand our language, and because I feared she might be too mindful of her family and education. Her brother, blinded by his affection to me, urged the connection. His wife also, with a like partiality, contended as he did ; so that I should have been persuaded to submit, unless the Lord had otherwise appointed. When I replied that I could not undertake to engage myself unless the maiden would undertake that she would apply her mind to the learning of our language, she requested time for deliberation. Thereupon, without further parley, I sent my brother to escort hither another, who, if she answers to ber reputation, will bring a dowry large enough without any money at all. If it come to pass, as we certainly hope it will, the marriage ceremony will not be delayed beyond the 10th of March.” It was then the 6th of February, and he had not yet seen his bride elect; but he was evidently getting anxious to have the irksome and perplexing business speedily brought to a conclusion one way or another.

This match, however, came to nothing ; for in June he writes again, "I have not yet found a wife, and frequently hesitate whether I ought any more to seek one. Claude and my brother had lately betrothed me to a damsel. Three days after they had returned, some things were told me which forced me to send my brother that he might discharge me from that obligation."

In the month of August, however, he was actually married to a lady with whom he had been on terms of intimacy for some time. Her name was Idelette de Bures; she was the widow of an exiled Anabaptist of Liege, John Störder, whom, together with his wife, he had brought back to the Reformed faith. Whether in making this final selection he acted solely upon the advice of Martin Bucer, or whether he had a secret attachment for her, cannot be known. She seems to have been without fortune or beauty, some years his senior, and the mother of several children by her former husband. He speaks of his marriage in terms far enough from rapture, but with a calm, sedate satisfaction. When the honey-moon was scarcely passed, he writes, in answer to a letter of congratulation, “ When your letter was first brought to me I was so ill I could scarcely lift a finger. Since that time to the present, such has been my state of doubt and hesitation, that it was impossible for me to write anything. It seemed, indeed, as though it had been so ordered in order that our wedlock might not be over-joyous, that we might not exceed all bounds, and that the Lord thus moderated our joy by thwarting it.” Deputies from some of the Swiss churches attended the ceremony, which was celebrated without pomp at Strasbourg, in September, 1540; Calvin being at that time thirty-one years of age.

The marriage thus entered upon without any rapturous emotion or romantic attachment on either side, seems to have been a very happy one Calvin's self-contained, undemonstrative, logical temperament prevented his ever giving any strong expression to his feelings. And, indeed, his absorption in and devotion to his great work prevented his indulgence in the amenities of social life. But the occasional references to her in his letters, and the very frequent allusion to her in those of his correspondents, show her to have been a true and faithful wife, and attest the high place she held in the esteem and affection of all. We are indebted for the following passage to that interesting volume mentioned among the Brief Notices in our last number, “The Ladies of the Reformation :"“In the high opinion Calvin had formed of Idelette's Christian virtues he was not disappointed. In her affectionate care of his bealth and comfort she was all that he could desire. His intense devotion to study, and his almost incredible labours as a minister of Geneva, and as the acknowledged facile princeps of Protestantism in its more radical form, which caused him an amount of correspondence sufficient to have filled the hands of any ordinary man, greatly impaired his health, and made him frequently subject to deep mental depression. It was then that Idelette, by her tender ministry, nursed his disordered and debilitated frame, and by her cheerful, soothing words revived his dejected spirits. In her he found a heart beating in sympathy with him under all the difficulties he encountered in the discharge of his duties as a minister of the Word. Her counsel to him always was to be true to God at whatever cost; and that he might not be tempted, from a regard to her ease and comfort, to shrink from the conscientious performance of his duty, she assured him of her readiness to share with him whatever perils might befall him in faithfully serving God. Many of his expressions in his correspondence evince that the union between him and her was of a high and noble character, It was no trifling, thing for him who praised so few, who never spoke unprofitably, and who weighed so well the words which he used, to say of his wife, that she was a remarkable woman'singularis exempli femina. After her earthly career had closed, in lamenting her loss, he said of her, 'I am separated from the best of companions, who, if anything harder could have happened to me, would willingly have been my companion, not only in exile and in want, but also in death. While she lived she was a true help to me in the duties of my office. I have never experienced any hindrances from her, even the smallest.' Like Calvin, unambitious of worldly dignities, wealth, or grandeur, she was more solicitous unostentatiously to do good to others than to acquire these much-coveted objects of attraction. She relieved the wants of the poor, visited the chamber of the sick and of the bereaved, and ministered consolation to the dying. Numerous strangers, especially from France, but also from the Netherlands, Italy, and Spain, came to Geneva, either in quest of a shelter from persecution, or to enjoy the pleasure of visiting Calvin, or of sitting under his ministry. This afforded him and Idelette an opportunity of exercising towards these Christian brethren the virtues of compassion and hospitality, which they did with such active zeal that by some they were even blamed for being more careful of these strangers than of the native population of Geneva."

One bitter grief they were called to experience during the brief period of their married life—the death of their children. Three were born to them, who all died in infancy. How Calvin bore the loss may be gathered from the following allusion to the death of his firstborn. It is from a letter in reply to his friend Viret, who had written to express condolence and