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[tOR THE SOLDIERS.] I\ O. !£0. 
 
 LOYEST THOU ME? 
 
 CoNsiDr.a the Inquirer. He is the Lord Je»us Christ. He is 
 now on the eternal throne. Angels and archangels veil their 
 faces before him, and c-ist their crowns at Lis feet. The sweetest 
 incense which sanctified minds can offer roe« up before hhiu Tho 
 swiftest wings are spread to execute his pleasure. All power is his. 
 
 AH destiny hangs upon hi* will. But his relation to you--- 
 how peculiar and affecting ! lie became poor for you. He bore 
 contempt fbr^ynu — suffered agonizing pains of body and mind 
 foryou — died for you — rose again for you — lives to intei 
 for you ; and so is your only deliverer from that scene of ever- 
 lasting suffering which is the penalty of the law you have brok- 
 en. His friendship for you has been written in his blood, and 
 sea'ed by hfs death ; and as yovir friend "above all others," he 
 now asks you this question, "Lovest thou me!" Reader, this 
 is a persona! appeal V'hat is your reply ? 
 
 "I have been trained fro n my youth to respect the Saviour 
 
 I believe the whole Scripture revelation concerning him. I 
 have wept over the. touching incidents of his life, and the affect- 
 ing tragedy of his death." 
 
 But mark the question : "Latest thou me?*" 
 
 ""My moral character is beyond reproach. T violate none of 
 ley fellow-creatures 1 rights. I can fearlessly say I am just, 
 kind, true, temperate, i challenge investigation of my 
 character.'" 
 
 Yet consider well the inquiry : u Lrvext thou me ? n 
 
 "1 have had serious and anxious thoughts concerning cternai 
 tilings. I have heard conscience and trembled. Sermons hare 
 troubled me. Providences have alarmed uie. Few have had 
 more solemn reflections than myself. 1 * 
 
 Still, **/Lwest thou me?" 
 
 14 I have wept as a sense of guilt and danger has come trrer 
 my soul. Freely have my tear*-- flowed as I have reviewed lift*, 
 and 'thought of death and eternity." 
 
 But ponder well the question '' Lotent U*oo bk '■" 
 
L0VE6T 1I10U MK 
 
 "! have prayed often. Pressing appeals of divine truth, 
 affecting providences, the presence of danger, and the warnings 
 of conscience have u> ged prayer, and 1 have not refuted." 
 
 But yet, "Ltipest thou me?" 
 
 " I have rnf.de earnest and firm pm poses, of a leTigfobs hm. 
 
 So dangerous has appeared my coins* of sin, ro reasonable 
 the path of piety, so affecting the spectacle of otiiers entering 
 that path, that I, too, have solemn]}- resolved." 
 
 Nevertheless, "Loitst \ho\\ me v " 
 
 "I have been an nrfailing supjoYter cf religious institutions, 
 an attendant on the house of God, a friend of the Christain 
 ministry and the holy Sabbath, and have not refused my aid in 
 sending gospel privileges to my countiymen and the Heathen." 
 
 But the question is, ^Lnrsst thou me?" 
 
 "Jama member of the Christain church, having subscribed 
 with mine own hand unto the Lord. I honor tin* ordinances, 
 of his house. No impeachment has ever been made, of my 
 Cf'Hstian character, and in pleasing anticipation-I hope for efer* 
 kstinj life." 
 
 After all, "priest thou me f 
 
 Weigh well the import of this question. Do you not see its 
 aim ? It admits any one, and avevy one of the things you have 
 mentioned, yet presses on in pursuit ofstill another object. Xt 
 denies nothing that is valuable in all your claim*, butitreaches 
 beyond them all. See you not that it touches not one merely 
 C» uward circumstance of your life, net one of the merely natural 
 properties of you* mind. It is not an'inquiry about the vigor 
 of your intellect, the correctness of your social feelings, or the 
 strength of your sympathies. Your lips may have honored 
 Christ, and perhaps your pen. Gross reproach ma}' not have 
 stained your Christian profession. But the inquiry is deeper 
 than all this. The heart, the heart ; how do you in heart treat 
 Jesus Christ '? The inostspltnded external virtues, may gild your 
 character ; l.ut 0, the gloom, the daikness, the moral death, if 
 you lore not our Lord Jesus Christ. ! 
 
 The TKNDEKNr:s y . of the appeal . look at tfutt. tt was no harsh 
 and unfeeling rebuke as it met the fallen Peter's eais: it Was 
 searching and solemn, so that tears of gi ief were started by it ; 
 but more tender language could not have fallen fi om the ftps 
 fff infinite love. And it brings no fiar.-n aecusat-i'on against 
 you ; it mentions nothing wfong that you have ever gone* 
 
LOTKST TliOU MS I 3 
 
 The foulest sins may have stained your life, so that your Re- 
 deetner might have sent hi- 1 ubuke on the wir.fr of the lightning, 
 or in the bursting thunder's voice. But AO. Here i* rebuke: 
 bit not so uttered. You cannot conceive in "hat iorm you 
 o m'd be reproved for sin, more tei tier and melting to the soui 
 iian this. 
 
 Cnn you say it is an n? reasonable appeal? Were it irrel- 
 evant to jour character, or insignificant hi consequence, it 
 night be so. But it is relevant to yonr ease, ft is so, if you 
 can answer it affirmatively, lor it is suited to turn your thoughts 
 towards the sweetest theme upon which they can ever dwell, 
 
 But if you must give a negative reply, then surely the 
 question is one of fearful interest to you. That denial throws 
 light upon your character, and character determines the great 
 question of eternal destiny. 
 
 Consider, therefore, the MtPORTANCE of the point the question 
 would lend you to asee> tain. It would put you in possession of a 
 fact of more consequence to you than any other in the universe. 
 
 That fact is your own moral standing in the sight of your 
 Saviour and Judge. Tt respects .the great point, whether there 
 is between you and him (bat harmony of feeling and character 
 which will qualify you for the summons to meet him ; .in event 
 the next hour you may rc.di/e. A n honest answer to this question 
 obtained by solemn inquiry m the light of divine truth, may be 
 of nn>re importance to you than power to fathom all the depths 
 of human knowledge. 
 
 And does not the BESsrot-EKCE of the great Inquirer beam 
 uponyouinthe question now urged ? He trims his sail iu 
 peril, that does it, fearless and r.v-h, amid the shoals and break- 
 ers of »n unknow coast And is not his a voice of kindness,, 
 who, knowing the incautious mariner's exposure, urges a 
 keener scrutiny of surrounding dan per? You, reader, are on 
 the dark and perilous sea of life. Here is the heavenly Pilot's 
 ?oice. It urges your scrutiny of that great source of all dangers,, 
 your desperately deceitful heart. It bids you examine it, Unit 
 you may thus know your peril or your satiety. It is therefore 
 a voice of mercy, and is now uttered in your ears only that it 
 may guide you to the haven of eternal r-st. 
 
 Perhaps the Inquirer now addresses one who can, in humble 
 sincerity, exclaim, "Lord, thou knowest that 1 love thee. 7 
 
 Let, then, your daily sweel communion with the Saviour 
 
4 LOVEST TlIOS ME : 
 
 answer it thus ; and }*our watchful and persevering effort to V>e 
 more entirely conformed to his image ; and yoar affectionate 
 obedience to all his holy will ; and your labor to life's end, that 
 nil within your influence may be enabled to give the same 
 answer. 
 
 But you, perhaps, mnnot give an affirmation. The aversion, 
 of your heart, the sinfulness of your life, the entire consecration 
 of your affections to other objects, the neglect of Christ in all 
 the plans of life — all this shows you can give no other than a 
 negative reply. And solemnly consider how much such a reply 
 means. u I do not love infinite moral excellence. 1 do not 
 love one whom all the good in the universe delight to honor. 
 
 I do not love one who submitted to the deepest humiliation 
 possible to any being, on my personal account. I do not love 
 one who endured the most exquisite bodily and mental suf- 
 ferings to save me from the eternal endurance of both, if I 
 will trust in him. I do not love one, who, though he has the 
 power and right .of inflicting instant perdition, yet, instead of it, 
 freely offers me pardon and eternal life, and that on the easiest 
 terms, consistent with the safety of the divine government and 
 my own best happiness. 1 do net love the Being who has 
 provided happiness for mankind, the most sweet and satisfying 
 the rational mind can dest e, and in degree meeting, to the full, 
 all the ever enlarging capacities of an immortal soul. J do not 
 love one, who, though I have treated all this kindness of his 
 with the most base and hard-hearted ingratitude, has not for a 
 single hour of life suffered his faithfuless to fail, and who, I 
 doubt not, is rs ready as ever, even after ten thousand provoca- 
 tions, to fulfil his promise of mercy to me, if a true penitent. 
 
 But notwithstanding all, I Jove him not." 
 
 I unpenitent reader, look on this picture, true to the life, res- 
 pecting your own case. Such treatment of such a friend, how 
 long shall it continue? Shall it not now cease a* you finish 
 this tract? He is near yon, witnessing trie result of this appeal. 
 
 Let him now witness the broken heart, the soul's deep 
 abhorrence of past guilt — its grateful joy in all the riches of 
 big mercy — its entire, cordial consecration tohim. And let 
 him now hear from lips that speak the deep and solemn sin- 
 cerity of the soul," Lord, thou knowe-^t <\)\ things ; thou knowest 
 that f lov'k tbec. 4 * 
 
Hollinger Corp. 
 P H 8.5