An old Mexican monk in his cell painted an allegorical picture which may now be seen in the public library of one of our cities. It represents a beautiful young maiden, standing on a narrow island, with only room for her feet to rest upon, and all around her dashes and rages a lake of fire. The many tongues of flame leap up and almost lave her feet, yet she smiles on all, unconscious of her danger. More dreadful still, upon each billow’s crest rides a malignant fiend, and they have closed around the seemingly defenseless girl, and are winding their foils about her, one seeking to fasten chains to her limbs, and others tugging with all their fiendish strength to drag her into the burning pool. The muscles of every arm are knotted with the struggle, and the hate and malice of the pit is written on every brow. Yet serenely the maiden smiles, for she sees nothing of her danger. A golden cord of grace, descending from above, is twined amid her sunny hair, but death stands overhead, ready to cut the thread. A hand of help is reaching down to her, which she must take or be lost in the abyss. A company of attendant angels, anxiously awaiting her decision, completes the picture. This is a true picture of the condition of every one out of Christ. "They stand upon slippery places, and fiery billows roll beneath them." Thousands of fiends are busily at work to ensure the soul’s ruin, and the offers of mercy and pardon may be cut short by death. Grace is a hand reaching down from heaven, offering us salvation, and faith is the hand reaching up to receive it. "They that be for us, are more than they that be against us." Oh, will we not make friends of these blessed attendant angels, by enlisting under the same great Captain. Who would stand for half an hour in such a position as this young girl is represented as standing. And yet if you have not accepted of salvation, you are in an immeasurably worse one. Oh, hasten to take this proffered hand of help, or you must sink in those burning waves forever.—Sel.