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JANUARY 5,— DECEMBER 28, 1839 








• •. • • ••« • 



fhe Rev. Bobvi Buahmm, OM. 
AbrmnU, MinMnuiet In, 182. 
AcekUma; or. The field of Blood. SU. 
AdoraaMot. PcnomI, Tlevad in tbe Uskt 

of ChriUfcinify. Bv Cte Ber. Botart 

JamiMon, 941. 
Adrent, Tbe First and Second, 731. 
AflbtfaoM oa Tkifigt AbOT^ Sifc jrour, €0. 
AOictioo, 36S. 


eedful to all. 445. 

Affictad, DinctiaM to the, aOu 

Riend, To an, 21. 

A}tjr. The, of the Unknown God. By tbe 

BcT. Robert JaniieMm, S. 
Aauraoth, The Crown of, 4U. 
Asccdote, 13. 
AMCdotn, 110, ttl, 108. 
Anger, Avoid, 798. 
, On Unrestrained. Bj Alexander 

Touch, junior, iW. 

mal Greatkan, Aumnwli againit Qrmelty 

to the, 638. 
Aaiauli, The Batcnl and TAmitafWn of 

Mao's Dominion over the Lower. By 

the Ber. Jmmm Badaile, 1>,D^ 1«9, 308. 
ApostHy. Tlie AwfU Danffcr at By the 

Rev. DawldAmot, 183. 
Arran, Revivals of Religion in the Island of, 

AMBUy, Tha Goaeral, of 1638. By ihe 

Rev. Thomas M'Crie, 497. 
Aisodata Syaod. An Address to one of the 

of the. By the Rev. 

, Duncan, 781. 

Aaodating with the Ungodly, The Danger 

oL A IHseoansL 1^ the Bev. James 

Jalitts Wood,, 4M. 

Aiheism, The Prevalenat of Practical. By 
the Bcv. Hugh Balyh. LL.D., 4n, 44i. 

Atooeoient, The Scriptural Doctrine of an. 
By the Bev. Walter Fhfrlle. 513, 888. 

" Awake, Tbott ttut Steepest," 388. 


By ?mfNsor 

blam, Tha Pia p fc ecy of. 

Tcnaant, 648. 
BsSak's Rmbassy. By DavM Vedder, 753. 
BsUbur, of Ohugww, Anecdote of the late 

tLsr. Dr. By the Rev. John Thomson, 

Bee. Habili oTltank By Iht Bar. Winam 

" Behold, I stand at tbe door and kaoclK,** 

Bdief and Prayer, 783. 
fieieter, Christ in the, Oie Hope of Olory. 

A DisoMZsak by iht Bev. Andrew MR- 


slcepiitt in Christy Hie, 744. 

i The Wmj In which Bin works Ibr 

Good to the, 884. 
,Ta ai, on the Deatti of her Inbnt 

Son. 438. 
Bcli<:Ters without the Joy of a Full Assur- 

ance. By tbe Rev. J. A. Wallace, 7S3. 
Beloved, «1&. is Haoe tmd I am HiSk** 814L 
Btfeaved, AWord to the, 14. 
Beveridfs, The Labours of the Bev. John^ 
BiMe EdMatkm, The Importanea andNe- 

cessitv of. A Discourse^, t^ tta Bev. 

ArchUnU Ben^e^ 88SL 
Kgotry, Tbe Evils oC 884. 
Bgoii. TheGbttMlaruCAM. 
Bisbop's War. Xbh. By the Bef . Thomas 
^M'Crie, 114. 
Band, ITrlir>HM8flh8> 871 

Bogue, Rev. David. D. D. Biographical 

Sketch of the. By tbt Editor, 728, 748. 
» Mr Tbonaas, BiQgnpUcal SlMtch of, 

BMtbrca, Love to tbe, 782. 
Brunswick, Tbe Early Settlers in New. By 

the Rev. George Bums, D.D., 81. 
Burden, Cast thy. on the Lord, 788. 
Butler, Biographical Sketch of the Bight 

Rev. Joseph. By the Editor, 710. 

Cares, The 



Cathnrt, Robert, Esq., Biographical Sketch 
€L By the Editor. — 

Charity, A DeOniUon of, 429. 
Charles, George, Baron of Dyhor, In Silesia, 

Blogrsphloal Sketch of. By the Itov. 

Anwvw A. Bonar, 263. 
Charles the ni«t,8urrender and Death of. 

By the Rev. Thomas M'Orle, 708. 
Child, Reeolleetlons of a Depaited. By a 

Widowed Mother, 288. 
> Redactions on the Death of a, 834. 

, The Mother to ber Sitik, 832. 

1 To the Memory of a Beloved. By 

David Vedder, 411. 
Children, The Duty oC to their Parents. 

A Discourse, by the Bev. Robert S. 

Candlish, A.M.. 169. W, 
ChrUt ooostrahied bis Disciples to get into a 

Ship. 782. 

Crucified, 638. 

By David Vedder, 87«. 

— , Love to, a Chsrarteristic of bis Peo- 
ple, 974. 

— made unto the Bdicver, Wisdom, 
Righteousness, SanctiSoatio^ and Re- 

deniption, 633. 
, Man's C 

I Chief HapphwH found in the 
Service of. A Discourse, by tbe Rer. 
Andrew Bullock, A.M., 440. 

— our Strength, 70. 

— our Subatitute, 224. 

stilleth the Tempest, 723. 
.. The Divinity of; Ihe only Foun^tetlon 

of True Religion, 856. 
. the Guide of his Peapk^ 498. 
.The InviUtion oC to Sinners. A 

Disoourasb by tbe Bev. Robert Gordon, 

D.D., 777. 

tbe Physician of the Soul 303. 

»■ the Souroe and Support of Spiritual 

Life. A Discourse^ by the Bev. John 

Forbes. D.D., 632. 

Christ's AU-Suffldency, 384. 
.. ., - Cause, labour in, 884. 

Coining, The Object ot, 349^ 

Sufferings and Death, 765. 

Christian, A True, is Courageous, 731. 

Contentment. 3!K). 

FHend, Recollections of a. By the 

Rev. William 8. Blackwood, 789. 

Love, 567. 

Mother, Tbe, 642. 

Oneness, 445. 

■ ■ ■ Perseverance, 237. 
Pilgrim, The, 271. 

- Race, The, 80. 

, The Death-bed of a Toong, 148, 

, The Duties of a, as a Fatiier. A 

Discourse, by the Rev. John Smyth, 

D.D., 89. 104. 

-? What is it to be a, 811, 

Queen of Clovis the Frank, 64. 

Christian's Happiness, The, 2S6. i^ 

Journey through lAlie, The, 178. 

Chrletenity PWfhillyRacttcai, — 

-Oopc-'"'- "^^ " 

•, Tua 

poned to fliiflshniim" 788. 

ha Bflhct of; upon the Intellae- 
tualCondlttonoftbaPoor« By the Rev. 

Christianity, The Bfibet oC upon tbe Moral 
Oandtdna of the Poor. By the Rev. 
John Hunter, A.M., 417. 

Church? Why do you go to. 80. 

Church's Gloiy, Prospect of the, 400. 

Churches in Asia. An Address ftwnded on 
the Epistke to tbe Seven. By tbe Rev. 
James Buchanan, 465, 481. 

Clamour, 477. 

Clerk of Penicuick, A Letter Written by SU 
John, to hto Eldest Son, 811. 

Commandment of all. The First. A Dis- 
course, by the Rev. James Julius Wood, 
A.M.. 897. 

CommunicaDt, The Young, 761. 

Communion with Ood, 821. 

Conscience, A Good, 13. 

, A Tender, 303. 

» Follow, 429. 

-, Peace of. 652.' 

, The Value of, 731. 

Consider your Latter End, 798. 

Otmsummation^The Grand, 94. ^ 

Conversion of aenry L > Narrative ot 

the. 339. 

Courtesy, On, 77. 

Covenanters of 1638, The. By tbe Rev, 
Thomas M'Crie, 477. 

Covetonsneas, The Prevalence of, 573. 

Creation, The Fact of. an Object of Faith. 
A Discourse, by the Bev. Robert S. 
Candlith. aTm., 505. 

Crorawcil in Scotland. By the Rov. Tho- 
mas M'Crie. 737. 

Crudiixion, TbSb 668. 

David's T ^ e ny aado n . By David Vedder, 

Dead shaU Arise, The, 856. 
Deaftiess and B it n d ne sa. Spirltiad, 731. 
DcaUi, Sudden, 172. 

, The Second, 838. 

, The Valley of tbe Shadow of, 46. 

Death-bed of a Christian, The, 782. 
Dialogue, The. By William E. AytouB. 

Esa.. 334. '^^ 

Distinction, An Important, 317. 
Doctor, The Old, 669. 
Doctrine and Practice, 388. 
Door. The, was Shut. By the Bev. David 

Davidson, 173. 
Drunkenness, The Consequences of. A 

Discourse, by the Bev. John Hunter, 

A.M.. 825. 
; Duff, To the Rev. Alexander, D.D. By 

the Rev. W. M. Uctherington, A.M:, 

Dutch Reformed Chorch, An Account of 

tbe, 450. 

Barthly Tilings, The Vanity o^ 782. 
Egypt, Tbe Last Plague oC 470. 
Reeled Ministers during tbe Earlier Part of 

the Seventeenth Century, Sketches oL 

By the Rev. Thomas M*Oie, 372. 
Elect?" ** Who shall lay anything to tbe 

charge of God's, 413. 
Emigrants, Address to Intending. By the 

General Assembly's Coloniar Commit* 

tee, 837. 
Enemies, Love your, 477. 
Epitaph, 121. 

E rasmus and Luther, 38» 40. 
Eventng, 888. 

Example, The Bflbct of Good, 54L 
Exertion, Encouragement to ^ 


Faith, 747. 

«vc4Bng Futttri^. By th8 Anchdiwi 



of " Conremtioni on the Ilittorkal 

Truth and Insplratioa of ttat Holy 

Scriptures,*' 993. 
mth. Sin weaken*. 818. 

, Studjr in, 813. 

Falk, the German Philanthropist, 99. 
Familjr Relation and its Duties, The. A 

Discourse, by the Ber. Charles John 

Brown, 345. 

Worship, 731. 

Farm Servants in Agricultural Districts. By 

the Rev. Oeorge Bums, D.D., 635. 
Fear. Holy. S84. 
Fig-tree, The Parable of the. A Discourse, 

by the Rev. John Paul, 56. 79. 
First and Last. By Bfrs Jane C. Simpson, 

Fisherman's Tribute of Gratitude, The, 543. 
Floating Chapel, The. By Richard Huie, 

Esq., M.D:, 776. 
Fool. The Rich. A Picture firom real UTe, 

Forgiveness of Injuries, 731. 
fVance, Popish Intolerance in, 147. 

, The Protestant Church of. By the 

Rev. John O. Lorimer. 7, 36; 103, 116, 

229. 944. 349. 390, 438, 461. 484. 
Friends. Comfort under the Loss of. 907. 

, On the recollection of Departed. 

By Charles Moir Bsq., 895. 


Calileo, and his Discoveries, 71. 

Garden." " I am come Into my, 970. 

Gate. The Strait. 367. 

Geology. The Doctrines of. Illustrative of the 
Bible, 23. 

German InstitutioDS for Reclaiming Youth- 
ftil Offenders, 455. 

Gipsy Reformation. By the Editor, 916. 

— < , Proposed Plan of. By 

the Rev. John Baird, 231. 

Glory to God. Ou Living to the. A Dis- 
course, by the Rev. John Forbes, D.D., 

,' On the ManifestatioD of the Divine. 

By the Rev. David Brown. 177. 

to God In the Hjchest. 477. 

God ? Do you love to Think of; 440. 
-~-^ Glory and Goodness of, 649. 

is Love. 588. 

— is the same In hb Decree*, Puipoies, 

and Designs, 460. 

on your Side ? Is, 686. 

, The Authority and Sovereignty of; 659. 

, The House oi; 393 

. The Love of, 382. 

God's Presence Promised to His People. A 

Discourse, by the Rev. Nathaniel Pater- 
son. D.D., 191. 
Godiv Sorrow, 31. 
Good. Biographical Sketch of John Mason, 

M.D. By the Editor. 87, 107. 
Gospel Adapted to the Poor. The. By the 

Rev. John Hunter, A.M., 385. 

, The, 256. 668. 

^ The, a Resting- Place. 15. 

, The, a Trial of Men's SplriU, 78. 

, The Genial Influence of^the. 747. 

of Christ, The Believer not Ashamed 

of the. A Discourse, by the Rev. Henry 

Moncreiff, A.B., 665, 681. 
. On the Inviutions of the. By the 

Rev. James Watt, 549. 

the Power of God, The, 399. 

Graham, Biographical Sketch of Miss Mary 

Jane. By the Editor, 470, 487. 
Gratitude, A Call to. By the Rev. Geoi|e 

Burns, D.D., 943. 

• to God, The Duty of, 622. 

Grave, The. Rom the Gennan of Salli, 80. 

By the 

Habit, The Influence of, 881. 
Hamilton, The Death of Patrick. 

Rev. James Bryce, 65. 
Happiness and Peace, We looked for. 

(). M. BclU Esq., 646. 
Hawkes, Mrs, Biographical Sketch of. By 

the Editor, 4, 19, 46, 63. 
Heaven, 709. 

Hetherington, Biographical Sketch of Mrs 

J. D. By the Bditor, 951. 
Hess, The Death-bed of C' TransUted 

from the German, 817. 
HIU, Biographical Sketch of Sir Richard. 

By the Editor. 516, 588» 557. ""^^ 
Hint, A good, 748. 
Holiness, Ahn at increasing, 604. 
— -— . Christians bound to cultitate, bi 

Heart and Life. A Discourse, by the 

Rev. Thomas Guthrie, 248. 

, The Beauty and Bliss o^ 948. 

— " I The Necessity of; to peace on 

earth and happiness in heaven. ADU- 

course, by the Rer. Nathaniel Paterwp, 

D.D., 728. 745. 
Holy? Are we becoming, 389. 
Hope. A True and a FaKe. 566. . 
Howlson. Biographical Sketch of the Her. 

James B., 78. 
Human Nature, Restitution of. By the Rer. 

James Esdaile. D.D.. 21, 61. 
Hurricane. The late, 188. 
Hymn to the Holy Spirit, 96L 

Immortality. The Heirs of, 39. 
Impiety rebuked, 424. 
India. Female Education in, 829. 
Infidel reclaimed. The; or the Conversion 

and Death of Count Struenace. By the 
Editor. 645. 669, 683. 
Infidel's Death-bed. The. By the Rev. 

David Amot, 132. 
Infidelity, Seek to repress, 709. 
Iniquities of the Fathers, visited upon the 

Children. 77. 
Inquidtion, The, 665, 743. 
Insect Creation, The Wisdom, Power, and 

Kindneu of God displayed In the. By 

the Rev. William Grant. 353. 
Insects, The Wisdom. Power, and Kindness 

of God shown in the Rcspfaratory Organs 

of. By the Rev. William Grant, 503. 
•, The Wisdom of God displajred in 

the Production, or Birth of. By the 

Rev. William Grant, 419. 
InatincU of Insects, The Wisdom, Power, 

and Kindness of God shown in the. By 

the Rev. WUllam Grant. 619. 
— — — the Lower Orders of Creation, 

The Wisdom, Power, and Kindness of 

God shown in the. By the Rev. Wil« 

liam Grant, 567. 
IreUnd an Uncultivated Garden, 298. 
Isaiah lU. 7. 8, An Illustration of. By tiie 

Rev. Robert Buchanan, 696. 
Islander, Anecdote of a Blind South Sea, S3. 
Israel, The Hope of. By the Rev. W. M. 

Hetherington, A.M., 93. 
Israelite^ Happy Deatti of a Christian, 701. 
1 Hymn of a Christian, 466. 

James Sixth, and the Presbyterian Minis- 
ters. By the Rev. Thomas M*Crie. 925. 

of Scotland and his Btohops. 

By the Rev. Thomas M*Crie, 305. 

Jerusalem, 459. 

and Calvary. By the Rev. George 

Garioch, A.M., 159. 

■s The Heavenly, 604. 

Jesus, Looking unto, 907. 

, The Burial of. A Discourse, by the 

Rev. John M'Naughtan. A.M., 473. 
-^« the Source of all Spiritual Blessings. 

By the Rev. William W. Duncan. 280. 
Jew, The. 806. 

Jews, A Thought on the State of the, 809. 
On the R^ection of the. By the Rev. 
(avid Fleming, A.M.. 129. 145. 
Sketches of the History of the. By the 
lev. George Muirhead, D.D., 156 905, 

888, 682, 686, 806, 820. 
. The Christian's Obligations to labour 

m the Cause of the, 798. 
— ~k The Convcrrion o^ on toe Continent 

of Europe, 335. 
Jubilee, The Song of, 397. 
Judas Iscariot, The Character and Doom of. 

A Discourse, by the Rev. John Hunter. 

A.M.. 264, 
Justification and SanctificaUon, 641. 
Justified, The Believer Is. A Discourse, by 

the kto Rev. Andrew Hunter, D.D., 


Kilsyth, A brief Account of the Revival of 
Religion at. By the Rev. W. M. HeUter- 
ington, A.M., 657. 

^, Account of the Communion at. By 

the Rev. Winiam Bums, 689. 

Revival at. By the Rev. William 

By the Rev. 

Burns, 676. 

Knox, John, and Queen Mary. 
Thomas M'Crie, 189. 

, Death of, and Arrival of An- 
drew Meivilie. By the Rev. Thomas 
M'Crie, '209. 

Knowledge and Ignorance, 16i. 

Land, The Happy, 301. 

Laud's Liturgy, The History of. By the 

Rev. Thomas M'Crie, 499. 
Lavater. Biographical Sketch of John Gas- 

pard. Translated f^om the German, 699. 
League and Covenant, The Origin of the 

Solemn. By the Rer. ThonuM M' GHe. 


League, The Solemn, and thd Westminster 

Assembly. By the Rev. Thomas M'Crie, 

Lebanon, Mount, 999. 

, The Cedars of; 6. 
Life, The Fountain of. 166. 

? \niat is your great ol^ect In, 6811 

Light. Address to. By Alenandec Lethan, 

Lines, 1 18. 

London supplied with the Scriptures, 335. 
** Look unto roe, and be ye saved," 686. 
Lord. "The Curse of the. In the House of 

Uie Wicked." By John Pringle, Esq., 

596. ^^ 
^_ ? " «* Who Is among you that feareth the 

Lord's Day, Address on the Observance of 

the. 367. 
, On the Desecration of the, by 

the Running of the Royal Mail, 53. 
Lord's Supper, On the Time when it should 

be observed, 303. 
— The 

Itue notion of the, 495. 


Loilng-kindness of God, Praise for tlie. 820. 
Luther. A Frumcnt. By tht late D. T. 

M'Cheyne, BImi., 867. 

Madagascar, Beoent Persecution In, IK). 

> The Manners and Customs of 

the InhabitanU of, 15. 
Maelstrom. 140. 
Ma^.jrhe8ongofthe. By David edder. 

Idol, Description of a R«^nowncd, 


Man Excuses himself for Sin, 899. 

.The Chief Happiness of; only to he 

Found in the Enjoyment of God. By 

the Rev. Alexander Turner, 669. 
Marshman, Biographical Sketch' of the late 

Rev. Dr, 182. 
Martyr, The. 581. 
Martyrs, The Early, of the Reformation in 

Scotland. By the Rev. Thomas M'Crie, 

.The First, of the Covenant. By 

the Rev. Thomas M'Crie, 779. 

-^ The Last, of the Refomation in 

Scotland. By the Rev. Thomas M'Crie, 

Master, where DweHest Thou ? 898. 
Masters, On the DuUes ot, to Scrvanto. A 

Discourse^ by the Rev. John G. Lorimer, 

Maxims, Profluble, 111. 
Meekness, Humility, and Deadnest to the 

World. 15. 
Metrical Version of the Supernumerary, or 

151st Psalm. By Professor Tenant. 707. 
Minims of Nature. By the Rev. David 

Landsborough, 468, 725. 
Mmistry, On the Importance of the. 31. 
Missionary Hymn. A. 179. 
Montrose and the Covenanters. By the Rev. 

Thomas M'Crie, 605. 
Morrow, Take Thctefbre no Thought for 

Moses, The Faith of. A Discourse, by the 

Rev. James Begg, A.M., 313. 
Moslem Funeral in Syria, 30. 
Motherless Children, A Father to his. 741. 
Mourner. The Blessedneu of the. A Dis* 

course, by the Rev. John Sym, 989. 
Musical Instnunents of the Jews. On the. 

By the Rev. James Brodie, 6G2. 

Narrative of Personal 

municated by the 

A.M.. 627. 
Natural and Revealed Religion, 731. 

Religion, The Insufltelcocy of. 717. 

A. Com* 
IV. Henry Grey 

Neglecting to do Good, The Sin of; 413. 
New Year% Day Hymn. Bj Charles Moir, 

Esq., 86. 
Niagara, To, 107. 
Nineveh, 799. 
Nomothesia; Or, the Giving of the Law 

By tiic Rev. JamM Esdaile, D.D., 310^ 

343, 551. 675. 

Obedience to the Will of Christ, 367. 

-, The Duty of Persevering, 171. 

Urged for Uie Redeemer's Sake. 

A Discourse, by the Rev. John Bruce, 

Old Age, Unbelievers in, 962. 
Oratorios. Sacred, 495. 
Oreb of the Sacred Writings. On the. By 

the Rev. David Scot, BTD.. 718. 
** O that I had Wings like a Dove," 494. 
Oxford Memorial of CnuuBcr. BIdley, and 

Latimer, 880. 


Palm-Trce, The. By Andrew R. Bonv, S76. 

Park. Dvx« for. 196. 

Pouhiooera. A Letter to hSi. By the Ret, 

Andrew A. Bonar, 74). 
PattorX The Yoaof . Appfesl to his People. 

Br tbe Bcv. Jobn M*Ewen, 598. 
Pastoral Letter flnoin the Synod of Angus 

and Meams, to Masters and Servants 

within their Bounds, 801. 
Passover, On Fieparation for the Christian. 

A DisonurBe,by the Bct. John Bruce, 

A.M.. 713. 
PatroDBce. The Abolition of, and the Coro- 
nation of Charles the Second. By the 

Rev. Thomas M'Cne, 733. 
Paal and Jotephns Fellow- Faasengert to 

Rome. By the Rer. Robert Jamieson, 

Peace, False. TO. _ 

PeacehtBeUcTioc,On. Sy the Rev. Thomas 

Chatmers. DTD., and LL.D.. 1, 71. 
Penltrat. The Confessions of a, 18. 
PerscctttioQ tbr Righteousness* Sake, 309. 
Perth, The Vive Articles of. By the Rev. 

Thomas M*Cric 353. 
Phanjce and the Publican, The Parable of 

the. A Disooorse, by Uie Rev. James 

Ben, A.M.. 187, 198. 
PWtT. The ObHcations to Early. A Dis- 

coune. By the late Re Andrew Hun- 
ter. D.D , 761. 
Pilgrim's Expostulation, The. By the Rev. 

Henry Scott BidddU 488. 
PWnderlcatb, Robert. Esq. Manorial o<; 882. 
Prayer, 702. 

, By the Rev. John A. Wallace, 616. 

. On, 718. 

, a Surreoder of our Case to God, 830. 

, A Mother's. By Mrs Jane C. Simp- 

■oo, OO. 
. Oo. Bv the Rev. George Burns, D.D., 

, Oo, as Essential to the Christian 

Character. By the Rev. WUliam Pater- 


Apparently Rejected, yet Completely 

Answered, 869. 

is th« Christian's Comfort, 428. 

V The Duty of Intercessory, 748. 

. The Effect of, 366. 

. Stanzas On. By David Vedder, 701. 

. \%>ittcn in Sickncis. By J. G uop- 

kirli, LL.B.. 269. 

for the Dead In Sin. A Discourse. 

by the Rev. James Henderson, D.D., 233. 

PrsTerless Mother. The, 269. 

Pi ea Uie is. Fopuiar. By Mrs Jane C. Simp- 
ton. 564. 

PKsbyteriaiis and BngUsh Sectaries. By the 
Rev. Thomas M'urie, 609. 

Piciacy. The Introduction of, into the Church 
o( Scotland. By the Rev. Thomas M'Crie, 

* Preserve ray Soul for I am Holy,** 569. 

PnMttgal Son. The Parable of the. A Dis- 
course, by the Rev. J. Barr, D.D., 648. 

Promise^ The First, 669. 

Prophet, The Deceived. A Diioourse, by 
the Rev. Alexander Turner. 409, 424. 

Pnlm. Analysis of the FoHy-flfth. Abridg- 
ed from Bishop Horsley, 85, 100, 173. 

Piaim, Arrangement of the ll9th. By the 
Rev. An£ew A. Bonar, 180, 195. 

Babbies, Three Inaoiriag, at Jerasalem, 758. 
Bacbel, The Death of. By O. M. BellTEsq., 

SateaTavy. the Malagasy Martyr, 85. 
Reason and Revelation. By the Editor, 49. 
Accord, The Sore, 622. 
Reed. MiM Martha, Biographical Sketch of. 

By the Editor, 858» 38& 408. 
IcflcctioDS, The, of an Old Disciple, 766. 
Reformation in Germany, The Drcumstan- 

ces which led to the. By the Rev. James 

Bryce, 33. 
» in SeoUvid, Rise of the. By 

the Rev. James Bryce, 65. 

The Commencement of the. 

By the Rev. Thomas M'Crle, 167. 

■, TheEsUblishmentofthe. By 

the Rev. Thomas M'Crie, 161. 
Rdigtoo, Evaogefical, 589. 

, The Ways ot, Pleannt, 574. 

» The Whole of, 609. 

, True, 702. 

HcUfions A flections Towards our Saviour, 

Special Grounds for. 271 . 
Instruction in Early ChildSood. By 

the Editor, 136. 
»■ — , Means of. By the Rev. 

Duncan Madhrlan, 212> 878^ 301, 596, 689 

IcpcQt, Th« Simicr'f VnivSmngiieM to, 81. 

Resignation, 172. 
Resurrection, The, 111. 

and the Life. I am the, 798. 

, The Hope of the, 782. 

of Christ, Narrations of the, 

Harmonised. By the Rev. Andrew 

Hutchison, 278. 289. 
Return Alone. The, 215. 
Revival, Enlargement, and Glory of the 

Church, Lines on the. By Maria Denoon 

Young, 771. __ 

in an Individual Soul, 382. 

of Religion on the Continent of 

Europe, 766. 
Revivals at Stewarton and lUrk of SbotU. 

By the Rev. Thomas M'Crie, 414. 
of Religioa in the Isle oif Skye, 808^ 

Rich Man, The Parable of the. A IMtcourse, 
by the Rev. Robert Gordon, D.D., 201. 

Righteousness, The Sun oC 702. 

Robinson, Rev. Thomas, A.M. Biographi- 
cal Sketch of. By the "Editor 510. 

Rock of Ages, 717. 

Ross, Hugh, Biographical Sketch ot By the 
Ute Rev. James Mitchell, 590. 

Row, Mr John, Biographical Sketch of. By 
the Editor, 699. 614. 

Ruth, the Type of a true Conrert. By the 
Rev. David Arnot, 661. 

By Charles Moir, Esq., 500. 
Pnkknation, The nrat Duty of 
Christians in regard to, 630. 

Reflections. Written at Sea, 238. 

School Union toi Scotland, 278. 

, The. 692. 

The Duties which Private Chrii* 

tians must perform on the, 495. 
TravelUng, 812. 

, Unnecessary Sailing on the, 509. 

SacramenUl MediUUon, A, 541. 

Sahit? What is it to be a, 849. 

Salvation a Free Gift, 652. 

, The Importance of, 623. 

SancUftr the Lord God fai your Hevta, 884. 

Sanctiilcation, 367. 

absolutely necessary, 604. 

Sanctuary, Balance of the, 967. 

Scotland, The State of Religion in. before 
t!ie Reformation. By the Rev. Thomas 
M'Crie, 97. 

Scott, Mrs Janet, Biographical Sketch of. 
By the Ute Rev. James fifitchell, 167. 

— — k The hue Rev. John, D.D., Biographical 
Sketch of. By the Rev. David Lands- 
borough, 421. 

Scripture Interpretation, 524. 

Scriptures, The Unsystematic Structure of 
the. By the lUir, J. M. M^CuUoch. 

Sen-Bird^'The. By John Pringle, Ew., 604. 
Seasons, The, as known to the Hebrews. 

Bythe Rev. David Mitchell, 67, 435, 
Seed-Tlme. By ditto, 67. 
Self deceit. 524. 
Self-denial, 284. 
Self-enjoyment, 686. 
Self-examination, 15, 888. 
Self-indulgence connected with Study, On 

the Snare of, 765. 
Self-knowledge, 125^ 685. 
Self-renunciation, 270. 
Separation, 681. 

Serpent-charmers and Jugglrrs In Egypt, 81. 
Sharon, The Rose of, 817. 
Siberian Converts, The, 534. 
Sin, Indwelling, 589. 
~-. must be mortified, 702. 

, The Mature and EflbcU of; 668. 

..^ The Attributes of, 788. 

, The Progress of, 446. 

Sins, Little. 808. 

, Secret, 541. 

, The Forgiveness ot, 718. 

Sinning against Light, 686. 

Sinner and the Saint, A Contrast between 

the spiritual state of the. A Discourse, 

by the Rev. Andrew Gray, A.M., 586, 

Slaters. On receiving Memorials of departed, 

Sketches, Home Missionary, 92, 140. 

Skye, The Young Inquirer in, 131. 

Snow. Red, Hail and Bain. By the Editor, 13. 

SocUlism in EngUnd, 217. 

Sonnet. By Mrs Jane C. Simpson, 409. 

Sonnets. By Mrs Jane C. Simpson, 627. 

Sons, The Parable of the Two. A Dis- 
course, by the Rev. James Lewis, 876, 

South Sea Islander, Analogical Reasoning 
of a, 709. 

Spiritually-minded, To be, is life and peace, 

Star, To the Evening, 864. 

Stars. The Fixed. By the Rev. Jamea 
Brodie. 270. 

, Variable. By the Rev. James Brodie, 


Stone rejected by the Builders. A Dis- 
course, by the Rev. Alexander Moody 
Stuart, A. M., 489. 

Studying the Scriptures, Thoughts on. By 
Mr A. Tough, JukJct, 731. 

Submittion, 519. 

to the Divine Will, 669. 

Surgeon, The, of an East Indlaman, 98« 

Tahiti, The Fb-st EsUbUshment of a Press 
at, 296. 

Teacher, Tribute to %hc Memory of a Sab- 
bath School. By the Rev. Henry Grey. 
A.M., 532. 

Teaching, Human and Spiritual, both the 
Gift of God.. 830. 

Temper, A Spiritual, 781. 

Temporal WanU of Believers, The Good- 
ness of God in Supplying the. By the 
Authorcu of " Conversations on the His- 
torical Truth and Inspiration of the Holy 
Scriptures." 260. 

Temptation, 3i7. 

Testament, The New, 45. 

Thanksgiving Necessary, 708. 

•* Think on 'fhese Things," 542. 

" Things which are Seen are Temporal,*' 379. 

Time and Eternity, The Connection between. 
A Discourse, by the Rev. UnUiam Muir, 
D.D.. 9. 

," " Now Is the Accepted, 808. 

/The Flight of. By RIdiard Hule^ Esq., 

Toller, BiograpMeal Sketch of the late Rer. 

Thomas, 446, 460. 
Tongues, The Confbdon of 76. 
Transmission of the Old Testament Scrip- 

tures,f^om the Time of Bara to the Co«* 

mencement of the Christian Bra. By 

the Rev. Robert Simpson, A.M., 86^ 

Trial of Three Primitive Christiana. By 

the Rev. Robert Jamieson, 641. 
Trials. On. 111. 

k Past, to be Remembered, 46. 

Truth, Some Men Displeased with, vndce 

whatever Aspect Presented. A Dis- 
U by the Rer. John Paul, 684, 681. 


UncbariUbleness, 460. 

** Understandest thou what thoa Readeit ? ** 

Unregenerate Man Degraded to a Level 

with the BeasU. By the Author of ** The 

Pious Brothers,'* 671. 
Unregenerate, The Spiritual 4tate of ail. 

Contrasted with that of a Regenerate 

Man. A Discourse by the Rev. Robert 

Bums, D.D., 798. 

Vegetable World, The Wisdom of God in 
the Creation of the. By the Rev. Wil- 
liam Grant, 84. 

Verses. By the late Mrs Wilson of Bom- 
bay, 67. 

Veteran, The Aged, 140. 

Vine, •* I am the, and ye are tke tnachet,* 

WbMo, The History of Peter, 70. 

Walk warily, 429. 

Warfare, ChrUtlan. 429. 

War, The Evils ot, 606. 

Wa«igh, The late Rev. Alexander, D.D., 

Biographical Sketch of. By the Editor. 

813. 823. 
Whitefleld, Biographical Sketch of the Ret. 

George, A.M. By the Editor, 886^ 294, 

Widow*, A Poor. 98. 

Winter and Cold. By the Rev. David*MIt« 

cheU, 435. 
Word a Lamp, The. By the Rer. Roboct 

M. M'Cheyne. 842. 
^— of God, The only rule of Faith and 

Practice. A Discourse, by the Rer. 

William Cunningl>am,361. 

spoken in season. A, 848. 

World, Tx)ve not the, 731. 

, The love and hatred of the, 600. 

, A False Estimate of the, 894. 

Year, Lines on hearing the Bells Ring ovC 

the Old. 86. 
Toung shown where to find Harpinesa, 94. 
TcutbfUl O Anders, Institutiontia Genoenf 

for Rceiabning, 769^ 780. 



Atm^t, Rev. DevM, Aidctant Mnliter of 
St Paul'f PariBb, Dundee. 118, 193,661. 

Aytoanyfmitaa B., Esq., Author of "Poland 
and other Poems/* 8S4. 

Biir. Key. Sianet, D.D., Miniitcr of Port- 
Ohugow. 648. 

Itegg, Rev. James. A.M., Minister of Liber- 
ton, Mid- Lothian, 137, 15S. 313. 

BeU, 6. M., Esq., Author of ^ Th« Scotliab 
Martyrs," te., 399, 646. 

Bennie. Uev. Archibald, Minister of Ladt 
Tester's Parish* Edtoburgih, 8». 

Bladcwood, Reir. WilKam S., Minister of the 
Scotch Chnrdi, Maryport, Ciiiiri>erland, 

BoMr. Bitr, Andxvw A., AsiAstaat Minister 

< of Collace. Perthshire, 180, 195, 363^ 741 . 

Bcvdisk Rer. James, Minister of Monimaii, 

^^eshire, 576,462, 883. 

Brown, Rct. Charles John, Minister of the 
Mew Itath Parish. Ediabucg^, 843. 

mevtn, Ker. David, Minister of Rosiin, Mid- 

fimoe. Rev. John, A.M., one of the Minis- 
ters of St Andrew's Paiirii, Bdinborgh, 

35, n«. 

Bryce, Rev. James, Minister of GilcooMtoa 

Parish, Aberdeen, 33, 65. 
Boebanao, Rev. James, Minister of North 

Leith, 464, 481. 
Ihifiiawnn, Uev. Robert Minister of 7>on 

Church Parish, Glasgow, 616. 
Buchanan, Rev. Rdtert, Minister of the 

Second Secession CoBgregatioB, D«l«^ 

Bulloclc, The late Rev. Andrew, A.M., Mi- 
nister of Tislttallan, fltrkmannanshlre, 

BuiDS, Rev. George, D.D., Miiii«ter of 

Twcedamiiir, Poebles-shire, 81, lU^ 143. 

Bums, Rev. Robert, D. D., Minister of St 

George's Church, Paisley, fiS9, T9S. 
Bums, Rev. WillUn^ Minister of Kilsyth, 

Candlish, Rev. Robert Sm A.M., Mhilster of 
*^Tt George's Parish, Bdteburgb, 169, 185, 

•Chalmersi Bev« Thomas, D.D., LL.D.. 

Professor of Theology In the University 

of Edinburgh, 1, 17. 

Davidson, Xov. Dsvid. MlflMarof Broughty- 

Fetry, Forfarshire, 173. 
Duncan. Rev. 'William Wallace, MlBisler of 

Cleisb, Kinross-fhhre, 280, 721. 

Bsdaile, Rev. James, D.D., Minister of the 
Bast Church, Perth, M, 61, 16^, 908, ^K), 

Tafrlle. Rev. Walter, Minister ofOltaMrtmi, 

Mid- Lothian, 613,629. 
Fleming, Rev. David, A.M., Minister of 

Caniden, Linlithgowshfare, 129, 145. 

Portiei, Rer. John, D.D., Minister of St 
Paul's Pariah, GU«ow, 41, 632. 


Garioch, Rev. George. Minister of Meldrma, 

Aberdeensfah-e, 152. 
Gordon, Rev. Robert, D.D., One of the 

Ministers of the High Church Parish, 

Edinburgh; 201, 777. 
Grant, Bcv. WUllam, Logiealmond, Perth- 
shire, 84, 253, 419, 603. 667, 612. 
Gt»y. Rer. Andrew, A.M., Minister of the 

west Church Parish, Perth, 636, 662. 
Grey, Rev. Henry, A.M., Minister of St 

Mary's Parish, Edinburgh, 532, 627. 
Guthrie^ Rev. Thomas, one of Che Mintsten 

of the Old Greyfriars* FaxWi, Edin. 

burgh, 248. 

Henderson, Rev. James, D.D., MlnUtcr of 

St Enoch's Parish. Glasgow, 233. 
Helherington, Rev. W. M., A.M., Minister 

of lorphichen, UnUtbgowshire, 9% 657, 

Hopkirk, J. Gn Esq., LL.B., 209. 
Hule, Richard, Esq., M.D., 3, 776. 
Hunter, Rev. John, A.M., one of the Mlnl- 

sters of the Tron Chnreh Parish. Edin- 

huDgh, 164, 886, 401, 417, 835. 
Hunter. The late Rev. Andrew, D.D., one 

of tile MhiMers of the Tron Churdi, and 

Professor of Tfaeologr ha the University 

of Edinburgh, 297, 761 . 
Hutchison, Rev. Andrew, Minister of the 

Scotoh Church, Wacreaford, Northum- 
berland, 273, 289. 

Jamleson, Rev. Robert, MVoiitcr of Conrie, 

2, 241, 641, 673. 

LettdAorough, Rev. David, Mlnhter of Ste- 

venston, Ayrshire, 421, 468, 725. 
Lewis, Rev. James, Minister of St. John's 

Parish, Leith, 876, 393. 
Loilmer, Rev. John G., Minister of St 

David's Parish. Glasgow, 7, 86; 102, 11& 

217, 229, 244, 349, 390, 438, 463, 484. 

Macfarian, Rev. Duncan, Minister of Ren- 
frew. 311, 178, 801, 596, 629, 658, 679. 

M*Cheyne, Rev. Robert M., BfTlnistcr of St 
Peter's Church, Dundee, 342. 

M'Cheyne, The late D. T., Esq., 357. 

irCrle, Rev. ThooM. 97, 118, 141, 157, 161, 
189. 209, 225. 257, 305, 353, 872. 414. 429, 
477. 497, 62i 64&, 677, 60\ 609, 706, 733, 
737, 772. 

M'Culloch, Rev. J. M., A.M., Bfinistor of 
Kdso, Eoxhurghshire, 369. 

M'Ewcn. Rev. John, Bflnlster of the Parish 
of Milton of Balgonle, FlfesMre, 893. 

M'Naughtan, Rev. John, A.M., Minister of 
the High Qiurch, Paisley, 473. 

Milroy, Rev. Andrew, Minister cf CraOing, 
RoKburghshire, 808. 

Mltobell,. Rev. David, of PuRener Town, 
Wick, 67, 435. 

Mitchell, the late Rev. James, Minister of 
the ficoteh Church, Wooler, Kortbom- 
berland, 167, 580. 

Moh',Cto te», Bm.. m,WKm. 
MoncreME Rev. Henrr, A. B., Minister ot 

East Kilbride, 666,681. 
Muirbead, Rev. George. D.D., Minister of 

srAH^^'"^' '"^ *''^' ^''' 

Muir, Rev. William, D.D.. Minister of St 
Stephen's Parish, Edhibuii^, 9l 


Patmon, Rev. Nathaniel, D.D., Minister of 
St Andrew's Parish, Glasgow, 728, 74.5, 

Peterson, Rev. William, Miasionary Minister 
te^ Whiteness wad Weesdale, Shetlard. 

^"U ^*T' 'o*»n, one of the BRnlstcrs of St 
SJ Wl*^** '"**' Edinbui^h. 86, 72, 
Priagle, John, Esq^ 505. 604. 


Ralrfi, Rev. Hugli, LL.D., Minister of the 
Scotch Church, Oldham Street, Liver- 
pool, 433; 448. 

Rlddell. Rev. Henry Scott, Minister of Cher- 
iMOtig Chapel, DumlUes-shire, 483. 

Seet, the late Rev. David, M.D., Profeswir 

of Onentei Languages in the University 

of St Andrews, 718. 
Simpson, Mrs Jane C, 230, 409, 564. «r, 637. 
Simpson, Rev. Robert, A.M.. Minister of 

Kintore, Aberdeenshire, 865, 382, 397, 

Smyth, Rev. John, D.D., Minister of St 

George's Parish, Glasgow, 89, 104. 
Stuart, Rev. Alexander Moody, A.M., Ml* 

Bister of St Luke's Pariah. Edinhurgh, 

Sym, Rev. John, one of the MMaten of the 
Old Grcyfirlars' Parirti, Bdinhuivb, 280. 


Tennant, William, Esq.. Professor of Ori- 
ental Languages hi the University of SC 
Andrews, 645, 797. 

Thomson, R«v. John, ICidster of Dysart, 
Fifcshire, 55. 

Tough, Mr Alexander, Junior, one of the 
Elders of the Middle Parish, Greenock, 
655, 731. 

Turner. Rev. Alexander, Minister of GoT" 
bals, Glasgow, 400, 484, 669. 

VMder, David. Author of ** OxmdiM 
Sketcbei^" Ach 270, 669. 701, 789. 


Wallace. Rev. John A., Mfadster of Hawick, 

Roxburghshire, 616. 768. 
Watt, Rev. Janaes, Minister of Glenlsia, For* 

Wood, Rev. James JuIItis, A. M., BTmlster 
of the New Greyfriars' Parish, ^Edin- 

Toung, Miss MarU Denoon, Authoress of 
** ReOactaoos on Prayer and the Work 
of the Lord,*' 771. 


Afr^rTMitfionuT Operstlont In South, 105. 
Antipi ftSpoiirf New Church in, 39. 
A^SSi^riS. 83. 82. 40. 48. 72. 80. 88. 

AM^bly^o2J■l. of 1638. An Account of. 
By the Ber. Thom«» M'Cne, 1. 
oj uic «« ^ Commemoration 

of the, 8. 


-^ for 1839. Proceedings ct. 

-» Hall, Keport on. 50. 68, 114. 
, The CommiMion of. 60. 

^ The Commmion or. ou. 

Associate Hjnod, Union on with the Church 

of Scotfand, 15. 31, 62. 81. 87. 
AuchteiSSrOue; 31*. 39. 41, 49. 50. 52, 59. 

61. 68, «, 80, 90. 95, 114., 
AnstriaTstate of EducaUon in, 21. 

Bclhaven't Letter, Lord, 89. 
Berlin. Cdefaration of the Fcttiyal of the 
, Be^Tal of Beligion te, 120. 

Befonnation in, 95. 
Bible. Inaccurate Edition* of ttie, M. 
1, Patent for Printing the, 47, 64, 72. 

W, 82, 91. ,..,«»-• 

BtbYical Criticism, ProfesMnhip* of; 69. 68. 
Blajckie, Caw of Profeaaor, 95. 
Brechin Caae. 71. 


Calk 1«» i«. aa; 40. 48. 72, 80, 88. 96, 104, 112, 

CUla, Bcffulationa on,jn. 
Cambunethan CaM, The, 66. 
Campbelton Caae^I. , 

Canada. State of Churches m, 62. , 

. Upper, Scottish College in, 77. 

CeYlon. State of BeUgion in, 92. 
Chtireh. Funds of the, 68, 
Churches, ConsHtution of New, 60. 
Gollecttont finr the Four Schemes. 63. 
Commianon of the General Assembly, Pro- 
ceedings oC 68. 89. 113, 116. 
Commissiona, Disputed. 49. 
Committee on Non- Intrusion, 80^ 89. 
Criefl; New Church at, 72. 


Dalkeith. New Church in, 40. ^ ^ .^ 
Deaths. 16.24. 32, 40i 48^72. 80, 88. 96. 104, 

DeM ^f Ctapela. LUblUty for fte, 109. 
Dioeeean Education in England, 22. 
Duir, Dr, Lectures by, 89. ^ , «, 
Dundee, Proposed New Chuirfi in, 23. 
Dankdd, AppearMce ofUie^esbytc^o^ 

atUie fiarof the Court of Session, 69. 
Dusseltbal, The Instituaon at, 99. 

Eddcrton Case, The, M. . 

Edinburgh, Proposed New Church m west 

Port, 5E3. 
Edncatkm in Highlands and Islands, Beport 

EdJ^kx^ National. 89, 44, 71. 73, 90, 113. 
Elders. Bepresentative. 68. 
Eatenrion, Church, Beport on, 60. 


Fhwce, The Beligioua Press in, 73. 

Frimce. Progress of Protestantism In, 104. 
FVfc. Ber. Mr. Case of, 61, 67. 
Funerals, Sabbath, 119. 


Gipsies, Proposed Schools for, in England, 

Glasgow Missionary Society, Proceedings of, 

30. 45, 105. 

Seaman's Friend Sodety, 30. 

Greece, Education in. 78. 
GreenUnd Missions, 100. 

Helvetic Confession of Faith, AboUtion of; 

Hewley's, Lady, Charity, 31. 
Home Mission, Proposal of a. 28. 

of Synod of Ulster, 58. 
of, 60. 

Humbie, Case ( 


Idolatry in India, British Countenance of; 

India, Awakening In Northern, 72, 91. 

Missions, 63, 104. 

InTemess Case. 68. 

Jardinc, Case of the Ret. Fergus, 50. 

JesuiU of Bavaria, The. 31. 

Jew, Conversion of a, 31 

Jews, Emancipation of. in Denmark, 23. 

, in Jerusalem, State of the, 75. 

, Beport of Committee on, 63. 

, The Present State and Future Proa- 

pects of the, 11. 


Kilsyth, Becent Bevival in, 93, 97. 110. 
Kta-khill, Case of Schoolmaster of, 65. 
Knox, Miss Charlotte, Death of, 15. 


Laing. Mr Bobert, Case of. 57. 

Leith, St Thomas's Church, Constitution of, 

Leswalt, Proposed New Church hi the Pa- 
rUh of, 31. « ^ «. 

Lethendy Case, The, 22, 47, 59, 68, 69. 

Library of the Church, The, 68. 

Logic Easter, Caae of, «9. , . - ^ 

Lord's Day Society, Progress of, hi Scot- 
land, 25. 


Mameluke, Baptism of a, 31. 

Marnoch Case, The, 26, 68, 114. 116. 

Marriage, Degrees of, 69. 

Marriages, The Question of Mixed, 47, 71. 

Maynonth College, Proposed Inquiry into, 

Minister's Widow's Fund, 60. 
** Morning and Evening Sacrifice, A Fama 

against the Author of, 50. 


Ordinations, 16, 23, 32, 40, 48, 72, 80, 88, 36, 

Orphan Fund, Supplementary, 60. 
Oxford Puscyltes. The, 6. 
. Tracts, 89. 

Palestine, The Deputation to, 26, 35, 114. 

Pamphlets on Church Extension, &c., 16. 
Pilgrim Tax, Abolition of the, 81. 
Plean, New Church at. 39. 66. 
Poor, Beport on the Management of the, 60. 
Poperv and Infianttdde in Spain and Portu- 

*and Puseyism, The Beoent Progress 

of, 17. 
. and Protestantism on the Continent 

of Europe, 29. 
, Increase of, in the Britbh Colonies, 


in the South Pacific, 26. 

in MalU, 37. 

in Bavaria, Progress oi; 44. 

in Otaheite, 47. 

, Beport on, 62. 

— *— to Spain, 71. 

in England, 72, 87. 

to Geneva, 77. 

in America, 80. 

in Austria, 87. 

The Spirit and Progress of, 13. 

Presbyterial Prayer Meetings, 39. 

VisiUUons, by the Presbytery 


of Arbroath, 23. 
Presbyterianism in England, 27, 51, 112. 
Presbyterian Soldiers. 81, 39, 64, 67. 

Church in the Colonies. 57. 

of America, The, 66. 

Prison Bill, The English, 35. 87. 
Probationers, Employment of, 67. 
Prussia. The King of. and the Pope. 33^ 71, 

Bailway Travelltog and Steam Navigation, 

Bationalism in Switzerland, 35, 104. 
Beligious Disturbance at Cleves in Belgium, 

. Instruction, Ninth Beport of the 

Commissioners of Inquiry toto the Means 

of, 31. _ 

Boxburgh Church, Edtoburgh, 66. 

Sabbath Observance, 11, 67. ^ ^ 

Question, The Becont Progress of 

the, 37, 47. 
Schools, The Assembly's. 91. 
Seat Bent Queition, The. 47, 6}, 80. 
Settiements, Contested, 22. 
Skye, State of Hcligion to, 62. 
Slave Trade, The, 59. 
Small Isles, Case of, 67. 
Socialism in England, 86, 103. 
Stewart. Bev. Andrew, M.D., OWtuary of, 

Strachur Case, The, 64, 67. 
Stratiifillan Case, The, 64. 91, 114, 117. 
Sunday School, First in England, 23. 
Supplementary Fund, 23. 

Tarbollon, Case of Schoolmaster in, 63, 85. 
Teinds and QiMad Sacra Parishes, 3S. 
, Crown, of Scotland, 85. 

Wales, New South, Grants to, 80. 

^ State of Presbyterian 

Church in, 91, 114, 116. 
Weslcyan Centenary, 15, 31. 
West Wemyss. New Church at, 23. 
Wilkle, Bev. Daniel, Obituary of, 4. 






1 -On Peaoe to Benching. Fart Hrtt. By the Rev. Thomas 

Chalmers, D. D., I.L.D., Page 1 

l~The Altar of the Unknown God. By the Rtv. Bobert 

Jaaiieson. S 

l-«3CTvd Poetry. *• The FUght of Time." By Richard Huie, 

Esq, M.D a 

4— Bioffnphical Sketch. Hrt Hawket. Part Pint. By the 

E*tor, 4 

S— TbeCedan of Lebainon 6 

6.— The Protestant Church of TVance, at the Beginnii« of Last 

Century. By the Rev. John O. Lorimer« P^ge 7 

7.— A I>iaoourse. By the Rev. MTUliam Muta>, D,D., » 

8— Anecdote, 13 

9.— Red Snow, HaiU and Rain. By the Editor ib. 

10.— Christian Treasury. Extracts from Remains of the late 

ReT. Dr Martin, HoweU, Steele. Cecil, and Rutherford... 14 
11.— The Manners and Customs of the Inhabitants of Mada- 
gascar, 15 


Pa&t Fiest. 


Professor of Theology in the University of Edinburgh. 

The peace which is experienced in believing 
is relief from the terrors of wrath; it is not 
trerelv the removal, but the reversal of its antici- 
putions ; it is our altered view of God, when from 
ai enemy we are taught to regard Him as a friend ; 
:t is our' assurance of His good will to us here, 
and a confident expectation of the promised bliss 
ereafter — these all spring in a disciple's spirit 
:>ofn the faith of the Gospel, and these are the 
3ain elements of his peace and joy in believing. 

Should a powerful and offended neighbour, un- 
c>r the threats of whose resentment I had been 
mii^ for months in fearful insecurity,-— should he 
!^nd to my door an offer of reconciliation, it is not 
4*ficult to understand how, at the moment of my 
rplidnce upon the truth and honesty of this offer, 
I would be at rest. Nor would it' at all disturb 
tbe peacefulness of my heart, that I were given 
to know that the proposed friendship was only 
Tet mine in offer, and not mine in possession, till 
1 had performed certain conditions which I knew 
to be easily practicable. It would not, for ex- 
ample, abate the joy of the announcement, that 
I iins told of an intended call on the part of my 
relenting adversary, and that I must give him a 
courteoiw reception, and stretch out my hand as 
the token of my having accepted his overture ; 
and that then what was now mine in offer would 
become mine in possession also. If I consented 
to all this, and felt not merely the possibility, but 
the perfect ease of it, I would not postpone my 
§ adne?s till the hour of the expected visit. On 
mv faith in the reality and integrity of the offer, I 
viuld consider my before formidable enemy to be 
now my placid and my attached friend. An in- 
«sintaneous peace would arise in my bosom, nor 
»ould I wait the coming formalities of reconcilia- 
tion ere I threw aside the burden of my disquietude. 
No. L JAif. 5. 1839— ll<f.l 

Now in the Gospel of Jesus Christ, God ad- 
dresses to me just such an offer; and I have only 
to believe in the truth of it, that I may cease 
from my apprehensions of God as an enemy, and 
God as an avenger. It is true that there is a 
difference between a thing being mine in offer, 
and a thing being mine in possession ; and the 
difference still obtains, though that thing be for- 
giveness from God. But there is nothing in this 
difference which ought to serve as an alloy, or as 
an abatement, upon peace in believing. We have 
not, in the case of the Gospel overtures, to look 
forward to any condition of future difficulty, ere 
the forgiveness that is now ours in offer becomes 
ours in possession. It is offered to us now, and 
it is competent for us actually to receive it now 
The truth is, that it becomes ours simply upon 
our believing the truth of that message by which 
the offer is made known to us. No sooner do we 
believe than we possess ; and let us cease, then, 
to wonder at the many recorded examples of the 
instantaneous peace which has dropped into the 
sinner's bosom from the word of the testimony. 

And grievous, indeed, is their misunderstand- 
ing of the Gospel, who think that peace must be 
postponed till we know that holiness is in pro- 
gress within us, and that repentance is going on- 
wards even unto perfection. It is true, that with- 
out holiness no man can see God ; and it is as 
true, that unless we repent we shall perish. But 
just as the man who had the offer of reconciliation 
laid by an offended neighbour at his door, ought 
not to postpone his joy till the hour of certain 
easy and practicable formalities; so neither ought 
we to postpone it till the time when we know that 
repentance and holiness have been realized upon 
our characters. And that, not because these graces 
are easily attainable by us, but because these graces 
[Sbcond Sbaiks. Vol I. 






1— On Peace in BelieTing. Part Flrit. B7 the Key. Thomas 

Chalmers, D.D., LL.D Pe^e 1 

1-The Altar of tho Unknown God. B7 tho Rev. Bobert 

Jamieson, % 

3.-5acrcd Poetrjr. *' The Flight of Time." By Richard Huie, 

E*q.. M.D.. 3 

i-Biographical Sketch. Mr* Hawket. Part First. By the 

Editor, 4 

5.— TbeCedars of Lebanon 6 

6.— The ProtetUnt Church of FVance, at the Beginnii^ of Last 

Century. By the Rev. John O. Lorimer Page 7 

7.— A DiMsourse. By the Rot. William Muir, D,D., d 

8.— Anecdote, 13 

9.~Red Snow, Hall, and Rain. By the Editor tb. 

10.^Christian Treasury. Extracts from Remains of the late 

Rer. Dr Martin, Howels, Steele, Cecil, and Rutherford... 14 
11.— The Manners and Customs of the Inhabitants of Mada- 

E*»car. 15 


Part First. 

Profcaor of Theology in the University of Edinburgh. 

The peace wWch is experienced in believing 
is relief from the terrors of wrath; it is not 
noeTely the removal, but the reversal of its antici- 
pations ; it is our altered view of God, when from 
an enemy we are taught to regard Him as a friend ; 
it is our assurance of His good will to us here, 
and a confident expectation of the promised bliss 
hereafter — these all spring in a disciple's spirit 
from the faith of the Gospel, and these are the 
main elements of his peace and joy in believing. 

Should a powerful and offended neighbour, un- 
der the threats of whose resentment I had been 
living for months in fearful insecurity, — should he 
send to my door an offer of reconciliation, it is not 
difficult to understand how, at the moment of my 
reliance upon the truth and honesty of this offer, 
1 would be at rest. Nor would it at all disturb 
the peacefulness of my heart, that I were given 
to know that the proposed friendship was only 
yet mine in offer, and not mine in possession, till 
I had performed certain conditions which I knew 
to be easily practicable. It would not, for ex- 
ample, abate the joy of the announcement, that 
I was told of an intended call on the part of my 
relenting adversary, and that I must give him a 
courteous reception, and stretch out my hand as 
the token of my having accepted his overture ; 
and that then what was now mine in offer would 
become mine in possession also. If I consented 
to all this, and felt not merely the possibility, but 
the perfect ease of it, I would not postpone my 
gladness tin the hour of the expected visit. On 
mv faith in the reality and integrity of the offer, I 
Would consider my before formidable enemy to be 
now my placid and my attached friend. An in- 
stantaneous peace would arise in my bosom, nor 
would I wait the coming formalities of reconcilia- 
tion ere I threw aside the burden of my disquietude. 

No. L Jan. 5,</.] 

Now in the Gospel of Jesus Christ, God ad- 
dresses to me just such an offer; and I have only 
to believe in the truth of it, that I may cease 
from my apprehensions of God as an enemy, and 
God as an avenger. It is true that there is a 
difference between a thing being mine in offer, 
and a thing being mine in possession ; and the 
difference still obtains, though that thing be for- 
giveness from God. But there is nothing in this 
difference which ought to serve as an alloy, or as 
an abatement, upon peace in believing. We have 
not, in the case of the Gospel overtures, to look 
forward to any condition of future difficulty, ere 
the forgiveness that is now ours in offer becomes 
ours in possession. It is offered to us now, and 
it is competent for us actually to receive it now 
The truth is, that it becomes ours simply upon 
our believing the truth of that message by which 
the offer is made known to us. No sooner do we 
believe than we possess ; and let us cease, then, 
to wonder at the many recorded examples of the 
instantaneous peace which has droppeid into the 
sinner's bosom from the word of the testimony. 

And grievous, indeed, is their misunderstand- 
ing of the Gospel, who think that peace must be 
postponed till we know that holiness is in pro- 
gress within us, and that repentance is going on- 
wards even unto perfection. It is true, that with- 
out holiness no man can see God ; and it is as 
true, that unless we repent we shall perish. But 
just as the man who had the offer of reconciliation 
laid by an offended neighbour at his door, ought 
not to postpone his joy till the hour of certain 
easy and practicable formalities; so neither ought 
we to postpone it till the time when we know that 
repentance and holiness have been realized upon 
our characters. And that, not because these graces 
are easily attainable by us, but because these graces 
[Second Ssans. Vol I. 



are actually included as so many offers in the com- 
municaticm of t^e GfOgpelf becanse Qod lields 
them out for ouf acceptance, just ay effectually as 
he holds out pardon for our acceptance ; because 
He, in whom all sufficiency dwells, promises to 
make his grace sufficient for every one of our ae- 
cessities ; because He, who has gi?^ us bis Qwn 
Son, pledges himself to all who receive the gift, 
that he will also with him freely give them all 
things. The man who only hears the offer of 
pardon upon repentance, and looks to that repent- 
ance as a contingency which depends upoa him- 
self, may well bear such an annonncenfint without 
being gladdened and tranquiilised by it. Bat let a 
man hear the offer in the whole comprehensive- 
ness of its terms ; let him peicei¥« that repent- 
ance, as well as the remission of sins, is included 
in it ; let him understand, that God holds out to 
him in the Gospel a sanctifying Spirit as well as an 
atoning Sacrifice, and then let ho]in^S0 be repre- 
sented to be as indispensable to heaven as it may, 
no sense of impotency whatever will intercept the 
peace which ought to flow in upon his heart frofa 
such a communication. From the moment thi^t 
he closes with these overtures, he may have peace ; 
and the point at which belief entecs iuto bis mind, 
the point at which he recognizes in the Qo^pe) 
the view of Him who, when he commanded, made 
the winds and th^ waters to obey, marks the poiut 
at which the dark and fearful agitations of a sin? 
ner's bosom should cease into a calm- 

And there is not a single reader of tha Bible 
who might not thus approprii^te to himself the 
offer of forgivenesSf and have pei^^e in believing 
it. Such terms as a//, and ever^, and tc^Aofo^oer, 
bring this offer just as effectually to his door, as if 
a special messenpr hs4 been sept tp hio^ from 
heaven^ or i^ if he was the only person upon 
earth for whom the Bible was intended. That be 
may have the peace to which we lefer, all th^t is 
necessary is to understand the message in the terms 
of it, and to believe in the tcueoess of it. If the 
word of salvation has reached him, the o^er of 
salvation has been made unto hina. In that word 
God holds himself out tq every map as heseepbing 
him to be reconciled ; and propo^s to all who 
will, the gift of that pap^oxi and that preparation 
which are necessary ior restpring them to an in- 
heritance in the heavens. 

Let me endeavour to urge a few distinct cou- 
siderations, all grounded on the wor4 of the testi- 
mony, and all fitted tP cq^firm and to strengthen 
the peace of a believer, by being fitted to assure 
him of the reality of God's good will- 

First, then, Christ undertakes to aave aU who 
believe in him, and His bonoi^r is at ona with the 
success of His undertaking. As the economy of 
our redemption is constituted, ha4 9^ne believed, 
there would have been no trophy tq exhibit of His 
redeeming power ; Christ wotti4 have died in vai^, 
or the whole fruits of Ilis death WQujd have been 
to aggravate the gujlt pf the world in rating Him, 
and so to demonstrate mpre strikifigly than ever 
the Justice of God in ita $1^1 condemnation. Had 

none believed, there would have been no actual 
salvation, no living triumphs of gface* uo extension 
of the kingdom of righteousness* no inroad and no 
abridgement on the territory of him who is at the 
head of that great moral rebellion into which he 
has seduced our unfortunate species. The prince 
of the power of darkness would still hold an entire 
ascendancy over the world, — would still boast an 
unviolated limit around his dominions, — ^would sit 
securely on his throne, and eye the enterprise and 
preparation of the Messiah as an impotent parade, 
anq ail this for the want of believii:\g. It is said 
of Christ that He came to destroy the works of the 
devil, and yet, if tirere be no believers among men, 
he fails in his errand ; and does not this prove, 
that the cartainty of salvation unto all who do be- 
Ijeve is in most inviting unison with the glory of 
Him who is the Captain of salvation ? There 
is a consideration here that is fitted to draw sinners 
iu trust and in expectation around Him. It fully 
warrants them to venture their all upon Christ. 
It leads them to see that their security is in every 
way at one ^ith His reputation. Every man who 
comes in the way of dependence to the Saviour is 
just adding to the prosperity of that cause on 
which his heart is aet» and rendering to Him of the 
travail of His spul that He may be satisfied. And 
every man who baa come may, by the thought 
which \m been suggested, deepen and establish 
the foundations of bis peace. Christ will never 
frustrate His own undertaking by casting off one 
wl)o ^\wi^ upon His power, or looks with an ex- 
peptant eye to the fulfilment of His promi«»es. He 
wil^ never so tl^wart the express apd the special 
purpose of His own great achievement, as to with- 
hola everlfistin^ life from him who has been led by 
the terms of h^ own message, to regard it as the 
gift of God through Jesus Christ our Lord. He 
lyUt never, in the lace of His own declaration, that 
whP^Qeveir beUevB|h shall not perish, leave any 
believer tp perish » or give room to the great ad- 
versary to «yr> in a single instance, that here is 
one whpm you have inveigled into confidence, but 
whom I stvll claim as my prisoner, and will tor- 
ment as my victim through eternity. 

The believer may gather an argument for security 
from snch a contemplation* He may add to his i 
peace and to his joy when he looks to this part of , 
the testimony of Qod. He may view himself a$ 
the auhject and the prise of a great competition ' 
between the Prince of light and the Prince of I 
darl^ness. And as he places himself under the 
ooverf of the groal fmd the appointed mediatorship, 
he mtny regard the honour of Christ and the glories 
both of hia cIvM^cter and pf his power as the guaran- 
tee of Ins own Miety. 


Bt the Rev. RoBcaT Jamxeson, 

Minister of Cvrrie. 

EvBET one acquainted wiik the history of the andaal 
Athenians, is awace that that people ware pre^eniaeBC, 

not only for their attajom^ata m philesofiiby, and their 



exquisite mrte in the liberal arts, but for their ever active 
2eal in wbat tbejr accounted religion. Not content 
with the deities which the native superstition had 
established, they opened their ports with boundless 
hospitality to the gods and goddesses of foreign coun- 
tries; andj although by the law and practice of the 
land, no new object of worship was to be admitted, till 
it had received the sanction of the Areopagus, yet such 
was the liberality of that celebrated court, that no sooner 
were the claims of a foreign deity set forth, or his name 
ascertained, than they licensed his introduction into the 
Pantheon, a niche was assigned him in the spacious 
temple, a statue erected to his honour, priests were 
appointed to celebrate his peculiar rites, and the people 
taught to acknowledge the influence, to propitiate the 
favour, and to do homage at the feet of the newly im- 
ported stranger, as well as of the earlier and well known 
images that commanded their hereditary reverence. By 
this system of free and indiscriminate admission, the 
number of deities who had a local habitation and a name 
in Athens increased, in process of time, to so prodigious 
an extent, that it became one of the distinguishing 
features of the city ; and the fondness of the inhabi- 
tants for demon-worship was frequently made a sub- 
ject for the sarcastic wit and satire of the poets and 
orators of classical antiquity. One writer, for instance, 
U79, that Athena was so crammed with deities, that it 
was easier to find a god than a man in it. Another 
eomplaina, that the city was but *' one immense altar ; " 
and the luime by which it came afterwards to be pro- 
verbially known was, " the country and shop of the 
gods.*' It was on this account that Pamirs spirit was 
stirred within bim^ when he saw the city " wholly given 
to idolatry," or, as it is in the margin, — full of idols ; 
and it was in conformity with the u$ual practice that he 
ins sumnooned to the Areopagus, not to be dealt with 
u an impious innovator on the religion of the country, 
for that court had greatly changed its character since 
the time of Socrates, but, in all probability, to be intro- 
duced as a man of public spirit, who wished to make 
known the claims of some "strange" or foreign gods, 
to be enrolled among the other objects of national wor- 

The apostle obeyed the summons, and no pl^t of hi« 
history, perhaps, affords a more striking example of the 
happy manner in which he turned to accoifnt the cir- 
cumstances of time and place, than the subject of his 
discourse on that memorable occasion. Ip passii^ 
through some of the ante-chambers that led to the spa- 
doos rotunda where the council met, his eye was caught 
by •* an altar with this inscription, — To the unknown 
God ; ** and as his examination by the court was tfi be 
partjctthu-ly directed to the doctrines he taught conpeT^- 
iag Jesus and the resurrection, which their grossly 
idolatrous minds conceived to be a god and a goddess, 
he chose th«t fiimiliar inscription a$ a text from which 
to discourse to them on the being and the character of 
the true and living God. It was a dexterous accom- 
modation to a Christiiin purpose, of one of the favou;'ite 
customs of that heathen people, for we are not to sup- 
pose that, by th^ deity 4^3crilj«d 9^ the " unknown God^" 
the Ath^ni^s me^nt thp pur^ i^nd spiritual Being whom 
the aposUe proclaimed ; vafi it may mtify thjs reader 
to learn somethin^f of the origin of a statue, whos^ 
mystical title indicated its introduction to have been 

owing to some strong and unusual dFcunistaBees. " It 
was a custom,'* sa^s Dr Ellis, in his learned work on 
the Knowledge of Divine Things from ftevelation — not 
from Reason or Nature, " among the ancients to en- 
grave on the altar the name of the god to whom it was 
dedicated ; which, at Athens in particular, was neces- 
sary to distinguish them amidst a conflux of the most 
remote and strange ones from all partsi of the world. 
Amid this variety, there was one, pjcobably many, ** to 
the unknown God.'' Crikias, in Xiueiau's Dialogues, 
swears by " the God unknown to the Athenians ; *' and 
according to QSoumeoius, the whole inscription was 
thus :— 


The crowding him among all the demons in the world 
proves them to have been ignorant of his nature ; and 
the placing him among the atrange gods shows that they 
had received hira from others, and were not the authors 
of the discovery. 

Several reasons are assigned for the erectipn of such 
altars, but the most probable Is their superstitious fear 
of omitting any Gpd, which, imdst th^ uncertunty of 
so many religions, might easily have been done, or it 
might proceed from their not knowing to what god to 
ascribe some remarkable benefit or deliverance, and ther^ 
fore, in gratitude, erected an altar to the unknown one. 
Diogenes Laertius gives this account of their origin : 
That Epimenides stayed a plague among the Athenians 
by a strange expedient. He took a black and a white 
sheep to the Areopagus, whence he let them go whichever 
way they would, commanding those that followed tkem 
that wheresoever they lay down, they should sacrifioc 
to some fii qm4 proper God, The calamity ceased ; 
and to this very day, says the historian, there ase altass 
to be found without name, which were then made in 
memory of this expiation. 

Nor was this custom peculiar to Athens. The Ro- 
mans also erected altars for the reception of any sudden 
benefit ; as that to Adoption mentioned by Tacitus, and 
another to Revenge. In like manner, when they folt 
an earthquake, they betook themselves, by public com- 
mand^ to religious observances; but did not, as on 
other occasions, name the god to whom they dedicated 
such solemnities, lest, by mistaking one for another, 
they might oblige the people to a fobe worship; and as 
it was uncertain by what power or god earthquakes 
happened, they offered sacrifice to. an uncertain deity 
in the ancient form, si dtOy give dea, '* if thou be a god 
or a goddess." They had many altars dedicated to 
" all the gods and the goddesses.^' Aulus GcUius says, 
that they whose names were uncertain, or whose sex 
was doubtful, were called unknown gods : and indeed 
there were so many of this description, that Yarro 
wrotQ a book concerning the unknown gods, and an- 
other concerning the uncertain ones. 

Bt Richard Huib, Esq., M.D. 

Haek I how the sullen midnight bell, 

From yonder turret lone, 
proclaims, with loud and 9tvtHng I^nell^ 

Another year is gone t 


Aod tball we drain tbe wassaiUcup, 
Or raise the song of glee. 

As swiftly, surely winding up 
Our thread of life wc see ? 

No I If in youth's unthinking day. 

Ere care had mark'd the brow, 
We trifled months and years away. 

Let us be uriser now : 
And, conscious of the mighty debt 

We to our Maker owe. 
No longer struggle to forget 

We reap but what we sow I 

No 1 Let us seek with holy dread, 

Through his exalted Son, 
A pardon for the year that's fled. 

And grace for that begun : 
Grace, to improve the little hour 

For peace and safety given ; 
Grace, to resist temptation's power. 

And tread the path to heaven ! 

O I think that, if an opening year 

A lengthen'd period seem. 
It will but at its close appear 

A short, a troubled dream ! 
Approaching, Time ne'er travels fiut ; 

To scythe and crutch he clings : 
And 'tis not till for ever past. 

That wc perceive his wings I 


Bt thb Editor. 

Tm advantages of Christian Biography are numerous, 
but there is none which more obviously occurs to the 
mind of a reflecting reader than the peculiar insight 
which he thereby obtains into the varied workings of 
the renewed, as distinguished from the unrenewed, heart. 
The principles of religion are seen, not as matters of 
speculative belief, but in actual operation, influencing 
the whole character and conduct. With a living ex- 
emplitication of Christianity thus set before us, we be- 
come more minutely and intimately acquainted with the 
diversified aspects of the believer's experience. A 
knowledge of this kind is of inestimable value. We 
feel more strongly impressed with the truth of the Chris- 
tian scheme, by perceiving the wonderful effects to 
whicli it gives rise ; we gradually learn to perceive 
how we ourselves may imbibe its sacred truths so as to 
influence our own hearts ; we are constrained to exa- 
mine ourselves, that we may discover whether our ex- 
perience coincides with that which is brought under our 
notice ; and we may perhaps be led, by the blessing of 
the Holy Spirit, to strive after the attainment of a more 
quickened and more marked progress in holiners than 
we have yet reached. It is thus that from the frailties 
snd follies, as well as virtues, of those Christians whose 
lives are unfolded to us by the pen of a faithful bio- 
grapher, we learn to deny ourselves to all sin, and to 
make progress in meetness for the inheritance of the 
taints in light. 

The individual whom we have selected as the subject 
of our present sketch, is taken not from the stirring 
scenes of public life, but from the quiet and unob- 
trusive privacy of domestic retirement. It is here, we 
conceive, that the native power of Christianity is seen 

and felt, unmixed with those motives which are liable 
to obscure its lustre in less peaceful circumstances. 
Mrs Hawkes moved throughout life in a circumscribed 
sphere, and the variety of incident, therefore, whicii 
lends a charm to the biographies of many individuals i^ 
not to be found in hers. Still her Christian experience 
was amply varied from the numerous personal and do- 
mestic trials through which she was called to pass. It 
was her privilege to learn, by many a painful but 
salutary lesson, that through *' patience" as well as 
** faith " we must " inherit the promises." She was 
trained in the school of aflSiction, and it U interesting^ 
to mark the various steps of her progress under the 
effectual teaching of the Holy Spirit. 

Mrs Hawkes was born in 1759 at Broad Marston 
in Gloucestershire. She was the youngest of thirt«c;i 
children, five of whom died in childhood. Though 
both her parents were persons of decided piety, Sarah's 
early days were marked by a peculiar relish for scenes 
of gaiety and amusement. Giddy and thoughtless, she 
sought the company of young persons like-minded with 
herself. Naturally amiable and sweet in her disposi- 
tions, and .prepossessing in her manners, her society was 
courted, and for several years she moved only in the 
circles of the gay and the polite. God uas not in all 
her thoughts. Light and frivolous employments formed 
her chief delight. The world was her all ; she sought 
no higher portion. In such a spirit, and attracted by no 
other than mere earthly allurements, she entered into 
the marriage state with one who was himself actuated 
by motives similar to her own. A union thus heed- 
lessly formed, could not be expected to produce much 
happiness, and Mrs Hawkes was not long in feeling 
that she had taken a step which involved her in much 
domestic trouble and unhappiness. This, however, 
was ultimately productive of incalculable benefit. Ir 
was the mysterious mode by which the Almighty de- 
signed to lead her to himself. She felt the insecurity 
and utter vanity of all earthly happiness, and was thus 
gradually prepared to seek all her comfort and true en- 
joyment from a higher and a purer source. The cir- 
cumstance by which this change in her sentiments and 
feelings was effected is simple in itself, but sufficiently 
marks the hand of an over-ruling Providence. While 
her mind was thus harassed and broken doMm with the 
severity of her domestic cares and aiixieties, she was 
persuaded by her sister, Mrs Jones, who was a person 
of remarkable piety, to accompany her to St. John's 
Chapel, Bedford Row, London, that they might hear 
the Rev. Richard Cecil, who wns then, in 1787, in 
the very height of his popularity. The impression 
made upon the mind of Mrs Hawkes' by the discourse 
of Mr Cecil was deep and abiding. She had enter- 
ed the house of God depressed in spirit, but by the 
blessing of God, a stream of heavenly consolation 
had flowed into her soul ; and from that da> onward 
till the death of Mr Cecil, she continued to attend 
on his faithful and affectionate ministry. The revolu- 
tion which had been thus effected by the Spirit of God 
in the whole views and feelings of her sister, was very 
pleasing to Mrs Jones, and anxious to promote the pro- 
gress of the good work thus begun, she resolved to 
write Mr Cecil requesting him t^ visit Mrs Hawke5>. 
For two years after her mind was first led to serious 
thought, so deep were her convictions of sin that she 


WIS almost tn a state of atter despondency. '* The only 
thin?/' she said, describing this awful conflict of spirit, 
*' which seemed to save me from absolute despair and 
distraction, was the reading Christian's fight with Apol- 
lyon, and his walk through the dark valley, in the 
* Pilgrim's Progress.' " The introduction to Mr Cecil, 
and the personal interviews which followed, tended to 
calm the mental perturbation to which she had been so 
long subjected. The sound scriptural views of that 
eminent Christian minister, combined with a judicious 
masculine understanding, rendered bi« counsels, in every 
st;ige of Christian experience, peculiarly valuable ; but 
to the recent convert, like Mrs Uawkes, whose know- 
led|?e was necessarily very imperfect, and her zeal ill 
reirulated, the advices and warnings of such a man were 
inestimable. We gladly quote a few of the most strik- 
ing remarks which fell from his lips in his first conversa- 
tion with Mrs Hawkcs. 

" You must not look for perfection either in yourself 
or others. Not to allow for the infirmities and defects 
of a finUen nature, is not to understand any thing about 
'be matter; nay, it is to speak directly contrary to 
'be Hible, the standard of all truth. There never was 
more than one perfect character upon earth, and He was 
■ he most tender and compassionate toHnrds the imper- 
U'ctions of men. He knew what was in roan, for he 
looked at the heart ; and if he saw that right, he pitied, 
uhtre those who judged only by the outward appear- 
and;, blamed ; and defended, where they condemned. 

" There is one distinction you should keep very dear 
in your mind — that religion itself, in its essence, is per- 
t»-ct ; as our rule and standard it is unerring ; nor can 
it he affected by the inconsistencies or imperfections of 
irs professors: the standard remains the same: the 
balances aie true : but when its professors are weighed 
therein, — even the very best of them, — they are found 
wanting. Our aim must be to get every day nearer the 
standard ; for whoever does not labour, not merely 
dc&ire, but labour to be a better Christian every day, is 
not yet a Christian at all. Yet in this you roust exer- 
cise patience. Do not measure yourself by a false stand- 
vd. There are no doubt giants in the Christian world, 
—hut would you be a giant at once ? Do not be satis- 
fied to be a dwarf; but remember there must be time to 

** Be careful, in your commerce with the world, to act 
up to the character you profess. Do not put on a Pha- 
risaical manner of, * Stand by, I am holier than thou.' 
Yet let it appear, that while you are under the necessity 
of bearing their vain conversation, you have no taste for 
it : no delight or interest in it. A humble, kind silence 
often utters much. 

" Wherever God g^ves faith he will try it; and who- 
ever becomes a follower of Christ, must deny himself, 
and take up bis cross — must make great sacrifices — 
such as right hands, and right eyes: must expect op- 
position, persecution, mollification, cruel scoffings, not 
only from the world, but from nearest and dearest 
friends. A man's sharpest and bitterest foes are ' those 
of his own household.' You must set your face like a 
fliat against threatenings, and against allurements. 

" But I would warn you of another danger arising 
from a quarter you may least expect — ^namely, from the 
lUliyioua World itself. There are sturablmg-blocks 
even in the Church ; there are many professors, who 
when they see a person setting out in religion, will ad- 
rise, one thi» course, and one that. One sort says, 
* reli^on is in its best estate among us.' Another sort 
•ays, * aojong as ; * and the young convert, having a 
tender conscience, desirous of bi»ing right, is often 
greatly perplexed ; for he finds that in the religious 
vorld there is a party spirit. Instead of obtaining the 

milh of the word, he has to distinguish between bone» 
of doctrine ; till at last he begins to doubt if there be 
any true spirit of religion at all. 

'' Do not form too high expectations from the profess- 
ing world. Do not be in haste to form connections^ 
to make acquaintances — to place confidence — ^to turn to 
every professor and say, lead me. 

** Do not enter into the list of religious gossips, who 
may not only puzzle you about hard points of doctrine, 
but may lead you to waste your time to no purpose, in 
going from house to house, talking, instead of getting 
into the spirit of unity. There are too many of this 
sort : whose chief religion lies in going from church to 
church to hear, and from house to house to prate ; but 
who are too seldom in their closets, too seldom in close 
converse with God. Retired Christianity is the truest. 
It is easy to fill the head with notions ; but to sit still 
like Mary, at Christ's feet, and be a learner, is far better. 
Always be afraid of a specious religion." 

The peace which Mrs Hawkes felt in the belief of the 
Gospel, supported her amid the domestic unhappiness 
with which she was still tried. She cast her burden 
upon the Lord, and she felt of a truth that He sus- 
tained it for her. Devotion became with her a delight- 
ful exerdae. When on a visit to her paternal residence, 
on one occasion, after the death of her mother, she thus 
writes in her Diary, under date 9th August 1789: — 

** I have been shutting myself up in my dear departed 
mother*s chamber, the very walls and furniture of which 
are sacred. A thousand times have I marked her re- 
tiring into it for purposes of devotion. Often have I 
overheard her strong cries and tears to God, and often 
caught the sound of ' My children,' as if that interest 
was uppermost. At morning, at noon, and at evening, 
she never fiiiled to retire to read and pray. Thousands 
of tears has she shed in this chamber : where I have 
sometimes had the privilege of kneeling down by her 
side. How present in her image ! how sweet my com- 
munion with her departed spirit! Little did I then 
know the value of her intercession for her children ; or 
the weight of her character or example as a Christian. 
Thank God, I know it now; and abhor myself in pro- 
portion as I estimate her. Oh that I might but tread 
in her honoured steps I Oh that her prayers for every 
one of us may be like ' bread cast upon the waters,* 
found after many days I Oh may my dear mother's God 
be my God ! He .graciously carried her through many 
years of weakness and sorrow. He enabled her to 
walk worthy of her high calling ; and he stood by her 
in a dying hour. Her last words were, * For me to 
die is gain,' — and, • I will pray for my children while I 
have breath.' 

*' My brother — seemed much upon her mind. Oh 
may his mother be much upon his mind, and upon all 
our minds; and may we meet her in glory 1 Who 
knows but her happy spirit has been a witness to my 
secret transactions in her former chamber. May all 
my transactions through life be equally pleasing in her 
eyes I" , 

In the course of the following month, Mrs Hawkes 
paid a viut to her pious sister, Mrs Jones, at Birming- 
ham ; and while there, she records the following re- 
markable incident : — 

** Happy to return to this favoured place. Heard 
the Rev. Mr Burn from Luke xxii. 31, * Simon, Simon, 
Satan hath desired to have thee, to sift thee as wheat ; 
but I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not.' 

** A remarkable circumstance occurred under this very 
animated and striking sermon. A poor woman had for 
some time been under a violent, and abnost irresistible 
temptation to drown herself; and declared she had ac- 
tuaUy risen from her seat no les^s than twenty times 
with a design to throw herself into the canal. Oue o£ 


her heighbouni rteuig h^ this morning weeping Ut- 
terly, inquired ihto the cause of her disfan^s, and talked 
with her, but without much effect. While Mr Bum 
jwi« preaching at St. Mary's Church, she, by seeraing 
nccidcntv dropped in, and was so arrested by the dis- 
course, that she rttunied home quite another creature. 

" S'lcli is the benefit of being in the way of duty; 
and such the infinite mercy of having a Saviour who 
says to all his tempted ones, * I have prayed for thee 
that thy fidth fail not!'" 

Mr Cecil frwiuently Visited Mrs Hawkes, and im- 
Ijarted such instructioh, or conHolAtfoh, ot warning, as 
her circumstahceU peculiarly rekjuircd; and so high are 
t)ie sentiments of veneration and este'em which her 
Diary breathes towards tliat holy and devoted man, 
that in perusing them we are forcibly reminded of that 
beautifal renitrk of the apostle, " Though yc have ten 
thousand instructors in Christ, yet have ye not many 
fcthers." The tie whteh binds a partor to faik people 
u close and ^ndearfng, but when to anjr of hi« beloved 
flock he stands in the reiatibn of spiritual fktherk It is 
impossible to describe the warmth of attatsbihent whi^A 
iudi a relation originates. Of Mr Cecil, therefore, Mr* 
Hawkes always speaks as her revered fiither iti the 
Gospel ; and She enjoyed his minisltfations, both pub- 
lie and private, with a high relish and satisfkctf^n. 

Mrs Hawkes no longer felt thut d««ght in the Iso- 
dety and amtisements of the woridly, which She had 
known in former days. ftetiremOrtt, reading, tnedita- 
tion, and prayer, were now the chief objects of her de- 
sire. With snch feelings she longed to leave London, 
and to settle in the country. An opportunity soon oc- 
curred of having her wishes grttUled ; her husband 
having taken a house at HoUoway, a spot about fou^ 
miles from town, connected with a small ftirm. Thiis 
enjoying the combined advantages of both town and 
country, and having the privilegie of still attending on 
Mr Cecil's ministry, and receiving his pastoral visits. 
Mrs Hawkes was enabled to bear up under her domes- 
tic trials with resignation, and a calm submission to th« 
will of God. In entering upon her retreat at Hollo- 
way, she thus writes in her Diary : — 

" Slept at HoUoway for the first time: and I c^not 
help saying, 'This same shall comfort me.* Which 
I say with more confidence ; because it is the thing I 
have prayed for, and because I expect comfort here, 
only from God's making it to be a comfort. I look to 
Him to bless and sanctify it to the strengthening and 
enrichmg of my soul. I have hitherto lived like a sol- 
dier in the heat of the battle, surrounded by confu- 
sion and dismay ; now t am permitted to retire, and 
trust that I shall not become a slothful, but a more 
laborious servant in the vineyard. Prom this hour I 
dedicate, as far as lies in nw small power, this house 
to be a house of prayer — a Bethel. May none resort 
hither but such as love and call upon his name. Ma:y 
every day be a day of consecration, of secret transac- 
tion and intercourse, with Him who has so mercifully 
given it me : and whatever may continue to be my 
daily trials of fiiith and patience, let me nowiicek to 
endure them with threefWd resigmtion; considering 
how greWTy (hjr heavy, pi^mdng load is lightened by 
this retrtitt." 

« BTy ittMerinf tfane w!U sooa bs o*«r. 
. Sooatb^ioictcraUwayt 
Then thaU 1 righ and ifn no mor^ 
But ting through endlew day.' 

To comfort her under the unhappinei« of her family 
circumstances, Mrs Johes writes : — 

•• It is a mighty conflict ; and if you had not art Al* 

mighty Friend to hold you up, yow heart und flesii 
would &iL But he will strengthen your heart, and 
enable you to fight manfully. He has brought you in- 
to these trials, that you may raise an Kbenezer to his 
name, and bear testimony to the truth, and write tried 
tander the promise, * As thy day is, so shall thy strength 
be.' God will prove his beloved ones, that they may 
be constrnined to ptove liim. A good man used to say, 
that the aame Almighty power which made the world, 
was also granted to the Christian. You have an anchor 
that will hold you fast. It is sufficient at such times 
as these, to endure, as seeing him that i.s invisible. By 
and by, you will reap the pleasant and peaceable fruits 
of these afflicting seasons and exercises. What a happy 
day will that be, when this mortal shall put on immor- 
taUty I But we should be willing to fight before we are 
crowned $ and the apostle says, we do not fight * un- 
certainly.' Even the most unpleasant vacuities in life 
have their uses ; we must be made to feel what we are 
— poor fallen creatures — that we may be thankful for 
that grace which transformeth us into a better image. 
The knowledge of our weakness must ever be attended 
with painfiil sensations ; and I apprehend that we shall 
ever be increasing in that knowledge as long as we are 
in the body. But the more we feel onr ^scase, the 
more sliall we prize and apply our remedy. Moy you, 
with the strong arm of fiutb, be able to lay hold of the 
Saviour, till he perfect his strength in your \vMkTiess. 
I endeavour to bear you before him, and to entreat his 
merey. I would not prescribe to Hhn who loves you 
in connecHon with your eternal interests. It is, in- 
deed, difliciiU to believe, that all this is for the best: 
but we cannot read God's dispensations sright ; they 
are too high for mortals to spell them out. Faith and 
resignation are written in the most legible characters : 
may we consider them well; and may Jesus Christ 
work them in us." 

And, in her pensive moods, Mrs Hawkes gives rent 
to her feelings in such words as these : — 

** Every time I leave the noisy town and return to 
this delightful solitude, my heart overflows with thank- 
fulness for such an ai>yluni. Here I have much quiet- 
ness. I desire to be thankful that I have no children : 
on many acconnts they would be the occasions of great 
Sorrow. 1 have nothing now that ties me to the world. 
My only source of comfort arises from the prospect of 
soon leaving it for ever ; and my chief object till that 
happy time arrives, shall be to make preparation for it. 
* In my Father^s house are many mahsions.' 

** Weary world of sin and anguUh, 

How I long from thee to fly I 
Fainting for relief I languUh, 

Dylny through deaire to dia. 
my hfe, ray only treasure. 

Let me cast it all behind ; 
Now Hll up my mournful meacuxv^ 

Now my heavenly Canaan find. 
** Never ihipwreck'd mariner wanted 

More to reach the distant thors : 
Nerer wand'ring exile panted 

For his native country more. 
Hear my earnest application, 

Thou who only canst releasb ; 
Show me now thy full talvation, 

lyet me now depart in peace ! " 


Tarno a guide, we set out for the cedars; in 
about two hours we came in sight of them, and in 
another hour reached them. Instead of being cm 
the highest summit of Lebanon, as has sometimca 
been said, they are situated at the foot of a high 
moimtain, in what may be ccnsidered as the arena 
of a vast amphitheatre opening to the west, with bi^h 
mountains on the north and south and east. The 
cedars stand on five or six gentle elevarions, and oc- 
cupy a spot of ground about three- fourths of a mile in 
circumference. I walked around it is fifteen minute*. 


We tecMttred a Dumber of te trees* Tlis larg^t b ^ 
up\Tards oi forty feet in circamference. Six or eight 
otiicrs are also very large, several of thetn nearly the 
size of the largest. But each oF them was manifestly 
two tree* or more, which ha^rte grown together, and 
now form one. They getierally «epArale « few ftct 
from the gTOttnd into the ortgi«al trees. The YmoA- 
comett And tallett are those of two or three ftet in 
diameter, tlie body straight, the branches almost hori- 
zontal, forming a beautiful cone, and casting a goodly 
fifaade. We measured the length of two by the shadow, 
and found each about ninety feet. The thickest are 
not so kigli, but some of die otheta are, t think, a 
Kttle hinder. They produce a fmlt, in shape and ^tt 
hke that of the pine. I counted them, and fbniad the 
whole aumber three hundred and eighty-oine. Mr 
King (another American missionary) counted them, 
omitting the small saplings, and made the number 
three hundred and tvventy-ohe. 1 know not why 
travellers and authors have sO long and so generally 
given twenty-eight, tw^tity^ fifteen, and fiv«, as the 
number cf the cedars. It is truoy that of those of 
superior siae and antiqaity, there are not a great num- 
ber, but then there is a regular gradation io size, from 
the largest down to the merest sapling. Before seeing 
the cedars, I had met with a European traveller who 
had just visited them. He gave a shott account of 
ihcm, and concHided with fcaying, " tt is as witti 
nriracles ; the wonder idl Tunishes tv^ien you maeh the 
spot." What is there at which an infidel csmnot sneer ! 
Yet let even an infidel put ynwelf in the place of aa 
Astatic, passing from barren desert to barren desert^ 
traversing oceans of sand, and mountains of naked 
rock, accuslomtd to countries like Egypt, Arabia, 
Judea, ond Asia-kflihor, abounding in the best places 
only witb shrubbery and fruit trees % let him with the 
feeUnga ef B«ch a man climb the ruggad roeks, and 
pass die open ravines of Lebanon, and suddenly descry 
among the hills a grove of three hundred trees, such 
as the cedars actually are, even at the present day, and 
he will confess that to be a fine comparison in Amos 
ii. 9. '* Whose height was as the height of the cedarsi 
and he was strong as the oaks." Let him, after a long 
ride in the heat of the sun» sit down under the shade 
of a cedar, and contemplate the exact conical form of 
its top, and the beautiful symmetry of its branehes, and 
he will no longer wonder that David coiaparsd the 
people of Israel^ in the dsys of their prosperity* to the 
"goodly cedars.'* Psalm Ixxx. 10. A traveller who 
had just left the forests of America, might think this 
little grove of cedars not worthy of so much notice, 

i but the man who knows how farie large trees are in 
Asia, and how difficult ft is to fihd limber fbr buildit)^, 
will feel at once that what is said in (Bcriptuie of tfat^se 
trees is perfectly natural. It is pnohaUa^ that in the 
days of SoloesoB and Himii, there wsre ettoasive 
forests of cedars on Lebanon. A variety of causes 
fliay have contributed to their diminution and almost 
total extinction. Tel, in comparison with all the 
other trees that I have seen on the mountain, the few 
that rettain niay sHfl be called thte ** glory of Lefbanon.** 

I ^^mtm^ of the «et». Ptiny i^Ss*. 



At i'HE «V;6li]vi!ff«G m LA«T d&Nl^tm^. 

bY THE HEt. John G. Lorimek, 
Wmster </ St. Davii*s Parish^ Glasgow, 

Haviwo descrfted in fhte Urst aferles of tfcis Wotk, 
the awful preparations «* the revocation Of ifte 
edict of NahOfts— the terrible revocation itself-^I 
must now describe the conseqnenoeB of that ttjea* 

w,je. Wtele the Protestant pastais were all driven 
firom their country under the heaviest penalty, their 
people were not allowed to leave it, except at the risk 
of severe punishtacnt: but so teuch had they now lost, 
and so much did they how suffer, that France became 
embittered to them, and their great anxiety and effort 
were to emigrate to other lands. This was the course 
which perhaps nearly one-half of the whole Protestant 
populatiaa pursued; though almost incrediWe were the 
lurdshipi wUch they eneountwed in accomplishing it. 
8o early as 1681, four years before the edict was ac- 
tually revoked, Mr Quick, tbenminister of the English 
Church at Middleburgh, recollected having been crc- 
€tMy toformed that five hundred femilies of French 
merchatits had left their native country, and settled in 
Amsterdam ; and that fifty families had, in the course 
of two months, taken up their abode at Hamburgh, 
the whole population thus removing probably amount^ 
ed to between foutle6n thousand and fifteen thousand 
souls. They were the families of merchimts too, indi- 
cating a measure of Wealth and respectability; and if 
so tnany betook themselves to two commercial cities, 
It cajmot be doubted that many more removed to other 
tquwrters. But it was after the revocation that the 
people fled in prodigious numbers. The succeeding 
month, we read in a letter from Geneva, that some time 
previously, not a day had passed in which that town did 
not receive and supply from thirty to ninety persons of 
all ages and conditions, and of both sexes : thus in two 
short months probably becoming the asylum of Ave 
thousand poor iFVench refugees. In one mommg th« 
uihabitants saw at their gates five hundred carts hulen 
iHth household goods, and followed by an innumerable 
multitude of persons, who Went and came from all 
quiuters. The writer beautifully adds : " The countrv 
of Vaux Is filled in every comer with French fugitives. 
Within these three weeks there have been reckoned 
fteventecn thousand five hundred persons that have 
passed into Lausanne." " Zurich wrote admirable letters 
to Berne and Geneva, desiring them to send of those 
poor people unto them, and that they would receive 
tfaedi as their Own natural brethren, into their country, 
inlb their houses, yea, and into thehr very hearts. I 
subjoin, in a few sentences, a picture of the mekncholy 
tonditxon of the poor fugitives, from the same import- 
tat document : — 

. "^'°*^" *^ °®^^* "^™® to us in the habits of men. 
ehildrui ia coflbrs packed up as clothes, others without 
wy other preoaatioa at all than in their cradles tied 
about theu- parents' necks; some passing this, others 
that way, all stopping either at «he gates or churehes 
of the aty, with cries and tears of joy and sorrow 
mingled together ; some demanding, where are our 
ikthers and mothers? others, where are our wives and 
ehiMren? not knowing where to find them, hot hav- 
ing learnt any news of them ftoth the time they de- 
ptf ted from their houses. In short, every one w^ so 
afiected with these BdMmbfe eifajects, that it was im- 
possible to refrain from weeping. Some had no sooner 
passed the first bamoado, but prostntsng themselves, 
upon thro knees, sung a psalm of thanksgiving for their 
happy ^ehmsteee ; though, poor creatures, they had 
not whet^wi^Ml to jget themselves a meal's meat, and 
ought have gone to bed ttiat hight supperiess, had not 
he Lord of his great gobdncai eztraordinari ly provided 
for them. Thus we spent two months, every day 
affording us new adventures, firesh and emineBt exaoil 
pies of seli-aenuo, and that divers ways. 



'* No longer than yeitterday, in despite of all guards 
at the several passes, and dangers of the galleys, there 
arrived hither no less than fifty persons. A tail chair- 
man, who had heen a lacquey, as he was coming from 
his house, espying Monsieur de Cambiaques passing 
over the bridge, immediately stopt, and embraced him 
in his livery coat. Four young ladies of Grenoble, 
disguised in men's apparel, after they had lodged four 
or five days in the forests and mountains, without any 
other provision than a little bread and their arms, hav- 
ing travelled only by night» came hither but a few hours 
ago in this their gallant equipage. Should I write you 
all the stories I know, we should never have done." 

It would not be easy, nor is it a matter of much con- 
sequence, precisely to ascertain how many Protestants 
left their country. A few months after the revocation, 
U is confidently stated that one hundred and fifty thou- 
sand had departed. Some years afterwards, it was 
estimated, that from eight hundred thousand to a mil- 
lion, forming one-half nearly of the population, had 
sought safety in exile. It is certain that in a single year 
the Prince of Orange raised three regiments, and man- 
ned t]iree ships of war, with French Protestants ; and 
that there were not less than sixty-two Walloon or 
Protestant Churches in Holland. As true religion 
makes men intelligent, industrious, and frugal, and as 
the Protestants had been shut out from public offices ; 
8o they generally followed manufacturing and commer- 
cial pursuits, and not a few of them were wealthy. 
Their persons of qiulity left properties yielding from 
ten thousand to thirty thousand li\Tes per annum. The 
manufacture of silks, hat«, and drugs, suffered so seri- 
ously by their removal, that in some quarters the re- 
venue sunk one-half. As a whole, it was estimated, 
that not less than twenty millions sterling of property 
left the country; and that in the loss of its active and 
enterprising Protestants, France sustained as great an 
injury as she would have received from four ordinary 
civil wars. In the course of five years after the revo- 
cation, the dty of Tours fell fi'om eighty thousand, to 
thirty thousand. 

The manufactures of this country received an im- 
portant impulse ftoro the accession of the French Pro- 
testants. The Spitalfield silk manufiictures originated 
xvith them ; and also some manufiictures in Edinburgh, 
which I believe have become extinct. The French 
name, Picardy, in that city, still marks the site. The 
Protestant ministers disperysd themselves to various 
quarters. Claude, Basnage, and De'Bose, went to Hol- 
land ; Saurin to Geneva ; Allix to England. These 
were the leading ministers ; but many brethren were 
along with them. Quick met with not fewer than one 
hundred and fifty in London. There were two hun- 
dred in Holland. In Edinburgh, so considerable was the 
French population, that it enjoyed the services of two 
ministers, the one paid £100, the other £70 a-year. 
Spitalfield and Seven Dials Chapels in London, were ori- 
ginally French Protestant Churches. It is scarcely ne- 
cessary to say, that wherever they went they were kindly 
treated. Indeed they themselves bear testimony to this 
with lively gratitude. De Souligne, the grandson of the 
celebrated Protestant Du Plessis Momay, in a Pamphlet 
upon French Popery, reprinted in Edinburgh in 1699, 
and dedicated to the House of Commons, says, address- 
ing them, " The tender care and great charity which you 
have manifested towards the poor refugees who siiiSer 

for their religion ; but above all, the courage and zeal 
you have discovered in this Ust war, by sparing nothing 
that was necessary for the preservation of the Pro- 
testant interest, have made it gloriously to appear to all 
the nations of the earth, that you value neither your 
treasures nor your blood when there is a necessity of 
spending them in defence of your religion." I may 
mention in passing, that this grandson of Mornay was 
himself one of the refugees, and that he was the first 
to expose Popery on the side of its political and social 
evils. The pamphlet from which I have quoted is 
a very able one, extending to one hundred pages, and 
bearing the title, * The Political Mischiefs of Popery, 
or Arguments demonstrating, 1. That the Romish reli- 
gion ruins all those countries where it is established, 
and has given rise to most of the mischiefs that have 
overspread the Christian commonwealth. 2. That as 
an instance hereof, it occasions the loss of above two 
hundred millions of livres, or sixteen millions sterling 
per annum, to France in particular. 3. That if Popery 
were abolished in France, that kingdom would become 
incomparably more rich and populous, and the king'i 
revenues would advance above one hundred millions of 
livres, or eight millions sterling per aimum. 4. That 
it is impossible that France should ever be re-establish- 
ed whilst Popery is their national religion.* No one 
who reads this rare but excellent pamphlet, can doubt 
that the author makes out his point. But to return 
ftom this digression to the kind treatment which the 
suffering received at the hands of British Christians. 
An author whom I have quoted more than once, and 
who wrote shortly after the revocation, says, — 

" But we comfort ourselves likewise in the Christian 
compassion showed us by foreign princes, and more 
especially by his Majesty of England, who has received 
us into his countries, succoured and relieved u«, and 
recommended our distressed condition to all his subjects; 
and we have found in them not only new masters, or 
the affections of new friends, but of real parents and 
brethren. And as these bowels of commiseration have 
been as balm to our wounds, so we shall never lose the 
remembrance of it, and hope we nor our children shall 
ever do any thing, by God's grace, unworthy any of 
these their protections." 

Contributions were made in their behalf by the 
Christians of this country. So early as 1661 collec- 
tions were appointed, and subscriptions raised through 
the Bishop and Mayor of London. As usual, the Church 
of Scotland was not behind in her liberality. I find she 
repeatedly made their sufferings a ground for the ap- 
pointment of fast-days; that on 13th June 1689, 
there was a collection made in the parish church of 
Dunfermline of £621 : 6 : lOd.. for the French and Irish 
Protestants. There can be no doubt this was general. 
Directions are given that it be delivered to Sir Patrick 
Murray, who is said to be appointed by the Privy 
Council for that end. In a former paper I showed 
that so early as 1622 the Presbytery of Glasgow con- 
tributed for the relief of the French Protestants, 
and it is not to be imagined, when they actually 
appeared in our country, in poverty and disr rests, 
they would be overlooked. The General A#seinl>ly 
in 1707, presented an address to the Queen, tliunkiM^' 
her for her gracious answer to the iu!dr >s of \\u'.r 
brethren, the distressed and persecuted ProtcsiHiit^ oi 
France. In 1709 the British Parliament passed a liU 


for the Tiatuinliation of foreign Protestants. This 
sbows both that they were numerous, and that the fcel- 
injr of our country toward them wa« kind. So recently 
as 1829, one of the money votes of the House of Com- 
mon jt runs in these words : '* That a sum not exceeding 
£jS12:7: lOd., be granted to his Majesty to pay the 
annual allowance to Protestant dissenting ministers in 
En^jland, poor French Protestant refugee clergy, poor 
French Protestant laity,*' &c. This would intimate not 
only that Christian Churches but the government had 
taken up their case, and that for many years some regular 
provision was made for them from the public purse of the 
nation. This private and public liberality is the more 
creditable, when it is remembered that in 1709, when 
warmly befriending the French Protestants, our country- 
men bad also to supply the wants of the persecuted Ger- 
man Palatinos. Dr Calamy states in his diary, that 
sereral thousands of these came over to Britain at this 
tiroe, — that a large sum was raised which was carefully 
distributed among them by commissioners, — that five 
hundred families were sent to Ireland, where, if I have 
not been misinformed, their descendants can still be 
traced, many to Carolina, and a number returned to 
their o^vn country. Indeed Britain at this time seems 
to have been wliaC we hope she will ever be — the grf at 
asylum for the oppressed and the persecuted of all the 
MtioDs of the world. 

( To be continued.^ 



Bt the Rev. William Moir, D.D., 

Minuter of St. Stepken*a Parish^ Edinburgh, 

'* Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was ; 
and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it." 
— EccLES. xii. 7. 

The man who is wise according^ to the Bible- 
estimate of wisdom, sets habitually before his 
mind the truth here solemnly announced. As he 
proceeds in his course through life, he looks with 
iocreasing stedfastness to the close of the journey, 
and he takes occasion, from events and seasons in 
human experience, to deepen the salutary im- 
pression of so serious a view. Anticipating that 
soon the goods and ills of his temporal condition 
are equally to pass away, he receives its advan- 
tagest and bears its calamities, in the calm and 
httoible frame corresponding with that anticipa- 
tion. Especially he draws, from the thought of 
bis ** latter end," what serves him for a test and 
an excitement. Bringing the' light of eternity to 
bear fully on the objects of time, he tries, by 
the searching illumination, his own actions, and 
schemes, and wishes, and learns the better which 
of them, as valuable, may be cherished, and which 
of them, as worthless, ought to be rejected. Above 
every thing, he connects the sentence of death 
passed upon all men with the promise of life 
given by the Saviour of sinners, and thus he 
gathers, from meditating on the dissolution of 
uie body, the very means of excitement to the 
principles and affections of an eternal exi^teoce in 
Ue suul. 

The soul and body, with their opposite quails 
ties, their separation at death, and the transcendent 
superiority of the one to the other, are the sub* 
ject of these words of the wise man : *' The dnst 
shall return to the earth as it was : and the spirit 
unto God that gave it." <* To the earth as it 
was,'' — such is the nature of the corporeal frame. 
Moulded, indeed, it is with exquisite skill into 
symmetry and beauty, yet out of humble and 
base materials ; and, as composed of these, liable 
to dissolution, frail, easily broken, a tabernacle of 
clay to be struck at last by the Hand which reared 
it, and to return to its original. But the spirit, 
while now mysteriously combined with its *< earthly 
house," does not share in the corruptildeness of 
its tenement, is not to be dissolved, is itself un- 
componnded, and allied immediately to God ; and, 
on leaving its material lodging, shidl return, with- 
out interruption of its consciousness, or a mo- 
ment's delay, unto Him that gave it, — ^unto the 
Creator, Saviour, and Judge, to be disposed of 
through eternity by the Lord of life. Thus the 
author of the Book of Wisdom, by this solemn 
announcement of a well known hut much ne- 
glected truth, would arrest our minds, would im- 
prove us in rendering us serious, and bless us in 
leading us to salvation. 

That the soul, on being separated from the 
body at death, makes an instant transition into 
the world of spirits, is what the text has clearly 
determined ; and this, moreover, is so unceasingly 
taught in the Sacred Scriptures, that we are sur- 
prised how an opposite doctrine should be held 
by any who profess to receive the Bible as the 
Word of God. Where do we find authority in 
the Bible for maintaining that the soul is alike in 
its qtialities to the body, only a finer configura- 
tion of matter, and between death and the resur- 
rection partaking, with the corporeal frame, in 
the dissolution of its powers ? We find passages 
of Scripture, no doubt, where death is compared 
to sleep, and the stillness of the grave is paralleled 
with the silence of night, and the calling up of 
the long sleepers at the resurrection is described 
as an awakening of them in the morning from 
their bed of dust. But these passages allude ex- 
clusively to the body, and to that unbroken rest 
into which the weary frame sinks at the dissolv- 
ing of its m;.«.terious union with its companion. 
Its companion, however, is of different qualities, 
and of a nobler mouldy and meets at death with 
an opposite destiny. 

While our consciousness, and many facts illus- 
trating the human mind, might well intimate 
these things, the Scriptures explicitly and uni- 
formly teach them. What cim more plainly do 
so than the well known address of our Lord 'to 
the penitent on the cross ? Surely, it is an im- 
mediate transition into the spiritual world that 
is promised by these words, " Verily, I say unto 
thee, this day thou shalt be with me in Paradise." 
Consider, too, how the Apostle Paul declared 
that *<he was in a strait betwixt two things," 
having, on the one hand> a desire to depart to be 



with ChHftt) and hayinj^, on the other, a desiild to 
abide in the body for the benefit of the Church. 
But, according to the notion which I now q|)- 
pof», why should he have experienced the least 
cau^e for hesitating' as to which of the two was 
to lie preferred, whether the remaming some time 
longer a zealous and useful minister of the Goa- 
{)el, or subsiding into a state of unconsciousness, 
i — for thousands of years a state of annihilation ? 
He felt occasion of doubt between views of his 
own good and public usefulness. Being assured 
of a personal interest in Christ, he realized vividly 
the blessedness that awaited him on exchanging 
his earthly for a heavenly abode. And still as^ 
fiured how profitably his labours were given to 
the Church, he saw as clearly what advantages 
to the society of the faithful were to ariee from 
his further scjourning among them^ It was be- 
tween these two things, his own interests and 
those of the Church, that the apostle hesitated, 
and not between hia sinking into the sleep of 
ages, and his continuing on earth actively benefit- 
ing others, and deriving to himself the precious 
satisfaction whi<^ activity in such a work was so 
well fitted to give him. The same nestle de- 
clared, again, that when he should be *< absent 
from the body, he should be present with the 
Lord." And there, also, he taught as directly as 
words can teach, that the eoi^ and the frame 
which it animates, are distanct, and that, on the 
dissolving of the inferior part of our nature, the 
principle that diffused life within continues un- 
impaired, and is ushered entire before its Creator 
and proprietor. And, surely, the text is itself as 
eatisfactory on the subject as any other portion of 
Scripturck The wise author of this book having 
described the failure and decay of the body in 
language peculiarly affecting, he closes the picture 
of mortai dissolution by the worde^ *^ The dust 
riiall return to the earth as it was : and the spirit 
bhall return unto God who gave it*' 

The truth is, the opinion concerning the soul 
of man that is usually named materialism is not 
only thin oppofved hy Scripture, but is obviously 
indefensible on any show of reasoning* For, 
what the nrateriaiista continually urge is this, that 
the Almighty may cause a certain form of matter 
to think. But> then, in reasoning on to a tenable 
isondusiott, we nrast proceed on fiictB,-^4)n what 
we know. In compuir^g mind and matter, we 
learn that their respective tqiailities are wholly 
different. And is it not from its qualities ti&ti» 
that we ascertain the m^ure of any object ? And 
since not a quality discoverable in matter bears 
the slightert resemblance to the qualities of which 
we are ooneoioas in mind, how should any man 
say that the mat^aUsm of the soul is the sul^ect 
ef a reasonable inference ? The Scriptures, how* 
ever, throughout tell us plainly that the 8<hi1 and 
the Ixidy, with all the cloweness of their present 
Union^ sfe yet separable and distinct ; that the soul 
can exist apart from the body ; that the parting 
asunder of dbe two shall take place at death, and 
for a seaiOA contimtte } that tben we are to be ab- 

sent from the body^ and that, dying as the disciple!^ 
and ff lends of Jesus, v^ shall instantly " be pre- 
sent willi the Lord." *< At death) the souls of 
faeiievers made perfect tn holiness do immediately 
pan into glory^ and their bodies being still united 
to Christ, do rest in their graves till tile resurrec- 
tion." " The du^ retams unto the earth as it 
was : the spirit anto God that gave it," « The 
dust shall return to the ei&rth as it was." This 
declaration is made in purstiance of the doom 
which was pronounced on Adam in the day of the 
fatal trespass, or rather, it « the very language ot 
the original sentence itselfi Ponder it ! 

L The sentence is univ^r^ah It ii^U on Adam, 
comprehending, in its tremendous denunciation, 
his whole posterity along with himselfi Thoug!i 
there was a suf^pension of it, as by a lon^^^ 
respite, over him and his wrlier oflfepring, yet, 
excepting to Enoch and Elijah, it has been re- 
mitted to hone. They, instead of being ** un- 
clothed" by death, experienced what the glorious 
privilege is of having «* mortaiily swallowed up 
of life;" but they only. Read the Book of 
Genesis, the chronicle of ancient times, and pa- 
triarchs, and princes. What is the striking and 
ever l-ecurring memorial there ? ** And the day? 
that he lived were nine hundred and thirty years : 
and he died." ** And these are the kings that 
reigned in the land of Edom : and when Husham 
was dead, Hadad reigned in his stead : and when 
Hadad was dead, l^mlah reigned in his stead: 
and Samlah died alsok" Amid the heaps of mere 
names, we stand as if we were among graves with 
their broken and defaced inscriptions. The char- 
acter of the men, their sayings, and ttieir deeds, 
those objects, to them so vast, for which they 
wrought and struggled, the honours which adorned 
them, and which heralds on ^ays of pageantry 
announced as immortal, all Imve sunk ; and only 
a few letters survive to tell of their existence. 
How solemnising the thought of the ceaseless 
rise and decay of human beings I Race after race 
disappear,->-4t is the comtiioftness of the feet that, 
dong with our native sensnality, renders us so in- 
different to the awful events But whatever be 
our indifference and sensuality, the event is going 
on. Time is still flowing as the dark stream that 
has roiled over the myriads of our predecessors in 
life. And hbw solemniaing! The torrent is fast 
bearing onwards to ourselves ( bnd soon whatever 
distinguishes us shall perish too ; and if our names 
are seen for a little on the surface, the scanty me- 
diorial of us shall just tell that we « lived and died." 

While the universality of the doom that " re- 
turns the body to the dust" forms an object of 
eerious thought, thetie is much to increase the 
seriousness of it in th^ oonskleratilNi) fiurther) that 
the sentence, which is univetaal, is, 

11. In the time of execating it on us, uncer- 
tain. Not uncertain^ it is ill 1^ counsels of the 
Supreme Disposer of all events. Utato God, 
who « seeth from the beginning to the end," the 
" length of our days" is exactly krtown. He has 
set the limits to our continuance on earth. We 



cannot overpass his decree; and when his ap- 
pointed hour comes, *< he changeth the counte- 
nance of man, and eendeth him away." 

But he has corered up the period from us. We 
know, indeed, that, even at the longest extension 
of the term of life, the interval hetween the cradle 
and the grave is short ; that, stretching our pros- 
pects beyond '*the three score years and ten" to 
an extreme old age, still the sum of our days is a 
scanty item. But, who may presume on arriving 
at the yerge even ot that small amount ? What 
place, in the intervening line, gives security against 
the execution of the sentence, that reduces the 
"dust to what it was?" Viewing our life aB a 
pilgrimage, are we not, at all points of the course, 
liable to be stopped and hurried off from our fel- 
low-travellers ? Some merely breathe the air of 
this world ; and tho spirit, as if it had lighted on 
the ungenial climate, hastens away to the land of 
milder skies. Others are allowed to proceed to 
the earlier eminences in the journey, from which 
they discover the prospects of life ; but are called 
to shut their eyes on the possession, and retire. 
Not many endure so long as to be worn out by 
protracted toils. Only a small and scattered Com- 
pany are seen, near the end, weighed down with 
the load of years to the dust of death — ^Doubt- 
le?^, we should adore the wisdom manifested by 
this arrangement. Had we received, at the entry 
upon life, the clear knowledge of the day when we 
are to depart from it, evil consequences had obvi- 
ously been the result of this knowledge. The 
tin'.e of dissolution, if placed at a remote period, 
would have seemed too far off to excite fear s and 
tbcs would have betrayed into the carelessness of 
irreligion and the obduracy of impenitence ; while 
those who should have beheld themselves, as with 
the grave opened at their feet, might have been 
'* shaken in their minds" from needful duties, and 
even from the great duty of preparation for eter- 
nity. And besides, had this world abounded with 
two descriptions of beings, whose circupnstances 
were so widely different, there would have been 
destroyed all sympathy between them; the one 
becoming utterly unfeeling and reprobate, and the 
other left to complete helplessness and misery. 
We are to adore the wisdom, therefore, by which 
He, from whose mouth proceeded the sentence of 
death, has otherwise arranged the seasons of exe- 
cQting this doom, *' Unto dust shalt thou return." 
The time of oarrving it into effect is> with regard 
to each of us, uncertain. And thus the ordinary 
concerns of life, in whidi we are bound to take a 
part, go on unintemiptedly. But, above all, this 
arrangement is fitted, if we reflect, to render «b 
watchful, most seriously watchful. It is fitted to 
make us f( el how terrible the hazard is of our de^ 
laying to prepare for eternity. It nidges on us 
constancy in our vigiknce. And, surely, the 
motives to immediate repentance, and to an mutant 
choice of the Gospel, and a persevering* attadi'* 
ment to Christ and his salvation, are pressed on 
ns irresistihly by this conviction ; how slight is the 
tenare of <ror possessions ; how thin the partition 

that divides between \is and the worid of spirits ; 
how the stroke that opens a passage for the soul, 
though it be dektyed for years, may yet descend on 
us even the next hour; how tbe only thing of 
which we have the cettainty and warrant is this, 
that we must soon quit the earthly house of this 
tabernacle, and that, if there be ftOt provided for 
our souls the house eternal in the heavens, we are 
wretched and miserable outcasts for eternity. 
The serious character of these views may, 
III. Suggest another, which pieces the appoint- 
ment of death before us as the decree of divine 
justice. In this solemn aspect ^he Sao^ Scrip- 
tures uuiformly represent it. When the awful 
sentence was first pronounced, the parent t)f trat 
^ace stood trembling in the presence of his Law*- 
giver and Judge. And the Apostle Paul reason*- 
ing in his well known passages on the fall of Adam, 
concerning the effects of the original trespass, de* 
clares that, '< by one man sin entered into the 
world, and death by sin ; and that by the oiiKsnoe 
of one, judgment hath come upon all tocondemna*- 
tion;" and that this is proved by the fact, that 
'< death reigned even t>ver them who sinned not 
according to the siflsilitude of Adam's transghes- 

And, however scoffing ly the infidel may declaim 
i^inst this account of the procedure by Vhich 
such tremendous consequences have been entailed 
on the human race^ and however he speak in deri« 
sion of << the covenant which was made with 
Adam, not cmly for himself but for his posterity," 
yet who can explain, if they reject the Bible state* 
ment, why infants suffier and die as well as those 
who have v^nntarily, in mature years^ consented 
to the sin of their first parent ? Must it not be 
allowed, besides, that traces of similar procedure 
are visiUe, and of daily occurrence ? Few of us 
are so thoroughly separated from others, as to leave 
every one around unaffected by our conduct, whe* 
ther it be good or bad. On the contrary^ n-v are 
connected mutually, and at a great variety of points. 
To many beings our actions are of vast consequence. 
We may impart suffering or joy, injury or advan* 
tage, life or death to our fellow-men. Nobody 
questions that kings and prinees may bestow im- 
mense blessings on their subjects when they hold 
the reins of government with the hand of right- 
eousness ; and, on the contrary, that unmingled 
calamities arise from the rule of the foolish, am- 
bitious, and violent. But, in every rank^ tlo w« 
not see children fdmring in the reputation of their 
parents^ while we often find that the vices of nten 
attaint, as with the brand of treaaon, tho members 
of their kmilies ? When you prosper, your de- 
pendents, whose skill and hand did nothing to in- 
crease your store, partake of your prosperity, and 
theirs, also, is a portion of your bitter cup^ when 
reverses have soured its ingredients. Each of us^ 
in truth, on our small scaler has been placed m in 
a garden, to keep and to dress it, not for ourselves 
alone, but for others, who either are associated with 
us, or may succeed ns. To cultivate the spot, 
earefuUy refusing every tree that n evil^ anl m* 



deringf it as a paradise, will be the means of bless- 
ino^ others, not less than onrselves. But to ne- 
glect it, and, (admitting the solicitations of the 
Tempter,) to forfeit the benefits, which were given 
Qs to cultivate, will not only injure our own souls, 
but make those who come after us weep because 
of our fall. Thus, even on a limited view, we 
trace the very same principle in operation still, 
which regulated the opening events of human 
history. The fact repels an objection ; and, at the 
same time, it yields an iihislration to the great 
Scripture doctrine of our union with Adam, and 
the consequences which have flowed to us from 
that union. These consequences, visible in the' 
transmission of diseases and death, from the fall 
till now, declare to us the immaculate purity and 
unchangeable justice of God. They remain and 
they are perpetuated as the standing marks of his 
displeasure at sine They teach us what enormity is 
involved in rebellion against the divine Uw. To 
disobey God is ingratitude, and treason, and filial 
impiety, and folly, and pride, and profaneness, all 
in one. And can we wonder that the evil, (which 
if it prevailed,) would unhinge the moral world 
and cast the orders of created intelligences into 
universal confusion, should thus have its essential 
virulence displayed in its exemplary puniehment ? 
Ah I there is not a calamity that wounds the heart, 
not a cause of sorrow that depresses the spirit, not 
a throb of anguish, nor a racking pain, nor a burn- 
ing fever, nor a groan of expiring nature, but tells 
us that roan has fallen, — ^but announces the sad 
effects of sin. 

Blessed be God ! we know of a remedy even 
amid the fatal symptoms of so fatal a disease. 
And let us adore and praise his name, while con- 

FinaUtf, that the mortal doom issued against 
sin, as the decree of justice, is changed for every 
believer in Jesus into the message of mercy. 
Though ** sin hath reigned unto death, grace now 
reigns thnmgh righteousness unto eternal life.** 
Though the sentence which has gone forth must 
be executed on every son of Adam, it touches 
only the body of the believer in Jesus. His soul 
is ransomed by the blood of his divine Surety. 
The curse that was involved in the original sen- 
tence, and which would have extended the tem- 
poral death into spiritual and eternal, was endured 
by the Saviour. He endured it, and exhausted it ; 
and instead of the curse the blessing is now the 
portion of all who " believe in his name." •* If by 
one man's offence death reigned by one, much 
more they who receive abundance of grace and of 
the gift of righteousness, shall reign in life by one, 
even Jesus Christ." The serpent's head is bruised. 
The law is fulfilled. The penalty is borne. Di- 
vine justice is satisfied. And divine love flows 
forth even to "the chief of sinners," What, 
therefore, though the language of the original sen- 
tence may remain ? The whole spirit of the de- 
cree is altered to the Christian believer. It is a 
message of mercy. It is an invitation amid the 
■ins and sufferings of a fallen world, calling the 

sonl away to the region where is nothing to defile, 
no tempter, no iniquity, no more death, neither 
tears, nor sighing, nor any more pain. It is as 
the very coming of the gracious Friend who hath 
promised, saying, " Let not your hearts be troubled. 
I will not leave you comfortless. I will come 
unto yon again and receive you imto myself, that 
where I am there ye may be also." 

Have you been enabled by grace to " believe in 
Christ to the salvation of your souls?" Have 
you " received the Lord Jesus in faith, as made of 
God unto you wisdom and righteousness, and 
sanctification, and redemption ? " Is it your desire 
and prayer that you be *'* found at last in him, not 
having yonr own righteousness, which is after the 
law, but the righteousness which is through the 
faith of Christ ?" Repenting of every evil way 
and evil thought, are you led by the Spirit of 
Christ, and following him along the path of holi- 
ness in humble but constant preparation for his 
holy and happy presence in heaven ? Surely it is 
your privilege to regard the original sentence ex- 
changed for you into the message of mercy. As 
there is a blessed reality in the Word of revelation, 
as there is rich meaning in the promises of the 
Gospeli as there is divine efficacy in ** the blood of 
the cross," be ye sustained, and encouraged, and 
cheered, even on hearing the solemn words, " Then 
shall the dust return to the earth as it was, and 
the spirit unto God that gave it." For " VVliore, 
O death, is thy sting? where, O grave, is thy 
victory. The sting of death is sin, and the strength 
of sin is the law. But thanks be to God who 
giveth us the victory, through Jesus Christ." 

Now, since the doom pronounced over fallen 
man is universal, what folly to shut our eyes upon 
it with indifference, as if we might escape ! Since 
the time of executing it on us is uncertain, what 
wisdom to be always ready ! Since it has pro- 
ceeded from infinite Justice, are we not, with the 
humbleness of penitent sinners, to be resigned to 
its infliction ? And since it is actually changed 
into the message of mercy through Christ Jesus, 
O how earnestly should we seek, that, by the 
merit of his death, we may be delivered from the 
power of *' the second death ! " 

And if, on the warrant which the faith of the 
Gospel supplies, you cherish the **good hoj>e 
through grace," in the pro>pect of an event that 
shall come, and that may come suddenly, then 
surely, for your improvement in the spiritual life, 
you will do what the wise man did, — you will set 
habitually before you the truth so solemnly an- 
nounced by the text. As you are advancing in 
your course, you will look i»-ith the greater sted 
fastness on the close of the journey. It will give 
you both a test and an excitement in the path of 
righteousness. It will serve as the means of 
mortifying the passions of earth, and nourishing 
affections whose tendency is all heaven-ward. It 
will teach you to keep your heart loose from pos- 
sessions v.hich, it warns you, are soon to be relin- 
quished, and calm under calamities from the hnr 
den of which you are soon to be removed. It will 



ifaow yon the unreasonableness and wretchedness 
of ambition and pride, by setting before you the 
mere handfiil of dust into which the mightiest 
forms of human grandeur are at last shrunk. It 
will conduce to the soundness of judging on what- 
ever is offered to your acceptance and pursuit in 
this world ; and it will help to animate you with 
the heavenly mindedness which lifts you from the 
low and perishing portions that are here, to the 
glories and joys of the unfading inheritance. 

And thus you will meet with a counsellor, and 
monitor, and friend, and comforter, in the very 
subject which multitudes hasten away from in 
terror and disgust. Alas! why do any hasten 
firom it, and with such feelings? — Why? Because 
they have not yet come to the Saviour ; and they 
cannot think of the sentence of death as changed 
for them into the message of mercy, opening 
heaven to the pardoned sinner. Their soul is 
fixed on this world. They know of none but an 
earthly portion, or they desire no better. And 
hence the striking off their grasp from that^ is to 
tear them from their chief good, and to drive 
thera away helpless and hopeless. They cannot 
endure, therefore, to look forward to such an 
event. They hurry past the warnings of it. They 
rash into business. They immerse themselves in 
pleasures. They flee to the noise and madness of 
dissipation. They indulge in a thousand con- 
trivances : and all that they may repel, as an in- 
truder, the thought of what is to come. But ah ! 
is this safely done ? Is it wisely devised ? Is 
any thing gained by this ? Can the nature of 
events be altered, or the course of time arrested 
by this ? " O that men were wise, that they 
would consider their latter end." Shall we think, 
without secret shuddering, that, when " the dust 
returns to the earth as it was," " the spirit," in- 
stead of returning in peace ** unto God that gave 
it," is to be driven away in wrath ? And why 
should we not desire earnestly to gain " the re- 
fiisre from the wrath to come?" And desiring 
this, why should we not seek it now ? Why 
should we postpone, day after day, year after year, 
to " consider our latter end," to consider " the 
things which belong to our everlasting peace ?" 
Wherefore reckon so boldly on our having future 
days and years granted to up ? How is it sup- 
posed that we shall find a better and more con- 
venient season than now for seeking reconciliation 
with God ? Time may be given ; and yet we may 
not have the opportunity ; we may not have the 
will to seek it. And are we safe in delaying this 
to the close of life ? What base ingratitude, be- 
sides, to resolve on neglecting the Saviour and 
his salvation, till we be forced to remember him 
by the overwhelming fear of destruction, or care- 
lessly to put ofiT the submission to him, till we 
have nothing to utter to him but broken and ex- 
torted cries for mercy amid the confusions of the 
fear of judgment ! But " now is the accepted 
time, now is the day of salvation." Come and hear 
now, while God condescends to speak to you in 
love» beseeching you to be reconciled. Come and 

be you earnest to gain the salvation which he pre* 
sents to your acceptance in the Gospel. Come 
and entreat the Giver of all grace that he may 
bestow upon you the "unspeakable gift," and 
thus enrich you for eternity. Come to the Fa- 
ther, that you be adopted into the divine family. 
Come to the Son, that the hope of glory be 
formed in your heart. Come to the Holy Ghost, 
that you be sealed for the promised inheritance. 
O ! to be a child of God, a disciple of Jesus, an 
heir of heaven ! That is gain to you. Though 
you have gained nothing more of earth than the 
few feet of dust into which your body shall be 
laid, if your spirit return to God that gave it, 
justified, sanctified, and redeemed in the Saviour's 
blood, thntt that is gain to you, outweighing the 
cost of worlds. 

At the late anniversary meeting of the Cambridge Bible 
Society, the Rev. Professor Scfaolefield related the fol- 
lowinjf anecdote of Mr Hone, the well-known author of 
the ' Every-Day Book :' — Mr Hone, in the days of his 
infidelity, was travelling in Wales, on foot, and being 
rather tired and thirsty, he stopped at the door of a 
cottage where there was a little girl seated reading, and 
whom be asked if she would give him a little water. 
•' O yes. Sir," she said, **if you will come in, mother 
will give you some milk and water ; upon which he 
went in and partook of the beverage, the little girl 
again resuming her seat and her book. After a short 
stay in the cottage he came out and accosted the child 
at the door, — " Well, my little girl, are you getting 
your task ? " " O no, Sir," she replied, *• I am reading 
the Bible," ** But,'* said Mr Hone, *• you are getting 
your task out of the Bible." *• O no. Sir, it is no task 
to me to read the Bible, — it is a pleasure." This cir- 
cumstance had such an effect upon Mr Hone that be 
determined to read the Bible too, and he is now, said 
Professor Seholefield, one of the foremost in upholding 
and defending the great truths contained in that holy 

By the EoiToa. 

At a time when the passion for scientific research is so 
general, and the complicated questions of animal or- 
ganization and physiology occupy so many enlightened 
men, the phenomenon which forms the subject of these 
remarks cannot fail to prove interesting to our readers. 
After having been for several years classed among those 
facts which it was easier to deny than to explain, it has 
for some time past attracted the attention of ebemists, 
botanists, and physical philosophers, and if they have 
not been able to explain its nature, they are at least 
agreed upon the principal facts. Of those eminent 
men who have investigated the subject, the most con- 
spicuous and recent are Dr Agnrdh and M. Necs of 
Esenbeck. In our remarks on red snow we shall cite 
the memoir of the former ; and in our brief historical 
picture of the meteoric phenomena of the same kind, 
we shall have recourse to the interesting researches of 
the latter. 

On the 17th August 1818, Captain Ross, commander 
of the expedition sent out to explore Baffin's Bay, 
found, at 75'' N. lat. and 67* W. long., on the pointd 
of rocks, a greenish crust, passing into the reddish- 
brown and yellow. He collected a certain quantity of 
it, deposited it in bottles, and brought it to Europe, 
where it was submitted to the examination of several 
learned men, particularly ta Messrs Brown, Bauer, 



Ag&rdh, an4 DecandoIU. This phenomenon exdted 
M much atientioB as if it kad been quite new, and, in 
£ict, it bad not been very often observed. Saussure 
found f«d 9no\v about 1760 on tbe Alps ; M. Ramond 
had also observed it on the Pyrenees, and M. Sommer- 
eld in Norway. It had al*o been, not unfrequently, 
perceived in the different districts of Italy. Saussure 
considered that this substance, from the circanutonce 
that it produced the usual smell of vef^eiables on being 
exposed to the Are, was the pollen of a plant, thongk 
there is none so rich in pollen exhibiting this colour. 

The red snow which fell in Italy exhibited, on che- 
mical analysis, the same elements with that brought to 
Europe by Captain Ross. M. Peschier, who had 
already recognised in the red snow of the Alps the 
presence of an organic substance, received, in 1824, 
from &i de Barron, of the monastery on 8t. Bemapd, 
a small bottle of the water which had been produced, 
in consequence of the melting of this snow. Barron 
informed him, at the same time, that red snow took a 
deeper colour as the season advanced, but that the 
lower layers preserved their red tinge. In inclining 
the bottle on its axis, M. Peschior saw ike deposit 
formed at the bottom reflect a reddish eolour, like that 
of the snow. He examined it, as well as the deposit 
from the red snow of the Pole, with the microscope of 
Amid, in the company of Messrs Prevost and Decan- 
dolle ; and they found between these two substancea a 
complete analogy. Tbe snow of the Alps was, there- 
fore, supposed by DecandoUe to be like that of the 
north, a mass of small plants, of the same iisimily with 
the Alifa, or sea- weeds. Some asserted that this sub- 
stance wad of an animal, and not of a vegetable, na- 
ture ; others, again, that it was partly animad and partly 
vegetable.* Agardh supposes that the alaa of red 
snow is produced when the heat of the sun has melted 
the surface of the snow, by the action of light con- 
jointly with the property, not yet calculated, which 
snow has, of producing the white colour ; but only, as 
Saussure says, '* at a certain period of the melting of 
snow, for when it is not much melted, tbe quantity of the 
red residuum is very small, and if it is too much melted 
we find nothing." We may add, that this phenomenon 
presents itself in Italy precisely in tbe months when the 
snow begins to melt, that is to say, March and April. M. 
Nees is of opinion, not only that red snow is of the 
same nature with atmospheric substances, but also that 
they have a mixed origin. He advances, however, on 
this difficult road with extreme circumspection, mep- 
tionlng, on the one side, the well attested facts, and, 
on the other, the hypotheses of different learned men ; 
and presenting, at the same time, his own inductions 
only in the form of doubts. This is the true philoso- 
phic mode of advancing our knowledge of a subject so 
complicated as that which we have just considered, and 
which, in spite of the indefatigable labours of several 
able observers, will, for a long time, remain an insoluble 

With re;gard to the meteoric phenomena resembling 
red snow, we shall content ourselves with a brief de- 
scription of the characters they have exhibited to some 

Bed Hail. — Humboldt mentions that, at Parano de 
Guanacos, on the road from Bogota to Popayan, in 
South America, red hail was seen falling. It is much 
to be regretted that he had not himself witnessed this 
phenomenon, as his ob3ervations would have earned 
with them that authority which accompanies his name. 
As, however, he gives this fact as certain, we must 
regard it as such ; and. although isolated, it U not tbe 
less precious both in itself, andf because it is connected 

9 DecandoUe Km ditcovercd kteir that the red colour of ihp 
lake Moral. In Switierland, dL»p<»ndcd on a ipecies of OsetUatoria, 
or •mall vegetables or animalrula lielonging at once to the vege- 
table and ai^mal Uogdoma. M- Ehrenbei^ h«» made tbe aaiuc dia- 
severy with regard to tbe Red Sea« 

whh analogous facts, which we have to cfte, and sertres 
to confirm the inductions with regard to their nature 
and their common origin. 

i7atJi of Sulphur — M. Agardh mentions an instance 
of a rain of this kind which fell several years ago at 
Lund. He examined it ; and, along with those who 
had also observed a similar rain, found not sulphur, but 
a great qi^antity of the pollen of the Pinus sylvestris, 
or common Scotch fir, although the forests composed 
of that tree were distant fcom Lund about five or aix 
Swedish miles. 

Eed or Bloody i?aiii.-^M. Nees mentions three kinds. 
Iff. The red rain, the nature of which is not known. 
There is mention made of it in Homer, and it has been 
very of^en observed both in ancient and modern times. 
Nees cites instances referred to by difK;rent authors 
from 181 B. a down to 1809. 2^ Red rain, coloured 
by mineral substances dissolved in the water. The 
fact best known is that mentioned by M. Bory de St. 
Vincent, and other authors ; the rain contained muriate 
of soda, or common sea-saJt, and muriate of cobalt. 
3d, Red rain, appearing to have an origin analogous to 
red snow. Several examples of it are known. Thi^ 
kind of rain has been analyzed by Setventini and Zim- 
merman, and found to be composed of nearly tbe same 
constituent elements with red snow. A few instances 
are on record of red dust having fallen from the atmo- 
sphere. We find six facts of this kind : the fir^t in 
529, at Bagdad ; the sixth in 1689, at Venire. Some 
observatioxis were made upon this last. It had a strong- 
pungent taste, and so unwholesome were the qualities 
it imparted to the pot-herbs on which it fell, that the 
health of those who made use of them was not a little 
injured. Authors mention dry and solid masses, appa- 
rently of a vegetable nature, as having fallen occasion- 
ally from the atmosphere. The most curious, and the 
best authenticated fact of this kind, is that which took 
place at Courlande, in 1686. There fell at that place 
during a storm, under the form of dakes, like the snow 
which accompanied it, a black substance which covered 
a considerable space. Its smell exactly resembled that 
of the sea>weed thrown upon the coasts, its consistence 
that of Mrri ting- paper. By rubbing it could not be 
reduced to powder, but separated into small tenacinns 
particles, which, when moistened with the tongue, did 
not colour the fingers. When burned it gave a clear 
flame, and a smell of paper. We may mention, aUo, 
that gelatinous substances have of^en been observed in 
places where igneous meteors had fallen. Some ex- 
hibit a yellowish, oily, and tenacious appearance ; 
others resemble the foam of an agitated sea ; others 
starch, and others thin membranes. Mengel found, in 
1652, between Sienna and Rome, after the fiiU of a 
meteor, a tenacious, transparent body. He separated a 
part of it, which hardened by long keeping. It may 
be seen in the cabinet formerly belonging to his son, at 


A Word to the Bereaved, — In our lamentations fbt 
the departure of the objects of our aifection and esteem, 
there is ofltn more selfishness, than a Christian should 
admit into any feeling that concerns them. We are 
apt to view the dispensation as sent only to afflict and 
chastise us, without considering the intention of it u'ith 
respect to them. Yet surely they are still more nearly 
concerned in it than we are ; and the purpose which it 
serves to them should be fir^t attended to. Hence we 
keep grieving and complaining (O shameful thought !) 
because they are called to heaven, and put in possession 
of eternal bliss. And why ? Why truly for this poor 
and selfish reason, that we must travel a little way 
without them, and would have felt it more agreeable 
to have had their company : — as if the Almighty w«r« 



ttot able to ouTf Uft ihrongh, as well, or better, witb- 
oat them than with them. It were surely more wor- 
thy of oar Christian character and hoM, to contemplate 
and to rejoice in their removal, as toe termination of 
their sins* and sorrovi*s, the commencement of their 
eternal bliss. We would congratulate them on the 
aequisitxHi of an estare, we would rejoice on their 
sueceds in any important enterprise ; and shall we 
grieve at thetr attainment of the incorruptible inherit- 
ance, and their final, their certain success in the great 
concern ? Or if, as no doubt will often be the case, 
we notwithstanding cannot help feeling a painful blank, 
there is an effect which this should, and roust, have on 
a believer's mind, that is highly improving, and will 
ere long be richly comfortable. It Is the fault and 
the complaint of the most spiritually minded, that their 
thoughts and affections are too much engrossed by 
earthly things. Not that there are not many things 
on earthy to which attention and affection are due; 
but because these fill up our time and thoughts so 
much, ai not to leave to things above the share to 
which thehr superior importance entitles them. Now, 
when a dearly loved person is removed to another 
world, the natural or proper effect of this on a be- 
fiever's mind is, tp make him think more and oftener 
sbout that other world, and to 4raw his affections to- 
<vards rt, by a new, a strong, and tender tie. For as 
fret^uently as a thought of the departed returns, he 
m\i*t think of him as an inhabitant of that higher state, 
and by all the longing desire which he feels towards 
him, hU longing and desire for the state itself becomes 
more steady and more ardent. And the more steadily 
snd ardently our minds are directed thither, the more 
must that trame of mind, which is necessary for its 
enjoyment* be promoted, and the more shall we anti- 
ripate of its serenity and peace. Thus, such an afflic- 
tion should, and will, lead us to '* look at the things 
unseen ; ** aqd while we do, these, in their turn, will 

make our afflictions seem light and momentary Re- 

mains of the late Rev, Ih- Martin. 

A good eomdence-r—A, good conscience shows the 
evil, guilt, and desert of sin ; it condemns precisely as 
God condemns; it condemns at the bar of justice and 
ac/juits at the bar of mercy ; it echoes the whole qf 
divme truth; it receives it as the wax receives the 
iuiprcssioa of the seal; it possesses freedom from th^ 
guilt of sin and peace with God through faith in Jesus 
Christ ; it is at first purged and perpetually kept pure 
by the do wing of the stream of that fountain wluch w^ 
opened for sin and for uncleanneas ; it is alive to self- 
exami nation which is its element ; it is armed by the 
l>o\ver of the Spirit of Christ to carry his truth into the 
inmost recesses of the soul ; it evinces itself in grati- 
tude to Go4 for the blessings of the Gospel — ** Thanks 
be unto God for his unspeakable gift," was a song 
prompted by a good conscience ; and it evinces itself 
in love to man. — Howbls. 

Metknem, kmmiUty, and dtadntss to the toorld. — Beg 
of God a acek avid quiet spirit, which is of so 
great pricsp in the sight of God; aud watch after 
your prayers, aot only how th^ Lor4 answers, but 
how you endeavour : he that prays against discon- 
tent, binds himself to watch and strive against it, 
or else his prayers are sin. Beg an humble heart of 
Ood: the humble man is seldom discontented; he 
ihmks the least of mercies is good enough for the chief 
of sinners. Here is a poor houiie, coarse fiire, hard 
lodgiagi, imluBtfl usa^e ; hut it it good tmoMgh iof me : 
any thing short of hell is mercy : if I may have but 
bread to eat, and raiment to put on, it is fare for such 
s one M 1. And then bag a rooitifled heart to all that 
IS in the world. When the heart is dead to the world, 
woridly troubles do not trouble. When the soldiers 
laid that ChMl't body was 4e»4 they would not hreak 
his bones. He that is dead to the world, will save his 

bones whole : when crosses, strains, and troubles come 
upon him, they return to God, saying, •* Yonder man 
is dend already to the world, his heart is crucified to 
it, he feels nothing, so as to be distempered by it.*^ 
When they strip dead men, they struggle not; yoq 
may take all, they are not troubled at it. O beg such 
a heart, that God may do what he will with thee, thi^t 
his will may be done ; and this prayer will procure 

patience, and help against discontent The Husband' 

man*8 Calling^ by Richaed Steele, A. M- 

The Gospel a re s ting^ f ^l ac e — It is a l^'gh attainmcat 
to be able to look round and at length, to find a resting-: 
place ; while it is the misery of ^len in general that 
they think not at all on their condition. Ask your 
consciences ; say " I must soon be carried away ; th^ 
very boards are perhaps prepared that are to make mjs 
coffin ; the stuff woven that is to uuM^a my shroud i 
and have I never asked where I shall set my foot in 
eternity? Does conscienoe declare that I have n«t 
accepted the Gospel I Not fled for refuge to the hope 
set before ? Ob what ground can I stead ? — Cecil. 

Seff-examination, — I ufn snre when the master is 
near his coming it were safe for us to \frite over a ne^ 
copy of our accounts, of- the ^ins of nature, childhood, 
youth, riper years, and oW age. What if Christ have 
another written representation of qie thi^n I have of 
myself 1 Sure his is right, and if it contra^ct my 
misstating, and sinfully erroneous account, ah, wliere 
am I then I — Rutherford. 


Madagascar, one of the largest islands in the world, 
is situated in the Indian Ocean, and separated fVom 
Africa by the Mozambique Chann^, which is about 
one hundred and fifty leagues in breadth, although the 
nearest point of the island is not more than ninety or one 
hundred. Comparatively little has been knoiini until 
very recently, about the actual condition of this island ; 
hut the cruelties and sore persecutioua t9 which thpse of 
the natives, who have emhraeed Christianity, have boeii 
lately exposed, called forth an almost uoiyersal feeling 
of sympathy fi'om British Christians. The interest 
thus awakened in behalf of Madagascar, has led to the 
receot appearance of a work descriptive of the )iistory 
of this island, from the peu of Mr £lli|, ^, as might 
have been ezpei:ted, the aHthor of the "Polynesian 
Researches" has maintained his high ^aracter as a 
beautiful and graphic delineator, both of scenery and 
popular manners. 

The Malagasy, or n^t^ve inhabitants ^ the hhflid^ 
seem to consist of different tribes under independent 
chieftains ; but both in lai^guage and in general man- 
ners, there is an obvious leeemblenoe among those 
tribes, whieh indicates that they are, to a certain ex- 
tent, related to one another. Circumcision, for ex- 
ample, is universally prevalent in the island^ though 
the ceremonies attending it yary somewhat i^ different 
localities. Divination, ton, is pn^cti^ed among %ll ^e 
tribeji, though un.^er difl^rent forms. To (tes^be the 
cus.toms of this singular people %^U more distinctly, we 
would call the attention of our rei^ders, in the Ar«t in* 
Stanpe, to those connected witli tbeir trfsatment of chilr 
dren. On this subject Mr W^ f^^t^a the f^Upwin^ 
curipwi f^cts chiefly in regard \iO the 

*' After the birth of an infimt, the relatires and friends 



of the mother visit her, and offer their congratulations. 
The infant a1«o receives snlutationB, in form resembling 
the following : ' Saluted be the offspring given of God ! 
— may the child live long! — may the child be favoured 
so as to possess wealth!' Presents are also made to 
the attendants in the hou«ehold, and sometimes a bul- 
lock is killed on the occasion, and distributed among 
the members of the family. Presents of poultry, fuel, 
money, &c., are at times also sent by friends to the mo- 
ther. A piece of meat is usually cut into thin slices, 
and suspended at some distance from the floor, by a 
cord attached to the ceiling or roof of the house. This 
18 called the Kitoza, and is intended for the mother. A 
fire is kept in the room, day and night, frequently for a 
week after the birth of the child. At the expiration of 
that period, the infant, arrayed in the best clothing that 
can be obtained, is cariied out of the house by some 
person whose parents are both still living, and then 
taken back to the mother. In being carried out and 
in, the child must be twice carefully lifted over the fire, 
wh'ch is placed near the door. Should the infant be a 
boy, the axe, large knife, and spear, generally used in 
the family, must be taken out at the same time, 
with any implements of building that may be in the 
house : silver chains, of native manufacture, are also 
given as presents, or used in these ceremonies, for wliich 
no particular reason is assigned. The implements are 
perhaps used chiefly as emblems of the occupations in 
which it is expected the infant will engage when it ar- 
rives at maturer years ; and the whole may be regarded 
as expressing the hopes cherished of his activity, wealth, 
and enjoyments." 

One of the first acts of the father, or a near relation, 
is to report the birth of the child to the native astrolo- 
gers, who pretend, by peculiar ceremonies, to ascertain 
its destiny ; and should that be declared to be favour- 
able, the child is reared with the utmost care and at- 
tention. When the child has reached its second or 
third month, on a lucky day, a ceremony takes place, 
which Mr Elhs thus describes under the name of 


«* The friends and relatives of the child assemble ; a 
portion of the &t taken from the hump on the back of 
an ox is minced in a rice-pan, cooked, and mixed up 
with a quantity of rice, milk, honey, and a sort of grass 
called voampamoa ; a lock of the infant's hair is also 
cast into the above melange ; and the whole being tho- 
roughly well mixed in a rice-pan, which is held by the 
youngest female of the family, a general rush is made 
towards the pan, and a scramble for its contents takes 
place, especially by the women, as it is supposed that 
those who are fortunate enough to obtain a portion 
may confidently cherish the hope of becoming mothers. 
Kananas, lemons, and sugar-cane are also scrambled for, 
under the belief that a similar result may be anticipat- 
ed. The ceremony of scrambling, however, only takes 
place with a first-born child. The head of the mother 
is decorated, during the ceremonial, with silver chains, 
while the father carries the infant, if a boy, and some 
ripe bananas, on his back. The rice-pan used on the 
occasion becomes, in their estimation, sacred by the ser- 
vice, and must not be taken out of the hou^^e during 
three subsequent days, otherwise the virtue of those 
observances is supposed to be lost." 

Should the destiny of the child be declared by the 
iikidy, or astrologer, to be evil, the poor helpless babe 
is doomed to destruction. The practice of infanticide 
has been long prevalent in Madagascar; and although 
during the reign of Radama it was abolished, since the 
death of that king, the inhuman custom h^s aguin revived. 

As another specimen of the peculiar cuiitoms of the 

Mahigasy, we select the interestuig .iccount which Mr 
Ellis gives of the 

Marriage Ceremony. 

*• When the preliminaries are determined, and the 
time fixed, viz., a good or lucky day, according to the 
sikidy, the relatives of the bride and bridegroom meet 
at the houses of the parents of the respective parties. 
All are attired in their best apparel, and decorated with 
their gayest ornaments. At the appointed hour, the re- 
latives or friends of the bridegroom accompany him to 
the house of the bride. These pay or receive the dowry, 
which being settled, he is welcomed by the bride as her 
future husband ; they eat together, are recognised by 
the senior members of the family as husband and wife ; 
a benediction is pronounced upon them, and a prayer 
offered to God, that they may have a numerous off- 
spring, abundance of cattle, many slaves, great wealth, 
and increase the honour of their respective families. 
They then repair to the house of the parents or friends 
of the bridegroom, and again eat together, when simi- 
lar benedictions are pronounced by the senior members 
of the family, or the head man of the village, who is 
usually invited to the ceremony. The nuptial bond is, 
in some instances, now regarded as complete : general 
feasting ensues, afler which the parties return to their 
respective homes, and the newly married couple to the 
residence prepared for them. But if, as is generally the 
case, the houses in which the parties have met is below 
the hill on which their village is built, the bride is placed 
on a sort of chair, under a canopy, and borne on men's 
shoulders up the sides of the hill to the centre of the 
village. Occasionally the bridegroom is carried in the 
same manner. The relatives and friends of the parties 
follow the procession, clapping their hands, and sing- 
ing, as the bearers ascend. On reaching the village, 
they halt at what is called the parent-house, or resi- 
dence of the officer of the government; a hasina, or 
piece of money, is given to the attending officer, for the 
sovereign, the receiving of which is considered a legal 
official ratification of the engagement, as the marriage 
cannot afterwards be annulled, except by a legal act of 
divorce in the presence of witnesses. No ring, or other 
emblem of the married state, is used on such occasiouri, 
or worn afterwards ; nor is there any badge by which 
the married may be distinguished from the unmarried 
women in Madagascar, when their husbands are at 
home ; but during the absence of their husbands, espe- 
cially in the service of government, a necklace, of silver 
rings, or beads, or braided hair, is worn, to denote that 
they are married, and that consequently their persons 
are sacred. Thus the >vives of the officers composing 
the late embassy to England were distinguished during 
the absence of their husbands. 

Polygamy prevails to a great extent in Madagaiicar, 
sanctioned not merely by the authority, hut by the ex- 
ample of the king, who is permitted to marry no fewer 
than twelve wives. The natural, and indeed the ne- 
cessary consequence of such a btate of matters is, 
domestic unhappiness is far from being rare, and woman 
is treated not as the equal, but as the inferior of mun. 
It is only, in fact, when the civilizing effects of Christi- 
anity are truly experienced, that woman occupies her 
position in the scale of society, and exercises that in- 
fluence for which she has been fitted by the all-wise 
and benevolent Creator. 

Publifthed by John JoHN«TnNS. 2. Huater Square, Edinburgh: 
J. R. MACNAIB.& Co., 19, Cila*$ford street, (Jlaagow ; Jamc« Niabst 
fc Co., Hamilton, AnAM*, v Co.. and R. GR"OsiBRiont, London ; 
W. Ci.'itHY. Junr. * Co., Dublin; and W. M'Comk. Belfast; ami 
»nld bv the Bookiie teis and Local A^enU in all the Towni and 
Paiikhci of Scotland, and in the principal Towiu in England and 

Subwriberi wiU have their copies deUvered at their BMtdenocs, 






1.— On Peace in BeUeriog. Part Second. By the Rer. Tbomat 

C3afaD«r«. D.D., LL.D Fage 17 

S^-TbeCoDfeniont of a Penitent, ]8 

J.-.Biofnphical Sketch. Bin Hawkes. Part 1 1. By the Editor, 19 

4.— Sacred Poetry. •* To an Afflicted Friend." 21 

i— Restitation of Human Nature. By the Rer. J. Eidaile, D.D., ib, 
«^T1)e Doetrinef of Geology Ulmtrative of the Bible, 23 


7.— A.Di*cour8e. By the Rer. John Bruce. A.M., 

8.— Braamua and Luther, 

9.~Sacred Poetry. "The Oraye.** ..!..".'...."."!."." 30 

10.— Moalem Funeral In Syria, ,^. 

II — Chrlitian Treaaury. Extracts from HiU'« " It UweU," 

Cecil, Archbiihop Leighton, and Rev. Darid Amot,.... ib, 

12. — Serpent Charmeri *nd Jugglers in Egypt........ 3i 


Part Second. 


Professor of Theology in the University of Edinburgh. 

There is another consideration eminently fit- 
ted to stablish and to settle the mind of a he- 
liever. It is the same with that which strength- 
ened the foundation of an apostle's hope. He 
expresses it in these words : " For if, when we 
were enemies, we were reconciled to God hy the 
death of his Son, mnch more, being reconciled, we 
shall be saved by his life.*' It was when we were 
yet enemies that Christ died for us. It was when 
we were not so much as conceiving the wish of a 
return unto God, that God devised a way of re- 
turn, and in the face of this world's determined 
wickedness did so much to reclaim to friendship 
with Himself its guilty generations. Had there 
been any movement on our part towards Him, which 
led Him so to move towards us, the argument would 
have lost that peculiar emphasb whidi actually be- 
longs to it. But, in fact, it was when we were 
prosecuting our rebellion with minds in the full 
bent of their enmity towards Him, — ^it was when, 
on the part of men, there was no relenting pur- 
pose toward God, — ^it was when, sunk in the deepest 
moral lethargy, we were altogether dead in tres- 
passes and sins, — ^it was then, and in the midst of 
the most unalleviated depravity and provocation, 
that the whole plan of our redemption was laid ; 
and the whole expense and labour of it was under- 
taken ; and all the toil, and humiliation, and Intense 
suffering of this great achievement were endured. 
Surely, if such be the good-wiQ of God to the world 
that no hostility of ours could quench it ; and He 
would bring such a weight of agony on His be- 
loved Son, rather than that the enterprise of mercy 
should be staid, — ^what shall we think now of His 
good-will when the agony is borne ; and all that is 
painful in the work of our redemption is finished ; 
and Christ who was dead is now alive, and exalted 
at the right hand of God for the very purpose of ' 
carrying into accomplishment the design of His 

No. 2. Jan. 12, 1889.— IJrf.] 

own undertaking. It is possible to conceive that 
ere Christ was humbled and crucified. He might 
have shrunk from the arduousness of the work 
that was before Him. But it is not possible to 
conceive now, that He will not perfect into effi- 
ciency that which He hath already purchased with 
so much suffering, — ^that he will not substantiate 
His own enterprise,— that He will so nullify His 
own acts as that all the labour of them, and all the 
painfulness of them shall be as good as thrown 
away. "Hiis, then, is a consideration that serves 
to deepen, and more firmly to establish, the founda- 
tion of a believer's peace. It is Christ's own 
cause, that he should obtain the inheritance. It 
is a cause which hath already been fought and con- 
quered in the vaJe of humiliation; and which, now 
that He is exalted on high. He never will abandon. 
He will not throw away the spoils of His own vic- 
tory. He will not, after having laid down His life 
for His enemies, now that He has taken it up again, 
fail to consecrate all its powers to the salvation 
and the service of those who are seeking to be His 
friends. " Who is he that condemneth ? It is 
Christ that died, yea rather, that is risen again, 
who is even at the right hand of God, who also 
maketh intercession for us." 

And every indication which God gives of His 
earnestness in the matter of salvation, is felt by 
every believer as a new argument for trust, and 
for the peace of assurance, or the peace of con- 
firmation, which trust brings along with it. It is 
not merely when God declares acceptance through 
Jesus Christ, and so commits the glory of His 
truth to His actual acceptance of all who so come 
unto Him. It is not merely the exhibition of an 
offer to all who will ; but it is when, in the word 
of the testimony, we see God putting forth the 
expression of a desire after the creatures who had 
wandered away from Him. It is when God makes 
[SxcoNu Skbiss. Vol. I, 



use of a more active urgency, in order to prevail 
on us to comply with His overtures. It is when 
God invites, and entreats, and expostulates, and 
swears by Himself that He has no pleasure in our 
death, and beseeches us to be reconciled, and bids 
us put Him to the trial whether He wiU 'not» on 
our return unto Him, Himself return unto us, and 
pour out a blessing on the utterance of our prayers* 
It is when He represents Himself, not merely as 
waiting to be gracious, bat as longing after us, 
and rejoicing, in common with all the angels of 
heaven, on the very first movement of our re- 
pentance towards Him. It is when to reinforce, 
aa it were, all these expedients for getting us to 
believe, He interposes His authority on the occa- 
sion, and positively commands us to do so. Nay, 
what is more, when, to shut us up to this mea- 
sure as the only alternative of safety. He declares 
that they who believe not shall be dlamned.-~It is 
when such evidences multiply iipon Him, that by 
mere believing God is well pleased, and that faith 
is the very footing on which He wills us to stand. 
— It is then that a disciple places himself more se- 
curely than ever on a foundation of reliance ; and 
it just rivets him the more firmly to this basis, 
when he reflects, that thus posted, and thus tena- 
ciously adhering to his post, — or, in other words, 
that, when cleaving unto Christ, and linking 
with His person and work, all his tranquil convic- 
tions of present favour, and all his hopes of future 
glory, he ever says that I am doing what God 
wants me to do, and I am where God wants me 
to be. 

The riches of Christ are said to be unsearch- 
able. And as God reveals them by His Spirit to 
a believer, he is made to enter on such a region 
of manifestation, as to leave the general world 
exceedingly behind him. They cannot follow the 
movements of his exercised mind, as he holds the 
communion of confidence with God, and tastes 
of that peace which passeth all understanding, — 
a peace which bears no resemblance whatever to 
that momentary gleam of tasteful and tender emo- 
tion, which is ministered by some faint imagination 
of the attribute of mercy, and leaves in utter 
darkness the place and the operation of the other 
attributes. A believer's peace is the peace of one 
who ever looks fully, and without dismay, on the 
whole character of God. His prayer for forgive- 
ness is not that the righteousness of God may 
give way to His mercy, but that mercy may be ex- 
tended towards him in such a way as to exalt and 
to vindicate righteousness. He comes in the name 
of the Lord his righteousness ; and while this is 
the way in which he renders the most acceptable 
homage to the truth and the justice of God, he 
also finds it to be the way in which there is not a 
single intervening cloud between him and the 
friendship of a reconciled Father. Between him 
and Christ, there is a welcome offer on the one 
side, and a confiding acceptance on the other. 
Between Christ and God, there is an offering for 
the sins of men on the one side, and an entire 
satisfaction with the inceost of that ofifering on 

the other. Grood-will to men, on the part of 
Heaven, has, throughout the whole of this procei^s, 
received its most abundant demonstration; and 
•very one obstacle to the expression of this good- 
will is now done away by Him who travelled in 
the greatness of his strength for us. And the 
believer, to fortify the peace of his heart, is now 
warranted to look to the justice of God as already 
discharged on the head of the great Sacrifice ; and 
to look to the truth of God as vindicated in all its 
threatenings, and as now testifying its promises 
and its invitations ; and to look to the tenderness 
of God, as now at liberty to call, and even to be- 
seech the return of the guilty ; and to look to the 
glory of God, as much interested in the trinmph 
of the method of redemption, as His mercy is 
gratified by our acquiescence in it ; and to look to 
the way in which both the honour and the desire 
of the Saviour are linked with the object of sal- 
vation. In these contemplations, he sees nothing 
in the wish or character of the one party which 
does not stand in most inviting unison with the 
peace, and pardon, and deliverance of the other. 
Every restraint is taken away from the exercise of 
love with the former, and from that of an imr 
plicit confidence with the latter : and every view 
which he takes of the dignity of his Saviour's 
person, and of the reality of that work in which He 
toiled and suffered for the salvation of mankind, 
establishes the love of God more firmly in his 
heart, and strengthens within him that peace 
which the world knoweth not, and causes it to 
flow abundantly through his soul like a mighty 


A OENTtEMAN attended Mr, afterwards Dr Adam 
Clarke's ministry, and in a short time was deeply con- 
vinced of sin, of his fallen nature, and of his actual 
transgression. He became diligent in his^ attendance 
on the public ministry, deeply deplored his sins, and 
with strong prayer and tears sought pardon of God for 
his transgressions, through the blood of Jesus. He 
sought but found not, — he mourned but was not con- 
forted. Shortly afterwards he was confined by sickness, 
and sent for Mr Clarke to pray with and for him ; he 
did so, and when he learnt how long he had mourned, 
and saw its apparent sincerity and earnestness, he se- 
cretly wondered at God's so long withholding a mani- 
festation of pardon from such bitt«r, such deep repent- 
ance ; but he charged not God foolishly ; but rather on 
finding, after such oft-repeated visits, that the lamp of 
life was burning low, and that the menu! agony of the 
penitent was even hurrying on its extinction, with ten- 
der but firm language he said, ** It is not often, Mr , 

that God thus deals with a soul so deeply humbled as 
yours is ; and so earnestly, in his own appointed way, 
seeking redemption through the blood of his Son. Sir. 
there must be a cause for this, and you have left some- 
thing undone which it was and is your interest and duty 
to have done; God judge between you and it." 

The gentleman fixed his eyes intently on the face of 
Mr Clarke, raised himself up in bed, and gave the fol- 
lowing narration :— . 

In the year I was at , and took my passage 

in a ship for England? before we sailed, some mer- 
chants of the place came to the vessel and put on board 
» >- • Extracted from the Lift of Dr Aiata Qatke, 



a small hag of iSoHars, which they gave into charge of 
tbe captain to carry to such and such parties. I saw 
this transaction, and marked the captain's carelessness ; 
for, instead of putting the hag of dollars in a place of 
safety, he left it day after day rolling in the locker. 
For the simple purpose of frightening him, I hid it ; he 

made no inquiries, and we arrived at , and I still 

detained it till it should he missed; month sSter month 
passed away, and still no inquiry was made for the lost 
property. The parties to whom it was consigned, and 
who had notice of its being sent, came to the captain 
for it ; he remembered its having been given into his 
charge, but nothing more : it might have been left be- 
hind. Letters to that effect were written to the cor- 
respondents, and a search was made, but nothing could 
be learned, no trace of the lost treasure could be dis- 
covered. All this necessarily occupied many months. I 
had now become alarmed, and was ashamed to confess, 
lest it should implicate my character. I then purposely 
se<Teted the property. The captain was sued for the 
amrmnt, and, having nothing to pay, was thrown into 
prison, firmly maintaining his innocenry of the theft, 
hut pleading guilty to the charge of carelessness respect- 
hig his trust. He languished in prison for two years, 
and then died. Guilt had by this time hardened my 
Diind. I strove to be happy by stifling my conscience 
with the cares and amusements of the world ; but all 
in vain. At last I heard you preach, and then it was 
that the voice of God broke in upon my conscience, and 
reasoned with me of righteousness and of judgment to 
corae. Hell got hold upon my spirit : I have prayed, 
I have deplored, I have agonized at the throne of mercy, 
for the sake of Christ for pardon, but God is deaf to my 
prayer ; Christ casts out my petition ; there is no mercy 
for me ; I must go down into the grave unpardoned^ 
unsaved t " O what a tale was this 1 how fine a scheme 
of Satanic device did it reveal I Mr Clarke suggested 
to the dying penitent, that God claimed from him not 
only repentance but restitution. To this the gentleman 
willingly consented. The sum with its interest and 
compound interest was made up. The circumstances 
of the case, without the name, were declared to the 
widow and the parties concerned, through the medium 
of Mr Clarke, who obtained an acknowledgment for the 
f»ijra, which he kept till his death, and which still re- 
mains among his papers. Shortly afterwards the trou- 
bled mind of Mr was calmed ; and in firm assur- 
ance of the mercy of God, through the merits of Christ, 
this penitent soul exchanged worlds ; a warning to all 
the workers of miquity ; a lesson to all the ministers of 
Christ not to charge God foolishly, when any such 
cases come before their spiritual cognizance ; an exhorta- 
tion to such as received the wages of unrighteousness, 
not only to confess but to restore to the full all ill-got- 
ten gmin ; and a loud call upon all who think, like this 
gentleman, that they stand, to take heed lest they fall. 


Pabt IL 
Bt ths Editoe. 

It haj been ofWn remarked, in refereoce to the Chris- 
tian life, that the cross is the patent road to the crown. 
Such, in fact, has been the experience of believers in 
every age. Whosoever will be a faithful and consistent 
dificiple of the Lord Jesus, ** most deny himself, taks 
Mp hi$ crostf and follow Christ." The trials to which 
Mre Hawkes was subjected were numerous and diver- 
sified. At the very outset of her Christian career, 
she met with the utmost discouragement and opposition 
from him wbo ought to have sympathised with her in 

all her joys and in all her sorrows. Even at home, 
therefore, which is usually the cherished scene of the 
believer's true enjoyments, she felt herself isolated and 
alone, and not only so, but many a tear was she com* 
pelled to shed over the worldliiiess and cold carnality 
which prevailed around her. In the retirement of her 
closet, accordingly, many of her happiest hours were 
spent : and for some time, except in the edifying com- 
pany of her pastor, Mr Cecil, and iu the soothing 
correspondence of her sister, Mrs Jones, she derived 
almost her sole enjoyment from the secret exercises of 

Shortly after the period with which we closed the 
First Part of this Sketch, this devoted Christian was 
called to undergo a very severe trial in the loss of her 
beloved brother Henry. The bereavement was painful, 
but her heart was comforted by the peaceful and happy 
character of his death. Speaking of this subject, she 
says in her Diary ,-. 

*' Set out for Broad Marston to see my dying bro- 
ther, Henry : but was too late, except to see him in 
his coffin I For my dear brother, as far as respected 
himself, there was no cause to grieve. The last three 
years of his life he had been wasting under a fatal dis- 
ease ; but he was ready for his removal. He was an 
ornament to religion — a light shining in a dark place. 

*' A friend asked him in his dying moments if the 
prospect of glory opened to him. To which he replied 
with much animation, * It opens I it opens !' and after 
a little time, spent seemingly in silent prayer, he died 
like one falling asleep. Oh that I may die the death 
of the righteous I and may I live the life of the righte- 
ous also. 

*' And now both my honoured parents are ' inherit- 
ing the promises,' and, I trust, also seven brothers and 
sisters. Oh that each one left behind may be as safely 
landed I Thanks be to God for his unspeakable mercy 
in having at length, after much obstinacy, made me 
hear, (I trust so as to obey,) his long-neglected call of 
mercy. A few more waves of trouble, and I shall, I 
hope, join my blessed relatives, to sorrow and sigh no 
more. Hasten, Liord, that happy day 1 and till it shall 
arrive, O * guide me with thine eye.' Suffer me no 
more to go after * lying vanities ; ' but keep me in the 
midway of the paths of righteousness, which are plea- 
santness and peace." 

And the following week we find her mingling her 
tears with those of Mrs Jones, on the loss of a dear 
child, wbo they had good reason to believe .also died 
in the Lord : — 

*' Reached Birmingham this day; found my dear 
sister a spectacle of woe, having passed many weeks 
of severe, suffering for her son Charles. His visitation 
was attended with some peculiarly distressing aggrava- 
tions. Though young, being only ten years of age, 
the enemy seemed permitted to harass him in a way 
very wonderful But a little before his death, he be- 
came composed and happy. His mother asked, what 
made him happv ? He answered^ ' Because I love God, 
and can pray.* ' 

It is interesting to mark the anxiety which Mrs 
Hawkes seems to have felt that every word which 
dropped firom Mr Cecil, whether in public or in pri- 
vate, might be blessed for her spiritual improvement. 
Thus, on one occasion, we find her remarking,^- 

« Wednesday, Feb. 16, 1792 In returning home 

from Long- Acre Chapel this evening, among other 
things, my revered minister, with much solemnity said, 
* Whatever your path in this world may be, whetlier 
smooth or thorny, I trust you wiU never be suffered to 



depart from Go(\, or be unstable in your profession. | 
Any thing but that. May 1 never become a witness 
against you in the day of judgment. Any thing but that !' 
*' And now, O Lord, in ray secret chamber, my prayer 
unto thee i« indeed, * Any thing but that.* O let me 
suffer poverty, afdiction, and a thousand deaths, rather 
than forsake my God — ^rather than turn again to the 
lying vanities of this world. My eyes run down with 
tears lest my deceitful heart should again be entangled 
in the love of sin. What an awful idea, that my faith- 
ful minister should ever appear as a witness against me 
8t the bar of God ! O Lord, preserve and keep me in 
the right way : lead me, and teach me in the way of 
thy conimandments. Shall I ever be plucked out of 
thy gracious iiands ? Hast thou not said of thy sheep, 
that they shall not ? O let me not turn to broken 
cisterns, since thou hast given me to taste of the living 
And again, 

** July 1, 1792 Was favoured to-day by a visit 

from ray honoured minister. * There is no such thing,' 
fifiid he, * in the Christian life as standing still. If we 
do not get forward, we must lose ground. If a child 
should be no larger in its growth at eight years old, 
than it was at four, we know at once that there is 
something the matter. So it is with the soul ; if the 
graces of the Spirit do not grow and flotuish, there is 
some latent cause which calls for examination. If our 
love to God, to his Word, to his ordinances, to his 
people, docs not increase, and if our love of sin, and 
love to the world docs not Icpsen, it is a sign we do 
not grow in grace. If we do not gain a greater mas- 
tery over ourselves, our tempers and affections, our 
bad habits, than we had at our first setting out in 
Christianity, we surely do not grow in grace.* " 

In the course of 1793 Mrs Ilawkes was called to feel 
that not only •* without were fightings," but " within 
were fears." She laboured for several months under a 
severe depression of spirits, which, in addition to her fa- 
mily trials, led her to walk in darkness and in deep 
humiliation. On this subject she records some valuable 
remarks made by Mr Cecil : — 

** There is experience as well as doctrine to be taught 
in the school of Christ. We are to be brought out of 
nature, and taught to walk \vith God; and this is 
effected, not only by the gracious influences of the 
Holy Spirit, but also by wholesome corrections. To 
have a blessed evidence is not inconsistent with cloudy 
days, — with temptations. * We do groan being bur- 
dened,* says tlie apostle, and yet these are the men that 
are renewed day by day, — that rejoice in tribulation. 

" What is any tiling without experience ? Ask the 
philosopher, the artist, &c., if their experience cost 
thcra nothing, if no hazard, no expense was endured ? 
and it would be strange if the Christian's experience 
also must not be made up by a thousand secret particu- 
lars. Let us beg of God to superintend the process. 

•• We should mark well the peculiar duties of trying 
seasons. No time is more trying than when the be- 
liever feeb any thing like a declining or a revolting 
state of mind. 

" There is a point in every man's life when, if God 
is speaking to the conscience, it will be said to him as 
it was to Peter, • Will ye also go away ?' For every 
believer, at some time or other, feels that religion is 
not the undertaking of a day, but that he must hold 
on. and hold out. He is a soldier, and he must fight. 
When temptation, persecution, or affliction come heavily 
upon him, then is the time when this question u espe- 
cially put to him." 

During one of the annual visits which she paid to 
her friends at Marston Moor and her sister at Birming- 
ham, she aocompanied Mrs Jones on a visit to the 

celebrated Mrs Fletcher, widow of the Rev. J. Fletcher 
of Madely. The account which Mrs Hawkes gives 
of this interview is exceedingly interesting : 

•* Thursday, May 15, 1794.— Mrs Jones and myself 
set out for Madely. We had a pleasant drive, but lost 
much time on the road, for which we suffered. W^e 
reached the house of that honourable Christian, Mrs 
Fletcher, about five o'clock. My spirit was awed 
and humbled, not only by the noble character of Mrs 
Fletcher, but by the recollection of the sacred roof under 
which I was. I would gladly have taken my seat at 
the threshold of the door, for I felt unworthy to advance 
any further. But I was soon made to forget my wretched 
self, my attention being turned to better subject:*. 
While in converse \vith Mrs Fletcher, I felt that sacred 
influence which I desire ever to feel. Glory be to our 
adorable Saviour, He condescended to be present with 
us ; and my soul found it a refreshing season. Here, 
indeed, the Sun of Righteousness has arisen, and seems 
to &hine continually. Here the Lord giveth rain in its 
season, and the souls of the inhabitants are like a well- 
watered garden, and like a spring of water, whose 
waters fail not. Here is a Christian indeed. Alas ! 
what am I ? what have I been doing ? Surely no more 
than slumbering, creeping, dragging on in my heavenly 
journey. Lord, in mercy speak unto me, that I may 
go forward ; and let me run the race set before me. 

" The first remark Mrs Fletcher made was on the 
shortness of her breath, occasioned by a complaint from 
which she had long suffered. With an animated coun- 
tenance she said, • She often thought death could not 
be far distant. Some time since,' she added, * I had 
a dangerous illness, which my friends expected would 
carry me off, and I began to rejoice in the belief that 
it was my Lord's will I should speedily join ray dear 
friends in heaven. But my disorder taEng an unex- 
pected turn, I perceived my time of release was not to 
be yet, but that God would have me live a little longer ; 
and blessed be his name, I found I had no choice ; I 
could equally embrace his >vill either for life or death. 
I felt the wax of my God like unto a soft pillow, upoii 
which I could lie down, and find rest and safety in all 
circumstances. Oh it is a blessed thing to sink into 
the will of God in all things 1 Absolute resignation 
to the divine will baffles a thousand temptations ; and 
confidence in our Saviour carries us sweetly through a 
thousand trials. I find it good to be in the balance 
awfully weighed every day, for life or death.' * 

" She then gave us a wonderful and pleasing account 
of the Rev. Melville Home, and read a letter with a 
history of his voyage to the New Settlement;— the 
storms and dangers he and his wife encountered, and 
how astonishingly they were preserved from any thing 
like repming, or questioning the goodness and mercy 
of God, or his own call of duty in the course he was 
teking, notwithstanding the opposition he experienced 
They had both given themselves up for lost, expecting 
the next returning billow to have sunk the ship ; and 
they were waiting and looking for death, not only with 
composure, but in a spirit of rejoicing : a strong evi- 
dence of great fiiith, especially when all the circum- 
stances were considered. * Who is among you that 
feareth the Lord, that obeyeth the voice of his servant 
that walketh in darkness, and hath no light ? Let him 
trust in the name of the Lord, and stay upon his God * 
Mrs Fletcher remarked, ' Then is the faith strongest 
when it can lay hold on God at the time every thinir 
seems to go against us, when the way is hedged up 
wth thorns, or, as Habakkuk expresses it, • Although 
the fig-tree shall not blossom.* Lord increase my fidth 1 
"Speaking of the diseases of my own heart, she re- 
plied, • Come to Jesus !' adding, • I feel sometimes ss 
though aU I had to say to every body was. Come to 
Jesus I don t be kept back ; if you feel you have done 



fiaiisSp and have received wounds, where can you go 
but to Jesus ? He has every thing to give that you 
can want. In every circumstance, in every situation, 
come freely to your Saviour 1' But my treacherous 
memory wiH not retain the encouraging, inviting, per- 
suasive expressions she here made use of. O Thou, 
who alone teachest to profit, write them upon my 
heart, and hring them to my remembrance when they 
will be most useful. 

" After our dear Mrs Fletcher had prayed with us, 
we parted. Three such hours I have not spent for a 
long season. I esteem this interview as one of my 
choicest fiivours. Oh that I may be the better for it ! " 

The deep interest which Mrs Hawkes felt in all that 
concerned her dear friend and pastor, Mr Cecil, led her 
to sympathise with that eminent servant of the Most 
Hi^h in the severe domestic afflictions mth which it 
pleased the Lord to visit him. The sudden and alarm- 
ing illness of Mrs Cecil following almost immediately 
upon the death of a beloved and promising child, had 
thrown a melancholy gloom over the good man's dwel- 
ling. To mingle her tears with one so warmly beloved 
in the Lord, she repaired to the house of mourning, and 
the scene which followed is so beautiful, and yet so 
deeply affecting, that we cannot withhold it from our 
readers : — 

"Saturday, May 31, 1794.— Venturing to call on 
Mr Cedl this morning, to inquire after Mrs Cecil, I 
fuufld he had given orders that no one should see him. 
But my great anxiety for Mrs Cecil being well known, 
I waif as a particular &vour, admitted into the study, 
where I found Mr Cecil sitting over his Bible, in great 
sorrow. He said the physicians gave him next to no 
hope. His tears fell so fast, that he could utter only 
broken sentences. Every look and every word was 
saleninity itself. He said, ' Christians do well to speak 
of the grace, love, and goodness of God ; but we must 
also remember, he is a holy and a jealous God. Judg- 
ment most begin at the bouse of God. This severe 
stroke is only a further call to me, to arise and shake 
myself. My hope b still firm in God. He who sends 
the stroke, will bear me up under it: and I have no 
doubt but if I suw the whole of what God is doing, 
I should say, ' Let her be taken.' Yet, while there is 
life, I cannot help saying, * Spare her another year, that 
I may be a little prepared for her loss.' I know I have 
higher ground for comfort ; but I shall deeply feel the 
taking away of the dying lamp. Her excellence as a 
wife and a mother, I am obliged to keep out of sight, 
or I should be overwhelmed. All I can do, is to go 
from text to text, as a bird from spray to spray. Our 
Lord said to his disciples, ' Where is your faith ? ' God 
has given her to be my comfort these many years, and 
shall I not trust him for the future ? This is only a fur- 
ther and more expensive education for the work of the 
ministry ; it is but saying more closely. Will you pay 
the price ? If she should die, I shall request all my 
^ends never cncc to mention her name to me. I can 
gather no help from what is called friendly condolence. 
Job's friends underetood grief better, when they sat 
down and spake not a word." 

Through the kind interposition of a gracious and 
merciful God, and in answer to the earnest prayers of 
many, Mrs Cecil was restored to health ; not, however, 
without a long-continued subsequent weakness. The 
impression produced upon the mind of Mr Cecil was 
deep and salutary. He felt, to use his own words, 
that it was " a c^ from God to preach better, and to 
live better ; '* and the beneficial result was quite appa- 
rent to hit hearers in the sermons which immediately 
^wed this painful dispensation. ) . -^ ; 

The Christian experience of Mrs Hawkes was of that 
chequered description which marks the history of every 
true believer. Now she is walking in the lowly vale 
of humiliation and self-reproach ; anon, ^be ascends the 
mount of communion, and rejoices in the Lord. Now 
her faith has almost fiiiled, by the incursion of her 
spiritual enemies, and anon she raises the shout of vie- 
tory and triumph. Her trials were complicated ; and 
it was surely none of the least, that he, \nth whom 
she was united in the closest earthly ties, gave no evi- 
dence of the slig^luest regard for the concerns of his 
immortal soul. Thus exposed to the chilling influence 
of worldly company, her spirit mourned in secret, like 
the Psalmist, when he exclaimed, ** Woes me that I 
sojourn in Mesech, and dwell in the tents of Kedar." In 
addition to the other sources of grief arising from her 
family relations, she was visited with pecuniary embar- 
rassments of a very serious kind. Mr Hawkes having 
been prevailed upon to become security for a friend to 
a large amount, and the speculations of his friend hav- 
ing been unsuccessful, his property became irretrievably 
involved. Mre Jones was naturally anxious lest this 
threatening storm should endanger the health of Mrs 
Hawkes, and therefore she procured for her a tempor* 
ary shelter in the house of Mr Cecil. 


The cup is full — ^it overflows ! 

And bitter is the draught ; 
Yet fear not, love hath mingled it. 

With mercy it is fraught. 

Thou hast not lost — thou'st but restored 
What God himself had given ; 

And sbouldst thou weep, because a tie 
That bound to earth, is riven I 

God asks a willing sacrifice^ 

An undivided heart ; 
Oh 1 seek not madly to keep back 

Some idolized part. 

But meekly bow beneath the rod 

That chastens thee in love ; 
And, now all earthly hope hath failed, 

Oh I think of heav*n above. 


Br THE Rev. James Esdaile, D.D., 

Minhter of the East Churchy Perth. 

They who take a pleasure in vilifying human nature, 
on account of the >vants and infirmities connected with 
it, are not entitled to any respect, either as theologians 
or philanthropists ; for they show both a callousness to 
human misery, and a complete ignorance of a scheme 
which brings into prominent view the riches of the 
mercy and the grace of God. True it is, no creature is 
at first so helpless as man : nearly one year of his ex- 
istence is passed before he can stand upright; many 
yeare must pass over his head before he can procure 
subsistence by his own exertions ; the whole of his 
existence, to whatever length it may be extended, is 
barely sufficient to initiate him in the principles of pro- 
fitable knowledge. In all these respects, the lower 
animals, to a thoughtless observer, would seem to pos« 
sess a great superiority. Every species of beast, bird, 
fish, or insecty can 9oon move and procure their food 


as well as tbe parent stock from which they proceed ; 
and they toon become as knowing as their progenitors, 
without education or instruction. 

But these apparent adrantsges constitute their per- 
manent inferiority; the perfection of their nature is 
reached as soon as they have attained their perfect 
strength* and they can advance no farther ; man, on the 
contrary, commences in the most absolute helpless- 
ness, but the farther he advances, the more conscious 
he becomes of power, and the more is he convinced that 
there are capabilities in his nature which never can be 
gratified in this world. From utter ignorance, he pro- 
ceeds, under the guidance of divine tuition, in the career 
of unbounded knowledge ; and from the grovelling pro- 
pensities of his mortal nature, he rises to the contem- 
plation, the fellowship, the enjoyment of the living 
God. His very weakness becomes his strength ; and 
whilst he perceives his inferiority to the other creatures, 
in point of natural resources, he discovers that he has 
powers of a different description, which, from tbe small- 
est beginnings, train him to moral strength, to intellectual 
acquirements, to spiritual graces, and immortal hopes ; 
and be feels so much the higher satisfaction when he 
perceives that these principles, desires, and hopes are 
not inherent in his nature, but implanted by the grace 
of God, for he regards them as pledges of his adoption, 
and considers hioiself as bound to ** walk worthy of the 
vocation wherewith he is called." 

Man, thus exalted, dignified, and adorned, is trans- 
formed into the divine image ; and he himself can dis- 
cern the resemblance ; for, in so far as he is enabled to 
recognise and admire the power, wisdom, and grace of 
God, manifested in the works of creation, providence, 
and redemption, he is conscious that there is in himself 
a kindred spirit, whose dormant energies have been 
kindled and called into activity by the vivifying influ- 
ence of that spirit which pervades the universe. He 
feels himself exalted above all earthly dignities, when 
he recognises the impress of the divine Spirit on his 
soul ; but, instead of undue exultation, he is filled with 
humility, from the consciousness of his infinite distance 
from God, firom sympathy with the natural infirmities 
of man, and from the recollection of his own numberless 
and continued short-comings in duty. 

Amidst our lamentations, then, for the forfeited 
honours of man, we cannot but perceive that he vras 
intended for great things ; and, from the short record of 
his primeval history, we can perceive that he was cap- 
able of great things ; being a stranger to sin, he had 
immediate intercourse with the Source of all holiness ; 
his knowledge was so perfect, not by instruction, but 
by intuition, that he gave distinctive names to all the 
creatures placed under his dominion, ebaracteristio of 
their natures, habits, and dispositions. How unlike to 
his degenerate offspring I How unlike was he to him- 
self in his state of happiness and purity, contrasted with 
his condition when sunk in misery and sin! Yet, 
though fallen and ruined, how superior must the first 
man have been to any of *' his sons since bom ! ** He 
could not forget all the knowledge which he had by 
intuition from heaven; it would be considerably ob- 
structed in its exercise, still he had advantages which 
no other man ever had; though not omniscient, his 
knowledge, so far as happiness and duty were concerned, 
w«» perfect j though he had sinned grievously, he had 

repented sincerely ; and he had received the pledge of 
forgiveness by God's making a covenant with him by 
sacrifice. We may infer this with certainty, from the 
brief record of unexplained fiiets in Scripture. To con- 
ceal their shame, it is said that " God made coats of 
skins "for the first human pair; which I firmly believe 
means nothing more than this, that God having directed 
them to sacrifice, as the symbol of the great propitiation 
which was to be offered by Christ, they necessarily 
found, in the skins of the slaughtered victims, suitable 
materials for necessary and decent clothing, which is 
properly said to be of God's providing, as he suj^ifcsted 
the means of obtaining it. If it should be said that we 
have no evidence that Adam ever offered sacrifice, I can 
only reply that it is extremely improbable that he would 
neglect a duty which was performed by his sons, with 
which it is evident that God is wcU pleased, when per- 
formed in a proper spirit. 

But let us not waste our time in wailing over the lost 
dignity of man : such feelings spring from pride rather 
than humility: for tbe humble man does not despise 
himself, he only despises the vain pomp and glory of 
the world; as for himself, he glories in his infirmities 
that the power of Christ may rest upon him ; and he 
knows that Christian humility is the first step to that 
dignity and honour to which he may warrantably aspire. 
He that kumbletk himself shall be exalted, is a maxim 
true in natural as well as in spiritual things. The man 
of modesty and of merit generally succeeds in obtaining 
honours which he did not covet ; and even with worldly 
men ** Lowliness is young ambition's ladder," the sem- 
blance of which they assume to divert the public atten- 
tion from the deep-rooted purposes of tbcir hearts. 
The original dignity of human nature is announced in 
the remarkable terms in which the Almighty intimates 
his intention of creating man. " Let us make man in 
our image, after our likeness." It is generally supposed 
that these words are to be understood in a figurative 
sense, and as intimating that man resembled God in the 
habit and frame of his mind, rather than in the con- 
formation of his body. In this way the apostle speaks 
of the new man, which, he says, " after God is created 
in righteousness and true holiness ; " and it is thought 
presumptuous and preposterous to suppose that man 
was formed visibly and externally "in the image of 
God." The Prophet Isaiah appears to have taken this 
view of the subject, when exposing the absurdities of 
idolatry ; he represents the Almighty as ** measuring the 
waters in the hollow of his hand," — as " weighing the 
mountains in scales, and the hills in a balance," and he 
concludes with asking, " To whom, then, will yc liken 
God, or what likeness will ye compare unto him ? " I$a. 
xl. 18, This is, indeed, a forcible and conclusive re- 
presentation, for showing the folly and impiety of 
idolatry ; nevertheless, there is perhaps more mystery 
concealed under the intimation that man was made ** in 
the image of God," than is generally supposed, or than 
it may be safe for man to attempt to explore. 

Setting aside, then, all conjectures on this subject, 
let us contemplate the real dignity and honour con- 
fi»rred on human nature, by its assumption by the Lord 
Jesus, who was made in the form and likeness of man, 
and who, when manifiested in that likeness, was said 
to be " the brightness of his Father's glory, and the 
express image of his person,".— who ascended into hea^ 



MB in (Ke nttore, tlie form, and the ^hion of man, — 
who, in that nature, pleads our cause at God's right 
band, — and who, in that form and nature, "will come 
again '* to receire his people to himself, that where he 
is, there they may be also," and which form and nature 
he shall retain for ever, as the head of the family of 
God Id these drcurofitances, we see the unspeakable 
dignity conferred e^en on the mortal frame of man. 
L«t those, then, who are disposed, from the generally 
degraded state of human nature, to exelaim, ** What is 
man, that thou art mindful of him 1 " consider the high 
honour and exalted privileges conferred on our nature 
bj Jesus ChrisL Sin is, indeed, our natural inherit- 
ance ; but God has erected for himself an altar within 
our hearts, on which we are enabled to offer up spiritual 
sarrifices, well- pleasing unto God. Let ns not form 
our estimate of human nature by what we have made 
it by sin ; but let us consider what God intended that 
it should be, and what it is yet capable of being, through 
the grace of Jesus Christ, which is freely granted to 
aU who seek it in sincerity and truth ] and whilst we 
contemplate our own littleness, let us admire that new 
creation, by which the sinful sons of men are transformed 
into the sons of God. 

(To he continued.) 

It has been too frequently a &rourite topic with super- 
ficial speculators to dwell upon the imaginary opposition 
between the truths of science and those of revelation. 
The infidel clamour which has been raised upon this 
•abject, particularly on the Continent, b matter of 
astonishment rather than of alarm to every intelligent 
Christian. Astonishment it may well excite ; for what 
science has arrived at such certunty and completeness 
tf to admit of being placed on a level with the unerring 
dedarattons of Jehovah ? Is there any one department 
of knowledge in which discoveries are not constantly in 
course of being nsade which go to ehange the whole aspect 
of the science to which they belong, and are we to 
speak of the varying phases of human knowledge as if 
they were to be preferred to the fixed and unvarying 
iruthi of God's Word ? No. The idea is extravagant 
Every day ia convincing even the infidel that the more 
steadily the truths of science are evolved they are seen 
the more clearly to harmonise with the statements of 
the Bible. This has been recently found to be very 
strikingly the case with Geology, a science which, 
though as yet in its infancy, is capable, even in its present 
itage of immature growth, of being turned to very use- 
ful pvrposes. Oar attention has been drawn, in con- 
nection with this subject, to a very interesting article in 
a late number of the ** American Biblical Repository," 
from which we make the following extracts, serving to 
show how £ar Geology, though still in an imperfect 
state, illustrates the truths of divine revelation. 

I. Geology teaehes that this world had a beginning. 
To be sure, it places its origin at a very remote period. 
Still there was an origiiu-.there was a beginning. The 
oiganiiations on the earth, and in the earth itself, have 
unilbnaly taken place in an ascending series, from the 
)«ss te the more perfect Trace now this series back- 
ward, and we at length arrive at a period when there 
w«re no organixatioBs^ and when the earth itself was 
lot The gsslogical wmclmiion therefore is, that the 

earth was originally created from nothing. The same 
also is a doctrine of the Bible. " In the begrinning, 
God created the heaven? and the earth." " Befrire the 
mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst formed 
the earth and the world, even from everlasting to ever- 
lasting thou art God.'* Psalm xc. 2. " I was set up 
from everlasting, or ever the earth was." Pro. viii. 23. 
The geological conclusion, that this world must 
have had a beginning, is of very great importance in 
connection with natural theology. The most plausible 
of all the atheistical hypotheses are those which assert 
the eternity of the world. Without undervaluing any 
thing which has been >«Titten with a view to refute 
these unreasonable suppositions, the proper refutation 
of them is to be sought, and is found, in the world it- 
self. Tracing back geologically the history of this globe, 
and after successive generations, we arrive at a period 
when it contained no living thing, and when it was in- 
capable of sustaining any form of life with which we are 
acquainted. We arrive at a period, when nought ter- 
restrial existed but the bare elements of nature, and 
when, in all probability, an existence was imparted even 
to these. 

2. Geology teaches that the earth we inhabit is the 
workmanship of one God. This is evident from the 
unity of design every where exhibited in the structure 
of the globe. The Bible also teaches the same doctrine. 
The God of the Bible is one God — to whom the work 
of creation is ascribed. 

3. Geology teaches that the Creator of the world 
is a being of infinite wisdom, power, and goodness. 
No one can look into the interior of the earth, and ob- 
serve its massive structure and multiform organizations, 
and not be convinced that its Maker is possessed of un- 
limited wisdom and power. As little can we doubt the 
goodness of the Creator. To give but a single indica- 
tion of this. Was there no goodness manifested, on the 
part of the Creator, in his treasuring up, at a period 
long anterior to the creation of our race, those measure* 
leas coal formations, which are now beginning to be 
exhumed for our comfort and benefit ? No reader of 
the Bible needs be informed that the creation of the 
world is there ascribed to a Being of infinite wisdom, 
power, and goodness. 

4. Geology teaches that the earth, compared with 
its Creator, is a very little thing j that he holds it in his 
hand, and can rock it on its base, and upheave it from 
its deep foundations, at his pleasure. In literal accord- 
ance with this, is much of the language of the Bible. 
" He taketh up the isles as a very little thing." <* He 
looketh on the earth, and it trembleth ; he toucheth the 
hills, and they smoke." *' He stood and measured the 
earth ; he beheld and drove asunder the nations ; the 
everUsting mountains were scattered ; the perpetual 
hiUs did bow." " His lightnings enlightened the world ; 
the earth saw and trembled ; the hills melted like wax 
at the presence of the Lord." At language such as 
this, infidelity has been accustomed to sneer, and shake 
her head. '* She would not believe that there lives a 
being able or disposed to effect such stupendous changes 
in our firmly established world. But geology confirms 
the solenm facts, as taught by revelation." 

5. Geology teaches that, previous to the creation 
of man, the earth was chiefly, and often perhaps entirely, 
covered with Mrater. Most of the animals of that pe- 
riod were either marine animals, or of an amphibious 
character. Most of the plants and vegetables were 
such as grow in marshes and fens. The stratified rocks, 
from the lowest to the highest, are all to be referred to 
the action of water. The bowlders which occur in the 
tertiary formations ; the reguUr layers in clay-pits and 
other places below the diluvium, all proclaim that, at 
the period immediately preceding the crearion of man, 
the earth must have been almost entirely covered with 
water. This condusion ia in literal accordance with 



the representations of Scripture. While the rains of a 
previous organization lay formless and desolate, '* dark- 
ness," we are told, '* was upon the &ce of the deep, 
and the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the 
waters." It was these tertiary waters which were 
divided by the firmament on the second day ; and were 
gathered into seas and oceans on the third. 

6. Geology teaches that man, and most of the pre- 
sent races of animals, have not existed on the earth more 
than a few thousands of years. In the transition and 
secondary formations, and in the deeper portions of the 
tertiary, we find no traces of human beings, or, with few 
exceptions, of such animals as now exist. Indeed, it is not 
at all likely that man could have lived on the earth at that 
period, had he been placed here. Dragons, and mighty 
lizards, and other frightful amphibious creatures were 
then the lords of the creation. It is only in the upper 
tertiary and diluvial formations, that we find the remains 
of such animals as now exist, and in some few cases, 
perhaps, the bones of men. Now this shows conclusively 
that man, and the present races of animals, are among 
the comparatively recent inhabitants of the earth. They 
cannot have existed on it more than a few thousands of 
years. The Scriptures certify us of the truth of this 
important geological conclusion. They inform us de- 
finitely, that man, and the other animals now on the 
earth, were created less than six thousand years ago. 

7. It is a remarkable fiict, that in those geological 
formations which are supposed to have been deposited 
before the formation of man, there have been found as 
yet no literal serpents, i. e., reptiles without legs or fins, 
and which creep upon the belly. Of the general class 
of serpents, or of what would have been serpents, if they 
had gone upon the belly, there are reptiles in abundance, 
of various sizes and forms. But they all were furnished 
with legs, or fins, or wings, or paddles, or some means 
of locomotion, beyond what belongs to the proper ser- 
pent. If this is a fact, as I believe it is, in what way 
is it to be accounted for ? There is nothbg certainly in 
the organization or habits of the proper serpent which 
unfit him to have lived among the saurians of the se- 
condary formation. On the contrary, all that we know 
respecting him would seem to adapt him precisely to 
that period, and to the state of the then existing earth. 
Why, then, do we find no proper serpents there, and 
nowhere until after the creation of man ? The writer 
of the book of Genesis assigns a reason. On the apos- 
tasy of man, the serpent tribe, or a large proportion of 
them, became divested of some of their important mem- 
bers, and were henceforth doomed to roll, and gather 
their meat upon the naked earth. •« Upon thy belly 
Shalt thou go, and dust shalt thou eat all the days of 
thy life," chap. iii. 14. 

8. Geology teaches that, at a period more recent 
than the creation of the present races of animals, the 
earth has been covered and washed with a deluge of 
waters. The proof of this is furnished every where. 
We cannot dig into a sand-hill or gravel-pit in any 
place, without discovering evidence of this deluge. 
We learn, too, from various indications, Such as the del- 
tas at the mouths of rivers, the amount of lava which 
has subsequently been issued from volcanoes, and the 
detritus which have fallen from the sides of mountains, 
that this terrible catastrophe cannot have been a very 
remote event. We know, from bones which are found 
in the diluvial formations, that it occurred since the 
existence of the present races of animals, and probably 
since the existence of man. The Scriptures inform us 
definitely when this great event did occur, and why ; and 
its representations accord entirely with the conclusions 
of science on the same subject. 

9. Geology teaches that the deluge, of which we 
speak, must have come over the earth suddenly, by 
some violent interruption of the regular course of na- 
ture. The waters seem to have rushed with great 

violence from the north to the south, overtopping tha 
highest mountains, and carrying along with them pro- 
digious quantities of stones and earth. As to the ex- 
tent and suddenness of the deluge, the Bible teaches the 
same doctrine. We are told expressly that the waters 
covered the highest mountains. We are told, too, that 
the guilty inhabitants of the earth '* were eating and 
drinlang, marrying and giving in marriage, and knew not** 
— so sudden was the event to them — ^they •* knew not 
till the flood came, and swallowed them all up." Matt, 
xxiv. 37-39. The fountains of the great deep were 
suddenly broken up, and the waters seem to have rolled 
over them in one wide wave of instant desohition. 

10. Geology informs us that the same species of ani- 
mals existed before the deluge which exist now. Con- 
sequently, they must have been, in some way, preserved 
through the deluge, or, contrary to previous analogy, 
the same races which had been destroyed must have 
been re-produced afterwards. The Scriptures inform 
us that the different kinds of antediluvian animals were 
preserved through the deluge, and how they were pre- 
served. They were safely lodged with Noah in the 

11. Geology indicates that there have been violent 
volcanic eruptions near the site of the ancient Sodom 
and Gomorrah; and that what is now the Dead Sea 
was, in all probability, sunk in one of these eruptions. 
The account given in the Scriptures of the destruction 
of Sodom and the cities.of the plain, is altogether coin- 
cident with those indications. 

12. Geology teaches that, as the earth we inhabit has 
undergone already repeated revolutions, in which it has 
been rent from its deep foundations, and the races of 
creatures existing on it have been destroyed, to give 
place to others of a more perfect organization ; so, in 
all probability, another terrible revolution awaits our 
globe. It is to be destroyed (so to speak) again ; aud 
fitted up again, to be the habitation of nobler races of 
beings than those which now dwell upon it. Such, 
reasoning from analogy, are the deductions of geology, 
in regard to this momentous subjccL And these de- 
ductions are in perfect accordance with the teachings of 
revektion. The present earth is to be destroyed — at 
least, the present organization of it ; after which " we 
look for a new heavens and a new earthy in which 
dwelleth righteousness." 2 Pet. iii. 13. 

13. Geology renders it altogether probable that the 
next overwhelming destruction of this world will be by 
fire. The earth is fiill of the most combustible mate- 
rials ; and it is on fire even now. The smoke of its 
burning is ascending up from a thousand furnaces. Its 
molten lavas are belching forth from its heaving bosom, 
and pouring down the sides of its mountains, and scorch- 
ing its plains. We have about as much evidence geolo- 
gically that this earth is one day to be destroyed by fire, 
as we should have that a house would be destroyed by 
fire, when we saw the smoke and flame issuing from its 
roof, and bursting forth from its opened windows. 
Now the Scriptures expressly assure us that this earth 
is one day to be destroyed by fire. " The heavens and 
the earth which are now are kept in store, reserved un- 
to fire, against the day of judgment, and perdition of 
ungodly men." " The day of the Lord will come, as a 
thief in the night : in the which the heavens shall pass 
away with a great noise, and the elements shall melt 
with fervent heat, the earth also, and the works that 
are therein, shall be burnt up,'* 2 Pet. iii. 7-10 

14. I shall notice but another of the coincidences 
between the teachings of geology and those of revela- 
tion. It appears from both these sources of evidence, 
that we are living, every day, on the sovereign forbear- 
ance and mercy of the Supreme Being. Nothing can 
be more critical, startling, and, were it not for the di- 
vine forbearance, alarming than is our situation, and 
that of every other human being, viewed geologically. 



It is known that the heat of the earth increases, in rc- 
galar proportion, the deeper we penetrate into its ho- 
soni. Should this proportion of increase continue, as 
we descend into the earth — and no reason can be as- 
signed why it should not — at the depth of a few miles 
only we should reach a temperature which would in- 
stantly melt the solid rocks. The probability, there- 
fore, is, that the unknown interior of the earth is one 
Y8st sea of liquid fire; or, at least, that it consists of 
materials which would instantly take fire, and rage 
uith resistless desolation, the moment they should 
come in contact with the vraters of the ocean which 
roll above them. It is these pent-up fires which have 
already upheaved the mountains, and shaken whole 
fontinents in a single earthquake. It is these which 
have riven the solid rocks in sunder, and streamed up 
lards through them, in the form of trap dykes, for 
niaoy thousands of feet. It is these which are smoking 
in the craters of volcanoes, and boiling in their bosoms, 
in every part of the earth. Here, then, we live, on a 
thin and already broken crust, which is extended over 
a va>t ocean of liquid fire. Apd why do we live here 
at all ? Why do not the smothered flames burst out and 
consume us? It is only because of the divine forbear- 
arice and mercy. It is only because, as the Scriptures 
expros it, speaking in reference to this very subject, 
" God is long-sufifering to usward, not willing that any 
should perish, but that all should come to repentance." 
2 Pet. iii. 9. It is God, in his mercy, who holds these 
awful fires in check. It is God who puts his great 
hand, 80 to speak, upon the smoking crevices of the 
hearing earth, and bridles in the smothered flames, till 
all tbe purposes of his grace arc eccompUshed, till the 
(Treat moral crisis of the world has come, and then its 
pbjsical crisis will come in a twinkling. Then the 
impatient fires will be let loose, and the whole frame 
of nature will be speedily dissolved. 

In view of the interesting and important coincidences 
here noticed between geology and revelation, it surely 
is not enough to say of the former science, that it is 
cot inconsistent with revealed religion. It is the hand- 
maid of revealed religion. Its voice, on a great many 
points, is but the echo of that louder and more intelli- 
gible word, which proceeded from ancient men of God, 
^\fao ** spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost." 
The inquisition which has been maidc in modem times 
into the interior structure and past history of the earth, 
demonstrates that the God of nature is the God of the 
Bible, and that this holy^ book may be depended on, as 
a taithfui exposition of liis truth and will. 

The time is within the recollection of many now 
living, when infidel writers were confident in their an- 
ticipations that the discoveries of the geologist would 
overthrow utterly the system of revealed truth. Bry- 
done, Voltaire, and the French infidels generally, ex- 
ulted in the belief, that a light was beaming from the 
bowels of the earth, which would confound the advo- 
cates of Scripture, and explode utterly the Christian 
revelation. The issue of these high and boastful ex- 
pectations is now before us. The investigations of 
geologists have been prosecuted, as they should have 
been, with the utmost ardour. Every accessible point, 
whether of mountain height or of ocean depth ; of mine 
or cavern ; of island, shore, or volcanic steep, has been 
explored ; and the conclusions of all respectable geo- 
logists are now decidedly in fiivour of Christianity. 
The more distingiushed geologists, both of America, 
and of Europe, are professed Christians. Several of 
them are Christian ministers. Instances might be 
mentioned, in which geological investigations have 
served to remove doubts in regard to the divine autho- 
nty of our sacred books, and confirm the unsettled 
^th of the sceptical inquirer. And why should they 
not? The coinddeng^ which we have traced be- 
tween the teachings of geology and those of revela- 

tion, are suflSdent to convince any one, that the con- 
sistent geologist must be a Christian ; that the unbe* 
lieving and underout geologist is mad. 


By the Ret. John Bruce, A.H., 

One qfUie Mhtuttrs qf St. Andrevfs FarisA, Edmburgk. 

'* If ye love me, keep mycommandment8."-JoHNxlv. 15. 

It seems to be generally supposed that our Lord 
here intended to supply his apostles and the be- 
lieving Church with such a test or experimental 
trial of the sincerity of their love, as it might be 
well and necessary for them frequently to apply. 
And this view of our text is taken from supposing 
that it suggested itself to the mind of our Lord in 
some such very natural connection as I shall now 

Observing that these words form a part of that 
last consolatory discourse which was addressed to 
his disciples, just after he had received from them 
professions of the most ardent affection, and whilst 
they appeared very deeply afilicted in the prospect 
of his departure, it is supposed that our Lord ac- 
cordingly seized this as a choice opportunity for 
reminding them that it remained for them to prove 
the sincerity of those professions, and the constancy 
of that affection, by «* keeping his commandments," 
when his presence was no longer visible, and that 
voice was silent which had so oft and so earnestly 
admonished, animated, and encouraged them. In 
this view of our text, it is as if our Lord had said, 
" If, then, ye really love me, if these professions are 
true, and that attachment be actually foimded in 
principle, and be not merely a burst of sympa- 
thetic emotion, remember that it will show itself 
in the future tenor of your lives, and be productive 
of a diligent, and dutiful, and most devoted obe- 

But, though I would not assert positively against 
what seems to be the received opinion, ^at that 
is not the meaning of our text, I would submit to 
your consideration that it rather appears to me, 
that while that is the real import of the twenty- 
first verse, the meaning of our text is materially 
different, and so much so as not merely to vary, 
but also considerably to enrich the import and 
augment the practical cogency of the whole pas- 
sage. It appears to me that, when our Lord says, 
in the twenty-first verse, "He that hath iny 
commandments, and keepeth them, he it is that 
loveth me," he very directly proposes the considera- 
tion which I have just been referring to. De- 
livering that statement in the form of a doctrinal 
proposition, intending thereby to excite believers 
at large to a godly jealousy as to the depth and 
permanency of their fresh flowing emotions, he 
directs them to a course of consistent obedience as 
necessary to put the question of their sincerity be- 
yond all doubt, and ascertain definitively their cha- 
racter as his peculiar chosen. The meaning of 
our text, however, appears, in my view, materially 
different, as I have already said, from the undoubted 



meaning of that twenty-firat Terse. And I oon- 
ceire it to result, as naturalljas possible, from the 
tenor of our Lord's discourse in the preceding 
Verses. For, besides receiving many assurances 
of the ardour of their attachment, and witnessing 
many natural signs of the deep distress and dejec- 
tion which his approaching departure, as oft as he 
spake of it, did very visibly call forth, our Lord, 
you perceive, in the twelfth, thirteenth, and four- 
teenth verses, — that is, in the rerses immediately 
preceding this one, — ^had been tendering to his dis- 
ciples such immensely generous and immeasurable 
promises, as were best of all fitted to call their love 
into present exercise, and make thsm feel at the 
moment that he had laid them already, and would 
continue to lay them, under accumulating obliga- 
tions, which could never be thought upon without 
affecting their hearts. He had just told them of 
the transcendent and even yet unprecedented mani- 
festations of miraculous power which they should 
bo clothed with through faith in his name ; and to 
this he had added the asseveration, twice repeated, 
because of its surpassing and almost incredible 
liberality, that absolutely he would do any thing 
whatever which they, as his believing disciples, 
might think it needful to ask him. And then, you 
will observe, it is when they must be supposed to 
have the fullest, freshest, most lively, and over- 
whelming sense of their obligations to him ; then 
it is that he tells them, in the words of our text, 
what was the object which even then, as always, lay 
next to his own heart, so that, by attending to that 
one object, they would do him, as it were, a personal 
kindness, and make him some return by forwarding 
that re-establishment of the reign of his Father's 
law, and that restoration of peace and righteousness 
in this miserable world, for the compassing of 
which he had left the heavens, and which, now 
that he was returning to the heavens again, con- 
tinued to be dear to him as existence itself. He 
thus proposes their « keeping the commandments," 
not as necessary to prove the sincerity of their pro- 
fessions, and prevent their falling back into some 
ruinous delusion, but he proposes their " keeping 
the commandments'* as all the return he sought for 
those immeasurable promises ; as the one grand 
object on which his own affections centered, and 
to the attainment of which, therefore, they who 
were at that moment so sensible of their obligations 
to him, would assuredly direct their most earnest 
aim. Instead, therefore, of prescribing here a test 
of their love, he points out the way in which that 
love so unquestionable might most richly be gra^ 
tified, adjuring them by that gratitude, which they 
could not but at the moment feel, to attend to his 
commandments, as his own personal interest, and 
as they would watch over the concerns commended 
to their care by his last dying request. And thus, 
brethren, instead of being led here, as I should 
have been, by the twenty-first verse, to point out 
the necessary indissoluble connection, in the very 
nature of things, between love and obedience, I am 
as naturally led to consider how intense and ever 
burning waj^ Christ's desire for the sanctifying 

of his Church that his Father might be glori- 
fied ; and how elevated was Christ's judgment or ^ 
opinion as to the state of moral feeling in thai ' 
Church when, calling these its primitive repre- 
sentatives around him now, he could think of no 
other appeal half so likely to move them as this, 
by which he simply asks their obedience as a token 
of personal kindness, and a compensation which he 
could not but think they were more than willing 
to yield him. And just as did you hear of a friend 
on his death-bed, or a father on his death-bed, call- 
ing his children around him and committing thus 
to their charge some one most special interest 
which they had observed to engross him during the 
whole of life, — just as did you see that dying father 
reminding his disconsolate family of the kindness 
he had shown them up to this very hour of his 
going away, and then, after simply making men- 
tion of that one special interest which still engrossed 
him, suppose he were to add, ' " If, then, my chil« 
dren, ye love me, you will mind this one concern, 
and suffer nothing to withdraw you from pursuing 
it stedfastly," you would be far indeed from ima- 
gining that that man designed to suggest any 
doubt of his children's regard for him. On the 
contrary, you would understand well, that, count- 
ing on the affection of those children, who wept to 
think of a separation, he was addressing them now 
peculiarly as his children and his own. He was 
trying, in fact, to move them by a consideration 
which could absolutely have no effect whatever 
but on his children and his friends, — which could 
absolutely have no effect on others if brought in pro- 
miscuously from the streets. He sought to attach 
them to his own favourite pursuit, by means of 
that attachment which their disconsolatencss, as 
his children, proved beyond all question they really 
felt for himself. And you would remark that, if 
any thing could exceed that dying man's confidence 
in the affection of his children, it was onl} his de- 
votedness to that one pursuit which, with his last 
breath, he so commended to their never-ceasing 

Now, just in the same way, according to our 
view, our Lord, in this verse, suggests the two 
following, out of many others, as suitable and ap- 
propriate inferences. In the first place, how pe- 
culiar, in such a selfish, hard-hearted world as 
ours is, must needs be Christ's people, when, ac- 
cording to Christ's own judgment of them, their 
love for Him furnishes the broadest, the firmest, 
and every way the surest basis on which he can 
submit any duty to them. Our Lord was, as I 
have said, like a father on his death-bed, seeking 
out for the weightiest of all arguments, the most 
solid and most lasting of all possible considera- 
tions, by which to decide and bind down those 
men for ever to a life of holy obedience resem- 
bling his own ; and it is surely very remarkable, 
that present, as were to His mind, all possible ar- 
gnments within the whole compaes of thought, he 
chose the reiy one which such a father would 
choose, when, observing how tenderly his children 
loved him, and how they could not think of a 



fiepfiTBtlon, and wonld not for the world refute 
him any thing to make him happy, he adjures 
* tbem by that very love to him, to mind always 
the grreat concern, and look to the family interest, 
end hold themselves as if bound to it by their very 
love for himself. Surely Jesus Christ, when he 
sftuke thus, reckoned on there being in these men 
a lore for himself in no wise less active or less 
trust-worthy than are the instincts of nature. 
There might be much less of a trembling, thril- 
ling, transporting, and ever-glowing emotion, but 
tiiere was at least equal vigour and stability, and 
all that is requisite to determine a man's mind uni- 
formly and unalterably to the main purpose com- 
mended to him. One might have rather thought, 
that, among a world of selfish men, Jesus Christ, 
seeking to make his very last and most effective 
impression, would have sought, as he often did, so 
to interweave his cause, and so perfectly to iden- 
tify it with the selfishness of man's heart, that 
every man might see clearly that he never could 
separate the one of these from the other ; and that 
the only way of securing his own safety, is for 
the glory of his God to keep the holy command- 
ments, ^' doing unto others as he would have others 
do unto him.** But though Jesus Christ does 
make that f^peal to man's selfishness very com- 
monly, and at every turn when he must speak 
merely in an interesting, awakening, or reproving 
strain, whether to his people, or to the world, 
what can be plainer than that when these his own 
people are really awakened, and in earnest to hear 
him, ho counts upon making absolutely more of 
their love for Himself than of all other motives 
which he could ever employ. As soon might a du- 
tiful affectionate family cease to concern themselves 
about their dying father's request, as these blessed 
disciples would forget the force of the appeal 
urge<i by their Redeemer, when about to depart 
to his Father and their Father, he left with them 
this entreaty : " If ye love me, keep my command- 
ments." Many things else they might forget. All 
things ebe they might forget. They tnight forget 
the world. They might forget each other. They 
might almost forget their own interests altogether, 
ere ever that most mighty and peculiar pleading 
for good works could be effaced from their me- 
mories. And ever as they called to mind how 
Christ had besought them, by all the love which 
they bore him, "to keep the commandments," 
putting it thus upon the footing of a personal 
kindness, and condescending to ask it as a favour 
personally to himself, they could not but resume, 
with fresh alacrity and ever-growing enthusiasm, 
their labours of love in the way of all the com- 
mandments, as men who could truly say, Let our 
right hand forget her cunning, and our tongue 
cleave to the roof of our mouth, if we forget these 
holy commandments of our God ; yea, if we pre- 
fer not these commandments above our very 
chiefest joy. 

Now, before going further, and taking up the 
consideration of any other of the reflections sug- 
gested so obviously by this view of our text, it 

behoves ns all to inquire, whether really the in-^ 
terests of Jesus Christ our Lord would be safe in 
our hands, were he to peril them with us on the 
strength of the same attachment. I do not wish 
to inquire whether, if all other motives were con- 
clusively withdrawn from the sanction and sup- 
port of a holy life, and nothing but our love to 
Christ were left to influence us, that love, so na- 
ked and so stripped of all subsidiary motives, would 
be found to be competent. It were exceedingly 
unwise to make any such supposition, which can 
never become the subject of actual experiment, in 
time or eternity ; inasmuch as the word of God 
will ever continue to address to us more than one 
class of statements, and the soul of man will never 
be so impoverished as to be susceptible of only one 
uniform and unvarying series of emotions. I 
merely wish that we should ask ourselves, whe« 
ther, when all our actuating motives to obedience 
are summoned into play, is a concern for Christ's 
honour and advantage at the head of these mo- 
tives ? What place does it occupy ? Are we evea 
sure it is there at all? If you have not made thie 
experiment, I pray you to make it now; for if 
your heart will not stand this test, so that when 
all your motives are really sifted and summoned 
forth for inspection, the chiefest, and foremost, 
and mightiest of them all, is not a concern for 
your Redeemer's rights and your Redeemer's ad- 
vantage ; then you cannot but know, that you are 
miserably unprepared for the final day of examin- 
ation, when a full account will be demanded of all 
that you have done or suffered for the glory of 
his name. And when on that day you shalf be- 
hold those placed on His right -hand, who were 
constrained to a holy life by regard for their Re- 
deemer, as loving children are constrained to any 
thing by a dying parent's request, how shall you 
escape the everlasting shame and confusion of that 
day, as it is told you that you yielded to every 
good, and generous, and praise worthy motive but 
one, — and that the great motive of gratitude to 
Him who lai'd aside his glory, and left the bosom 
of the Father to seek after and to save you I 

The only other reflection which I shall detain 
you with illustrating, and I shall do it but very 
briefly, is that other which I have already noticed 
in the course of these remarks, namely, how in- 
tense and unremitting, and how decidedly para- 
mount to every other which may have actuated hit 
mind, was not the Redeemer's desire for the sano- 
tification of his people, that, as he himself declares 
in the foregoing verses, through him and his 
finished work "his Father might be glorified." 
In perusing the Scriptures, whether of the Old 
or New Testaments, we are ever and anon called 
upon to remember that, notwithstanding all that 
is declared about the compassions of God for the 
sufferings of men, it is not the removal of these 
sufferings, but of the sins which occasion them, 
that is the ultimate purpose of the administration 
by Christ. We are constantly reminded that 
though, in the natural judgment of such eorrupt 
creatures as we^ deliverance from punishment 



would be a far greater mercy .than deliverance 
from sin, supposing, for the sake of illustra- 
tion, that the one could be effected without the 
other, yet, according to the judgment of a holy 
God, it is otherwise. And nothing, accordingly, 
is more remarkable in the manifestations of the 
mind of Christ, than his unceasing desire not to 
shield his people from affliction, but to sanctify 
them by means of it, and to present them to the 
Father " a glorious Church, not having spot or 
wrinkle, or any such thing." Although, there- 
fore, I do not say that Christ now, in this parti- 
cular instance, gave the greatest of all proofs of 
the weight with which the consideration of that 
great interest ever pressed upon his heart, — for, in 
the midst of so many and various proofs, it were 
presumption to do so, — ^yet, were I asked now to 
produce some one grand and commanding instance 
of his overruling desire for the sanctifying of his 
own, I would go no farther than the passage be- 
fore us. I would refer the inquirer to the solemn 
words of my text, and, quoting again that parallel 
instance from common life and well-known feel- 
ing which I have employed to illustrate it, I 
would ask him to say, whether our Lord could 
well have given a more memorable proof of his 
desire for the progressive and perfect sanctifying 
of his own, than when, like a parent on his death- 
bed, he commended to them the great concern, 
and charged them for His sake, as it were, to look 
to the family, putting their obedience thus upon 
the footing of a personal kindness, as being all 
the compensation he really asked, as it was the 
only compensation with which he would be satis- 
fied ; reminding them, in effect, that if they che- 
rished any love for him, and felt ever inclined to 
return him any kindness, then all he had to ask 
was, that they would, as it were, transfer that 
love to the commandments of his Father's law, 
and bestow that kindness in caring for, and adorn- 
ing with every Christian grace, their own souls, 
and those souls of his brethren, whom he had 
given himself to redeem. Surely, surely, my 
brethren, did we more frequently call to mind that 
such was in very deed, and still continues to be, 
the anxiety of Jesus Christ our Lord, that as 
many as follow him should be signalized by good 
works, and shine as lights in the world, — surely, 
did we oftener think of this, it would not seldom 
reanimate our all but expiring zeal, and carry us 
up to a pitch of most holy devotedness. And, 
therefore, I pray you to secure it a permanent 
and most conspicuous place among your ordinary 
thoughts. Let but the thought of Christ's so 
fervent desire to signalize you by a holy and gener- 
ous life, liker always his own, — ^let the thought 
of that but show itself, and it will quell many 
selfish clamours, from mortified pride and disap- 
pointed ambition, and make you proof against 
temptations, when else the world, and your own 
deceitful hearts, would constrain you to be con- 
formed to the world which lieth in wickedness. 
Nay, more, do you follow in this very thing 
Christ's precious example. And as you have been 

called now to behold him throwing the whole 
weight of his personal influence, so to speak, in 
favour of his Father's law, and imploring men, 
by the love which they felt for himself, to award 
the like love and reverence for his Father's holy 
commandments, even so, brethren, let every one 
of you turn to the same account whatever affec- 
tion for yourselves any are pleased to bestow. 
Let parents, for example, and let every mother 
especially, keep urging that argument, as none so 
well as a mother can, upon the hearts of their 
children, pleading solemnly and affectionately, as 
Christ did, " If, then, you really love us, or think 
that you owe us any thing, keep the command- 
ments of our God, and especially bethink your- 
selves of this first and great commandment under 
the constitution of a fallen world, to believe on 
that Redeemer whom the Father hath sent you.** 
Let masters of a generous mind in other matters, 
so that they do and must have a firm place in the 
affections of the whole household around them, 
let them try and' turn that affection to the same 
account, and in the very same way as Christ did. 
Let friends, and companions, and brothers, and 
sisters, and, in a word, every creature who has a 
firm place in the affections of another being be- 
sides, try thus to turn that affection to his Sa- 
viour's account, entreating them, just as Christ 
did, by all the love which they bear you, to do 
many good works, and think habitually of that 
Redeemer. I will not say, brethren, what were 
the issue, supposing that to be practised gene- 
rally throughout the Church, for we know too well 
that, to any so great extent, this is not to be 
counted on. But of those who make the attempt 
in good earnest, and sustain it perseveringly and 
with good will, we say, as we are taught by this 
passage, that, inasmuch as they love Christ in- 
deed, they are loved of His Father, and " what- 
soever they shall ask in the name of Christ, that 
will he do for them, that the Father may be glo- 
rified in the Son." 

It is scarcely possible to conceive two characters more 
dissimilar than the two individuals whose names we 
have prefixed to the present article. The period at 
which they appeared was one full of the most intense 
interest among the nations of Europe, when God was 
about to avenge his own cause, and by the glorious 
events of the Reformation, to 8hake to its foundations 
the proud superstructure of the Popish hierarchy, that 
masterpiece of Satan's craft and skill. A very lively 
and animated description of the part which Erasmus 
and Luther severally took in protesting against the 
errors of the apostate Church, and in asserting the 
pure principles of the Protestant faith, is given by 
D*Aubigne, a recent writer on the history of the Re- 
formation, whose work is one of the most fascinating 
pieces of history which has come under our notice for 
a very long time. We strongly recommend it to the 
attention of our readers, more especially at the present 
time, when the grand principles of the Reformation 
are beginning to be called in question in some of 



the Churdiei eren of our own country, which call 
themselres Protestant. But we hasten to our quota- 
tion: — 

A man, full of vivacity and wit. named Gerard, a 
native of Gouda, m the Low Countries, formed an 
Attachment to the daughter of a physician, named Mar- 
garet. The principles of the Gospel did not govern 
Ills life ; or, to say the least, his passion silenced them. 
His parents, and nine brothers, urged him to enter into 
the Church. He fed, leaving Margaret on the point 
of becoming a mother, and repaired to Rome. The 
shame- strudc Margaret gave birth to a son. Gerard 
lieard nothing of it ; and, some time afterwards, he 
received from his parents intelligence that she he loved 
was no more. Overwhelmed with grief, he took priest's 
orders, and devoted himself to the service of God. He 
returned to Holland ; and lo 1 Margaret was still living. 
She would never marry another ; and Gerard remained 
faithful to his priest's vow. Their affection was con- 
centrated on their infant son. His mother had taken 
the tenderest care of him. The father, after his re- 
turn, lent him to school when he was only four years 
old. He was not yet thirteen, when his master, Sin- 
themius of De venter, embracing him one day in great 
joy, exdaimed, " That child will attain the highest 
summits of learning." This was Erasmus' of Rotter- 

About this time his mother died ; and shortly after, 
his lather, from grief, followed her. 

The young Erasmus,* alone in the world, felt the 
strongest aversion to the monastic life, which his tutors 
would have constrained him to embrace. At last a 
friend persuaded him to enter himself in a convent of 
regular canons, which might be done without taking 
orders. Soon after, we find him at the court of the 
Archbishop of Camhray, and, a little later, at the uni- 
vcniity of Paris, the great resort of men of learning. 
There he pursued his studies in the greatest poverty, 
but with the roost indefatigable perseverance. When- 
ever he could obtain any money, he employed it in 
the purchase of Greek authors, and then of clothes. 
Often the poor Hollander solicited in vain the gene- 
rosity of his protectors ; hence, in after-life, it was 
his greatest satisfaction to contribute to the support 
of young and poor students. Devoted incessantly to 
the investigation of truth and learning, he yet shrunk 
from the study of theology, from a fear lest he should 
discover herein any error, and so be denounced as an 

The habits of application which he formed, at this 
period, continued to distinguish him through life. Even 
in his journeys, which were generally on horseback, 
he was not idle. He was accustomed to compose on 
the hig^-road, or travelling across the country, and, on 
mrriving at an inn, to note down his thoughts. It is in 
this way that he composed his celebrated ' Praise of 
Folly,' during a journey from Italy to England. 

Erasmus very early acquired a high reputation among 

But the monks, irritated by his * Praise of Folly,' in 
which he had turned them to ridicule, vowed vengeance 
against him. Courted by princes, he constantly ex- 
cused himself from their invitations, preferring to gain 
his livelihood with Frobenius the printer, by correcting 
his proofs, to a life of luxury and favour in the splen- 
did conrU of Charles V., of Henry VIII., and Francis I., 
or even to encircling his head with the cardinal's hat, 
-which was offered to him. 

From 1509 he taught at Oxford. In 1516 he came 
to Bale, fixed his abode there in 1521, and died in (he 
same city in 1536. 

What was his influence on the Reformation ? 

It has been too much exalted by some, and too much 

• He wu wUDBd Gerhard after hla fiither. He trsnalated this 
Dutch name into Latin (D^sldcriuf,) «ul Uilo,Off«k (Braamui.J 

depreciated by others. Erasmus never was, and never 
could have become a Reformer ; but he prepared the 
way for others. Not only did he in his time diffuse a 
love of learning, and a spirit of inquiry and discussion, 
which led much &rther than he himself would follow, 
but, in addition to this, he was able, sheltered by the 
protection of great prelates and powerful princes, to 
unveil and combat the vices of the Church by the most 
pungent satires. 

He did more; not satisfied with attacking abuses, 
Erasmus laboured to recall divines from the scholastic 
theology to the study of the Holy Scriptures. ** The 
highest object of the revival of philosophy," said he, 
*' will be to discover in the Bible the simple and pure 
Christianity." A noble saying 1 and would to God 
that the organs of the philosophy of our days under- 
stood as well their proper duty. •• I am firmly resolved," 
said he again, ** to die in the study of the Scripture. 
In that is my joy and my peace." " The sum of all 
Christian philosophy," says he in another place, ** is 
reduced to this : To place all our hope in God, who, 
without our deserts, by grace, gives us all things by 
Jesus Christ ; to know that we are redeemed by the 
death of his Son ; to die to the lusts of the world ; 
and to walk conformably to his doctrine and example, 
not merely without doing wrong to any, but doing 
good to all ; to bear with patience our trial, in the 
hope of a future recompense ; and finally, to ascribe 
no honour to oiu-selves on the score of our virtues, but 
to render praise to God for all our strength and works. 
And it is with this that man must be imbued until it 
becomes to him a second nature." 

But Erasmus was not content with making so open 
a confession of the evangelic doctrine ; his labours did 
more than his words. Above all, he rendered a most 
important service to the truth by publishing his New 
Testament, the first, and for a long time, the only 
critical edition. It appeared at Bale in 1516, the year 
previous to the usual date of the Reformarion. He 
accompanied it with a Latin translation, wherein he 
boldly corrected the Vulgate, and with notes defending 
his corrections. Divines and learned men might thus 
read the Word of God in the original language ; and 
at a later period they were enabled to recognize the 
purity of the doctrine of the Reformers. «• Would to 
God," said Erasmus, in sending forth this work, •* would 
to God it might bear as much fruit for Christianity as 
it has cost me labour and application." His wish was 
realized. In vain did the monks clamour against it. 
" He pretends to correct the Holy Ghost I " said they. 
The New Testament of Erasmus shed a brilliant 

This great man also diffused a taste for the Word 
of God by his paraphrases of the Epistle to the 

Erasmus served as a stepping-stone to several others. 
Many who would have token ahirm at evangelical 
truths, brought forward in all their energy and purity, 
suffered themselves to be drawn on by him, and be- 
came afterwards the most zealous actors in the Re- 

But the very causes that made him a fit instrument 
to prepare this great work, disqualified him for accom- 
plishing it. •* Erasmus knows very well how to expose 
error," said Luther, « but he does not know how to 
teach the truth." The Gospel of Christ was not the 
fire that kindled and sustained his life, the centre 
around which his activity revolved. He was first a 
learned man, and secondly a Christian. He was too 
much influenced by vanity to acquire a decided influence 
over his contemporaries. He carefully weighed the 
effect that each fresh step might have upon his own 
reputation. There was nothing that he liked better to 
talk about than himself and his own glory. * The 
Pope ' he wrote to an intin*^te friend, witli a childish 



THniiy, at the period when he declared himself the ad- 
versary of Luther, ** the Pope has lent me a diploma 
full of good-will and honourable testimonials. His 
secretary declares that it is an unprecedented honour, 
and that the Pope himself dictated it word for woi-d." 

In our next we shall insert the masterly comparison 
which D*Aubigne gives between Erasmus and Luther. 



Ths grave is deep and still. 
Terrors around it stand ; 

It covers with a darksome veil 
The mighty unknown land. 

The nightingale's sweet notea 
Pierce not the chilly ground, 

And friendship's roses wither 
Upon the moss-grown mound« 

Forsaken widows weep, 

And wring their bands in Tab ; 
The &ther hears no more 

His orphan babes complain. 

Yet vainly after peace 
We weary pilgrims roam ; 

'Tis only by this dreary gate 
That man can reach his home. 

The weary heart oppressed, 
Of countless storms the seat. 

Ne'er finds the wished for rest 
Till it has ceased to beat. 


Tho afternoon our attention was arrested by the 
noise of a multitude passing in the road not far 
from our house. The servant said it was a Moa^ 
lem Mahommed funeral. I went to the roadside, 
where I had a good view of the procession, but 
did not arrive tUl many of the people had pass- 
ed. The procession consisted of men and boys, 
who marched without the least regard to order, all 
erying with loud voices, and without intermission — 
• There is no other God but God — there is no other 
God but God. — Mohammed is the prophet of God.' 
These words were repeated incessantly by almost 
every individual in the company ; and with so much 
rapidity, that scarcely a syllable could be distinctly 
understood ; and in a tone and manner indicating any 
thing but the solemnity of feelings suited to a funem). 
The body was preceded by a man carrying on his 
head a copy of the Koran, an immensely large volume, 
over which was thrown a loose piece of cloth, that 
hung down six or seven inches below the book. On 
this cloth were written, in laiige Arabic characters, 
the sentences which the multitude were repeating. 
This book was, as I suppose, the one that belonged to 
the deceased — it was to be buried with the dead body. 
This man was followed at a little distance by another 
bearing a large ensign of bkck and red stripes, on 
which the same sacred sentences from the Koran were 
inscribed. The corpse was borne by four men. It 
was laid, not in a coffin, but on a kind of bier, or 
rather board, placed in a little frame, somewhat in the 
form of a common bier. This was partly covered, ap- 
parantly with canvass. The top was strewed with 
green leaves. Small green boughs were idso set up 
at the head and feet. The bier, though partly cover- 
ed, was so far open at both ends, as to leave the body, 
(which was closely wrapped in cloths,) exposed to 
view. The bearers, and indeed the whole company, 
walked on just as carelessly, and about as fast as the 
porters whom I have seen carrying burdens in the dty. 
Ididaot foiotht bniiil, M tm informed It iithe 

custom of the Tnrks to bury without coffins, in grares 
three or four feet in depth. — Mr WhiHng'g Journal at 


DirectioHi to the afflicted, — 1. Wonder not at your 
trials be they ever so strange and grievous, and distress- 
ing. " All is well." Some secret end is to be answered 
which you see not. God is in all, the hand and love of 
a father is there. They are to purge from sin, to 
wean from the world, to bring you to the footstool 
of God, to show you that your rest is not here, that it 
lies beyond the grave. What though tbey make you 
smart, they do you the more good, this argues your 
sensibleness under the rod ; that is not a rod which 
does not cause smart. There is not one of our many 
trials which we could well spare. 2. Do not think any 
trial sanctified till you have a suitable frame to the 
trial whatever it be. Are you humbled ? Are you 
prayerful ? Are you submissive ? Have you looked 
inward and confessed your sins, saying, " take away all 
iniquity?" If affliction has not brought you to this it 
has done you no good. For all you may have borne 
his anger is not turned away, but his hand is stretched 
out still. 3. Do not think of other means whereby 
God's end in visiting you might have been as well an- 
swered, that is, in fact, to quarrel \rith God in what 
he has done, or is doing. Have a care of your thougiits, 
unsubmission slips in at that door before one is awiue. 
•• It is well," is the only soul quickening and God 
glorifying frame. God that has appointed the end, 
has settled, and he will order the means, rest there and 
" all is well."— -Hill's " It U wtlL" 

Why d0 you go to Church 9 — If a professing Chris- 
tian were asked, *' For what purpose do you go to 
church ? " the answer would very probably be the name 
in substance with either, or both, of the following, 
viz., ** To worship God," or, ** for the purpose of 
getting my soul edified." Doubtless, every one ought 
to go there for these and similar purposes. Again, if 
any professing Christian were asked, whether he went 
for the purpose of sleeping, there can be little doubt 
that he would be highly offended. But while it i& not 
presumed that any one goes to church for this express 
purpose, yet certain it is that a very great many are to be 
seen sleeping as regularly as tbey are to be seen there. 
It cannot charitably be supposed that such persons are 
aware of the extent of this sin, otherwise they would 
not indulge in it so very heedlessly. It is, to say the 
best of it, ** insulting the Almighty to his &ce." Who 
can compute how much spiritual edification such per- 
sons lose by this sinful practice ? If a man were to 
entertain a party of friends, what would he think, how 
would he feel, if, in the midst of the entertainment, 
and in spite of all his efforts to make his guests happy, 
a considerable portion of them fell fast asleep? And 
what person, in his senses, would dare to insult the 
master of the bouse, by suffering sleep to gain the as- 
cendency over him on such an occasion? And yet 
how many think nothing of mocking God by sleeping 
in his house instead of listening to his Gospel minis- 
ters ! From this it is pUin, that their feUow-sinners are 
paid all due respect, and that God is made the excep- 
tion to their love and homage, instead of the object of 
both. They seem to think (if, indeed, tuch persouM 
can bt mid to think) that they are entitled to treat him 
as they please, — even Him ** in whom they live, move 
and have their being," — who hath given them every 
thing which they enjoy and possess in this world, and 
hath, by Jesus Christ, done all that he can, so to speak, 
for their eternal ealvation. No doubt many will be 
ready to defend themselves by saying that their pressure 
of business on Saturdays is so fatiguing that they can- 
not Mp Mmg hmrr » ehurchi aad iDMuibly fiUUsg 



asleep. Perhaps, as n^adti a few, this may be the 
case ; but oughi this to be the case ? Will God be 
pleoied with this apolog^y ? Will he actually hold them 
guiltless who intentionally disqualify themselves from 
worshipping him in sincerity ? Surely no sincere Chris* 
tian can think so ; and therefore every such Christian 
undoubtedly will make arran^ments to qualify himself, 
by taking sufficient refreshment during Saturday night, 
to go to the house of God, and worship him with their 
whole heart. But while it is true that many fall asleep 
from the fatigues of the previous day, it is to be feared 
that many more do so from absolute indifference to the 
worship of God, and that, were they any where else 
than in church, they would feel no such thing as a 
disposition to sleep, nor manifest any signs of hea\'iness 
whatever. Let all church sleepers pause, ponder, re- 
pent of, and forsake speedily and for ever, the very 
sinful practice of sleeping in the house of God. 

Godljf Borrow, — Godly sorrow is an affectionate re- 
turn to God — a renewed act of communion with him ; 
and mast draw forth grateful thanks to Christ, the 
giver of th« Uetsing ; for " him hath God exalted to 
give repeatance and remission of sin.'* — Cecil. 

On the Importanee of tht ChriMtian Minuhy,^-l 
know I need not remind you, for I am confident you 
daily think of it, that the great principle of fidelity, and 
diligence, and good success, in tiie great work, is love ; 
and the great spring of love to souls, is love to Him 
that bought them. He knew it well himself; and 
gave OS to know it, when he said, ** Simon, lovest 
thou me? Feed my sheep — feed my lambs." Deep 
impressioii of his blessed name upon our hearts will 
not fiul to produce lively expression of it, not only in 
our words and discourses in private and public, but 
will make the whole tract of our lives to be a true 
copy and transcript of his holy life. And if there be 
within us any spark of that divine love, you know the 
Best way not only to preserve them, but to excite 
them, and blow them up into a flame, is by the breath 
of prayer. Oh, prayer! the converse of the soul with 
God, the breath of God in man returning to its original, 
frequent and fervent prayer, the better half of our 
whole work, and that which makes the other half lively 
and effectual ; as that holy company tells us, when set- 
ling apart deacons, to serve the table, they add, *' But 
we will give oarselves continually to prayer and the 
ministry of the Word." And is it not, brethren, our 
anspeakable advantage, beyond all the gainful and hon- 
ourable employment of the world, that the whole work 
•f our particular calling is a kind of living in heaven ; 
and besides its tendency to the saving of the souls of 
others, b all along as proper, and adapted to the puri- 
fying and saving of our own. But yon will possibly 
say, what does he himself that speaks these things un- 
to us? Alas ! I am ashamed to tell you. All I dare 
say is, that I think I see the beauty of holiness, and am 
enamoured with it, though I attain it not; and how 
little soever 1 attain, would rather live and die in the 
pursuit of it, than in the pursuit, yea, or in the posses- 
sion and enjoyment, though unpursued, of all the ad- 
vantage this world affords. And I trust, dear brethren, 
you are of the same opinion, and have the same desire 
and design, and follow it, both more diligently, and 
with better success. To the all-powerful grace of our 
great Lord and Master, I recommend you and your 
flocks, and your whole work amongst them Arch- 
bishop LcXGRTOir. (A Letter to the Synod of Dun* 
Uant, dated 6th AprU 1671.) 

The Sinner's unwilUngnees to Repent, — Our own cor- 
ruption, then, is the cause why we will not come to the 
Bedeemer, that we may have life. We are now in love 
with the works of darkness, the end of which is death. 
Death and life have often been set before us, and we 
have often been called on to choose which master we 

would serve — God or Mammon, and we have never 
made up our minds to declare for the one living and true 
God. We have deliberately chosen to remain in our 
allegiance to sin and Satan. This world — that enor- 
mous idol of clay — has witnessed our prostrations and 
received our homage ; and in spite of all the earnest 
solicitations of a Father who wills not the death of any 
of his creatures, but rather that all would return unto 
him and live, we recklessly persist in our ungodly 
career, and laugh at the doom we are so busily securing 
for ourselves in eternity. We arc thus compelled to 
conclude, that with man himself lies the reason why 
the gate is strait and the way narrow. And will not 
this be confirmed by a simple reference to your own 
consciousness ? There are few, we arc inclined to be^ 
lieve, who have not at some period or other of their 
history been so touched in their consciences by a sense 
of guilt, that they have resolved through grace to aban* 
don their iniquity, and return unto that gracious and kind 
God from whom they had so long and so grievou8ly re- 
volted. In their moments of serious* reflection, brought 
on, perhaps, by some unusual visitation of Providence, 
either upon themselves, or some of their near and be- 
loved relations, they have been made to perceive their 
conduct in its true colours, stained with the crimson 
and scarlet hues of guilty ingraritude and wilful im- 
penitence ; and they made up their minds, therefore, 
to forsake their evil ways, and no longer to live unto 
themselves. And such persons may recollect, how all 
these impressions became weaker on the return of 9 
new day, and that the morning cloud and the early dew 
had scarcely disappeared, when they again relapsed into 
the apathy of their wonted lethargic carelessness. The 
settled resistance of previous habits was more than % 
match for the feeble efforts of a new and strange resolu- 
tion ; the carnal man was but like a giant lulled into 
temporary repose, and the beloved music of a world ly- 
ing in wickedness would no sooner sound in his ears, 
than he would awake with all his sympathies as entire 
and vigorous as ever ; and the self-deluded sinner would 
find that the gate through which he imagined he had 
passed, was not even approached, and that he was still 
" in the gall of bitterness and bond of iniquity." It is 
thus that repentance — ^genuine, evangelical repentance 
— ^is so difficult and so repugnant to our natures ; for 
it is our own evil habits that people its precincts with 
horrid shapes, and that hang forth the fiery sword which 
waves us away from the entrance to the paradise of life; 
and thus it happens that there be few that find the strait 

gate and the narrow way that Icadeth unto life. Th* 

Rev. David Ajbinot. ( The Strait Gate and the TVor- 
row Way,) 


It is most interesting to observe the light which the 
researches of modem travellers have thrown upon the 
Sacred Writings. To such points we shall frequently 
call the attention of our readers, as tending to confirm 
still more and more the truth of divine revelation. As 
an illustration of this kind, we may observe, that in the 
58th Psalm we find the following character given of' 
the wicked: " Their poison is like the poison of a ser* 
pent : they are like the deaf adder that stoppeth her 
ear ; which wiU not hearken to the voice of charmers, 
charming never so wisely." In this passage there is an 
obvious allusion to an art practised in these early times 
of charming serpents. To the same purpose Solomon 
says, " Surely the serpent will bite without enchanU 
meat; and a babbler is no better." And the prophet 
Jeremiah thus speaks 1 •* For behold I will send ierw 


pcnte, cockatrices, among yoa, which will not be chann- 
ed; and thej will trite you, aaith the Lord." That 
the practice of charming serpents is still resorted to in 
the East, travellers have often asserted ; and we quote 
one of the most recent accounts from Mr Lane's excel- 
lent work on the Blanners and Customs of the Modem 

Many modem writers upon Egypt have given sur- 
prising accounts of a dass of men in this country, sup- 
posed, like the andent Psylli of Cyrenalo, to possess 
a secret art, to which allusion is made in the Bible, 
enabling them to secure themselves from the poison of 
serpents. I have met with many persons among the 
more intelligent of the Egyptians, who condemn these 
modem Psylli as impostors ; but none who has been 
able to offer a satisfiictory explanation of the most com- 
mon and most interesting of their performances, which 
I am about to describe. 

Many Rifa'ee and Siiadee durweeshes obtain thdr 
livelihood by going about to charm away serpents from 
houses. A few other persons also profess the same art, 
but are not so fiunous. The former travel over every 
part of Egypt, and find abundant employment; but 
their gains are barely suffident to procure them a scanty 
subsistence. The charmer professes to discover, with- 
out ocular perception' (but perhaps he does so by a 
peculiar smell,) whether there be any serpents in a 
house; and, if there be, to attract them to him; as the 
fowler, by the fascination of his voice, allures the bird 
into his net. As the serpent seeks the darkest place 
in which to hide himself, the charmer has, in most 
cases, to exercise his skill in an obscure chamber, 
where he might easily take a serpent from his bosom, 
bring it to the people ^vithout the door, and affirm that 
he had found it in the apartment ; for no one would 
venture to enter with hira after having been assured of 
the presence of one of these reptiles within : but he is 
often required to perform in the full light of day, sur- 
rounded b^ spectators : and incredulous persons have 
searched him beforehand, and even stripped him naked ; 
yet his success has been complete. He assumes ait air 
of mystery, strikes the walls with a short palm-stick, 
whistles, makes a clucking noise with his tongue, and 
spits upon the ground ; and generally says, '* I adjure 
you by God, if ye be above, or if ye be below, that ye 
come forth : I adjure you by the roost great name, if 
ye be obedient, come forth ; and if ye be disobedient, 
die I die! diel" — The serpent is generally dislodged 
by hia stick, from a fissure in the wall, or drops from 
the ceiling of the room. I have often heard it asserted, 
that the serpent-charmer, before he enters a house in 
which he is to try his skill, always employs a servant 
of that house to introduce one or more serpents : but 
I have known instances in which this could not be 
the case ; and am inclined to believe that the dur- 
weeshes above mentioned are generally acquainted with 
some real physical means of discovering the presence of 
serpents without sedng them, and of attracting them 
from their lurking-phices. It is, however, a fact well 
ascertained, that the most expert of them do not ven- 
ture to carry serpents of a venomous nature about their 
persons until they have extracted the poisonous teeth. 
Many of them carry scorpions also within the cap, and 
next the shaven head ; but doubtless first deprive them 
of the power to injure ; perhaps by merely blunting 
the sting. 

Performers of sleight-of-hand tricks, who are called 
ShSw6h, (m the singular Hhdwee^ are numerous in 
Cairo. They genendly perform in public places; col- 
lecting a ring of spectators around them ; from some of 
whom they receive small voluntary contributions dur- 
ing and after their performances. They are most fre- 
quently seen on the occasions of public festivals ; but 
9ften also at other times. By indecent jests and ac- 

tions, they attract as mudi applause as they do Ly 
other means. The Hhawee performs a great variety 
of tricks ; the most usual of which I shall here men- 
tion. He generally has two boys to assist him. From 
a large leatiber bag, he takes out four or five snakes, of 
a largish size. One of these he places on the ground, 
and makes it erect its head and part of its body ; an- 
other, he puts round the head of one of the boys like a 
turban ; and two more over the boy's neck. He takes 
these off; opens the boy*s mouth, apparently passes the 
bolt of a kind of padlock through his cheek, and locks 
it. Then, in appearance, he forces an iron spike into 
the boy's throat : the spike being really pushed up into 
a wooden handle. He also performs another trick of 
the same kind as this : pladng the boy on the ground, 
he puts the edge of a knife upon his nose, and knock<« 
the blade until half its width seems to have enttTid. 
The tricks which he alone performs are more amus^'ivj^. 
He draws a great quantity of various-coloured silk frcni 
his mouth, and winds it on his arm ; puts cotton in his 
mouth, and blows out fire ; takes out of his mouth a 
great number of roimd pieces of tin like dollars ; and, 
in appearance, blo\vs an earthen pipe-bowl from his 
nose. In most of his tricks he occasionally blows throu cK 
a large shell, (called the Hhawee*s zoommarah,) pro- 
ducing sounds like those of a horn. Most of his sleipht- 
of-hand performances are nearly similar to those of ex- 
hibitors of the same dass in our own and other coun- 
tries. Taking a silver finger ring from one of the by- 
standers, he puts it in a little box, blows his shell, and 
says, " Efi^et, chanj?e it 1 " He then opens the box, 
and shows in it a different ring : shuts the box ai^ain ; 
opens it, and shows the first ring: shuts it a third timc; 
opens it, and shows a melted lump of silver, which be 
declares to be the ring melted, and offers to the owner, 
the latter insists upon having his ring in its original 
state : the Hh4wee then asks for five or ten fuddahs 
to recast it ; and having obtained this, opens the box 
a^n, (after having closed it and blown his shell,) and 
takes out of it the perfect ring. He next takes a lar- 
ger covered box ; puts one of his boy*s scull-caps in it ; 
blows his shell ; opens the box ; and out comes a rab- 
bit : the cap seems to be gone. He puts the rabbit in 
again ; covers the box ; uncovers it; and out run two 
little chickens : these he puts in again ; blows his shell ; 
uncovers the box ; and shows it full of fateerehs, (or 
pancakes,) andkoonafeh, (which resembles vermicelli :) 
he tells his boys to eat its contents ; but they rcfiise. 
to do it without honey : he then takes a small jug ; 
turns it upside-down, to show that it is empty ; blows 
his shell ; and hands round the jug fiill of honey. The 
boys having eaten, ask for water to wash their hands. 
The Hhawee takes the same jug, and hands it filled 
with water in the same manner. He takes the box 
again, and asks for the cap, blows his shell, uncovers the 
box, and pours out from it into the boy's lap, four or 
five small snakes. The boy, in apparent fright, throws 
them down, and demands his cap. The Hhawee puts 
the snakes back into the box, blows his shell, uncovers 
the box, and takes out the cap. — Another of his com- 
mon tricks is to put a number of slips of white paper 
into a tinned copper vessel, (the tisht of a seller of 
sherbet,) and to take them out dyed of various colours. 
He pours water into the same vessel ; puts in a piece 
of linen ; then gives to the spectators to drink the con- 
tents of the vessel changed to sherbet of sugar. Some- 
times he apparently cuts in two a muslin shawl, or 
bums it in the middle, and then restores it whole 

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I— The Cfarcanatanccf which led to the Reromution in Germany. 

By the Rev. Jones Bryoe, Page 83 

1.— Ra&ravaTy, the Malagasy Martyr, 36 

3.— Sacred Poelry. Line* cm Hearing the Belts ring out the 

Old Year. 36 

4.— The Protestant Church of France, at the Beginning of 

Laat Ccnturr. By the Rct. John O. Lorimer, .......... ib. 

6.— The Hebrs of Immortality, »--- ^ 

6.— Erasmus and Luther ...V." jq 

7^ A Discourse. By the Rev. John Forbe^ D. D.'. /. a\ 

8.-The New Testament. _ JJ 

9— Christian Treasury. ExtracUfh»raHenr^/siitt^MdcidL 46 
10.-Biographical Slietch. MrsHawlcet. Part Third. Bythii 

Editor, -r 




Mbiister of GUcomaton Parish, Aberdeen. 

The direct causes of the Reformation lie on the 
surface, and are familiar to every reader of eccle- 
siastical history, bat it is only the careful student 
who can tell all the circumstances, remote and 
indirect, by which this g^reat event was accelerated. 
The history of the Waldenses, and the preaching 
of Wickliffe in England, and even the operations 
of John Huss and Jerome of Prague, are passed 
over, not because they had not an effect in bring- 
ing on the Reformation, but because they obvi- 
ously occur to the most cursory reader. We fix 
our attention on causes somewhat less apparent 
and direct, which suggest to the mind the inte- 
resting truth, that Providence, for several ages, 
had been pointing with a true and steady aim at 
the restoration of scriptural religion. If we con- 
sider the Popedom as a system of dominion, which 
had been gradually improved and matured by suc- 
ceeding generations of men, no human power can 
be conceived to be fixed on a more stable founda- 
tion, or so likely to remain durable. The basis 
of this dominion is the infallibility of the Pope, 
which was the characteristic, not of any indivi- 
dual, but of every one whose brows might chance 
to be encircled by the triple crown. Hence all 
the successors of St. Peter were equally infallible, 
and this claim was, after a certain period, and 
after a severe struggle, conceded by all the nations 
of Europe. The apostolical succession was a 
matter of universal belief, and was always taught 
by the Romish Church, as being applicable to the 
Pope and his bishops, in the same absurd and un- 
scriptural sense in which it is maintained at this 
day by the semi-papist party, in the Church of 
England. Nothing could, perhaps, be so well 
devised to lay hold of the feelings and passions of 
men as the fact, that the reigning Pope was the 
successor of the Apostle Peter ; that m his per- 
son resided all the qualities which belonged to 
No. 3. Jan 19, 1839 — l^c/.] 

that gifted and inspired disciple of our Lord ; and 
that he was directed by infallible guidance to the 
truth in all his decisions. It was on this founda- 
tion that the dominion of the Popes was raised ; 
it was enlarged, till it held in its tenacious grasp 
the property and the consciences of men ; it was 
the source from which emanated the rights of 
sovereigns to their kingdoms, and to every new 
discovery which might be made; from the same 
source learned bodies received their charters, and 
the decisions of the courts of law their sanctions; 
in short, there was nothing so trifling or minute 
to which it did not extend, and in which it was 
not acknowledged, and yet it contained within 
itself the principles of decay. The whole range 
of history contains nothing so well calculated to 
illustrate the trite observation, that the wisdom of 
man can devise no scheme, however ingenious, 
which is perfect and durable. 

The first proof of the imperfection of the pa- 
pal system is the personal character of the indm- 
duals. The Popes were but men, some of them 
not the best of men ; and, under Uie influence of 
unsubdued passions, especially of grasping ambi- 
tion, they were induced to pronounce decisions 
which, even in the opinion of their most attached 
votaries, brought their infallibility into question. 
These decisions were frequently unwise, and some- 
times unjust. The present interests of the 
reigning Pope were uniformly preferred to the 
prospective advantages of the holy see, and the 
system of nepotism, a term of which the parti- 
cular application is somewhat doubtful, had oc- 
casionally the effect of exhausting the sacred 
treasury. As these circumstances were made 
known, serious doubts began to be entertained in 
reference to the infallible judgment of the suc- 
cessor of »St. Peter ; and lest these doubts should 
evaporate, the Pope did not fail to pronounce de« 
[Second Sxries. Vojt. L 



cisions directly opposed to those of his predecessor, 
by way of proving that one of them must be 
wrong. The lesson of the weakness and fallibi- 
lity of the Popes was taught by themselves, and 
must have tended to weaken the influence and 
authority of the Popedom, for he who claims to 
be universally right, and yet is often found to be 
wrong, will gradually lose the respect and confi- 
dence of his fellow-men. In addition to this, the 
profligacy of several of the Popes was calculated 
to uodeceiTs the pec^le in regard to their religions 
character. Leo X. was a person devoid of reli- 
gious principle, and was, besides, prodigal, luxu- 
rious, and imprudent. Julius II. had nothing of 
the diurchman in his character ; his private victs 
were only exceeded by his savage ferocity, his 
arrogance, and his love of war and bloodshed. 
Alexander VI. is altogether remarkably even 
among sovereign princes, for the magnitude of his 
crimes, of which tiie atrocity is only surpassed by 
that of the worst of the Roman emperors. This 
list might be easily increased, but enough has 
been said to show that the personal profligacy of 
the so called vicars of Christ may be raiJud 
among those causes which led to the Refor- 

There was another circumstance, which led 
even the most blinded to discover that the Popes 
were subject to like passions as other men. This 
was the celebrated schism, %vhich exhilnted two 
infallible bishops— heads of the Romish Church — 
one at Rome and the other at Avignon. In order 
that men's minds might be settled on this point, 
so important to those who had difficulty in ascer- 
taining their real spiritual head, a council was 
called, and the assembled bishops began to exer- 
cise powers which, for many ages, they were not 
known to possess. They deposed both the reign- 
ing Popes, and authorised the cardinals to proceed 
to a new election ; but the love of power pre- 
vailed, and both refused to obey. For fourteen 
years after tiie council was assembled, this schism 
continued to prevail, and, at its termination, it 
was found to have given a deadly bk)w to the 
authority of Uie Pope. To add to the evil, the 
blow was dealt by themselves. The council of 
Basle soon after declared, by a solemn decision, 
that the Pope was subject to the councils of the 
Church, and that an appeal could be taken from a 
sentence of the Pope to a general council. 

These divisions and disputes had the effect of 
opening men's eyes to the spiritual bondage in 
which they had been so long held, and the in- 
fluence and authority of the supreme head of the 
Qiurch were no longer taken for granted. In the 
course of this schism, which bsted nearly forty 
years, there had been displayed by both parties a 
fierceness of passion, a sanguinary dispositi<m, a 
worldly spirit, and a love of power entirely in- 
consistent with that religion which it was their 
professed object to maintain and promote. It is 
somewhat carious to observe the blindness of the 
contondij^ parties, in betraying to the workl the 
.weakness of that principi« on which the Popedom 

is based, — ^no inconsiderable proof of that depri- 
vation of intellect which is frequently the fore- 
runner of destruction. From this period the 
princes of Europe considered a general council as 
an effectual checK upon the hau^tiness and arro- 
gance of the Popes. 

There were other causes which had an indirect 
influence in bringing about the Reformation, such 
as the restoration of learning ; the multiplication 
of schools and universities, by which education 
was rendered more accessible ; die invention of 
the art of printing, by which books were cheaply 
and readily diffused ; and those writings in which 
the follies and vices of the priesthood were most 
severely satirized :— ^ these things had the effect 
of enabliz^ men to see the evils which had for 
ages been creeping into the prevailing system^ 
The Popes now b^^an to be alarmed for the con- 
tinuance of their authority, and did what they 
could to obviate the effects which were likely to 
follows but the period of inquiry had arrived, and 
it was vain to stay its progress. 

When John de Medids, who assumed the name 
of Leo X., ascended the papal throne, he speedily 
exhausted the sacred treasury by his prodigality 
and licentious pleasures. The question was, how 
were his oo£bra to be replenished ? and the readiest 
way that occurred to his counsellors was a sale of 
indulgences, which should be offered to all with- 
out any exceptions. As this term is apt to be 
misunderstood by Protestant readers, and Papists 
complain of the doctrines of their CSiurch being 
misrepresented by us, it may be observed^ that it 
does not imply Uie obtaining of a liberty to sin, 
but being set free from those penances which the 
Church imposed upon transgressors, by the pay- 
ment of a sum of money. The rich could thus 
easily get rid of those troublesome and protracted 
penances to which poorer culprits were always 
subjected. It must also be confessed that Leo was 
not the first of the Popes who engaged in this 
species of traffic,— it had been practised by many 
of his predecessors. A despiser of religion'him- 
self, and accustomed to think highly of the supreme 
authority of the Popes, he adopted the sugges- 
tions of his counsellors without any consideration 
of the change that had taken place in the opinions 
and information of the people. The jM-etence for 
selling indulgences at that particular time was to 
obtain monev for promoting the pious work, as it 
was regarded, of completing the ^endid structure 
of St Peter's Church at Rome ; and Leo seem> 
to have extended the term indulgence to the for- 
giveness of sins which might be committed ip 
after Ufe. This statement is made under correc- 
tion, but such is my understanding of the author 
from whom this account is taken. Those who 
bought these indulgences were permitted to eat 
flesh during Lent, to choose a confessor mobi 
agreeable to themselves, and they received the 
entire foi^veness of their sins, and exemptiot* 
from the pains of pui^tory.* This boll wa> 

• ^e buU of Leo ii tr«nil«tcd in tht ProUitttt, toL l, p«gc 



forthwith pabliahed, and the indulgences exposed 
to sale. In Germany the management of this 
Imsmess was intrusted to Tetzel, a monk belong- 
ing to the order of the Dominicans, and a person 
of the most infamous character. Whatever Pa- 
pists may say about the meaning of the papal 
bull, there can be no doubt of the fact that Tet- 
zel preached about the excellency of the commo- 
dity of which he bad to dispose in a strain of 
eloquence calculated to catch an ignorant and 
superstitious multitude, and declared that he had 
power to pardon all sins that had been committed, 
as well as all ^ose which might afterwards be 
committed. It is not improbable that this worth- 
less person exceeded his powers, but his insolence, 
impudence, and indecency are on record, and the 
Papist writers must admit that the court of Rome 
was singularly indifferent to the respectability of 
its agents. Tetzel and his companions openly 
practised the grossest vices^ and set the example 
of the most flagitious conduct, under the shelter 
of the Pope. This mode of acting had led some 
to question the efficacy of indulgences conveyed 
by the hands of m«n so utterly polluted^ 

The indiyidiul who took the lead in exposing 
the worthlessness of Tetzel, and the folly of trust- 
ing to indolgenceSy was Martin Luther, Professor 
of DiTinity in the University of Wirtumberg. 
He was bom at Aisleben in Saxony, and originaUy 
intended to study law, but was diverted from this 
purpose by a singular providential occurrence. 
As he was walking in the fields, a flash of light- 
ning struck his companion dead at his feet. This 
led to great seriousness of mind, and he entered 
the monastery of the Augustine friars, and took 
the T0W8, contrary to the consent, or at least the 
remonstrancesy of his father. About a year after 
he had entered the monastery, he fell in with a Latin 
Bible, of which he was entirely ignorant, and as he 
lead the word of inspiration, his mind was gradually 
expanded. Along with the Sacred Volume he 
perused with great care the writings of Augustine, 
and thus acquired a profound knowledge of what 
had been the doctrines of the Church in its purest 
times. At first Luther was not prepared to ques- 
tion the Pope's authority, he merely refused to 
absolve those to whom Tetzel had sold indulgences. 
Complaints were made to Tetzel, and he threatened 
with tke veogeaace of the Pope any who should 
qneitioa tha effioaojr of the indulgences which had 
l«eagnoted; hnt he had to deal with a spirit not 
ttsiiy dannled. Lather examined the nature of 
uuhlgeBces with the greatest attention, and pub- 
liflbed the leanlt of the investigation in a seiies 
^ propositions, which Tetzel oondenmed to the 
flBinM,and he aUterwards published two discourses 
^ way of leAiling them. Luther ridiculed with- 
out rnnoy the aignmentt and rash statements of 
lus opponent, and his opinions were rapidly dif- 
i^nd over Germany. It was thus, from one step 
toaaotfaer,that Lntiier waaledtoperoei^ tfaeun- 
Bpriptiiral natoie of the Popish system, and pub- 
Uy to adopt and teadi that religion which k 
«>uid in the S<fi|)taTes. Ono advantage which 

Luther enjoyed, was the feeling of security on the 
part of the Pope, and his utter contempt for the 
obscure individual who questioned his supremacy 
It is not intended here to give a detail of the pro- 
gress of the Reformation generally, but merely to 
show its rise in Germany, as leading to its intro- 
duction into Scotland. Luther's dispute with 
Tetzel began in the year 1617, and in 1520 die 
Pope published the &mous bull, by which every 
hope of accommodation was destroyed. When 
Luther received this bull he set about investigat- 
ing the origin of the dominion of the Popedom, 
and the result was a conviction of its inconsistency 
with the Gospel of Christ. He, therefore, con- 
temptuously burned the bull and the decretals, 
publicly maintained that the Pope was antichrist, 
and exhorted all within his reach to separate from 
a Church which was founded in ignorance and 
superstition. It is from this period we date the 
adoption of that system to which Protestants ad- 
here, under various modifications, throughout 

FaoM the intereatiog volumes which have been recently 
published hj Mr Ellis, on the History of Madagascar, 
we extract the following account of a native Christian, 
who was recently called to sufier martyrdom for her 
firm adherence to the truths of the Gospel, in the 
face of the cruel and tyrannical edict of the Queen oi 
that island, forbidding, under pain of death, the profes- 
sioD of the Christian faith : — 

It appears that the movements of the Christians had 
been watched, though no infringement of the antichria- 
tian edict of the queen waa diacovered till the last Sab- 
bath in July, or the firat Sabbath in August, 1837. On 
this occasion, a number of Christians, haring assembled 
for reading the Scriptures, singing, and prayer, on a 
mountain a short distance from the capital, were dis- 
covered, and reported to the queen ; the premises of the 
suspected parties were searched, for the purpose of find- 
ing ground for accusation against them, and a box of 
books, vis., copies of the Scriptures and other Christian 
publicaHons, that had been given by the Missionaries 
being found buried near the house of that eminent 
Christian woman, Ea&ravavy, who had been previoualy 
accused of reading the Bible* she was apprehended and 
imprisoned ; her house, her entire property, was given 
up to plunder, her person secured, and her liands and 
feet loaded with heavy iron rings. She was menaced 
in vain during a period of from eight to ten days, to 
induce her to impeach her companions. She remained 
firm, and perfectly composed; and was put to death by 
spearing on the 14tb of Angaat, 1837. She had said 
repeatedly, by letter, to her friend, Mrs Johns, '« Do 
not fear on my account. 1 am ready to die for Jesus^ 
if such be the will of God." She was most wonderfiiUy 
supported to the last moment of her life. Her age at 
the tune of her death was thirty-eight years. No leatiiie 
in her Christiaa character appeara to have been more 
distinctly manifested than her steadiness and fidelilj 
even to the death. Bfany, even of the old people, i». 
marked tbey had never seen any one so " stubborn" as 
BafivAvavy, for although the ^ueen iQibade her to pray, 


she did pny, even when in irons ; and oontuined to 
preach Christ to the officers and to the crowd that fol- 
lowed her for nearly three-quurtera of a mile, from the 
place of public condemnation to the place of common 
execution. Here she continued to pray and to exhort 
all around her to believe in Jesus Christ, even till the 
executioner's spear, thrust through her body, deprived 
her of the power of utterance. 

In relation to her death, Mr Baker justly remarks : — 
" Never in the anmds of the Chuich did a Christian 
martyr suffer from motives more pure, simple, and un- 
mixed with earthly alloy. She had never heard of any 
after-glory of martyrdom on earth. No external splen- 
dour had been cast around the subject in her mind, by 
reading any lives of martyrs. All was to her obloquy 
and contempt. Her own father and relatives, to the 
very last, accused her of stubbornness. The people 
generally regarded her as stubborn, and worthy of punish- 
ment even on that account. She had no earthly friends 
to support and cheer her. She was not poor in out- 
ward circumstances ; and by recantation, and by hum- 
bling herself to beg pardon of the queen, she might 
very probably have saved her life. But her whole heart, 
as her letters testify, was filled with the love of Jesus. 
She endured as seeing him who is invisible. Her let- 
ters are composed principally of passages from the Gos- 
pels and Epistles, and these, doubtless, under the in- 
fluence of the Holy Spirit, were the entire support of 
her mind in the last hour of trial. If < the blood of 
the martyrs is the seed of the Church,* we may trust 
that Rafaravavy will not have died in vain. She died 
directly and exclusively in defence of the Gospel." 

Allusion has been made to her letters. It may suf- 
fice at present to give the following extract from one of 
her communications to Mr Johns, written shortly before 
her last imprisonment : — 

** Blessed be God, who hath given us access by our 
Lord Jesus Christ. My earnest prayer to God is, that 
he would enable me to obey the words of Jesus to his 
disciples, Matt. xvi. 24, ' If any man desire to come 
after me, let him deny himself/ &c Hence, then, none 
of these things move me, nor count I my life dear to 
myself, that I may finish my course in the service I 
have received of the Lord Jesus. Do not you, Mis- 
sionaries, grieve under an idea that your labour here 
has been in vain in the Lord ; through the blessing of 
God, it succeeds. * If our Gospel be hid, it is hid to 
them that are lost ; but it is the power of God to them 
that believe.' Here is my ground of confidence ; the 
power of God cannot be efiectually resisted. I will go 
in the strength of the Lord. Though I should walk 
through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no 
evil, for God is with me. ' Though he slay me, yet 
will I trust in him.' * Precious in the sight of the I.wd 
is the death of his saints.' May I * be found in him, not 
having mine own righteousness, which is of the law, but 
that which is through the faith of Christ, the righteous- 
ness which is of God by faith ; that I may know him, 
and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of 
his sufferings, being made conformable unto his death ; 
if by any means I might attain unto the resurrection of 
the dead. Not as though I had already attained, either 
were already perfect : but I follow after, if that I may 
apprehend that for which also I am apprehended of 
Christ Jesus. I count not myself to have apprehended ; 
but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which 
are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which 
are before, 1 press towards the mark for the prize of the 
high calling of God in Christ Jeius.' Phil iil 9..U, 

*' Pray for us, that the Lord may open the door fof 
his Word among us." 

These are statements on which it would be superflu- 
ous to offer lengthened comment. And yet it is im- 
possible to contemplate without devout admiration, 
such bright, such impressive evidence of the reality and 
efficacy of the GospeL Here is a converted idolater 
brought to the martyr's test, and nobly " refusing to 
accept deliverance, that she might obtain a better resur- 
rection ; out of weakness waxuig strong," and counting 
not even life itself worth possessing, without the con- 
fession of the Saviour's name ! This honoured martyr 
has left to the care of the Church in Madagascar, under 
the great Shepherd, one orphan little girl, a martyr's 
child, for whose welfitfe the deepest solicitude is felt, 
and tidings respecting whom are most anxiously desired. 


Thosk village-beUs, to Fancy's ear, 

In sweety yet mournful tone. 
Seem to ring out, — *' Another year. 

Another year is gone 1 " 

The pris'ner's si^ a moment cease. 

He listens, checks his moan, 
And cries, expectant of release, — 

** Another year b gone !" 

*' Soon shall I pass this dungeon's night. 
Soon leave thb cold damp stone, 

Soon rush to liberty and light, — 
" Another year is gone ! " 

And have not /a pris'ner's chain? 

Is not his joy my own ? 
May I not join his grateful strain, — 

*• Another year is gone ? " 

Another year, which barr'd my way 

Up to that blissful throne. 
Where there shall be one endless day. 

When all our years are gone! 

[The death of the Author of the above Poem ii alluded to in 
LadT'Cdquhoun*! Interefting work entitled *The KiBgdom of 



By the Rev. John 6. Lorimee, 

Minister of St. David^s Parish, Glasgow, 

(Continued firom page 9.) 

Passing from the history of those of the Protestants 
who left France, let us now shortly turn our attention 
to those who remained in the land of persecution. 
These were still very numerous, and though it u more 
than probable the most spiritual were among the emi- 
grants, still there can be little question that a consider- 
able number of pious men, from various causes, remained. 
Their condition, now that their pastors and the most 
devoted of the laity had abandoned the country, was one of 
great danger to their Christian character. This, accord- 
ingly, soon appeared. About a year after the revoca- 
tion of the edict, we learn, by a letter ftom Mets, that 
in a church which was wont to number ten thousand 
communicants, there were only two who did not sign an 
abjuration of Protestantism, dictated by the cruel mercy 
of dragoons. It is very probable that many of these 



eoflnAttmcttiil liad previously removed from France, 
and it is certain that though for the sake of their lives 
many ngned the document, they add, *' we know we 
have sttbtcribed, hut we know, also, we have not 
changed our religion, and, through grace, we shall never 
change it** However they reconciled the signing of 
this abjurstion to their consciences, no one can question 
such a posture of things was most injurious to the 
general Christianity of the Protestant population, and 
mast have sadly deteriorated the character of those who 
gave way to the temptation. So much were the exiled 
pastors alive to this, and so deeply did they feel for 
their suffering flocks, that they wrote a long pathetic 
and most Christian letter to them, advisbg them how to 
conduct themselves with all fidthfulness. It is entitled, 
'An Epistle to our Brethren groaning under the Cap- 
tivity oi Babylon, for whom we wish the mercy and 
peace of our God.* It extends to five closely printed 
folio pages. I extract a few sentences as a specimen of 
the Christian spirit, fidelity, and wisdom of the whole. 

" Keep carefully your books of piety, of devotion, 
and of coDtroversyy and read them with singular dili- 
gence and attention. Preserve them, by hiding and con- 
veying them fi'om the reach and search of your perse- 
cntora. Above all, keep as your most precious jewels, 
the most Holy Bible, and suffer every thing rather than 
iufier yoor Bibles to be snatched away from you. Read 
them daily and with the greatest devotion. 

** Ifever forget, nor spare any pains or expense in 
procuring from foreign countries books capable of in- 
structing and strengthening you, and when as the priests 
shall have robbed you of your own, cause others to be 
brought you, whatever rates you pay for them. 

" The poor country peasants, and mechanics in towns 
sod cities, by reason of their ignorance, are exposed to 
tbe greatest dangers. But the strong ought to support 
the weak, and you must earnestly endeavour each 
others edification. This you noay do as you travel into 
Tonr country houses, as you walk in the streets, yea, 
when as you meet one another in your shops, there be- 
ing none by you of the contrary religion. Supply these 
poor people with books for their instruction, and exhort 
them without ceasing to bear up against all discourage- 
ments, and never to let loose their hearts unto idolatry, 
bat contrariwise to detest and oppose it by their dis- 

*• If you can at any time meet together secretly by 
night in the retirements of your houses, let it be for the 
reading of God's Word and of good books capable of 
instmcting you, but above all for prayer. Proper 
pnyen for your condition shall be sent you from foreign 

** By reason of that commerce and communion you are 
necessitated to hold with the Papists, endeavour also after 
thdr conversion. Who knows but that God may have 
ordained this sore persecution for tiiis rery end, that 
Jin should carry the light of the Gospel into the very 
^Mom of Popery in order to its destruction. 

" 'Tis viable that the sinful disorders and miscar- 
nages of vour conversations have brought upon you 
those fearful judgments from God under which you'are 
now groaning. There was no kind of worldliness in 
which you were not engaged, such as rich household 
goods, vessels of silver, tapestry, feasts, gluttonies, idle 
^ya> plays, pastimes, doth of silk and gold, rings, 
pearls, and jewels. If you be wise, your first reforma- 
tion must begin here ; all these must be rejected ; sell 
your tapestries, your silver vessels, wear tbe plainest 
woolsteds,— have nothing to do with silk or gold at your 
»»»t» or repasts. Every day should be with us a day 
« prayera and tears,~not a feasting but a fasting day. 

•• Faniily duties, fnnily prayer, hath be^ either ne- 

glected or very negligently performed. That you may 
turn away Grod*s wrath from you, set upon the religious 
performance of these religious duties. Let them be 
fi-equent, prolonged, and with greater fervency. 

** Take a special care of your poor persecuted breth- 
ren ; give liberally towards the charges of their escape. 
All things should now be in common among you, and 
no person should count any thing his own whilst his 
pNOor brother needs it. This is the very soul of Chris- 
tianity, and if you thus bestow it, God may restore 
again unto you his Grospel whereof he hath deprived 

" And you must take tbe first opportunity you can 
of departing. For don't fool yourselves with this 
imagination, that you shall be able for any long space of 
time to keep the truth of Grod in the land of Meshek. 
Your piety will gradually decay. Tour children, hav- 
ing never known any other redigion than the Ronush, 
wUl accustom themselves unto it, and never desire to 
leave their country. Wherefore spare neither pains, 
diligence, nor costs, that you may be transported into a 
land of liberty. And look not back behind you to 
carry away what is in your houses. Whosoever looks 
back again is not meet for the kingdom of heaven. 
And though you were stript of all in your flight, yet you 
would be rich enough in having your souls given you 
for a prey. The worst that can befiall you is to die of 
famine. But is that kind of death more terrible than 
any other ? Can any death be dreadful to us when the 
life of our souls lies at stake, and the glory of God u 
concerned ? 

*' We should reckon it our great honour to be debased, 
scorned, impoverished, stript of all for Christ Jesus. 
Our life is very short. No matter how we suffer in it. 
Our great concern should be for eternity. We live and 
work for eternity. My brethren, count it great joy 
when you fall into divers temptations." 

One might have thought that the government, led 
on though it was by the Popish Church, would have 
grown tired of persecution, and that the public losses 
sustained by the State, in the removal of so large a 
body of enterprising and useful citizens, would have 
opened their eyes to the impolicy, if not the sin, of 
the dreadful course which they had been pursuing. But 
no ; Popery is blind. The hatred of the truth of God 
is stronger than the love of outward prosperity ; so 
the work of oppression still went forward. Before the 
century was completed, — in other words, in the course 
of fourteen years from the revocation of the edict, we 
read of not less than eight additional decrees and de- 
clarations, all "breathing threatenings and slaughter" 
against the poor surviving Protestants. Instead of there 
being any mitigation, as sometimes happens, the subse- 
quent edicts were all an aggravation of the suffering, 
and this continued after the new century was entered 
upon. A frequent punishment for males was to send 
them to the galleys, and work them in chains. One of 
the number was M. De MaroUes. His case is interest- 
ing. He had been chancellor to the king, but was 
condemned to the galleys for his Protestantism in 1685. 
Here he remained for seven long years, and died in a 
dungeon. Besides being an eminent Christian, he was 
a distinguished philosopher, mathematician, and alge- 
braist, a proof of which is, that it is stated he solved 
many difficult problems while lying with a weight of 
SOIbs. about his neck. It is remarkable, that the year 
in which the sufferings of this distinguished man began 
. the year 1685— and in which the edict was revoked, 
was the year also in which the hottest penecntiona were 
going fgrwwrd in Scotland, m if tbt momtw wen 


moving in different liindB at the same moment. Not 
less than twenty out of the one hundred and thirty- 
nine Scottish martyrs trho were mocked with the sem- 
blance of a public trial and legal forms, were put to death 
In this year of blood ; and of the vast multitude of eigh- 
teen thousand who, in the covme of twenty-eight years, 
lost their lives for the supremacy of the King of saints, 
without any trial at all, not less than forty-four were 
murdered in five short weeks of this terrible year. In 
one of these weeks, the more than semi -Popish tyrant, 
Charles II., was called to give up his account. He 
might be said to leave the world in a shower of blood. 
I have remarked that the work of persecution con- 
tinued in France. It is unnecessary to weary and 
deken the reader with any additional proofs. In 1697 
it biased forth with fresh rage, after a temporary miti- 
gation, occasioned by foreign war dividing the attention 
of the government. One proof of its strength and 
power may be found in the appearance of the poor fana- 
dci, called tlie French prophets, in 1703. These men 
BRMe among t)ie Protestants of Danphiny, and pre- 
tended to prophetic gifts and miraculous powers. About 
1709 a body of them came over to England, and ga- 
thered a considerable number of followers. The French 
Protestant ministers in London used all their influence 
to expose their delusions and repress them. Dr Oalamy 
preached a Bcries of sermons on the subject, and go- 
vernment in one ease interfered. Still they succeeded 
in making some progress, and appeared in various parts 
of the country, in Scotland as well as England, for 
some subsequent years. There can be little doubt that, 
in France, they were one of the spurious fruits of pro* 
trected persecution. In these circumstances, many 
minds get unhinged and excited, and men betake them- 
lelves to the prophecies of the future as a refuge from 
the misery of the present. Hence mysticism, and 
claims to inspiration, and extiBvagant proceedings of a 
religious kind, frequently appear in persectttiiig times. 
The persecutor may justly be held responsible for such 
evils. The peace of Utrecht, in 1713, which closed 
the desolating wars in which France and Spain had 
been engaged against the confederated Protestant powers 
of Europe, with the Duke of Marlborough at their 
head, did not procure almost any reHef to tiie poor 
French Protestants. They had long been looking for- 
ward to this* and when the hour arrived, made assi- 
duous application ; but though the British Queen was 
their friend, and their case was represented at the 
oonnril, and though the French Popish party acknow- 
ledged that, but for this peace, the ruin and destruction 
of their country were inevitable, yet, in spite of all 
these propitious circumstances, to use the language of 
Calamy, " they were left in the same destitute condi- 
tion they were in before, with the exception only of 
some slaves beii^ released from the galleys.*' 

I nrait draw this part of the subject to a dose, and I 
know not a more appropriate termination than the death 
cf liOUis Xiy«, the ^reat instrument, if not prime au* 
thor, of ell the horrors we heve been oontemplatfaig in 
tnceeseive papers from 1680. This event took place in 
August 1714. Thott^ a very old man, it is beliered 
• scheme was in contemplation most formidable to the 
Protestant liberties of Europe at the time of his deeth. 
Had he been spared a little longer, he was to havi 
been eit the heed of a new Roman Catholic league, 

better cemented than its predeoeff on. But ItM HllNfe 
schemes, and with thouMnds on thonsandfl of hitfl>e«t 
subjects snfieriiig^oth at home-and in foreign landiyt^ 
was called hence. The death of this most powerful 
enemy of the Protestant cause produced a greftt im* 
pression in this country, and indeed over Europe, eadly 
disconcerting the Popish party and their friends, while 
it gave new hope and courage to the Protestants. It 
is not presumptuous to expect that, even in this life, 
we should be able to trace something of a moral retri- 
bution for crimes so flagrant and wanton as those of 
Louis. There is nothing for which God will more 
certainly vint than the persecution of bis people, and 
therefore, without meaning to foiiget the divine decls- 
mtion, ** Vengeence is mine, I will repay, saith the 
Lord," I think I may safely request the reiider to mark 
the visible judgments which rested on this persecutor's 
family and kingdom. He may have been a patron of 
literature and learning ; he may have encouraged the 
arts. In 0ome respects his reign may be said to be the 
most brilliant in French history: it was tlie age of 
Fenelon, and Bossuet, and MassiUon ; but, personally, 
he was a profligete, and eminently he was an enemy of 
the people of God. In reference to this, Dr Calamy 
remarks that, perhaps, he wrought more evil than any 
single individual in his lifetime. Not only did he op^ 
press the Protestants in France^ but it was he who was 
at the root of no small part of the troubles of this 
country. It was he who, by advice, and men, and 
treasure, laboured to make the throne of Britain a 
Popish throne, and when disappointed here, encouraged 
and assisted the Pretender in his attempts to embroil 
the nation. And what was the reeult of the whole ? 
Did he escape the moral government of God f Was 
his career one of unbroken worldly glory ? If he had 
<Ued before lifting up his hand against the Protestant 
Church, his name might have been great, in the sense 
in which sovereigns are frequently great. But diortly 
after the destruction of the Churdi of Christy in an 
attempt to build up for himself a power which was to 
overawe Europe, he provoked the Protestant foeling of 
Christendom, and, under the arms of Marlborough and 
his associates, he fell. Tear after year his once victo- 
rious troops were worsted and cut down. For nine 
years, from 1702 to 1711, his reign was one continued 
series of calamities and defeats ; and now that be him- 
eelf was suffering under smart efflletion of body, as 
afterwards of depressing melancholy of mind, he had 
the bitter mortification of seeing the places taken from 
him which, at an earlier day, had cost him so much 
money and blood, and bad crowned his name with mi- 
litary renown. In one short eeesen, he who had made 
so many parents ebfldless, and broken the peace of so 
many families, was deprived of his son at fifty, his 
grandson, the pupil of Fenelon, at thirty, and a child 
of his, so that three dauphins were cut off in a single 
year. These were most bitter bereavements to the 
king. A writer, who lived at that period, uses the 
striking expreinon,«^ProTidenoe eeemed to be break- 
ing Louis upon the wheel, by destroying his posterity, 
upon whom he valued himself so mndi, that he used 
to boest he was the only king of France that had ever 
seen great-grandchildren. Moreover, his descendants 
were the hope of his alliea aa well aa his own oooifort. 
And how did he leeve his country? He )eft k fiiU 


of Ibetton, polhtea] ind Mdetiastical* in debt tliree 
hundred iniUions Sterling, which was a great sum for 
those days. Worn out and eihaudted, the vain old 
man made a will, by which he leemed to hope to nile 
after death as well aa when alive ; but icaroely had be 
died, before ifc waa traversed and tranpled upon in ita 
most materia] parte. Thus periibed a man who made 
the world to tremble. In his old age, broken in his 
iamOy, broken in his kingdom, and leaving to his suc- 
cessor an empire ripening for the judgments of heaven. 
Vain ia it ibr man to fight with Ood. " Saul, Saul, 
why peraecuteat tho« me ? It is hard for thee to kick 
agalnat the pridn.'* 

Lit oa auppose ourselves transported into one of those 
distant planets that glitter in the belt of heaven. Let 
oa suppose its inhabitaata formed as we are; susceptible 
of happiness aa exquisite, of misery as intense ; but 
differing in this, that their lives are not, as ours, a scene 
of trial, but a state of existence from which they pass 
into annihilation. It is not our present design to follow 
out the hypothesis, or to imagine what conduct would 
be the wisest, and most productive of happiness to be* 
inga ao ^tnated. One drcnmstance would be sufficient 
to poison an their joys, and to impart a yet deeper 
sting to thdr sorrows,-i>the thought of death, of anni- 
hilation I 

To this gloomy subject their minds would continually 
revert, feeling within them eneigies which, instead of 
bet^g fipesied to pcrfeetton, were soon to be otterly 
extii^tilBbed ; feeing their friends snatched away, and 
knowing that fhey soon must Ibllow, io be swallowed 
up in endless nfght. How short would eren a thousand 
years sppear I How sorrowliilly would a father watch 
in hia children the development of talents which were 
new to eone to perfection I With what bitter anguish 
wntdd hm inllow tothe tomb these blossoms early nipped, 
and never, never to rebud I 

Let QB farther suppose that to such a &ther there 
was bora "an immortal son," — one who, on certain 
eonffitioM, well known to the fiither, was destined an 
heir of eternal Uiis, bat who, were these conditions 
n e gle c ted , waa doomed to an eternity of woe ! How 
great and onceaamg would be the anxieties of the 
fiktherf How would he watch over his child, and 
anxiously seize the first dawn of intelligence to com- 
municate to him the nature and conditions of his eternal 
inheritanco I How osrefully would he guard against all 
that eoold lead him to deviate from the conditions pre- 
scribed 1 How tenderly wooM he avail himself of every 
o pportunity of leading him to fulfil them I 

The affection of a parent would do all this and more. 
We cannot, for a moment, suppose that, careless of the 
high destlma of his chfld, he would rear him well-nigh 
ignoraat of hIsinuBuilaltty, and, ao fiv firoro setting be- 
fore Un its natore and importance, wonld show him, by 
the whole tenor of Us eonduet, that on that innnortriity 
be aetttttle vahse; that, while he sought for him the 
hoDOiirB and happiness of the present fleeting state of 
exiafeegeet be looked with ind^erence on that which 
should nenr end. Conld a father look with indifference 
on tlie elenal wee! or woe of Mm child? Impossible 1 
we "woidd exclaim ; bat daily experience teaches that this 
awful case is neither impossible nor rare. On this earth, 

in thisoor Chtistian lend, there are bom not one, but 
thousands of immortal children s and who cares for their 
souls? The mother presses her babe to her bosom, 
and looks on biro with that love which mothers only 
fl^el. But does she think that the babe she is pressing 
to her bosom is an heir of immortality ? The father 
gasee on his child i already indefinite dreams of earthly 
honour are floating before his mental vision,— a thousand 
aeddenta may diange these hopes into bitter disappoint- 
ment There are hopes which no disappointment can 
blight, a glory which nothing can fade. 

Does the father form such hopes, and seek such glory 
for his child ? The babe weeps ; and do the parents 
reflect that these first feeble cries and tears are either 
tears that in a few short years are to be wiped away for 
ever, — cries soon to be exchanged for songs of everlast- 
ing joy ; or else, awftil alternative 1 tears that are to be 
exchanged for the burning dross of anguish, or the seared 
eye-ball that refuses to weep !— cries that are to be ex* 
dianged for the bitter lamentations of endless remorse, 
and everlasting despair I 

Far different are the thoughts which occupy the 
minds of most parents at such a time ; the babe is too 
young, say they, it is too early to dwell on such subjecta 
as connected with him. Yet the babe is not so young 
bat that many ardent wishes are formed for hia temporal 
happiness. Is he, then, indeed, so young that no prayer 
can be offered up for his eternal weal ? Is it, indeed, 
too early to bestow a thought on the means which, by 
the blessing of God, may lead to endless happiness ? 
To such a ^pMstion many a parent, whose conduct 
speaks a very diflforent knguage, would answer, " Na" 
But the language of the lips is moekery when diametri- 
eally opposed to the language of the life. 

Time passes on, the child is dedicated to God In 
baptism, and now, in presence of the Church, the parents 
profess to believe it is time to care for his soul. In the 
preaenoe of God, they profess to believe that their child 
is immortal, and vow, in humble relhinee on the divine 
blessing, to rear and nurture Urn as such. Are these 
rows sincere ? Look on the solemnized features of the 
fiither, on the pale face and quivering lips of the mother, 
and can you doubt that now, at last, they are impressed 
with the awftd importance of the charge committed to 
them. Win that fond mother ever eease to watch over 
the deathless soul of her little one ? Will that anxioai 
father ever forget the eternal inheritance of his immortal 
child? Would that these impressions were durable, 
but, alas ! it is seldom so. The awful realities of eter- 
nity are forgotten, amidst the fleeting phantoms, the 
deceitful shadows of time. A boundary of a hair's 
breadth separates us from eternity, but it is dimly de- 
fined, and madly we suppose it distant when standing 
on its verge, and broad, when a moment, aqd that mo- 
ment, perhaps, the next of our existence, suffices to 
cross it I Thus the eternal interests of the child seem 
a distant, almost an uncertain, prospect^ but the world 
and its honours are near, they are sought for, but it 
seems too early to think of eternity. 

Every day points out to us the victims of this fatal 
error. Some are abandoned to the delusion which their 
own hearts have framed ; their cares are crowned with 
success ; worldly honour and worldly prosperity flow 
in upon them ; but from them, and from their children, 
"the pearl of great price" is withheld. Surely it ii 



Iietter to go moummg all the dayi of our Urea, tlum 
tiius to lie down and sleep the aleep of carnal security. 

Others are seen weeping oyer blighted hopes, and 
bitter disappointments ; let such remember that *' whom 
the Lord loveth he chasteneth;" it may be that the 
good Husbandman is now sowing, amidst the wreck of 
earthly happiness, precioos seed which shall spring up 
an hundred-fold, bearing for them and for their children 
the bread of eternal Ufe. Christian parents, if ye would 
avoid the fearful lethargy of the first class, or the fiery 
trial of the second, think often of the great day of 
account, think what ye will then say for the souls com- 
mitted to your charge 1 

Christian parents, seek first for your children the 
kingdom of heaven, knowing that all things shall be 
added thereunto I 

In our last we inserted a very spirited account of 
Erasmus, as given by M. D'Aubigne in his admirable 
•' History of the Reformation," and we now extract 
from the same work, — a work of singular merit, an 
equally interesting comparison instituted between Eras- 
mus and Luther. 

Erasmus and Luther are the representatives of two 
great ideas relative to a Reformation,_of two great 
parties in their age and in all ages. The one class are 
men of a timid prudence; the other those of active 
courage and resolution. These two great bodies of men 
existed at this period, and they were personified in 
these two illustrious heads. The former thought that 
the cultivation of theological science would lead gra- 
dually and without violence to the reformation of the 
Church. The more active class thought that the spread 
of more correct ideas among the learned would not put 
an end to the gross superstitions of the people, and 
that to reform such or such an abuse was of little im- 
portance, so long as the life of the Church was not 
thoroughly renovated. 

" A disadvantageous peace," said Erasmus, '* is better 
than the most just war." He thought,— (and how many 
Erasmuses have lived since that time, and are still liv- 
ing) ^he thought that a reformation which should shake 

the Church would risk the overturning it ; he saw with 
terror passions excited, eril mingling everywhere with 
the little good that might be done ; existing institutions 
destroyed without others being substituted in their 
Btead, and the vessel of the Church, letting in water on 
every side, engulphed at last in the raging billows. 

But the more courageous party was not at a loss for 
an answer. History had sufficiently proved that a can- 
did exhibition of the truth, and a decided war against 
imposture, could alone insure the victory. If they had 
used caution and political artifice, the Papal court 
would have extinguished the light in its first glimmer- 
ings. Had not gentler means been tried for ages ? Had 
they not seen council after council convoked with the 
intention of reforming the Church ? All had been in vain. 
Why again try an experiment that had so often failed ? 

Undoubtedly, a thorough reformation was not to be 
effected without violence. But when has any thing 
great or good appeared amongst men without causing 
some disturbonce ? Would not the fear of seeing evU 
mingle with good, if it were allowed, put a stop to the 
very noblest and holy undertakings ? We must not fear 
the evil that may arise from general disturbance, but we 
must strengthen ourselves to resist and overcome it. 

Is there not, moreover, a marked difference between 
the agitation which arises from human passions and 
that which is wrought by the Spirit of God ? The 

former Iookm th^ bimAe q( KKSety, but \h^ lat'er 

strengthens them. How erroneous was it to suppafe^ 
with Erasmus, that in the state in which Christianity 
then was, with that mixture of opposing elements, of 
truth and error, of life and death, a violent convulsion 
could possibly be avoided. Close, if you can, the 
crater of Vesuvius when the contending elements are 
already agitating its bosom I The middle age had wit- 
nessed more than one violent commotion, with au at- 
mosphere less stormy than that existing at the time of i 
the Reformation. We must not at such a moment 
think of arresting and repressing, but rather of direct- \ 
ing and guiding. 

If the Reformation had not broke forth, who can 
estimate the ruin that would have ensued ? Society, 
a prey to a thousand destructive elements, without any 
regenerating or preserving principles, would have been 
fiightfully subverted. Certainly, a reformation such 
as Erasmus contemplated, and such as many moderate 
but timid men of our times still dream of, would have 
overturned Christian society. The people, deprived of j 
the light and piety which a true reformation brought 
down even to the lowest ranks, abandoned to violent j 
passions, and a restless spirit of revolt, would have j 
burst its chain like an enraged animal excited by pro- 
vocation to uncontrollable fury. 

The Reformation was nothing less than the conning 
in of the Spirit of God among men, — a regulating 
principle, placed by God upon the earth. It might, it 
is true, move the elements of ferment which are hidden 
in the hunum heart, but Grod triumphed over alL The 
evangelical doctrine, the truth of God, penetrating 
among the mass of the people, destroyed what was des- 
tined to be destroyed, but everywhere strengthened 
what was to be maintained. The effect of the Refor- 
mation was to build up. Only prejudice could say that 
it cast down. And it has been justly observed that 
the ploughshare might as well be accused of injuring 
tile earth it breaks up only to prepare it for fruitfulness. 

The great maxim of Erasmus was, " Give light, and 
the darkness will disappear of itself." The prindple 
is good ; Luther acted upon it. But when the enemies 
of the light attempted to extinguish it, or to snatch 
the torch from him who bore it, was it fit that, from a 
love of peace, they should be suffered to do so ? Waa> 
it not a duty to resist the wicked ? 

Erasmus was deficient in courage. But courage is 
as necessary to effect a reformation as to capture a city. 
There was mudi timidity in his character. From his 
youth be trembled at the mention of death. He took 
the most extraordinary care of his health. He would 
avoid, at any sacrifice, a place where contagion pre- 
vailed. His relish for the comforu of life surpassed 
even his vanity, and this was his reason for declining 
more than one brilliant offer. 

Thus it was that be did not pretend to the part of a 
Reformer. " If the corrupted morals of the court of 
Rome require a great and speedy remedy," said he, " it 
is not for me, or such as me, to effect it." He bad 
none of that strength of fiuth which animated Luther. 
Whilst the latter was ever ready to lay down bis life 
for the truth, Erasmus, with great ingenuousness, could 
say, ** Let others affect martyrdom ; for my port, I 
think myself unworthy of that honour. I fear, if a 
tumult arose, I should be like Peter in his fall." 

Erasmus, by his writings and his discourses, had, 
more than any other person, hastened the Reforma- 
tion ; and yet be trembled when he saw the tempest 
he had raised approaching. He would have given every 
thing to restore the former calm, even with its heavy 
vapours. But it was too late, — the dam was broken 
down. It was no longer possible to stay the violence 
of the torrent that was at once to cleanse and fertilise 
the world. Erasmus was powerful, so long as he was 
au instrument in God's ha(i\dSt Wh^ be ce«$e4 1/9 IN) 
thfit, h« w^i notbing, 



Jn ibe re^t,' Erasmus knew not on which side to 
jvige himself. None pleased him, and he dreaded all. 
•* It is dangerous to speak," said he, " and dangerous 
to be silent." In all great religious morements, there 
are such undecided characters, — respectable in some 
things, hut hindering the truth, and who, from a desire 
to diftplease no one, displease all. 

What, we may ask, would become of truth, if God 
were not to raise up in its defence more courageous 
champions ? Listen to the advice given by Erasmus 
to Vigilius Zuichem, afterwards president of the supe- 
rior court of Brussels, as to his deportment toward the 
sectaries, (for that was the name he gave to the Re- 
formers.) *' My friendship for you makes me to desire 
that you should keep yourself quite clear of the con- 
ta^OQ of sects, and that you give them no ground to 
claim Zuichem as their own. If you approve their 
teaching, at least dissemble your approval ; and, above 
all, never dispute with them. A jurisconsult must 
avoid 'these people, as a certain dying man eluded the 
deviL The devil asked him what he believed. The 
dying man, fearing that, if he confessed, he should be 
surprised in some heresy, answered, * What the Church 
believes.* His interrogator pressed him with the ques- 
tion, • What does the Church believe ? ' The other 
replied, ' What I believe.' Again, the devil, ' And 
what do you beHeve ? ' and the dying man rejoined, 
' What the Church believes.' " 

So, the Duke George of Saxony, the mortal enemy 
of Luther, having received an equivocal answer to a 
question he had addressed to Erasmus, exclaimed aloud, 
•* My dear Erasmus, wash me the robe, if you can, with- 
out wetting it." Secundus Curio, in one of his works, 
depicts two heavens, the Papal and the Christian. He 
fonnd Erasmus in ueither; but perceived him inces- 
santly wheeling in never-ending circles between both. 

Such was Erasmus. He wanted that liberty of 
ncart which makes truly free. How different would he 
have been, if he had given up himself to devote him- 
self to the truth. But after trying to work some 
reforms, with the approbation of the heads of the 
Church, — after having, for the sake of Rome, aban- 
doned the Reformation, when he saw that the two 
cotild not walk together, he lost all hia influence on 
either. On the one side, bis recantations could not 
repress the indignation of the fanatic partisans of 
Popery. They felt the injury he had done them, and 
never forgave it. The monks poitfed forth abuse on 
him from their pulpits. They called him a second 
Ludan, — a fox that bad laid waste the vineyard of the 
Lortl. A doctor of Constance had the portrait of Eras- 
mus hung up in his study, that be might spit in his face 
as often as he pleased. 

And, on the other hand, Erasmus, forsaking the 
standard of the Gospel, found himself deprived of the 
affection and esteem of the noblest men of his age, and 
had doubtless to suffer the loss of those heavenly con- 
solations which God ahcds into the hearts of those who 
act as good soldiers of Christ. 

The enemies of Erasmus went a little beyond the 
truth when they said, on the appearance of Luther, 
'* Erasmus laid the egg, and Luther has hatched it." 



Bt thb Rev. John Forbes, D.D., 

MinUier of Si. Paul's Parish^ Ghugow. 

•* Whether therefore ye eat or drink, or whatsoever ye 
do, do all to the glory of God. "---I Cor. x. 31. 

TnAT God created man originally for his own 
glgr^', is evident from Scripture } bQ formed him 

in his own image, and impressed upon him his 
likeness ; and bid man continued to retain the 
original perfection of his nature, he would have 
now constituted the brightest and the most glo* 
rions work of the yisible universe, — a centre of 
manifold excellencies, in whom we would have 
rejoiced to trace, inu^^ forth, as in a pure and 
unbroken mirror, the manifold perfections of the 
supreme and ever blessed Creator. But the gold 
became dim, and the fine gold has been changed, 
and, lost to a sense of his own proper dignity and 
end, sunk in ignorance, misled oy passion, deaf to 
reason, dead to religion, and not unfrequently 
stained even with the deepest crimes, we discover 
few or no traces, in fallen man, of those excel- 
lencies which adorned him in a state of innocence, 
and fitted him, more than all the other parts of 
creation, to represent the glory of the unsearchable 
God, of whom, in wisdom, righteousness, moral 
purity, and happiness, he constituted on earth the 
bright counterpart, and interesting similitude. 

To restore man to the rank from which he has 
fallen, — ^to refit him for serving the exalted end 
for which he was originally made, — to renew him 
according to the divine image, is the grand object 
proposed by the Gospel dispensation. For this 
purpose did the Saviour descend from heaven, 
adopt our nature, present us in his life with an 
example of unspotted righteousness, die for our 
justification, provide for us the communicatioQ of 
the Holy Spu'it and his sanctifying influence, and 
supply us with those divine promises, which are 
fitted to induce us to renounce the bondage of sin 
and temptation for ever, and to purify ourselves 
even as he is pure. We have all sinned and come 
short of the glory of God ; we have frustrated the 
end for which we received existence; our fiital 
apostasy has at once both corrupted our nature, 
and involved us in sin's destructive and abominable 
courses ; but we are called to repentance, we are 
presented with the free offer of grace and sdvation, 
we are directed to show forth the praises of Him 
who has mercifully called us out of darkness into 
marvellous light, and to become, both in point (^ 
rank and of character, the children of God without 
rebuke, in the midst of a sinful and corrupt genera- 
tion. Corresponding to the unparalleled greatness 
of that change, which is effected through the Gos- 
pel, upon the state and character of those who 
receive it, is the purity and extent of those duties 
which are prescribed for their performance. Are 
they, for instance, the heirs of a blessed and glo- 
rious immortality, — have they a rest provided for 
them in the kingdom of heaven ? we find them, 
in consequence of this, exhorted to walk by fiuth 
and not by sight, — ^to set their affections upon 
things above, and not upon things that are npoa 
the earth ; and even, whilst they are in the world, 
to manifest, that they are not of the world, by 
the spirituality of their minds, their superiority to 
sin and temptation, and the uniform devotedness of 
their lives to the cause of Christ. And again, is it 
their high and glorious privilege to be the children 
of Ggd,-^tb^ Qbjept9 pf iiifait^ Iqy^ imd CQai"» 



placency to their Father in hearen, — the trophies 
of a Saviour's pnrchasey-^eirs of God, and joint 
heirs with Christ Jesus ? how applicahle to uiem, 
in consideration of the distinguished mercj to 
which thej are debtors, are such precepts as that 
delivered in the text ; ** Whether therefore ye eat 
or drink, or whatsoever ye do^ do all to the glorj 
of God/' 

In farther illustrating this subject, we propose 
to consider, Jirst, the nature, and, secondly, the 
obligation, of the sacred duty implied in doing all 
things to the glory of God. 

To live to an end, is what reason evidently re- 
quires ; for nothing can be more abject, nothing 
more culpable, even in the view of common wis- 
dom, than for a human being to spend his exist- 
ence without an aim, a purpose, or a plan, in a state 
of endless trifling, inconstancy, and vacillation. 
We see nothing in heaven or on earth made in 
vain; all have a place to fill, and an end to 
serve in the scheme of creation and providence ; 
and surely man cannot be regarded as forming any 
exception to this general principle, constituted as 
he is with an intelligent and moral nature, which 
qualifies him to distinguish good firom evil, and to 
feel the responsibility under which he lies, con- 
nected with the course he may adopt, and the end 
he may pursue. 

It is not more the part of reason to incline ns 
to follow some end, than it is that of religion to 
induce us to fix, for this purpose, upon the gloxr 
of God, and to constitute it the grand aim which 
we propose to ourselves to attain, as the crowning 
and terminating scope and object of our existence. 
That his will may be accomplidied in us, and his 
honour served W us, that we may be governed by 
his grace, and found to his praise, — that he may 
have cause to say of us, in the presence of his holy 
angels, and of an assembled umverse, ^ Well done, 
good and faithful servants, enter ye into the joy of 
your Lord," is an end, in comparison with which, 
any other that the mind, in the endless fertility of 
its schemes of life, can ever form or conceive, must 
be infinitely unworthy. Is not vanity and vexation 
of spirit written upon all those pursuits and labours, 
to which the love of pleasure, avarice, ambition, 
the desire of fame, and other principles of a simi- 
lar nature, incline and prompt their votaries ? The 
records of the past proclaim in every line the fu- 
gitive nature of all terrestrial glory, and the unsatis- 
factoiy scope of any course of exertion which pur- 
sues the fleeting phantoms of terrestrial bliss, as its 
tdtimste and exclusive object of attraction. When 
the merchant visits the site of ancient Tyre, and 
sees the nets of the fisherman spread on the lonely 
rocks of the sea, where her palaces once stood, and 
all the glory of that commercial opulence which 
formed the astonishment and envy of the world, 
was formerly displayed ; when the statesman, the 
prince, and ti^e soldier, visit the renowned scenes 
of ancient achievement, where battles were fought 
and kingdoms won, and all the glory of armies 
were collected together, and thinks bow the whole 
of the magnificence which ones filled these dis- 

tinguished places has been long buried in death, 
and the victor and the vanquished have equally 
disappeared from the knowledge of the great mass 
of mankind, in the course of a few generations, and 
their name is only to be found in the annals of 
neglected history; when the votaries of fictthion 
and festivity reflect how their predecessors, who 
once filled the gay assemblies of former days, have 
been consumed as by the moth, and have withered 
away, with all their beauty and all their accomplish- 
ments, how are they warned from glorying in the 
attainment of any portion so transient and perish- 
ing as this worla can present, and urged to pursue 
a higher end as the scope of their lives, and own 
the authority of religion while she counsels them 
with infinite wisdom, and a merciful concern for 
their eternal well-being, to live to the glory of 

To rest in any object short of God, and to ac- 
quiesce in it as our portion, is to constitute it an 
idol, and to give to it the glory which is alone due 
to the Supreme Creator. Seeing, in a world 
where this sin is so prevailing, we are in danger 
of being less deeply aflected with a sense of its 
guilt and infatuation, than a due regard to its na- 
ture and consequences would necessarily inspire : 
therefore it is that nothing can be more ne- 
oessary than to proclaim the high and inalienable 
right of God, to the supreme lova, oonfidenoe, and 
allegiance of his creatures ; and the awful conse- 
quences which must arise from failing to render 
to Him that glory, which is pre-eounently and 
peculiarly due to his great name. Upon this 
■oconnt we now proceed to observe, that to lire 
to the glory of God, implies, that you deTontly 
recognize and acknowledge Km, as the Supreme 
Creator and Possessor of the universe, of whom, 
and to whom, and through whom, are all things, 
who has made all things for his own glory, and 
who daims &e reverratial regard and the un- 
limited submission of all his creatures, to his holy 
will. From the nature of rational beings, such as 
men and angels, it is evident, that God can only 
be glorified in their actions, in so far as he is 
glorified in their minds. The various parts of the 
material universe, tibe stars which roll their courees 
in compliance with the beautiful laws which regu- 
late the mechanism of the solar system — ^the ele- 
ments and the seasons, which maintain their due 
order in the system of Providence ; all the objects, 
in shorty with which we are conversant in material 
nature, sufficiently declare the glory of God, when 
they serve the end and fill the plaee for which 
they have been wisely made and exquisitely adiq^t- 
ed. But man cannot serve the glory of God, 
unless he reverence and worship him in his soul — 
unless he recognize his right to the highest afifec- 
tion and love of his mind — and unless he feel a 
cheerful vrillingness and alacrity to devote his 
person, his talents, and his services, to any end 
for which he may at any time choose to require 
them. Before, however, this can ever effectually 
take place, it is evident that a great and most de- 
sirable relative change must be produced, between 



fte force of nataral denrp, and that of the religi- 
ons principle ; and that the former must be no 
lett abited and enbdned, tiian the latter is brought 
forwaid and promoted. Thev that are after the 
fleab do mind the things of the flesh, and they 
who are after the Spirit the things of the Spirit. 
Though God be the legitimate, the world is the 
sctoai niler and sorereign, with all who are child- 
ren of disobedience. It is very evident, and will 
he disputed by no one, that that indiridual cannot 
live to the dirine glory, whose actions contrarene 
tiie divine will — ^who liyes to the gratification of 
wicked and sinful affections and desires — who 
abuses his gifts and talents to the service of cor- 
ruption — and who prostitutes his nature to bane- 
fnland willed ends. But eren when none of 
thes^ things can be charged, there may be an en- 
tire failure in regard to living to the glory of God. 
An atheistic selfishness ma^, and often does, com- 
bine itself with much that is morally right and be- 
coming. Inasmuch as Tirtue confers more hap- 
piness than vice, conduces to reputation, exempts 
from many sorrows and evils, it may be cultivated 
and followed as an object of selfish interest and 
advantage. It is not the mere man of virtue, 
then, who lives to the glory of God. He may be 
only a lover of himself: and ail his temperance 
in food, and all his integrity in matters of busi- 
ness, and all his well-governed intercourse with 
his feUow-men, the restraint he imposes upon his 
passions, and the cordiality with which he devotes 
himsdf to acts of urbanity and kindness, may be 
hot a sacrifice to his interest, or to his good name, 
which has no relation whatever to the will, the 
authority, or the glory of God. 

But we obeerve more particulariy, that to live 
to the glory of God, implies that we cherish the 
|mncif4es of Christianity in our hearts, and exhi- 
bit their sanetifying influence, in a consistent and 
decided manner, in our lives, in a present evil 
worid. For it is evident that nothing can be 
more for tiie glory of God, than to be what he 
would have tis to be ; which can only take place, 
when we receive and obey his word, as it is 
nvsslsd and set before us in the Gospel. The 
pMiitsnt giorifies Gk>d, by repentance and fiuth in 
the Lord Jeans Christ ; the converted and estab- 
Ittbed Christian, by abounding with a holy fruit- 
fohiesB in works of faith and labours of lore ; the 
sfflicted, by cultivating a spirit of resignation un- 
der their triids, and seekii^ that the -divine deal- 
ings with ^btm may all be sanctified ; the dying, 
hy a willing surrender of themselves into the 
Ittnds of thdr Redeemer, a serene and confident 
hope in the divine mercy, and a readiness to de- 
part and be witii Christ, which is far better ; and 
^ in short, by advancing in themselves and 
<^thers the purposes of divine grace, and the conn- 
ids of the divine will. 

That they who receive Christ, glorify (Jod, is 
a direct and inevitable consequence of the very 
object forwhidi die Saviour was revealed; which 
was to promote the divine glory upon the earth, 
hy the r sde i ap iion and sdvation of sinners. And 

every individual, therefore, who receives Christ 
in faith ; who humbles himself in a spirit of con- 
scious guilt at the foot of the cross ; and who ac- 
cepts of salvation as the transcendent gift of free 
and undeserved grace, is in a peculiar manner 
serving this end. He glorifies God by every tear 
of contrition which he sheds ; by erery admiring 
and gracious view which he receives of divine 
love ; by every resolution which he is led to form, 
to live no more to himself, but to Him who loved 
him, and gave himself for him; and by every 
movement of grateful obedience to which he is 
drawn by the power of the truth. A thoroughly 
Christian and pious spirit descends from above, 
and is therefore pre-eminently calculated to mani- 
fest the divine glory. Accordingly, our Lord said 
to his disciples, " Let your light so shine before 
men, that others, seeing yonr good fruits, may 
glorify your Father who is in heaven." And 
again, (John xv. 7,) " If ye abide in me, and my 
words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will, and 
it shall be done unto you. Herein is my Father 
glorified, that ye bring forth much fruit." 

To live for the glory of God ; in other words, 
so as to advance it in others, depends, in an es- 
sential degree, upon living to the glory of God 
ourselves : and yet there is a distinction between 
the two ; so that the latter does not invariably, 
or in a uniform degree, lead to the former. We 
have to do vrith what constitutes our duty, and 
with God remains the result. With us are the 
elements, with him the combinations of events. 
Men produce actions, he forms systems. When 
Abraham, for instance, oflfered up his son Isaac, 
he could not perhaps conceive the full extent to 
which he was then glorifying God ; how his piety 
and fiaithful submission to the divine will were to 
afiPord to the latest generations a theme of praise 
and admiration ; in what manner he was to 
strengthen and encourage, by his example, the 
afflicted people of (Jod, when overtaken by trial 
and bereavement ; or how he was to typify the 
work of atonement which was already formed in 
the counsels of heaven before the world began. In 
like manner, when the poor widow threw her mite 
into the treasury as she passed into the temple, 
she knew not that an Omniscient Spectator was 
distinguishing her liberality, and that a divine elo- 
quence was celebrating its praises in terms tba^ 
should be circulated to the most distant lan(^, 
and read to the latest ages. Perhaps a full know- 
ledge of the degree to which our actions c0itri- 
buted to advance the glory of God, would serve 
to impair the purity of their motive, as nuch as 
it could foster the zeal of performing iAem. It 
might inspire a spirit of vain-glory and presump- 
tion to feel that we were doing sometldng towards 
advancing an end so sacred and important. 

Accordingly, this leads us fartl^r to observe, 
that to live to the glory of Go4 implies that we 
commit to him whoUy the dispo^tion and arrange- 
ment of our lives, and are pr^ared to submit to 
any state and to any circumstances which may 
serve to advance the establis&ment of his purposed; 



.and to promote the furtherance of his will. This 
evinces a devont and holy conTiction that all his 
dispensations are infinitely wise and excellent, and 
that he is worthy to preside over the affidrs of the 
nniverse, and the concerns of ns and of all his 
creatures, with unlimited and unouestioned autho- 
rity. Contentment, patience, resi§;nation, and sub- 
mission, are, in an eminent degree, the character- 
istics of a mind disposed to live to the diyine glory, 
whereas dissatisfaction, repining, envying, and 
fretfulness, betray, no less clearly, the perverse 
workings of a spirit of unholy selfishness, and un- 
broken pride. It is God's to appoint, it is ours 
to obey. He has a right to do with his own as 
seemeth to him good. It is ours, in every situa- 
tion, to acquiesce in his holy dispensations, and to 
say, with a shout of unfeigned adoration and praise, 
'< blessed be the name of the Lord." It may be 
for the glory of God to place us in circumstances 
which are distasteful to our natural feelings, and 
which we may be disposed to view as little accord- 
ant with a benevolent and gracious purpose. Our 
labours may be seemingly useless, our means and 
opportunities of doing good unduly hmited and 
restricted ; we may have difiSculties and discour- 
agements allotted to us from which others are ex- 
empted, and every thing connected with our state 
may look adverse and forbidding. But let it be 
remembered that, when on grounds such as these 
you may be ready to say, with a patriarch, *' All 
things are against me," it may be that God is only 
preparing for you the enjoyment of deliverance, 
and the communication of blessings which will 
cause you to rejoice with a more abundant admira- 
tion and gratitude. He brings light out of dark- 
ness, order out of confusion, and good out of evil, 
and, in the end, he will make it appear that, '< as 
high as the heavens are above the earth, so high 
are his ways above our ways, and his thoughts 
above our thoughts." 

But, in fine, we live to the glory of God, when 
we regulate our actions and our thoughts by the 
standard of his Word, as well in the less as in the 
more important concerns and affairs of life, and 
when we study to enjoy his divine approbation in 
all that we do. Ot all the motives which can 
govern man, the purest and the most perfect is 
that which arises from a knowledge of his relation 
to the omnipresent Jehovah, as the present wit- 
less, and the future judge, of his life ; in whose 
book of remembrance every action, and every 
thoight is recorded ; and by whom he shall have 
his (Tate distinguished and his character declared 
on the great day of account before an assembled 
universt« Other motives, such as a love of reputa- 
tion, and a regard to temporal interests, may pro- 
duce a pardal and deceptive, but this will neces- 
sarily give me to a spintual, permanency and com- 
prehensive ctnformity to the divine will. The 
Jaw of the Lorl is periect, both in itself and in its 
effect, in its intrnsic principles, and in its opera- 
tion upon every h^art that comes under its power. 
To act aright on great occasions, or when par- 
ticular exigencies imy cril for it| mi repd^r it 

necessary, is an effort of which almost all voea, 
who are not utterly demoralized in their natures, 
can show themselves capable. They will behav^e 
with seriousness and decorum, for instance, in re- 
gard to religious duties, in the church, however 
unmindful of them they may be in their closets, or 
however far their hearts may be from being right 
in the sight of God. They will refrain from thoae 
darker crimes which outrage and disturb society, 
and draw down a sentence of condemnation from 
a human judgment-seat upon their perpetrators, 
whatever freedom they may take with the divine 
law, in so far as it forbids intemperance in the use 
of meats or drinks, or other sins, which are more of 
a private and personal, than of a public and general 
nature. But when the grace of God operates upon 
the heart of an individual, it renders him dkrefnl 
against offending in small any more than in great, 
— ^in secret any more than in open and flagrant 
cases. Every one is familiar with an observation 
which has often been made, with regard to the 
contrasting, in material productions, between the 
perfection and inconceivable minuteness and ac- 
curacy of the divine workmanship, and the rugged 
coarseness betrayed by the finest operations of 
human art or manufacture. A blade, the more 
closely it is examined, shows a texture incompar- 
ably regular and beautiful, so that the minute lines 
are seen to be finished with the nicest accuracy ; 
whereas a piece of cloth, however seemingly 
beautiful and smooth, betrays, on a microscopic 
investigation of its nature, a remarkable mggeduess 
and inequality. Now, in like manner, as we dis- 
cern the glory of God in the care and precision 
with which he works in the world of matter, we 
may also distinguish it by the fulness and com- 
pleteness with which he proceeds in the work of 
conversion, in renewing and purifying the human 
soul. No duty wiU seem too small or trivial to 
be discharged, and no sin too light or unimportant 
to be avoided, by those who have the fear of God in 
their hearts as their ruling and directing principle, 
and who have resolved to honour its sacred authority. 
They will assign to religion no hmited or partial 
constraint ; but, knowing its universal appUcation, 
will carry it into their affain and concerns, do- 
mestic and public, personal and relative, and sub- 
mit the moderation of their table, the modesty c^ 
their apparel, the adjustment of their household 
affairs, their manners, their language, their de- 
meanour, their desires, and, in short, every thing 
relating to them, to its government and authority. 
We read of those whose god is their beUy» and 
who mind earthly things ; but the Christian will 
show his moderation in all things, and will eat to 
live, and not, like the beasts that perish, live to 
eat. He will guard against every sinful excess, 
and avoid the vortex of dissipation, luxury, and 
prodigality with habitual care and self-deniaL 
There is, indeed, a false austerity, a punctilious 
scrupulosity, and a gloomy superetition, which he 
will carefully avoid. We are to see and acknow*' 
ledge the goodness of God in all our blessings, 
mi enjoy with gratitude th^ pr^cio^^ bonnti^ qf 



Lis proTidoioe* The disciples, as you read in 
the Acts of the Apostles, " continuing daily with 
one accord in the temple, and breaking bread from 
house to house, did eat their meat with gladness 
and singleness of heart, praising God, and having 
favour with all the people." Our Saviour coun- 
tenanced, on many occasions, the hospitable board, 
to which he was invited, and there delivered some 
of his most interesting and impressive instruc- 
tions. We are not then called upon by the Gospel 
to enter upon a system of ascetic austerity and 
gloom, for there is a thankfulness, contentment, 
and cheerlubess congenial with pure religion, 
which has a moral beauty, that seems, in no ordi- 
nary d^jee, to show forth the glory of God. But 
the prevailing tendency is not towards the ex- 
treme of austerity, but towards that of volup- 
tuousness, and sensuality, and excess. Every 
irreligious age has also been one of carnal gratifi- 
cation. Such is described to be a particular 
feature of the character of the world in the days 
of Noe, and such also will it be at the coming of 
the Son of man. Faith and religion will almost 
be exdngnished, but luxury, and pride, and volup- 
tuousness will everywhere prevail 

But this leads us to consider shortly, in conclu- 
sion, the obligation of the precept in the text. That 
we ought to make the will of God our rule, and 
his glory the end of our existence, is evident from 
every consideration that we can enter into in re- 
gard to his nature, perfections, and other attributes. 
He is our Creator, from whom we have received 
existence, and to whom we are indebted for its 
continued preservation, and nothing can be more 
just, nothing more obligatory, than to employ our 
existence in accordance with the design for which 
he has been pleased to confer it. Wherever we 
direct our thoughts, we are surrounded with wit- 
nesses, which invite and encourage us to join with 
them in giving glory to God. The angels who 
fill the courts of heaven, and worship with lowly 
reverence before the eternal throne, who are ready 
to fulfil each high behest of their Almighty King, 
with cordial alacrity and joy, who start back from 
no duty committed to them as too mean for them 
to perform, and from no service as too arduous, 
present us with an example of duteous compliance 
with the divine will, which we cannot admire too 
highly, nor imitate too closely. But even within 
the precincts of the visible creation, — ^in the steady 
and constant revolution of the starry heavens, 
ever circling their courses with majestic regu- 
larity and harmony, — ^in the beautiful adjustment 
and government of every thing connected with 
the various elements of nature, — in the sea, re- 
straining itself within its bounds at the Creator^s 
will, — in the earth, blossoming in spring, and 
bearing its fruits in autumn, — in the sweet inter- 
change of day and night, and in the various 
ordinances which diffuse order and happiness 
throughout creation, we see multiplied invitations 
held forth to us to live to the glory of God. What 
bleasedness, what dignity, what excellence would 
pervade and characterise human society, if the 

will of God were duly reverenced and his glory^ 
desired! We should then no more see those 
wretched scenes of dissipation and intemperance 
which disgrace our race, — ^immortal and rational 
beings drowning their reason, and sacrificing their 
happiness at the shrine of a brutal intoxication ; 
wretched families involved in poverty, and se- 
duced to crime, by the unnatural sensuality of 
cruel and selfish parents ; and every higher inte- 
rest and finer affection outraged and violated, in a 
degraded pursuit of pernicious and destructive 

But we farther perceive the obligation to live 
to the glory of God, when we carry forward our 
anticipations to a future state, and estimate the 
connection between so doing and securing our 
salvation in the eternal world. A traveller will 
be short and temperate in his meals, and will sub- 
ordinate every thing connected with them to the 
prosecution of his journey, and would deem it 
madness to go out of his way, or delay his pro- 
gress for the mere gratification of an ignoble 
appetite. And shall immortal beings allofW them* 
selves, without infinite g^ilt and dishonour, to 
grovel in sensual pursuits and indulgences, to in- 
dulge those carnal lusts which war against the 
soul, and sacrifice their eternal well-being for the* 
enjoyment of the fugitive pleasures of time and 
sense? How did Esau mourn when he calmly 
reflected upon the consequences which he had 
entailed upon himself in selling his birthright for 
a morsel of meat ! How did he seek, even with 
tears, to undo his rash act and debasing choice I 
But who shall describe the woe of a lost soul, on 
seeing itself undone by the sensual pursuit of 
earthly gratification, when it shall be cast forth 
into the pit of everlasting torment ! Be exhorted, 
then, not to spend your precious time in making 
provision for the flesh to fulfil the lusts thereof 
« for they that sow to the flesh, shall of the flesh 
reap corruption." ** For all that is in the world, 
the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and 
the pride of Ufe, is not of the Father, but is of 
the world. And the world passeth away, and the 
lust thereof: but he that doeth the will of God 
abideth for ever.** Amen. 


In a letter received from M. dc Prctnense, the Bible 
Society's Agent in Paris, dated August 9, 1838, he 
communicates the following pleasing fact received from 
a Colporteur, or hawker : — 

" Having entered a shop," writes the Colporteiu-, 
" for the purpose of ofiering a New Testament for 
sale, I found an old man, upwards of eighty years of 
age, who, after listening for some time to the account 
which I gave of the opposition I had experienced on 
the part of the Vicar, told me that he was not at all 
surprised at it, being long aware that the Clergy were 
opposed to the dissemination of the Holy Scriptures. 
In the course of our conversation, the old man quoted 
a number of passages out of the Old Testament, which 
proved to me that he was not unacquainted with the 
Bible. I questioned him on the subject, when he 
stated, in reply, that he had only read the Old Testa* 



meaU of vrbich ha powsued a oopf i but tin* lie bad 
Clever been so fertuxiate aa to see the New ; which he 
was however rery anziouB to do. ' Well then,' said 
it * you have a fine opportunity at present, for I can 
let you have a New Testament at a very low price.' 
' ThMX may be,' replied he, * but, alas I it is long sfaice 
I have ceased to work, — I earn nothing,— and, in truth, 
I have no property whatever ; so that I am without the 
means of purchasuig one ; sdll I am delijg[hted at the 
thought that there are Societies of Christians whose 
object it is to circulate the Scriptures. Perhaps there 
may be some copies of the New Testament in that 
part of the town where I live ; and if so, I shall be 
able to borrow one, for the purpose of reading it ; for 
God has been so meroiful to me as to enable me still 
to read without spectacles. ' But pray come,' continued 
the old man, ' pray come along with me, and read a 
few passages to me and my wife ; it will do us both 
good/ Accordingly I followed hhn to his dwelling, 
and there read several passages from the New Testa- 
ment, which I accompanied with a few remacki. The 
old man, on his part also, made very pertinent obser- 
vations on what he heard ; which convinced me that 
he was a person of much intelligence. As he expressed 
a desire to read for himself, I placed the book in his 
hands. He ran throu^ several passages ; occasionally 
lifting up' his eyes, and seemingly lost in thought. At 
length, ha exclaimed, ' What a misfortune that I did 
not know this sacred volume sooner I The daya of my 
pilgrimage are already numbered; and I am on the 
brink of the grave 1 ' — ' Still, it is not \qo late,' said I, 
' since the ALnighty has been pleased to preserve you 
in health, and to enable you to read without the use 
of spectacles.' ' True, — ^very true,' replied he ; ' and I 
am grateful to Wm for all hia mercies 1 ' — * Well then,' 
added I, ' see if you cannot purchase a New Testa- 
ment.' The poor man seemed deeply moved,-^a tear 
rolled down his furrowed cheek, — and at last he stam- 
mered out, < I cannot, — I cannot ; for I am not pos- 
sessed of a penny in aQ the woiid ! ' * Oh, if that be 
really the case,' returned I, * then let me entreat you 
to keep the book which you now hold in your hands ; 
for I will make yoa a present of it.' No sooner had I 
uttered these words, than he lifted up both hands, in 
token of his gratitude ; and I was so touched by his 
whole manner that I could scarcely refrain from uniting 
with him in weeping for joy. In the sequel, he told 
me that he had long separated from the Church of 
Rome, without ever having had the good fortune to 
become acquainted with a Protestant Christian i but 
that since that had fallen to his lot^ he could die con* 
tent. After having some ^rther conversation, I com- 
mended him to God ; and bade adieu to him and to his 
wife, who was as aged as himself. He thanked me afresh, 
expressing the wannest<wishes for the extension of the 
kingdom of God on earthy andmoro eipedally in France." 


7%B Valley of the Shadow of Death.>^Beiweeu the 
part of the flock on earth and that which is gone to 
heaven, death lies like a dark valley that must be passed 
in going from one to the other.-. But even in this de- 
lineation of the deepest distress, there are words that 
lessen the terror. Let us consider them as affording 
enooniBging illosttations. It is but the shadow of 
death ; the shadow of a serpent will not sting, nor the 
shadow of sword kilL It b the voHey of the shadow, 
deep^ indeed, and dark and miij ; but valleys are often 
fruitfu]« and ao b death itself fruitful of comforts to 
God's people. It b a walk through it; thej shall not 
be kat in thb valley, but get safe to the mountain on 
the other side, ^ould his soul draw nigh to the grave, 
and the aorrowe of death compass him about^ and he b 
vpoft tht brink and borden of eternity, he ih^uM b« 

learbia of evil, and ang, '* O death, whrn k thj 
sting ? O grave, where b thy victory ? "— Goanwiiteiry 
Jrom Htmy aad ScotL 

Pott triala to be remmebered^-^The remenrybfance of 
our past troubles, and of the imoreeaiooi which th^y pro- 
duced, should recal to our minds what we then intended 
to do, and what we have forgotten to do. Let ua 
turn over the book of our lives : we are fond of read- 
ing many hookas bntno book next to the Bible will do 
us so much good as reading the hiatory of the dbpen- 
sations of providence in our own particular caaea. 
" Thou shadt remember all the way which the Lord 
thy God hath led thee, to prove thee and to Imow 
what was in thy heart." Let us particularly dwell on 
the pages of distress, and on the special deliverancea 
affi)rded us: these are to be gratefully remembered.— 





Tbb intimate friendship which had for leveral years 
previous subsbted between Bfrs Hawkea and BCr and 
Ura Cedl, rendered her residence under their roof re- 
markably pleasant. The enjoyment of Christian society 
and intercourse was heightened by contrast with the 
carnality and chilling worldliness to whidi she had been 
exposed in die house of her husband. Still the feeling 
of dependence was painfol to her generous spirit, and 
she was often harassed with the thought, that she was, 
perhaps, putting the family of her kind and hospitable 
friend to serious inconvenience. For some time she 
dierished the hope that, amid the wreck of her worldly 
fortunes, the house at Holloway might be preserved. 
But, at length, even this expectation was disappointed. 
The house, with every thing belonging to it, was sold, 
and Mrs Hawkes was thrown upon the generosity of 
Mr Cecil, not only in a state of complete poverty, but 
without a home. Uer private fortune was absorbed in 
the general fund, and, not having been settled upon her 
by a marriage-contract, was seized by the creditors. 
The state of extreme destitution, however, to which 
she yns now reduced only rendered her a more welcome 
guest in the house of her pastor ; and, during the six 
happy years which she spent with the fiunily, she em- 
braced every opportunity of assisting Mrs Gedl in the 
management of her large fiunily. 

It waa in October 1796 that Mra Hawkea waa re- 
ceived into the family of her affectionate pastor, aad, 
in the July following, she went to Portamouth, where 
Mr Hawkes had some opening prospects. While there 
she waa seized with a severe illneae, and she had also • 
narrow escape from being drowned while bathii^. Of 
thb btter event she gives the following aeoonat in her 
diary :.» 

** Portsmouth, July I7» 1797— By the specbl provi- 
denoe of God, I waa Una day deUvared from tha very jawa 
ofdaath. A sudden movement of the bathiog-nachiae* 
tiirew me violently down the steps into thf sea. The 
machine was drawn very swiftly up the beach, while 
the waves carried me some vny further into the sea. 
I expected to be soon bunched into the wide ocean. 
When most wonderfully, I know not how, I foH myself 
drifted by the waves bade again ; and Candag on my 
handa and knees, I ocpl towards the shon. Bittaano 
asaitance waa near, I every moment expected a ratwa- 
ing \f ave to 9Yr«ep me away for eyer, Jn thb lituation. 



icfiady * Lord nfe me I ' and to bis saving help it alone 
beloaga, that I am alire at this moment^ to record his 
wonderfiil deliyeianoe. 

** The aitendanCSy though wishing to put the best 
&ce upon the afEur, seemed involuntarily to assure me 
they had given me up for lost I and my kind friend M. 
M., in the midst of her distress, never more expecting 
to see me, save as a corpse, began to say to herself, 
eoDcemii^ ae, ' now her troubles are all over 1 ' 

*' But a wise and oTerruIing providence had other- 
wise determined ; and only presented death to my view, 
irithout giving me into its power. I am deeply im- 
preamd with tiiis truth, that there is but a step between 
life and death, and that true wisdom conaiita in stand- 
ing at all times prepared for the awful change. The 
voioe of this deliverance is, (and oh, may I have ears to 
hear I) ' Let your loins be girded about, and your limits 
bumxBg.' Luke zii. 34-43; also Psalm czzi. seems 
particiilarly appropriate : and as the Lord hath so won- 
derfiill/ preserved my going out and coming in, I trust 
he will for Brer watch over his unworthy creature for 

In the beginnmg of October Mrs Hawkes left Porta- 
mooth and joined Mrs Gedl at Battersea Rise, where 
she enjojred pleasant retirement. During her residence 
with her pastor's family she generally passed a part of 
the aumaser either in the Isle of Wight, where Mr 
Hawfces oceasioaaUy resided, or with Mrs Jones at 
Birmiagharo. Unwilling to be entirely dependent upon 
her friends and relatives, she was desirous of undertak- 
ing some employment. At one time she thought of 
opening a boarcBng-school, but the difficulties were 
such as to prevent her from following out her plans. 
And it was soon apparent that it had been in great 
kindness that Providence detained her ia the house of 
Mr Cecil, for, in the winter of 1796, when that eminent 
nunifiter of Christ was laid on a bed of sickness, she 
was enabled to wait upon him with unremitting atten- 
tion, and thus to relieve the mind of Mrs Cecil, who 
was herself in a state of great weakness. The feelings 
of Mrs Hawkes, on this distressing occasion, are thus 
briefly stated in a latter to a firiend t~^ 

** Sinre my return to town, I have been a sad wit- 
ness and aharer of mueh sorrow. Our revesed minister, 
and my truest friend, has been pronounced, by the phy- 
aidaBS, daagcroudy ill ; and we have bad nothing but 
death before our eyes. You will easily conceive the 
gloom such an event must shed here, and of the distress 
of dearest Mrs Cecil. Such a scene I never before 
witnessed 1 I think myself much honoured and pri- 
Trilqsed, in bemg permitted to assist at this time of n^d, 
end Itroat I shall gain many important lessons. A sick 
and dying-bed, is very instructive and solemn; and it 
ezhiUta moat wonderfolly the reality and worth of true 
religion. To behold a mind quiet, resigned, and com- 
forted, in the most painful drcumstances, is a fiqe sight 1 
Well might Balsam say, ' Let me die the death of the 
riahteooa.* And may you and 1 add, let me live their 
life, for it is the only happy one." 

The fllness of Mr Cedl lasted about three months, 
at the end of which it pleased God to raaee him up 
agaia, and to eaable him to resone hie paUie minisCra- 
tiona. In fMo course of a abort time efter, the heeith 
of Mrs Hawkes, which had been long delicate, begaa to 
he seoaasl V aflbetedi and the iAtemal tufflfOur heflEUi to 
msnifeat rUtHi under which she laboured for thirty 
yean. Prom this period we find in her diary frequent 
refereaeee te her bodily sufiecings. Thiia,^*. 

"Nov. 1799,— Ifyill health and depressed qdrits 
make me « burden to myself and all about nc. It is 

in such sufferings as these that I long to hide myself 
and my complaints in obscurity. If I had more faith, 
I should be more patient, and content, and thankful, in 
every place, and especially in thu. that I might be 
called to that only home, where sin, sickness, or sorrow 
shall never enter 1 

" Dec. 3, 1799, Little James Street._My sufferings 
of body are very peculiar and threatening. While I 
appear in health, I am undergoing the aharpest pain% 
often unknown to any but myseUl These sufferings^ 
sad to say, make me peevish and impatient Surely no 
where in this world shall I find fnende that will endure 
and overlook such manifold and manifest fiiults, as my 
beloved ones here ; so true do I find it that love ' bear« 
eth all things.' Instead of the reproof I merit, I meet 
pity and tender aympathy. How merciful is my ap» 

And, some time afier» when she was seized with 
alarming symptoms, end hed peaaed the summer of 1801 
under severe sufiSsringt and constant medical attendance^ 
we find her remarking,*— 

«* Little James Street, Septal have gmie through 
sufib a process as I never expected 1 My sorrows are 
very bitter, — yet I dare not repine. I know that my 
mercies are far greater than I aeserve, and though my 
trials are sharp, I am not the oidy one that has passed 
through the same. Oh for fidth and patience to hold 
out to the end I I would bear in nund, that aa my 
medical friend kindly attends to mark, and, if possible^ 
to mitigate, my disease, — so I have One who has also a 
process to carry on, in order to bring about a mightj 
work ; even that of preparing a poor sinner for a hea- 
venly inheritance. I desire to commit myself entirelv 
to Him who doeth all things welL There is enoogn 
in Rev. xzL 3, 4, to comfort me under alL" 

The protracted nature of her disease rendered the 
sensitive nund of Mrs Hawkes apprehensive lest she 
should be burdensome to Mr Cecil's fiuniiy, and besides 
as the family were under the necessity of spending four 
or five months of the year at a distance from town, her 
sister, Mrs Jones, came to London widi the view of 
making some arrangements for the permanent accom- 
modation of her sister. These were at length effected, 
and Mrs Hawkes was removed, in September 1802, to 
the house of Mr Collyer, a pious member of Mr Cecirs 
congregation, who had married her niece. The feelings 
of Mrs Cedl on this, to her, trymg feparation* are thus 
expressed in a ktter which she wrote to Mrs Hawkes i^ 

*■ I confess to you, my dearest sister, and beloved 
friend, there is but one rich gift I covet, and that b, 
that yon might be thrown into my lot, to live and die 
with me and mine. This would be no impovertshing 
circumstance ; I could only view it as a certain increase 
of my own and my children a inheritance. I have some- 
tones thought tiiis might be ; and then I have seen why 
I had a house large enough to receive you, as well as a 
heart fully ready to meet this favour. And I have 
thought, also, that even were I taken away, I should 
leave you among my children, as their guardian and 

" I most cordially thank you for your letter ; I can- 
not express how much pleasure it afforded me. i 
scribble a line now, and for my apparent neglect, have 
one plea which I hope will be accepted, namely, bavin;? 
had eighteen in family for some days past. Ahl I 
never have so many as not to regret that I have not 
one amrs / One, whose society has afforded me mor j 
real pleaaure than all other I ever enjoyed. 

<' I am grieved to hear« both from yourself and otherfi, 
of the increase of your pain. Yon have need to look 
to a better country, where pain, and sorrow, and sigh- 
iog Am Awgr-^as I know you dot Nerertheless, I am 



aware how delicate a recipient of sympathy you are, and 
I feel a sad regret that I am unable now to render you 
more than sympathy ; for I am not content to offer you 
only that which you must receive from every common 

As Mrs Hawkes was tried in the fiirnace, it is quite 
evident, in perusing her diary, that she underwent a 
gradual process of purification of heart. The clouds of 
darkness and unbelief disappear, and fidth and hope are 
in lively exercise. Her former painful depression of 
mind gives way to a cheerful acquiescence in the divine 
will. She was now constantly confined to her sick- 
chamber, but, by her edifying conversation, she was 
made useful lo many who came to visit her, and, by her 
correspondence, she stimulated and encouraged many 
who had no opportunity of enjoying the privilege of her 
company. In the year 1804, her disease appears to have 
increased so much in intensity, that she thenceforth dis- 
continued her regular diary, and only occasionally gave 
expression to her feelingH, probably at intervals of ease, 
on separate scraps of paper. She was very rarely able 
to attend public ordinances, and when she did attend, 
she could only be conveyed to church on an elastic 
cushion pUced between the seats of a hackney coach ; 
and the paroxyms of her pain frequently prevented her 
from remaining until the service had closed. She en- 
tered fully, however, into the feelings of the Psalmist 
when he said, ** How amiable are thy tabernacles, O 
Lord God of hosts I " and therefore, as often as her 
health permitted, she was carried to the sanctuary that 
she might meet with her heavenly Father in the courts 
of his own house. In the beginning of 1808 Mrs 
Hawkes was deeply distressed by the melancholy tidings 
that her revered minister had been suddenly seized 
with a paralytic affection. On this subject she ex- 
presses herself in the foUo\nng Unguage :— 

March 2, 1808. This melancholy day confirms the 

fears and sorrowful apprehensions which have, for 
months past, pervaded my mind. I, and numy others, 
have marked, with anguish of heart not to be expressed, 
my honoured minister's rapid approach to the sad crisis 
at which he is now arrived; probably never again to 
re-ascend that eminence on which he has so long stood ! 
Yesterday evening, he felt a paralytic affection of his 
right hand ; and after going to bed, the use of his whole 
right side was taken away, and his speech rendered very 

*< I have long expected this solemn event, and have 
endeavoured to prepare my mind to meet it But on 
the sight of my dear minister this day, I found how 
little my feelings could be prepared to meet so afliictive 
a circumstance. Language can never describe my sen- 
sations on seeing that grand temple, which I had known 
in all its glory, so de£eu:ed, so injured I Oh, what is man 
in his very best estate 1 Alas for his widowed church ! 
Alas, for his bereaved family ! Ahis, for my own irre- 
parable loss I • My fiither, my father I ' Weeping is now 
my meat and drink ! *' 

And, in reference to the same point, Mrs Jones re- 
marks: — 

«« I must confess, this world never appeared to me 
such a waste, howling wilderness,— such a vale of tears, 

gg gince I have entered into the sorrows of that man 

of God I What shall we say to these things ? but that 
they are too deep for us ; we cannot know them ; we 
must be dumb because of our ignorance. Herbert 
•ays,— . 

But wht thSi wottktol thjMlf. <»«»;>« <S«»*ot N^ 
TTteouch all evenU of thiniit at ««U at Hc«' 

" But who can realize this in the days of darknefts ? 
or in other words, who can believe that God's dispen* 
sations are dispensations of love to his children ! At 
least I have gained this painful knowledge, that my faith 
is small — very small indeed." 

This good man lingered till 1810, when he was cut 
off by an attack of apoplexy ; and a short time after 
the melancholy event Mrs Hawkes went to stay a few 
weeks with Mrs Cecil at Hampstead. While there 
she writes, — 

•« Belle-vue, Hampstead, Sept. 1810 * My father, 

my father, the chariot of Israel and the horsemen there- 
of 1 " • • a voice. ' * he is gone ! 
But to me also a voice. I would follow him as my 
example, and devote every future moment to the great 
work of preparation for a dying hour. Death came 
here, and seized the captive in an instant : so may I 
expect him to come to me. * Be ye also ready.' My 
valued and honoured father bad but one inquiry, — 
' what is most needfid for a dying man ? ' Everything 
else was, by him, deemed impertinent. If he was re- 
quested to lay aside his books, and rest his poring eyes, 
and relax his weary mind, his reply was, * Why talk of 
relaxation to a dying creature ? ' If it were not from 
stupidity, forgetfiilness, and in&tuation, every human 
being would feel the same. It is only because death 
and eternity are not realized as near, (though for aught 
we know, death is this moment coming over the thresh- 
old,) that we can turn aside to amusement, or any 
triflmg pursuit whatever ; for how does it all appear to 
us, when entering the valley and shadow of death! 
• Verily altogether vanity.'*' 

** I am now ready to say, I shall never any more 
look to any creature for consolation. Painful expe- 
rience has taught me the vanity of every earthly prop ; 
and henceforth my expectation is only from my Sa- 
viour. To this my heart fidly consents in it^ best 
raoment<% ; I am well assured that this b the only way 
of peace and comfort, and that many of my corrows 
have arisen from leaning on an arm of flesh. As far 
as I know, I say sincerely, I no longer desire any human 
arm to rest upon. And yet I often detect a depression 
of spirits, when I reflect, such and such a friend, who 
used kindly to visit me, and seem interested for me, is 
withdrawn, and I am left solitary and desolate. How 
inconsistent is this ! How deceitful is the heart 1 How 
far from being really, and indeed weaned from every 
creature, even when we fiincy it so." 

Nine years had elapsed since Mrs Hawkes went to 
reside with her niece in Constitution Row ; and it is 
probable she would have remained with her, had she 
not received the very tempting offer of a vacant par- 
sonage-house at Betchworth, near Dorking, in Surrey, 
belonging to her much valued friend, the Rev. Dr 
Fearon. At first she indulged the hope that she would 
enjoy the retirement, but her health, instead of im- 
proving, suffered from the change, and she was under 
the necessity of returning to London. Through the 
winter she had been exposed to damp, which occa- 
sioned a serious inflammation of the eyes, as well as a 
severe rheumatic pain in the fiioe. In these circum- 
stances, she returned to town by the advice of her 
fBeods in the spring of 1812.. 

Published by Joan Jobnitorb, S, Hunter Square, E^nburgh ; 
J. R. Maonaik, & Co., la, GliMfbcd Street, Glaagow; Jambi Niibbt 
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W. CORRT, Junior, & Co., Dublin; and W. M*Comb, Belftat ; and 
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I . — Reaaon and Revelation. By the Editor, Page 

2— Tbe Labours of the Rev. John Berridgc, Vicar of Everton, 
3. — On the Desecration of the Lord's Day by the Running of 

tbe Royal Mail, 

4.— Arecdotc of tbe late Rev. Dr Balfour, of Glasgow. By 

tbe Rev. John Thomson, 


5 — A Discourse. By the Rev. John Paul, page 56 

6.-<Restitution of Human Nature. By the Rev. J. Eadaile 

D.D. CondMded, ' g| 

7.— Biographical Sketch. ACrsHawkes. Part Fourth. By the 

Editor, ' ^ ^ ^ 52 

8— Christian Queen of Clovla the Frank, ....... .... . \ . .... ! .' 64 



Thebe » no pointwhich it is of greater importance 
to keep constantly in view, in all oar inquiries 
into matters of religion, than the precise line 
of distinction which separates the province of 
reason from that of revelation. The two are 
constantly in danger of being confounded, more 
especially by those who have been educated in a 
professedly Christian country, and under the in- 
daence, perhaps imperceptible, which a knowledge 
of divine truth, however superficial, exercises over 
all our opinions and judgments. So liable, indeed, 
are we to be modified in our sentiments by the 
peculiar circumstances amid which we are placed, 
that it is often difficult, if not impossible, to state 
from what precise source any particular opinion 
has been derived. Hence it not un frequently 
happens, that we attribute to the pure native 
operations of reason, sentiments which we have 
acquired only in consequence of our acquaintance 
with the truths of revealed religion ; and con- 
versely also we sometimes imagine that the per- 
verse deductions of our own unassisted reason are 
sanctioned by, or perhaps originate in, the dictates 
of inspiration. Of these two classes of errors, 
though the latter is attended with the worst prac- 
tical consequences, the former is the more subtile 
and imperceptible in its influence. We have 
formed many of our religious opinions directly 
from our knowledge of revealed truth, and yet so 
familiar have we become with them, and so deeply 
convinced of their reality, that we are in danger of 
confounding them with the plainest and simplest 
deductions of human reason. They bear upon 
our minds with the force of independent axioms, 
until at length we conclude them to have reached 
us in consequence of the primary operations of our 
own minds. It is more difficult than is often 
imagined to separate between the conviction arising 
from our belief in the doctrines of Scripture, and the 
conviction arising from the simple exercise of our 
No. 4, Jan. 26, 1839.-^1 H] 

minds upon the evidence in favour of that truth of 
which we are become convinced. Thus, the doctrine 
of the immortality of the soul is taught clearly in 
the pages of revelation, but it is also alleged to be 
ascertainable by the exercise of unassisted reason. 
Now, in reference to all those who have been 
familiar from infancy with the statements of the 
Bible, tihe difficulty is to calculate what amount of 
conviction, as to the soul's immortality, they have 
drawn from the one source, and what from the 
other. Do they believe the doctrine because na- 
ture has taught them to believe it, or is it not 
rather because the Bible has taught them ? The 
proofs which have passed before the minds of the 
heathen unenlightened by the Gospel, have, with 
at least equal force, pressed themselves upon the 
attention of those who are blessed with the light 
of revelation ; they have learned much upon the 
subject, no doubt, from the dictates of nature, but 
how much more have they learned from the les- 
sons of Scripture ! The danger lies in their con- 
founding the teaching of the one with the teaching 
of the other ; in attributing to reason what they 
have received solely from revelation ; and, on the 
other hand, in endeavouring to make revelation 
responsible for what are purely and entirely the 
perverse judgments of unaided reason. In a sound 
condition of our intellectual and moral powers, 
reason «nd revelation must always be at one ; but 
we are too prone to exalt the former at the ex- 
pense of the latter. To keep the province of the 
one separate and distinct from the province of the 
other, is in fact one of the most difficult, but never- 
theless one of the most important lessons which 
the theological student is called upon to learn. 
It is to ignorance and recklessness on this one 
point, that we would be inclined to attribute the 
greater part of the heresies which have distracted 
the Christian Church. 

We have been endowed by our Creator with 
[Second Series. Vol I. 



reason for the most valuable and necessary ends ; 
bnt these ends, in reference to theology, are too 
little regarded* The Socinian entertoins^the most 
vague and extravagant views i^ to the illimitable 
extent to which reason can go, while the enthusiast, 
on the other hand, restricts it within too narrow 
bounds ; and one of the most necessary points, we 
conceive, in the logical training of the speculative 
inquirer in theology, is to enable him to ascertain 
the precise and definite limits which bound the 
province within which the exercise of human rea- 
son must be strictly confined. As long as we 
investigate the evidence on which the truth of re- 
Telation rests, all is well ; and even after having 
ascertained that there is sufficient evidence to 
prove that the alleged revelation has indeed come 
from Gody reason may legitimately inquire what 
is the precise meaning of its contents, and the re- 
lative bearing of its* parts upon each other, or, in 
other words, what is usually termed the analogy 
of faith. Here, however, we have reached the 
point at which reason must pause, and revelation 
assume the sole and undivided supremacy. The 
truth of the individual doctrines is founded not on 
fheir reasonableness, though that may be admitted 
as an additional evidence in their favour, but solely 
on the authority of Him from whom we have 
ascertained the revelation to have come. It is 
not necessary, as the Socinian would argue, that 
what the Bible teaches should be proved to be 
consistent with reason; this were to make the 
reason of man, feeble though it be, the arbiter and 
judge in matters which, from their very nature, 
must be regarded as beyond the limits of human in- 
vestigation. Revelation presupposes man to be 
ignorant of those truths which it unfolds, and shall 
he notwithstanding dare to exalt reason so extra- 
vagantly as to imagine it, in point of fact, superior 
in authority to the dictates of inspiration ? No, 
by no means. It is in condescension to the feeble- 
ness and inadequacy of human reason, that a 
revelation has been imparted at all, and ever recol- 
lecting that what we do not understand is far from 
being, on that account, necessarily untrue, let us 
bow implicitly to the simple statements of that 
Being whose ^ understanding is infinite.' 

No little injury has been done to the cause of 
Cliristianity by the extravagant adulators of human 
reason. Under the delusive idea, that by depriv- 
ing the religion of the Bible of all that ws^pecuUar, 
and by endeavouring to reduce it to a perfect con- 
sistency and harmony with what are imagined 
to be die necessary truths taught by nature, they 
have furnished the infidel with powerful, and 
we fear too effective, weapons, wherewith to de- 
stroy the whole Christian system. The result, 
accordingly, has been such as might have been 
anticipated. Bolingbroke, Tindal, Collins, and 
manv others of the same school, have directed their 
whole efforts to show that there is nothing in 
Christianity which was not previously revealed to 
Q8 in the religion of nature ; and if any mysteries 
are recorded, they are merely resolvable into the 
figurative phraseology in which the author wrote; 

or into subsequent corruptions and interpolations 
of the record itself. Thus it is, that under the 
guise of friendship have the deadliest blows been 
struck at all (hat is vital in tbe Christianity of the 
Bible ; and that, too, arising from no other cause 
than the injudicious conduct of its real friends. 
It is not in Germany alone that this spirit of 
rationalism has been diffusing its withering influ- 
ence ; in Britain, also, has such a spirit been gra- 
dually gaining ground. The consistency of revela- 
tion with reason is, no doubt, when properly con- 
ducted, a powerful argument in its favour ; but 
there is a point in the argument beyond which we 
dare not go, and the exact position of which, it is 
absolutely necessary for us previously to ascertain. 
It was an investigation of this kind that gave rise 
to one of the most valuable works on mental 
science that has ever appeared — the immortal essay 
of Locke on the Human Understanding. " Were 
it fair to trouble thee with the history of this essay," 
says the author in his Epistle to the reader, '^ I 
should tell thee, that five or six friends meeting at 
my chamber, and discoursing on a subject very 
remote from this, found themselves quickly at a 
stand, by the difficulties that rose on every side. 
After we had a while puzzled ourselves, without 
coming any nearer a resolution of those doubts 
which perplexed us, it came into my thoughts 
that we took a wrong course, and that before we 
set ourselves upon inquiries of that nature, it was 
necessary to examine our own abilities, and see 
what object our understandings were or were not 
fitted to deal with." It were well for the cause of 
Christianity, and well for the cause of science in 
general, that the example of Locke were more 
frequently followed, and the fact rendered familiar 
to our minds, that there is a point where reason 
ends, and implicit faith in revelation must begin. 
The human mind has not previously discovered 
all that the Bible unfolds to us, otherwise what 
necessity for the Bible at all ? If, then, there be 
truths peculiar to the Christian system, there is 
no necessity for the slightest anxiety on the part 
of the defenders of Christianity to reconcile any 
apparent inconsistency between these peculiar 
Christian truths and the principles of reason. A 
strong presumptive argument, it is true, may be 
founded on the fact which, in most instances, can 
be shown by analogy, that what is peculiar ia 
Christianity is not cotitrary to reason. Such an 
argument, however, can never amount to more 
than a presumption in its favour ; and though it 
may be powerful enough to silence the cavils of 
objectors, it adds little to the direct force of the 
Christian evidence. 

The essential and primary elements of all reli- 
gious truth may be learned by the pure efforts of 
reason unaided by revelation, and all revealed reli- 
gion, in fact, proceeds on the existence of that 
class of truths which is included under the term 
Natural Religion. But to assert this, is just tanta- 
mount to the assertion that the Scriptures are 
accommodated to the nature of the beings to whom 
they are addressed. This is not all; however^ 



diat may be said in reference to their value. They 
state, no doubt, what is addressed to our reason, 
and what proceeds on the supposition that there 
are some truths which unassisted reason has dis- 
coTered ; but they do more, for they state, and in 
this their peculiar excellence consists, many truths 
which the reason of man hath not discovered, and 
by its most strenuous and sustained exertions never 
could discover. And the danger is, that in defer- 
ence to a certain class of sceptics and unbelievers, 
these pectUiarities of the Christian system should 
either be entirely overlooked, or attempted to be 
so modified as to suit the caprice of those who, 
while they profess an adherence to the doctrines of 
revelation, are all the while still more devoted ad- 
mirers of human reason. All systems of religion, 
even the most degrading, are founded to some 
extent on natural religion, or, in other words, on 
tho^e religious sentiments and feelings which are 
inherent in the constitution of every mind. But 
from these Christianity stands separate and apart ; 
and the exhibition of Us peculiarities, as contradis- 
tinguished from every other system of religious doc- 
trine, forms a most important branch of the Chris- 
tian evidences. This argument skilfully conducted 
would tend to destroy the force of the infidel 
maxim which is too often assumed as the shibbo- 
leth of a self-styled liberal party — that all religions 
are alike. The counterfeit, we admit, may resem- 
ble the true coin in one point — that they are both 
of them cainsj but in every other point they are 
diametrically opposed. Between truth and false- 
hood in the eyes of God there is and must ever be 
a great gnlph fixed ; and though man may im- 
piously dare to approximate the two^ and even to 
mistake the one for the other, the eye of Omni- 
science discerns between them an inconceivable, 
an infinite distance* A false religion, whether 
recorded in the Koran of the Mahometan, or the 
Shaster of the Brahmin, may contain many truths 
which in themselves are far from unimportant, but 
the fact that it is t^faUe in opposition to the true 
religion, is enoug^h to render its services, however 
scrQpuk>asly observed, unacceptable in the sight of 
Him who is << jast and true in all his ways," as 
well as " holy in all his works." 




ftam the * History of Revivals of Religion.' By the AuUior of 
ttie ' Memoir of l^e Rev. M. Bruen.' 

Tii£ Rev. John Berridge, who was bom at Kingston 
is 1716, liad reached bia thirty-nioth year before he 
came to entertaia any dear views of the peculiar doc- 
trines of the Gospel. He bad ** lived proudly on faith 
and worlu for aalvation," aa be himself stated in the 
quaint and characteristic Insciiption which be prepared 
for his own tombstone, till the year 1754 ; and preached, 
as oigbt be expected, with no visible effect, at Staple- 
ford, oear Cambridge, for several years. It was not, 
however, till three years after bis first awakening, that 
iiu beart was fully interested in divine truth. He had 
tlien been for a full year Vicar of Everton, where he 

began to preach repentance and faith in the Lord Jesus 
Christ with fear and trembling. After be bad preached 
for some time in bis new way, be began to pause and 
consider whether be was right, not having seen any 
particular effects from his discourses. While ruminat- 
ing on this subject, however, one of bis parishioners 
came to inquire for him. When she was introduced, 
** Well, Sarah," said he : she replied, ** Well I— not ao 
well, I fear."—" Wby, what is the matter, Sarah ?"— 
" I do not know what ia the matter ; but by those new 
sermons, I find we are all to be lost now. I can nei- 
ther eat, drink, nor sleep ; I do not know what is to 
become of me.** Here is an interesting era in the life 
of a bearer of good tidings. The first token of awaken- 
ing among bia bearers from the death of treapasses and 
sins — the first consciouaneas of want or of holy fear« 
With what anxiety must the faithful pastor, who looks 
for the work of the Spirit, watch for auch a token of 
quickening into life 1 With what fresh courage and seal 
muat be go on to repeat bia offera of salvation, — how 
much more frequent and hopeful will be bia prayers I 
Mr Berridge was surrounded by those who were not 
taught aa he was, and from the peculiarity of his opi- 
nions and experience, be might have questioned bis 
understanding of Scripture. But in the same week 
with poor Sarah came two or three more, on a like 
errand, which so confirmed him in the truth, that be 
resolved from that time to know nothing but Jesua 
Christ, and him crucified. Having changed bia prin- 
ciples and manner of preaching, be destroyed his old 
sermons. All things became new to him. He was 
led soon afterwards, by a casual circumstance, to ven- 
ture for the first time to preach extempore. His stock 
of new compositions being small, when be was asked 
to preach what was termed a club sermon* in hia neigh- 
bourhood, and finding that several of bis own people 
would follow bim there, before whom he was reluctant 
to repeat a recent discourse, be was drawn to adven- 
ture this unwonted achievement in the presence of 
many of the clergy. After struggling with embarrass- 
ment in the beginning, he was enabled to overcome it, 
and spoke with ao much freedom that he was greatly 
encouraged; and from that time felt a liberty and 
readiness in preaching which proved of the greatest 
service to bis ministrations in after life. He was sur- 
rounded by a wide district, in which be perceived that 
the gospel, as he had now received it, was neither 
preached nor understood. He pitied the darkness 
which so univeraally prevailed, and felt constrained to 
devote himself to the service of bis Divine Master in a 
wider field than the bounds of hia own parish presented. 
He waa well aware, not only of the bodily labour which 
the functions of an itinerating preacher would entail on 
bim, but also of the obloquy and persecution which 
would attend a practice so contrary to the rules of the 
Established Church. But he was impelled by a sense 
of duty too powerful to be controlled by worldly mo- 
tives ; and, having counted the cost, he took his reaiv 
lution piously, atrenuously, and perseveringly. Where- 
ever he found an opportunity for spreading the light of 
the Gospel, he did not hesitate to present himself; and 
where churches were not accessible to him, he address- 
ed hia hearers in dwelling-houses, in barns, or in the 
open air. 

• A Sermon before a Meeting of the Clergy. 



The counties of Cambridge, Essex, Hertford, Bed- 
ford, and Huntingdon, were the principal scenes of bis 
labours, and in this circuit he preached, on an average, 
from ten to twelve sermons a-week, and not unfre- 
quently rode on horseback a hundred miles. He 
rented places for worship, maintained lay preachers, 
and travelled at his own expense, — charges which his 
fortune, inherited from his father, and Ms income, from 
his preferment, enabled him to bear. He spent his 
ample fortune, indeed, in the service of religion ; and 
his resources were so exhausted in his old age, that his 
friend Mr Romaine preached a sermon in his behalf, in 
which he interceded " for the support of two preach- 
ers and their horses, and several local preachers, and 
for the rents of several bams in which they preached." 
Those among whom he scattered the seed of the word 
were chiefly a poor population of husbandmen, who 
lived truly by the sweat of their brow. This may 
serve to explain why they were unable to do much in 
supporting the gospel among themselves. 

This was a method of conveying religious truth which 
had been rendered at that period common by the sue 
cess of Whitefield and Wesley. It was peculiarly ap- 
propriate to the necessities of England at the time, the 
parishes being occupied by beneficed clergymen, many 
of them pluralists, who were strangers to evangelical 
truth. Mr Venn seems to have been, for a long time, 
the only enlightened pastor within the acquaintance of 
Berridge, if we except Mr Hicka of Wrestlingworth, 
his neighbour, who was among the first fruits of his 
itinerating labours, and became a very useful man, and 
a companion vrith him in his religious travels. It was 
not till the year after he began to itinerate, that Mr 
Berridge was led to preach in the open air. He says in 
a letter, ** On Monday se'ennight Mr Hicks accompa- 
nied me to Meldred. On the way we called at a &rm- 
house. After dinner I went into the yard, and seeing 
near a hundred and fifty people, I called for a table, 
and preached for the fixst time in the open air. We 
then went to Meldred, where I preached in a field to 
about four thousand people. In the morning at five, 
Mr Hicks preached in the same field to about one 
thousand. Here the presence of the Lord was won- 
derfully among us ; and I trust, beside many that were 
slightly wounded, near thirty received heartfelt con- 

It is evident that there must have been a great ex- 
citement in the country, when four thousand people 
were so easily assembled on the evening of a working 
day in a not very populous campaign district, and one 
thousand so very early as five in the morning. His 
numerous itinerants went out from him with such 
apostolic instructions as these, — " Never preach in 
working hours ; that would raise a clamour. Where 
you preach at night, preach also in the morning ; but 
be not longer than an hour in the whole morning ser- 
vice, and conclude before six. Morning preaching will 
show whether the evening took effect, by raising them 
up early to hear. 

" Expect plain fiure and plain lodging where you 
preach, yet perhaps better than your Master had. Suf- 
fer no treau to be made for you, but live as your host 
usually lives, else he may grow weary of entertaining 
you ; and go not from house to house. If you dare to 
be 9ealoa9 for th« U)vi of Hosts, expect persecution 

and threats; but heed them not Bind the Lord*a 
word to your heart. The promise is doubled for your 
encouragement The chief blocks in your way will be 
the prudent Peter*8, who will beg, entreat, and beseech 
you to avoid irregularity. Give them the same an- 
swer that Christ gave Peter, * they savour of the 
things which be of men.' — Heed them not. 

" When you preach at night, go to bed at soon as 
possible, that the family be not kept up, and that you 
may rise early. When breakfiist and morning family 
prayers are over, go away directly, that the house 
may be at liberty. If you would do work for the 
Lord, as you seem designed, you must venture for 
the Lord. The Christian's motto is — Trust and 
go forward, though the sea is before you. Do then 
as Paul did, — give up thyself to the Lord ; work and 
confer not with flesh and blood, and the Lord be v^th 

These instructions, which are copied from a letter to 
one of his subordinates, were to regulate their man- 
ners ; and with regard to the matter of their preach- 
ings, we find such as the following : — 

*' When you state your commission, begin with lay- 
ing open the innumerable corruptions of the hearts of 
your audience ; Moses will lend you a knife which may 
be often whetted at his grindstone. Lay open the 
universal sinfulness of nature, — the darkness of the 
mind, — the frowardness of the will, — the fretfulness of 
the temper, and the earthliness and sensuality of the 
affections. Speak of the evil of sin in its nature — its 
rebellion against God as our sovereign — ingratitude to 
God as our benefactor — and contempt both of his 
authority and love. Declare the evil of sin In its 
effects — bringing on all our sickness, pains and sorrows 
— all the evils we feel, and all the evils we lear — all 
inundations, and fires, and famines, and pestilences — 
all brawls, and quarrels, and fightings, and wars, with 
death to close these present sorrows, and hell after- 
wards to receive all that die in sin. 

" Lay open the spirituality of the law, and its ex- 
tent, reaching to every thought, word, and action, and 
declaring every transgression (whether of omission or 
commission) deserving of death. Declare man's utter 
helplessness to change his nature, or to make his peace. 
Pardon and holiness must come from the Saviour. Ac- 
quaint them vrith the searching eye of God, watching 
us continually, spying out every thought, word, and 
action, noting them down in the book of his remem- 
brance, and bringing every secret thing into judgment, 
whether it be good or evil. 

" When your hearers are deeply affected with these 
things, preach Christ Lay open the Saviour's almighty 
power, to soften the hard heart, and give it repent- 
ance — ^to bring pardon to the broken heart, a spirit of 
prayer to the prayerless heart, holiness to the filthy 
heart, and faith to the unbelieving heart. Let them 
know, that all the treasures of grace are lodged in Jesus 
Christ, for the use of the poor needy sinner, and that 
he is full of love as well as power — turns no beggar 
from his gate, but receives all comers kindly — Cloves to 
bless them, and bestows all his blessings tithe-free. 
Farmers and country people chop at that. Here you 
must wave the Gospel flag, and magnify the Saviour 
supremely. Speak it plainly, that his blood can wash 
away the foulest sins, and his grace subdue the 



stoutest corniptioitf. Exbort the people to seek his 
grace, to seek it directly, seek it diligently, seek it con- 
stantly; and acquaint them, that all who thus seek 
shall assuredly find the salvation of God/* Of his own 
preaching, it has been said, that '* when he explained 
the nature, end, and use of the law, he was very awful 
and affecting. " '* And now," to adopt his own words, 
" I dealt with my hearers in a very different manner 
from what I used to do. I told them very plainly, 
that ihey were the children of wrath, and under the 
curse of Grod, though they knew it not, and that none 
but Jeaus Christ could deliver them from that curse. 
I told them, if they had ever broken the law of God 
once in thought, word, or deed, no future good beha- 
viour could make any atonement for past miscarriages. 
For, if I keep all God's laws to-day, this is no amends 
for breaking them yesterday ; if I behave peaceably to 
my neighbour this day, it is no satisfaction for having 
broken his head yesterday. So that, if once a sinner, 
notluDg but the blood of Jesus can deanse me from sin." 
Jesus was a name on which he dwelt with peculiar 
emphasis and delight. With what melting affection 
W)(Hitd he extol the bleeding Lamlil How would his 
eyes stream when he pointed to His agonizing suffer- 
ings I How would they sparkle when he displayed the 
exceeding riches of His grace I And what a reverential 
graodenr marked his countenance, when he anticipated 
His glorious appearing t 

** Nor was he less attentive to the gracious influence 
of the Holy Spirit in the application of redemption. 
No minister could with more judgment detect the hu- 
man heart in all its subtile machinations, or with 
greater accuracy describe progressive religion in the 
souL Communion with God was what he much en- 
forced in the latter stages of his ministry. It was, in- 
deed, his own meat and drink, and the banquet from 
which he never appeared to rise." 

We have taken pains to collect these short notices, 
which are all that can be now obtained, of his method 
of preaching, that those who desire like precious fruits 
may go and do likewise. 

" As to his usefulness, we learn from more sources 
of inforniation than one, that he was in the first year 
visited by a thousand persons under serious impres- 
sons ; and it has been computed that, under his own 
and the joint ministry of Mr Hicks, about four thou- 
sand were awakened to a concern for their souls in the 
space of twelve months. Incredible as tlus history of 
his success may appear, it comes authenticated through 
a channel so highly respectable, that to refuse our be- 
lief would be unpardonably illiberal. 

" This work was at first accompanied with bodily 
convulsions, and other external effects, on some of the 
hearers, very unaccountable to us; a circumstance, 
however, not altogether unusual when God begins to 
sound a general alarm in the consciences of men, as 
appesrs from what took place in New England, Scot- 
land, North Wales, and other countries. But those 
effecU soon subsided, as did these, and the interests of 
religion were promoted more quietly and gradually. 

** As his labours were prosperous, so they were op- 
yosedi It could not be grateful to the prince of dark- 
ness to behold his kingdom so warmly attacked, and 
bis subjects in such numbers deserting his standard. 
Heooe he stirred up all his strength, and a furious per- 

secution ensued. No opposition was too violent — ^no 
names were too opprobrious— no treatment was too 
barbarous. Some of his followers were roughly hand- 
led, and their property destroyed. Gentry, clergy, 
and magistrates became one band, and employed every 
engine to check his progress, and to prevent him from 
preaching. * The old devil ' was the only name by which 
he was distinguished among them between twenty and 
thirty years. But none of these things moved him ; 
he had counted the cost. The clamours of the multi- 
tude had no more effect upon his mind, in the regular 
discharge of his duty, than the barking of the cur has 
on the moon in her imperial revolutions. Vengeance 
was not his. The only revenge he sought was their 
salvation ; and when they needed any good office, his 
hand was the first to render it." 

«* He lored the world that hated him ; the tear 

He dropt upon his Bible was sincere. 

Assailed by scandal, and the tongue of strife. 

His onljr answer was a blameless life. 

And he that forged, and he that threw the dart. 

Had each a brother's interest In his heart/'— Cowpbb. 

He was indeed a man of extraordinary benevolence 
— his ear, his heart, his purse were ever open to hear 
the tale of pity, to sympathize, and to relieve. On the 
Sabbath his congregation was collected from various 
parishes, and considerable distances. He had always 
a stable or field for their horses, and a cold collation 
for strangers. In itinerating, so far from being a bur- 
den to the poor, they were generally gainers by his 
visits in a pecuniary way. Besides the expenditure of 
all his income, even his family plate >vas melted to 
support itinerant preaching. 

Above all his other virtues, he wore the garment of 
humility, and his language was remarkable for simpli- 
dty and spirituality, accompanied with a natural vein 
of wit and pleasantry. He was himself what he called 
his friend Rowland Hill, *' a Comet." In an exten- 
sive and eccentric orbit he was found shining and pro* 
dudng a lively sensation, then passing away, yet re 
turning again at his appointed time, with the same 
brilliancy and the same impression as before. 




It seems almost to be taken for granted, that the dese- 
cration of the Lord's day, by the running of the Royal 
Mail, and the delivery of letters and parcels connected 
therewith, are justified on grounds of public conveni- 
ence ; and so far has custom prevailed, that many now 
support and sanction the practices complained of, through 
a forgetfulness of the evils which they involve, who, 
we are assured, will also abstain from so doing, when 
reminded of their sinfulness. 

We, therefore, desire to put it to your serious con- 
sideration, whether it is right that the Mail should run, 
and letters and parcels be delivered, on the Lord's day. 
Can it be right ? Do we not thereby openly and syste- 
matically violate the command of Him who has said, 
" Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy ? " In- 
stead of a day oi holy rest to all, is it not thus made a 
day of labour to multitudes; namely, to coachmen, 
guards, book-keepers, porters, ostlers, inn-keepers, 
waiters, post- masters, letter-carriers, and others? Are 
not they thereby shut out from the privileges of the 
Lord's day, and prevented from worshipping God both 
in their families and in the congregation? Are not 
the cattle also deprived of that rest which a merciful 



Creator bM enjoined ? Are not many merchants, manu- 
facturers, bankers, aolicitora, and others, to whom let- 
ters and parcels are delivered, as well as their clerks 
and assistants, induced to attend to their worldly call- 
ings, and tempted to disregard the commandment of 
God concerning His Sabbath — **in it thou shalt not do 
any work ? *' — whilst trifling or distressing intelligence, 
contained in letters received on that day, occupy the 
thoughts of others. The newspaper is at the same 
time delivered ; and how few have religious principle 
suflicient to keep it unopened till the Monday, and 
thereby to stop up this fountain of vain thoughts and 
unprofitable discourse. 

Not only is so great an amount of individual guilt 
connected with the running of the Royal Mail, but it 
must also be regarded as a national desecration of the 
Lord's day, and roust be numbered amongst the na- 
tional sins. The conducting of the Mail fot the trans- 
mission of letters does not resemble private traffic ; for 
the latter is contrary to our laws. Private travelling 
and private trading are prohibited, however inefficiently, 
by the laws of the land ; but the management of the 
Mail is, on the contrary, a public work ; it is under the 
superintendence of a public office, constituted by public 
statutes ; and it is an important source of pubh'c profit. 
Every Utter delivered or paid for on the lAtrcT^ day u 
a national act of Sabbath trading, and as sucht w a na- 
tional breach of the fourth commandment. It may al- 
most be said, that persons connected vrith the Post- 
office are, under the authority of Parliament, instructed 
to break the commandment of Grod ; are turned aside 
from the means of grace, and deprived of every oppor- 
tunity of hearing such words as these : " For the wages 
of sin is death ; but the gift of God is eternal life, 
through Jesus Christ our Lord." This notorious ex- 
ample of national indifference to the Lord's day must 
have a most injurious effect upon all classes. Thou- 
sands will reason thus: " If the Mail travels, why may 
not coaches, carts, and all other carriages ? If letters 
and parcels are conveyed, why may we not write let- 
ters and make parceU ? If the nation trades, why may 
not individuals? In short, why may not private fami- 
lies be permitted by the law to violate openly the 
commandments of God, as freely as the great &mily of 
the State?" 

There is also something peculiarly awful in this mode 
of desecration of the Lord's day, when we consider 
that every family in the kingdom participates, either 
directly or indirectly, in this great offence, "rhe count- 
ing-house of the merchant, the chamber of the lawyer, 
the table of the private gentleman, the hand of almost 
every householder, the club-room, and the reading-room, 
display alike on Monday morning (and too frequently 
even during the Lord*s day,) the produce of the Sabbath 

Those who have been long accustomed, without a 
thought, to make use of the Sabbath Mail, may be 
tempted to suggest great difficulties in the way of sus- 
pending it ; but they may rest assured that the difficul- 
ties are only imaginary, and not real. No real disad- 
vantage can ever arise to nations from a holy keeping 
of that rest which the Most High, who " ruleth in the 
kingdom of men," has ordained. He himself has de- 
clared, " Righteousness exalteth a nation, but sin is a 
^reproach to any people." Pro v. xiv. 34. He also has 
said, " The wicked shall be turned into hell, and all 
the nations that forget God." Psalm ix. 17. But we 
have remarkable proofo before our eyes, that no incon- 
venience actually arises, but rather comfort and bless- 
ing, from suspending the operations of the Post-office 
on the Lord's day. Consider the example of London, 
that great commercial city of the earth. Thanks be 
to God, no letter is received or sent forth on the Lord's 
day within her streets. She thus pauses in her com- 
merce; pauses, according to the will of God; and. 

doubtless, she finds a blessing more than equal to her 
consistency. Can any rational baing doubt, that the 
same rule would be equally beneficial to the nation at 

There is at present, all through the country, one day 
in every week when no letter is received from London, 
and one day on which none is sent to London ; but, 
with shame be it spoken, neither of these days is the 
Lord's day : whereas, if the running of the Mail were 
suspended during the twenty-four hours of the Lord's 
day, there would still be but one blank day, and that^ 
to the glory of God, would be the Lord's day. Let 
the managers of the Post-office arrange, that the Mail 
shall reach some convenient town, where it may rest, 
a reasonable time before twelve o'clock on Saturday 
night ; let it resume its journey after twelve at night 
of the Lord's day, at sud^ a time that no work be done 
on that day ; and it will arrive at the several towns on 
those days which are now the blank days ; while in 
London the delivery and departure of letters will re- 
main unchanged. 

The following scale will explain the matter more 

fully, as far as Edinburgh it concerned. 

TkaMaUvokkkleame WmOd reach 

London an Edinburgh on 

Monday Wednesday. '% 

Tunday Thuriday. f Je ai 

WediMtdsy, FiWay. C pfewemi, 

ThuradAj, Saturday. J 

iHd.,. iy«sS »-»*"■ 

Satutday, Tuoday. 

There would then be but one blank day all over 
Great Britain, and that day would be the Lord's day ; 
and the whule population of this kingdom would be 
placed upon one common Christian footing. The Mail 
would depart from every place on every day of the 
week, except the Lord's day, allowing one universal 
day of rest, in which all men would enjoy an equal 
opportunity of serving the Lord, of which many are 
now deprived. 'J'hc habitd of commerce would be ra- 
pidly accommodated to this holy order ; and, after a 
itw Lord's days had passed away, men would wonder 
that they had ever opposed so godly and beneficial an 

But not only does the experience of London mani* 
fest the advantage of suspending the running of the 
Mail on the Lord's day, but already do many of the 
hirgest manufacturers and most respectable professional 
men, in various parts of the kingdom, abstain from 
employing the Post in any way during the Lord's day. 
Individuals and families have been induced to abstain 
altogether from receiving their letters on the Lord's 
day ; preferring to leave them that day in the Post- 
office» rather than follow a multitude to do eviL Other 
improvements might in many cases be adopted. Thus, 
where villages and country-houses are at a short dis- 
tance from a post-tovm, and it is usual for a person to 
go to the town daily for letters, this should be discon- 
tinued on the Lord's day, and the letters remain in the 
office till the Monday. Even when members of the 
family, or of the village, necessarily pass the Post-office 
in the course of the Lord's day, and thus no work ap- 
pears to be occasioned by their bringing the letters 
with them, yet still let them remain tUl the Monday ; 
not only for conscience' sake, but for the sake of ex. 
ample ; for the sake of doing what lies in our power 
to render the Sabbath Mail a useless incumbrance ; for 
the sake of openly protesting against it, and hastening 
the time when, through the grace of G^, an abound- 
ing faith shall produce an advanced tone of public 
morals, and the evil shall be abolished ; for the sake 
also of our neighbour, (that the post-master and his 
servants ** may rest, as well as thou.") It is even pos- 
sible, that in some post-towns a general compact might 
be entered into, with o view to keeping the offices 



dosed, and letters lindeliTered daring the Lord's day. 
The surrounding villages might be admitted into the 
compact. All nich steps arc important, not only as a 
present diminution of evil, but as going to prove the 
practicability of suppressing the Sabbath Mail, and to 
show how readily the nation would accommodate itself 
to the change. 

It IS easy to perceive how much may thus be accom- 
plished by private effort, if each man would follow the 
words of Joshua: ** As for me and my house, we will 
serve the Lord." Tet it is needful to observe, that it 
is also a peculiar feature in this evil, that the interfer- 
ence of Parliament is necessary, in order to afford a 
complete remedy to the mischief; for though we may, 
as we are bound to do, individuaUy wash our hands of 
a direct participation in the sin, it w not in the power 
of individuals absolutely to prevent the running of the 
MaiL It is therefore proper to remind all men, that 
in this country our God has invested us with rights 
and privileges, which it becomes us to use to His glory. 
Our God has given us the right and privilege to peti- 
tion our King, Lords, and Commons, on every question 
of national concern : it therefore well becomes us as 
Christians, in addition to our other efforts, to implore 
our rulers to discontinue this unholy traffic, in the guilt 
of which we feel ourselves involved, as members of the 
same common country, and as all, directly or indirectly, 
partakers of the sin. 

We, therefore, entreat all who regard the will of 
God as their rule of life, and who desire that their 
feilow-men should retain one of their highest privi- 
leges — the enjoyment of the Lord's day — ^not to seek 
to please themselves, or to look every man to his own 
convenience in this matter ; but to deny themselves, 
for Christ's sake and for the sake of their brethren, in 
this, which is, after all, hut a small matter. Let them 
tmirate the example of Nehemiah and hts companions, 
in dtsoountenaneing and preventing, by their conduct 
and re^lution, the desecration of the Sabbath, (Neh. x. 
31.) Let them manifest the same holy principle, and 
the same desire to obey the law of God, by abstaining 
from employing the Post themselves on that day, and 
by uniting with others who are similarly inclined ; and 
thuv strengthen one another's hands in the work of 
fidth, and labour which proceedeth of love. 



Bt tbc Rst. JoBir Thomson, 

I&Uiter oflhfiart, Fi/eshire. 

Db. Baifoitr was distinguished for the happy union of 
great and amiable qualities. He was a man of deep 
piety. This appeared not only in the discharge of his 
official duties, but also in his intercourse with Christian 
friends. Wherever he was, he uniformly maintained a 
deportment becoming an ambassador of Christ. Nor 
was there ought formidable or repulsive in his manners. 
On the contrary, his piety was cheerful, and he evinced 
such real kindness of heart, such warm and enlarged 
charity, that his sodety was a source of peculiar delight 
to all who were privileged to enjoy it. 

Ponessing these qualities, this highly honoured mi- 
niiter of the Gospel, when called upon to testify his 
displeasure at the conduct of transgressors, was emi- 
nently successful in tendering reproof. This is a very 
difficult, as well as a painful duty. If a rebuke be ad- 
imnistored under the influence of passion, if it be ill- 
timed, or out of place, — ^if, in short, it be given in 
cireamftances calculated to irritate, and not to humble 
and reform the offender, it is manifestly worse than 

useless. Hence the necessity of a sound judgment to 
seize upon the time and mode befitting a matter of so 
much delicacy, and also of genuine benevolence, com- 
bined with unbending fidelity, to convey to the delin- 
quent, in the most effective manner, a just sense of the 
enormity of his crime. In those requisites Dr Balfour 
excelled. He was truly a judidous reprover. A few 
words from him spoke volumes. And the following 
anecdote, which I received from more than one highly 
respectable quarter, shows that his endeavours to re- 
claim heaven-daring sinners were not unavailing : 

On one occasion, when Dr and Mrs Balfour were oti 
their way home from Glasgow to Stirling, they had for 
their fellow-passengers, in the stage-coach, three gentle- 
men who were proceeding to India. Two of these 
were young lads, who had just left their native homes, 
and were about to embark in quest of wealth or of 
fame, to that sultry clime. Probably to allay the pangs 
of separation from their beloved parents and relatives, 
they, like many others in similar circumstances, allowed 
their minds to dwell on golden prospects. Dear youths I 
who would not feel interested in their condition, just 
setting out in the journey of life, heedless, perhaps, of 
the spiritual privations to which they should be sub- 
jected, and of the countless dangers to which they were 
exposed? How important is it, therefore, that ottr 
young men, ere they leave the domestic circle, be tho- 
roughly instructed in the principles of our holy faith, 
and be impressed with the conviction that the fear of 
God is the only effectual guard against the corruptions 
and allurements of a world lying in wickedness 1 Alas I 
in the present instance, it was the misfortune of these 
inexperienced youths to be placed under the protection of 
one who, instead of acting, as he was in duty bound to do, 
the part of a father and a friend, set before them an 
example of so unhallowed a character that, if followed, 
would tend inevitably to ruin their immortal souls. 
Awful to relate ! their elder companion, the third party, 
was a profane swearer 1 This soon became manifest 
from his conversation. Ever and anon he took the 
name of God in vain. Nor did he seem to be in the 
least abashed at his oYm profanity. He gloried in his 
shame. So hardened ^vas he in sint So habituated 
was he to transgression ! 

We can easily conceive how painful it must hive 
been to the godly minister to witness such daring pro- 
fiination of that sacred name, every mention of which 
demands the most profound reverence. He saw, how- 
ever, that directly to reprove the transgressor in such a 
place would serve no good end. But to testify bis dis- 
pleasure at hiff impious conduct, t)r Balfour availed 
himself of the first opportunity of withdrawing from the 
company of the profane man, by taking a seat on the 
outside of the coach. This was a silent but a very 
expressive reproof. Nor was it altogether without ef- 
fect. A guilty conscience is always jealous. And the 
remark, addressed by the delinquent to Mrs Balfour, 
*' I suppose that is a parson ? " told that all was not at 
ease >vitbin. Happily for him who used this contemp- 
tuous term, that '* parson" was fidthful to his office, 
and therefore worthy of the unfeigned respect of all 
who value moral worth, or who have any regard for 
the highest and best interests of mankind. 

Dr Balfour felt great pity for the profane swearer, 
and also for the young trenflcmen under his charge. 



We doubt not, he lifted up his heart to God in prayer 
in tHeir behalf. But he resolved to do something more. 
It was of the utmost consequence to have a private in- 
terview with the offender, in order, if possible, to bring 
him to a sense of his perilous condition, and to prevail 
upon him to " flee from the wrath to come." According- 
ly, when they arrived at the next stage, the Doctor went 
into the inn, and requested the said violater of the divine 
law to accompany him. There, when alone, he told 
him his design in soliciting an interview. He brought 
the painful subject of his recent profanation directly and 
fully before him. He unfolded the nature of his sin, 
the heinousness of his guilt, and the tremendous conse- 
quences to which it exposed his never-dying soul. He 
appealed to the understanding, the heart, and the con- 
science of the delinquent, in a manner becoming the 
end in view. And, considering how commanding were 
his talents, and how solemn and melting the tones of 
his voice, and how influential his Christian tenderness 
and fidelity, we may well believe that nought was awant- 
ing, on his part, to render the reproof available. What 
passed between them we cannot farther particularize. 
But this much we know, that the delinquent not only 
listened attentively to what was addressed to him, but 
felt grateful for the kindness, as well as the faithfulness, 
evinced by his reprover. He was evidently affected. 
" Sir," said he, ** I feel much obliged to you for the 
delicate manner in which you have conveyed your re- 
proof. For had you reproved me in the coach, in pre- 
sence of these young men, in all probability my evil 
passions would have been roused, and I would have 
insulted you." How instructive is the fact, and how 
impressively does it remind us of the necessity of being 
*< wise as serpents and harmless as doves." 

The interview was soon brought to a close. And 
they who were, so unexpectedly, brought together on 
a subject of eternal moment, parted, who could tell if 
ever more to meet on this side of the grave ? But it 
was the Lord's will that this should not be their last 
interview. The reproved traveller, >vith his interest- 
ing charge, set out for a distant region, where, till of 
late, scarcely a ray of divine light shone on the deluded 
inhabitants. But even in that land of heathenism God 
does not leave himself without a witness. There he 
is essentially present, and there, too, hb sovereign grace 
has recently achieved many a splendid triumph. God 
has no pleasure in the death of the wicked. He fol- 
lows them with the language of tender expostulation, 
saying, *• Turn ye, turn ye, for why will ye die ? " He 
did so, in the instance under our consideration. The pro^ 
fane man who, in God's adorable providence, was 
brought, as it were accidentally, for a few moments, 
into contact with a faithful servant of Christ in Scot- 
land, was raised up, in idoh&trous India, to bear a living 
testimony to the truth that " the word of the Lord 
shall not return unto him void." His conscience was 
evidently touched. He felt the justness of the reproo£ 
He felt the overpowering tenderness that marked the 
expostulation of the Christian minister. That occur- 
rence he could not forget: wherever he went, the 
arrow of conviction stuck fiist in his inner man, and 
troubled his hours of repose. A feeling of remorse 
haunted him by night and by day. At length he was 
effectually roused to a heartfelt sense of his guilt and 
danger, in the sight of that great and holy God, who 

" is of purer eyes than to behold iniquity." And that 
Holy Spirit, who then visited him with strong and 
abiding convictions of sin, discovered to him, in due 
time, the only sure remedy, and prevailed upon him to 
cast himself as a perishing sinner on the mercy of the 
divine Redeemer, who " came to seek and to save that 
which is lost." What a wondrous change ! The proud 
blasphemer is now become a devout and affectionate 
worshipper of that God whom he had so long and so 
daringly offended ; and he who despised the blessings 
of Christ's salvation, now feels that, in comparison of 
these, every thing else sinks into utter insignificance. 
Behold, he is now " a new creature," a monument of 
sovereign mercy, ** a brand plucked from the fire." 

It is often the lot of faithful ministers not to know, 
in this world, the good effects which, through the bless- 
ing of God, result from their instructions, their reproofs 
and warnings, and their exhortations and prayers. But 
it pleased God, in the present instance, to rejoice the 
soul of his servant, by an exhibition of the fruit of 
the interview above detailed. After the lapse of se- 
veral years, a gentleman called on Dr Balfour at Glas- 
gow. Having introduced himself, and perceiving that 
the Doctor did not recognize him, he asked if he remem- 
bered the interview that took place between them on 
their way to Stirling. The Doctor presently recollected 
the occurrence. ** Well," said the stranger, *• 1 am 
the person whom you then reproved, and I am come 
now to tell you that your reproof has had the desired 
effect, and that you have been the instrument of ray 
conversion to God." O how intensely interesting the 
scene I There stood the reprover and the reproved, in 
circumstances that called for the liveliest gratitude to 
the God of all grace and consolation, both rejoicing in 
the marvellous change, and both animated by the hope 
of a blissful immortality. And, after such an example 
of usefulness, what Christian need despair ? " Let 
him know that he who converteth the sinner from the 
error of his way shall save a soul from death, and shall 
hide a multitude of sins." 



By the Rev. John Paul, 

One of the Mmttteri etf St, CtOhberVt Pariah, Edihbtargh. 

** He spake ako this parable ; A certain man had a ^^ 
tree planted in his vineyard; and he came and 
sought fruit thereon, and found none," 8tc. — Lcke 
riii. 6-10. 

The parable now read was originally delivered 
and applied by our Lord to the nation of the 
Jews. It was designed to represent, in reference 
to them> the many and pecnliar privileges which 
God had bestowed on them, the account which 
they were at last to be called upon to render of 
them, and the severe judgments which they were 
bringing on themselves, inasmuch as hitherto they 
had failed to bear and to bring forth any answer- 
able fruit. He had given to them almost every 
testimony of his regard. He had chosen them 
as his own, and ever termed and treated them 
as his peculiar people. He had prospered them 
with blessings far exceeding what they were able 



either to enntnenite or to express, and had fur- 
nished them with every ar^ment and eyery in- 
centive to use them well. He had favoured them 
with opportunities of knowing and of serving^ 
him, whidi he conferred upon no others, and he 
expected that they would walk in the steady 
course of their improvement, that their hearts 
would be so warmed and wrought upon by his 
love, as that they would strive to excel, and la- 
bour to distinguish themselves by attainments 
bearing at least some proportion to their advan- 
tages, and by degrees of spiritual perfection emi- 
nent like their gifts. But they blasted all such 
expectations, and became notorious for their abuse 
of God*s richest talents. A spirit of idleness and 
ingratitude seemed to animate the whole people, 
and though he did not allow even that at once to 
alienate his affections, but tried to melt them by 
additional exercises and expressions of his good- 
ness, yet, instead of being mollified by these, they 
became more exasperated, and the longer he at- 
tempted to soften their hearts, the harder they 
grew. In consequence of this, therefore, God 
justly determined to punish them, to call them to 
a reckoning for their continued perversion of his 
blessings, to whet his glittering sword in order to 
revenge their provocations, and to convince them 
that it was in vain to ask for fresh mercies and 
further Cavours, when they were so insensible of, 
and so ungrateful for, those they had already re- 
ceived. Upon the appearance and intercession of 
Jesns Christ, however, he afforded to them an- 
other opportunity, by a conscientious use of his 
mercies, of being received anew to the admission 
of his favour. As a last effort, he sent to them 
his Son. In spite of all the manifestations of 
their rebellion, he made a trial of them, as it were, 
another year, by the preaching and parables of 
Christ and his apostles. He assured them that 
be would endure, pass over, even forget their 
insults and indignities, if now they would but 
comply with his invitations ; and he told them, in 
language too obvious to be misunderstood, that if 
still they should continue to presume upon his 
kindness, and delude themselves with the conceit 
that their dignities and distinctions, as his chosen 
people, would protect them from the penalty of 
perverting his gifts, and secure for them the pro- 
fits and preferments of his kingdom, all their 
hopes should be struck dead at once, and their 
expectations irremediably cut off for ever. And, 
accordingly, we know that though some of the 
people were effectually gained upon, and did bring 
forth fruit, yet the gross body of the people 
remained in their impenitency, disregarded and 
even derided the tbreatenings which were de- 
noanced» did resist being either melted by indul- 
gence or subdued by authority, and abont forty 
years afterwards, tiiey were given up to the exe- 
cution of that sentence, that was not more justly 
decjneed against, than it was plainly declared to 

Bat, my brethren, the parable, though origin- 
ally applicable to the case and circumstances of 

the Jews, is not applicable to their case and to 
their circumstances alone. They were an insen- 
sible, an ungrateful, an incorrigible people. But 
are they the only people that are msensible, or 
ungrateful, or incorrigible ? The parable is in- 
tended to be of general use ; to serve a purpose 
common to all men ; to awaken the attention of 
every one of us who are blessed with so many 
mercies, necessarily requiring and highly deserv- 
ing that attention ; to excite our self-examination 
as to the activity and application that we have 
brought to them, and the personal improvement 
to which they have been turned ; and to stir us up 
to take heed that we have it impressed upon our 
minds and our memories, that to whomsoever 
much has been given, of them the more will be 

That we are favoured with many talents, is 
clear ; that we are not exempted from the care 
and charge of them, is also clear ; that we are 
bound to do nothing otherwise than in subordina- 
tion to their improvement, is just as evident a 
truth. But, my brethren, it is one thing to be- 
lieve this truth, and quite another thing to realize 
this truth. It is one thing for this truth to main- 
tain an ascendancy in the convictions of the un- 
derstanding, and quite another thing for it to be 
acted upon with all the affections of the heart. 
The improvement of the talents committed to us 
should be a matter of the greatest concernment 
with us all. It is a service worthy of all the time 
and all the labour that can be spent upon it, and 
the more deeply that we feel its obligation as a 
duty, the more compunctions will we be stricken 
with at the deficiency and the disproportion of 
our observance of it. 

With the view, therefore, and in the hope, of 
being excited to diligence in our different callings 
in life, and stirred up to remember what it is that 
our great Master requires of us, what it is that 
we are to do and to practise ere we can receive 
the recompense of faithful servants, let us attend 
to the particulars of the parable which is now 
before us, which, without being too minute in our 
application of it, we may consider as instructing 
us in the following truths. It instructs us, 

I. That God has bestowed great advantages 
upon his Church, and upon his people, and upon 
every one of us. 

II. That, from these advantages, he looks for 
a suitablR return. 

III. That, when men fail to make this return, 
sentence of condemnation is ready to go forth 
against them. And, 

IV. That the Almighty allows of the inter- 
cession of Jesus Christ to lengthen out our season 
of trial. 

In the present Discourse we shall confine cur 
remarks to the illustration of the two first points, 
reserving the illustration of the remaining heads 
for anotJher Discourse. 

I. God has bestowed upon his Church, and 
upon his people, and upon every one of us, many 
and peculiar advantages. 



This 18 intimated by the situation of the figr- 
tree mentioned in the sixth verse. It was planted 
in a vineyard ; not by the wayside, destitute of 
care, and eicposed to the rude touch of every 
passing traveller; not in a wilderness, overrun 
with weeds, apt to be choked by briars, or hurt 
by venomous beasts, but in a fenced and favoured 
spot, where it had all the advantages which a 
kindly soil could give it» where it was supplied 
with the means of sustenance and shelter, and 
was the object of even the partial affection of One 
who spared no pains in nursing and in cherish- 
ing it. 

The Jews were represented by this fig-tree. 
They were long the oojects of a seemingly par- 
tial affection. They had privileges conferred upon 
them in the highest degree and to the utmost ex- 
tent, and had talents put into their hands whose 
number and whose value were best understood 
when contrasted with the scanty talents of other 
men. In the appropriate language of inspiration, 
<< CO them belonged the adoption, and the glory, 
and the covenants, and the giving of the law, and 
the promises," and the spiritual kingdom of the 

But God has been as beneficent to us as he was 
to them. His mercies have not been confined 
within the period of the Old Testament dispen- 
sation. I^ittle need be said to demonstrate that 
they have been as numerous and as great under 
the New. His gifts, both temporal and spiritual, 
have been bestowed with a liberal hand upon us 
all ; and though in individual cases they differ in 
many respects, both as to their magnitude and 
number, though the talents of one are allowed to 
be greater than those of another, yet there is not 
one of us but have had some bestowed, there is 
not one of us but has his talents assigned to 
him in the very manner and degree which Su- 
preme Wisdom sees best ; and though unworthy 
to receive the least of his mercies, there is not 
one of us for whom God has not freely given up 
his own Son, — of all his gifts, without doubt, un- 
speakably the greatest. But, in point of fact, what 
are the talents with which God has intrusted us ? 
What are those gifts which he calls upon us so 
to trade with in this school of probation as that 
we may multiply and render them more valuable by 
putting them out to usury ? Of these, there are 
some that we enjoy in common with all mankind, 
and some of a more peculiar and distinctive char- 
acter, and some which a few, and but a few, are 
permitted, as it were, to monopolize. Some of 
you whom I now address he may have intrusted 
with the talent of power, commanding you so to 
exercise it as that it may be a successful instru-. 
ment of advancing the glory of God, and the 
best interests of your fellow- men. On others 
of you he may have been pleased to confer the 
talent of wealth, that, though not by a lavish, yet 
by a prudent application of it, you may do good 
in your day and generation, and lend a helping 
hand to every proper work. To a few he may have 
been pleased to communicate more than ordinary 

wisdom, that you may exhibit to the world more 
than ordinary excellence, that, treading in the 
higher walks, you may set forth a superior model 
of human character, and by the direct light of 
your teaching, and the indirect lustre of your 
example, may lead men on by various and pro- 
gressive steps to greater measures of improve- 
ment and perfection. And,, in fine, there may be 
some of you whom God has seen fit to refresh 
with the extraordinary visitations of his grace, to 
whom he has been pleased to impart the larger 
portions of his Spirit^ and for the greater pro^ 
portion of whose help you are required to evince 
a proportionably greater advancement. 

But, perhaps some of you may say that you 
are utterly destitute of these advantages ; that you 
have never been favoured with power, nor with 
wealth, nor with wisdom, nor with any of the 
extraordinary succours of God's grace ; that, so 
far from having talents to accoimt for, you are in 
a deserted condition, and that he hath forgotten 
to be gracious to you. O fools and slow of heart 
to believe the dealings and declarations of his pro- 
vidence ! You may want these particular talents, 
but what think you of the many others that have 
been committed to you, of all those gifts of na- 
ture which, as men, and all those blessings of 
grace which, as Christians, and all those hopes of 
futurity which, as immortal spirits, you enjoy ? 
Is it nothing that you have life, and health to en- 
joy life, and liberty to enjoy both ? Is it a small 
matter that you have bodies furnished with senses, 
and minds with faculties, and hearts with affec- 
tions, which are all the sources of a thousand 
enjoyments? Does it signify nothing whose 
creatures you are, and whose image you wear, that 
you arcy and what you are^ that there has been 
assigned to you a high point in the scale of 
created existence, that you are not mere inani- 
mate, but that you are living, and that you are 
not merely living, but rational creatures, and not 
merely rational, but everlasting ? Is it to be for- 
gotten that you are ministered to by the very works 
of nature ; that, like a table well furnished, the 
surface of the earth is overspread with every thing 
that is fitted to nourish your bodies and to cure 
your diseases ; that the barren mountains send you 
down streams of water, indispensable to tho sup- 
port of your lives and the fmitfulness of your 
lands ; that the mighty deep itself is tributary to 
your existence, supplying the bottles of heaven 
with waters to refresh the earth ; that even the 
boisterous winds, fulfilling God's word, do yield 
the most manifold services to you, cleansing tho 
air for your health, and gathering together and 
spreading abroad those clouds which, as the paths 
of God, drop fatness upon your pastures ? Is it 
of no moment that you are blessed with a compe- 
tent portion of the good things of this life ) that 
even the beasts of the field are instrumental to sup- 
ply your wants with pleasant food and convenient 
clothing ; that you have the means, if not of an 
affluent, yet of a creditable siibsistence, and are 
daily fed with whatever is necessary for life, 


thoogh not, perhaps, permitted to riot and revel 
in its saperflnities ? Or if the bounties of God's 
providence, however largely distribated to yon, 
do, notwithstanding, make no impression, yet can 
yon remain insensible to the means of grace which 
you enjoy, and those high and holy hopes he hath 
given to yon of glory, the pardon of sin, the 
prospect of a resnrrection, the promise of ever- 
lasting life, all procured by virtue of the gift of 
bis Son, and purchased by the price of his blood ? 
Do you count on nothing being born in that 
part of the world that has been enlightened with 
the beams of revelation, and where the ordinances 
of the Gos|jel have been discovered and are dis- 
pensed to yon ? And do you reckon of no con- 
sequence, not only the mercy which appears in 
making to you a revelation, but also the mercy 
which the revelation itself contains ; God's provid- 
ing you, when you were enemies, with the means 
of being reconciled ; his so compassionating your 
weakness as to offer his Spirit to strengthen you, 
and his so compassionating your guilt as to spare 
not his own Son, that you may be saved from the 
wrath to come ? 

Perhaps, however, you allege that these are all 
merctes of a genera] nature ; that they have been 
oommunicated with a liberal hand to the human 
race ; and that, being in no degree peculiar to you, 
there is the lesa cause for great gratitude on account 
of them. The allegation, however, m unfounded, 
and, eten though well-founded, it is unjust Some 
of them are indeed of a more promiscuous nature, 
and enjoyed more or less by the whole race of man, 
hot others of them are of a more particular cha- 
racter. A few have been more lavishly bestowed 
upon you than upon the greater proportion of 
jour fellow-creatnres. Several are perhaps dis- 
tinctive, and confined almost exclusively to your- 
sekes, and such of them as are spiritual and Chris- 
tian in their nature have never yet been communi- 
cated in those many quarters of the globe which, 
Ibr want of your privileges, to this day are the 
habitations of cruelty, and where the people are 
perishing for lack of knowledge. But, even 
admitting the allegation to be true, still that 
would never diminish either the degree of your 
obligation, or the measure of your responsibility. 
Current and common though all these mercies were, 
they are yet such as no human power could com- 
mand, nor the wealth of the whole world ever 
purchase, and mercies which all of us might have 
been without ; and I know of nothing that the 
circumstance of their being so universal does show 
except the extent of God's goodness, and that, 
in3tead of confining them to a few, he has been 
pleased promiscuously and freely to confer them< 
upon us all. There is not one of us, my brethren, 
whatever may be the circumstances in which he 
naay he placed, but what, on due reflection, must 
be sensible of many privileges that he enjoys, and 
will find, notwithstanding of all his hardships, 
many things to be gratefal for. Our hearts do 
know, and our lips will scarcely fail to acknow- 
ledge, that the Lord hath visited us with his com- 

passions,— *that he has given us all things richly to 
enjoy, — ^that he is not more great in himself than 
good unto us, — and that, satisfying the desires of 
each of us, and supplying the wants of us all, he 
leaves upon every day's experience the most evi- 
dent and the most diversified traces of his loving- 
kindness and tender mercy. 

And what is it that is to be done with the 
talents that we are intrusted with ? To be wrapt 
up in a napkin, or buried under ground ? No. 
They are to be put out to use, to be turned to a 
right and adequate improvement, and to produce 
not more a grateful sense of them in our hearts, 
than real endeavours of thankful obedience in our 

And this leads me to remark, 

II. That for all the privileges God bestows 
upon his people, he looks for a suitable return. 

The proprietor of the fig-tree is set before us at 
the sixth verse, as coming and seeking fruit on it, 
and as thinking, from the care and cost he had ex« 
pended on it, that he had every reason to expect it. 
And this is by no means a doubtful indication of that 
accouAt which the Almighty is to demand of every 
one of us for the use of those talents with which 
we have been intrusted. As he looked to the Jews 
so he looks to us, for the improvement of all 
the blessings he hath conferred, and if we manage 
them as foolishly as they did, beyond all contro- 
versy we shall perish as wretchedly. Having be- 
stowed upon us a variety of talents, with which we 
are to trade in this school where we are training 
for immortality, it is with justice that he looks for 
evidence that we have put them out to usury, and 
if, instead of receiving them as the Jews did, in- 
stead of receiving them with thoughtless insensi- 
bility, or treating them with scornful neglect, they 
do call forth the efforts of a laborious industry, 
and are turned by us into opportunities of acquir- 
ing the virtues of the private life, the graces of 
the Christian character, and of our abounding in 
those practical habits of holiness and activity which 
will qualify us for the service of God here, and for 
the enjoyment of his presence in another and a 
better state, this conduct, in regard of them, will 
turn to the best account, and we shall reap the result 
and the reward of it for ever. It is far from being 
enough, my brethren, that these advantages should 
be put by God into our hands. A supposition 
like this would betoken a most fatal ignorance of 
the propensities of nature, and of the whole state 
and circumstances of man. It is one thing to 
have the use of them, and it is quite another thing 
to make the use of thum ; and if onr great Master 
is to come at last, and to reckon with us for them 
all, most certain it is that there is nothing more 
necessary in itself, or that will be more advantage- 
ous to us, than the improvement to which our 
diligence doth turn them. We must not be so 
foolish or so vain as to suppose that, because we 
have been favoured with talents, therefore we 
will trade profitably with our talents, — that, out of 
the mere circumstances of their bestowment, upon 
God's part, there will emanate strict application 



and vigorons eHbrts, in the rig^bt employment of 
them upon ours. As well might we suppose that 
the mere implements of war, because they happen 
to be possessed by us, should in battle subdue our 
foes, and spread our fame, and combat and con- 
quer for us while we lie dissolved in luxury and 
ease. No, beloved brethren, unless we seek to use 
our talents well, it only but aggravates our guilt 
that we have talents to use well. We must add 
the contribution of our endeavours for their pro« 
per employment to the privileges which God has 
given us to employ. There is no way of securing 
a good account of them in the next world but by 
striving to do all the good of which they are ap- 
pointed to be the instruments in this ; and when I 
consider the many, and the very great gifts, which 
our indulgent Master has conferred upon each of 
us, the talents, in regard both of kind, and degree, 
and multitude, and variety, which he has with- 
held from none, I am aware of no motive that 
ought to have such an effect in exciting us to their 
most industrious improvement, as the motive that 
there is a day approaching on which we shall be 
summoned to account for them ; that they are be- 
stowed upon us in the character of stewards who 
are to remember what they have received, and 
who are fore^iimed what is to be demanded of 

Nor is it a mere matter of conjecture, that ac- 
tivity in their improvement is our duty, and that 
successful will be the results of it It is true, 
that we are altogether dependent upon God ; but 
it is also true, that God chooses to make himself, 
as it were, in some measure, dependent upon us ; 
that though we can do nothing without him, yet 
he will do nothing without us ; and if, under the 
impression of our great weakness^ we feel con- 
scious that even our best efforts are but feeble 
when compared with those that are required of us, 
yet it should ever minister to our consolation 
that we have the promise of Him who cannot lie, 
that he will never be wanting to us if we are not 
wanting to ourselves ; and that if we will but co- 
operate with him, <' and join our forces to those 
which he affords," he will make perfect his strength 
in our weakness, and put us under the guidance 
of that invincible Spirit, who, knowing our frame, 
and remembering that we are dust, is ever able, 
ever willing, to hear our prayers, and to help our 

And, my brethren, it is in every view a just 
arrangement, that for the talents with which uod 
doth intrust us, he should expect a right return. 
Disturbed as men are by the thought of it, though 
it be an object of fear unto many, and of anxiety 
unto all, yet it accords not more with the pre- 
cepts of revelation than with the previous conclu- 
sions from our reason, that if God graciously be- 
stow, we should correspondingly improve the gifts ; 
that he should have the glory of them, while we 
have their use ; and that wherever they are given, 
there should also be given along with them a com- 
mission and a command for their improvement. 
What that account is which we are assured will 

be demanded of us, we are not perhaps jost'com- 
petent to tell ; but such notices and declarations 
have been given of it, as may well awaken our 
diligence, and stir up the gifts which are in us. 
We are told, that for every one of the talents 
committed to our keeping we must ultimately ac- 
count ; that we are to be reckoned with, not only i 
for those that we have employed, but also for those , 
that we have abused ; and not only for those that 
we have abused, but also for those that we have 
not used at all ; that it is not enough that we do 
not make them less, but that we are highly cul- 
pable if we do not make them more ; and that for 
those who have been accustomed to apply them 
to an improper use, or to no use at all ; for those 
who have, either mispent or squandered them 
away, or, like the individual in the parable, though | 
they may have neither lost nor embezzled theii ! 
Lord's money, have yet kept it useless under 
ground, there is reserved the blackness of dark- 
ness for ever ; a fire is prepared to receive them 
that never goes out, a worm ready to torment ' 
them that never dies. We are, therefore, suffi- 
ciently forewarned of this event, in order to our 
being sufficiently forearmed for it. A sense of i 
God's goodness in bestowing gifts on us at all, a | 
feeling of obligation, a principle of mere gratitude i 
for the many he has conferred, ought to make us 
anxious not only to improve, but also to adorn 
them ; but if we are dead to sentiments and to 
feelings so gentle and so generous as those, yet 
the discoveries which have been given of a retri- 
bution to come, and of the solemn and suffering 
process of a judgment-seat, ^ought to indnce us to 
take heed to the answer which we are at last to 
give of them, and to evince, by their right appli- 
cation, the grateful sense we have of his kindness 
who conferred the benefits, and the just estimate 
which we do form of the benefits themselves. If 
we cannot be persuaded by a sense of duty, by 
all means let us hearken to our interest ; and well 
it is that such inquiries are seconded and support- 
ed by so powerful an advocate. O let each of us 
anticipate the solemn day of account, so that that 
day may not come upon us unawares ! One day 
we must know what improvement we have made ; 
let that day therefore be this ; let us judge at 
present, seeing we must judge at last ; and know- 
ing that we can never expect either the approba- 
tion of God, or the forgiveness of our own minds, 
if such inquiries were never followed out by us, let 
us resolve that we shall carefully make them, that 
we shall live amid all the privileges that are con- 
ferred on us under the control of a judgment- 
seat at which they are to be accounted for, and 
jthat we shall ever act upon the principle and 
under the remembrance that we have received 
them upon trust, not to use them according to 
our pleasure, but to employ them to the utter- 
most for the service of God ; and that if we do 
embezzle or pervert them, or even if we keep 
them useless under ground, that miserable will be 
our condition at that tribunal, the inflexible rule 
of whose Judge is this, that <<to whomsoeyer much 



is given, from him mnch will be required ; and that 
from him which hath not shall be taken away even 
that which he hath." 


By thk Rev. James Esoaile, D.D., 

Minister of the East Churchy Perth. 

(Continued from page 23.) 

Let us remember that this world was created by 
Cbnst, as a theatre for the display of his glorious at- 
tributes of justice, mercy, bencYoIence, and love. Are 
not these the highest qualities that can adorn the na- 
ture of men or of angels ? And they were called into 
exercise by the wretchedness and degradation of human 
nature by sin. Let us not puzzle ourselves by attempt- 
ing to solve the question why sin was permitted ; the 
subject is painful and perplexing, as well as unsatisfac- 
tory, from any light that the reason of man has been 
able to cast upon it. The Scripture tells us all that 
is necessary, when it informs us that man fell, by 
riolating a very simple and very reasonable law, which 
God proposed to him, not as a hardship, but as afford- 
ing an opportunity of manifesting cheerful and willing 
obeAencu, which he never could have yielded had he 
not had ir in his power to sin ; the lower animals are 
in this condirion ; and they are irresponsible, incapable 
alike of rendering a . rational service, or of deserving 
bkme for obeying the infiilUble instincts of their na- 
ture. Men and angels alone are capable of sinning ; 
each of them have had their probation ; and each of them 
have witnessed the terrible punishment of defection : the 
apostate angels were cast out of heaven ; they left no 
impure leaven behind them; and those who resisted 
the seduction of their example, were established for 
ever in their principles of love and obedience ; thus 
terminated the probation of the angels. Man was dif- 
ferently drcumstanced ; the earth was to be peopled 
by suceeasive generations of mortals ; and the first pair 
having sinned, the fountain of human life was polluted, 
and every succeeding generation has borne the taint of 
sin. Man found mercy, because he was seduced, and 
because the adversary was not to be permitted to de- 
feat the work of God ; we are encouraged to hope for 
mercy, because we were made " subject to vanity not 
willingly,'* but came into the possession of it, as a he- 
reditary incumbrance on the estate of man. The rebel 
angeU were cast out of heaven, and are reserved in 
chains and darkness till judgment ; roan found grace, 
and is the living monument of the divine mercy ; and 
so completely has the evil of sin been counteracted 
by Him who was sent to " destroy the works of the 
deril," that " where sin has abounded, p-aee has much 
more abounded,*' which, I think, may be considered as 
impl}ing, that redeemed man is raised to higher happi- 
ness, and to more exalted privileges, than could have 
ever fallen to the lot of man, had he never sinned, and 
never felt the misery arising from sinning. This is the 
honour which God has bestowed on his Son, that all 
men '* should honour the Son, even as they honour the 

On the same principle, we may understand the words 
of the apostle, when he says, " Death is swallowed up 
of victory ; '* that is, we lose sight of all the terrors of 
death, and of all the alarm arising from the idea of en- 

tering on an untried state of being, when we consider 
the victory which Christ has achieved, and in which 
he has assured us that his fiuthful followers shall parti- 
cipate. But this is not all ; death, instead of being 
the destroyer, as the devil intended, has been made the 
multiplier of the human race ; had the earth been filled 
with a definite number of immortal beings, limits would 
have been fixed, in so &r as this world is concerned, to 
the exercise of the divine benevolence ; the aame set 
of being» would have continued to serve and praise him ; 
race unto race would not have showed forth his mighty 
deeds, had not death made room for new actors on the 
stage of life ; there would have been none of those 
delightful feelings and associations arising from the 
relations of parent and child, or from the sympathies 
which we feel with the inexperience of youth, and the 
helplessness of declining years. How different is the 
state of things which God has appointed 1 We see the 
death and entombment of nature every year ; and, every 
year, we see the fiice of nature renewed, giving a firesh 
impulse to our feelings, cheering us with the anticipa- 
tions of hope, and with pleasing recollections of end- 
less variety, combined with undeviating uniformity, in 
all the works of God. Thus we pluck with delight 
the ripe and wholesome firuit ; and we view, with all 
the pleasure of hope, the buds and blossoms~of the 
opening year ; in the same manner, we derive benefit 
from the ripened wisdom of the old, and plea8iu>e and 
delight from the anticipations and hopes arising from 
the early prognosrics manifested by the youthful mind. 
Death, then, viewed as a measure of the divine govern 
ment, is a wise dispensation ; it multiplies indefinitely 
the participants of the divine bounty ; and we view it 
with the full approbation of our reason, as applied to 
all the varied races of animals, and to all the natural 
productions of the earth. Why should we view the 
subject differently when taken in connection with our- 
selves ? In a short time we see all that is to be seen 
of life ; and any sensible man might say with Job, '* I 
would not live always ; " for he who lives longest, only 
lives to see the greatest number of human miseries and 
human crimes ; death is the vent by which the earth is 
cleansed of its impurities, and cleared of its incum- 
brances ; and this event, so formidable to the coward- 
liness of the sinful heart, bears, nevertheless, the decided 
impress, not only of wisdom, but of absolute necessity. 
But the contemplation of death in interesting in a 
still more important pomt of view ; for by it the earth 
is converted into a nursery for heaven ; and after the 
number, that God has chosen, is completed, " the earth 
and the works that are therein shall be burnt up." 
Ilad man retained his innocence, we are entitled to 
conclude that he would have been immortal ; for death 
is the wages of sin: on the supposition, then, that 
roan had not fallen, and that death had been unknown, 
it is quite clear that this earth could only have con- 
tained a definite number : we can measure its surface ; 
after allowing to each individual what may be neces- 
sary for his subsistence, we can calculate, very nearly, 
to a certainty, the number of human beings it is ca- 
pable of maintaining: it is supposed, at present, to 
contain about a thousand millions ; but I do not tLink 
that any dependence can be pUced on this calculation : 
but whatever the amount may be, let us suppose the 
earth to be completely filled with human beings ; all 



happy, and ail immortal ; yet, however much philan- 
thropy may rejoice to contemplate such a consumma- 
tion, what is all this to the " numbers numberless," to 
the " multitudes which no man can number/' which 
we are assured shall ** circle the throne rejoicing," and 
celebrating the praises of the Lamb that was slain 1 It 
is thus that death is swallowed up of victory. Death, 
which threatened the extermination of the human race, 
and which could not have failed to accomplish the ob- 
ject, with the assistance which it receives from the 
enl propensities and destructive pasdons of men, is 
made the means of purifying the earth from the pollu- 
tion of sin; of constantly bringing new actors on the 
scene ; till, by the purifying process of moral disci- 
pline, and spiritual improvement, the knowledge of 
the Lord shall cover the earth " as the waters cover 
the seas." I am aware that many divines have at- 
tempted to set aside this argument by supposing, that 
if men had not sinned, they would, after a certain time, 
have been translated into heaven, like Enoch and Elias. 
There is not the slightest authority for this hypothesis 
in Scripture or in reason. What would have been the 
use of removing from the earth beings perfectly happy, 
and perfectly holy ? But speculation is useless, when 
we know that the plan, developed in the fulness of 
time, was laid in the counsels of God, from eternity. 

Let not the observations which have been made be 
misconstrued or mistaken ; let no one presume to say 
that they have a tendency to explain away the curse 
which sin has brought upon this world : no ; the cor- 
rectives of sin are positive inflictions. Shall we ap- 
prove of the visitations of disease, because God has 
provided remedies in the natural world ? Any one who 
should maintain such a proposition, would not be con- 
sidered as a fit subject for reasoning : as little can we 
approve of the presence of sin in the human heart, be- 
cause it has been the means of displaying the marvel- 
lous grace of God ; it is an evil of such excessive enor- 
mity, that no remedy can be found iu the stores of 
nature, nor in the faculties or resources of the human 
mind. Most bodily diseases and injuries are healed by 
the curative process of nature ; and the art of the phy- 
sician consists chiefly in removing the obstructions 
which oppose the influence of this sanative process : 
but sin will never heal of itself. 1 do not mean to say 
that the sinner may not leave oflT many sinful practices, 
to which he has been addicted ; but he does so, merely, 
because he has lost his taste for them, or because they 
injure his temporal interest ; and not because his con- 
science condemns them, or because he regards them as 
sinful iu the sight of God. No man will ever slide by 
any natural process into the habits of a religious life ; 
he must feel that his disease is incurable by the art of 
man : I say, this must be a matter of conviction and 
feeling, rather than of reasoning; the reason of mankind 
never brought them to any salutary conclusions on this 
subject. They saw all the world anxiously inquiring 
what they should do to inherit eternal life ; and all the 
steps which they had taken were of a retrograde char- 
acter, and carried them farther from the object of their 
research. Here, then, it is obvious, that no ordinary 
remedy would do: the wisdom of the learned had been 
exhausted in vain; its only result was to "darken 
counsel by words without knowledge ; " an extraordi- 
nary measure was necessary, in which the hand and 

work of Qod alone were to be reeogmsed, that Ui« 
work might not be mistaken as one of those oontriv* 
ances which had been so frequently resorted to, in 
order to quiet the remonstrances of conscience, and to 
fill the mind with deceitful hope. 

This scheme is so wonderful, so unlike any thing 
that had ever been devised by men, that it proclaims 
itself not to be of their invention. The heathen had 
peopled the world with gods to whom they ascribed all 
the feelings and failings which belong to sinful mortals. 
In confirmation of this, we have only to look to the 
gods of Greece, Italy, and Egypt, in ancient times ; in 
which couhtries all the knowledge and science of an- 
tiquity were centred ; or to tbe gods of India, China, 
Africa, and Polynesia, in modern tiroes ; and there we 
read the degradation of the human mind, in the wor- 
ship of all tbe qualities discrt* ditable to human nature, 
which were and are assigned as the characteristic attri- 
butes of these gods. We may felicitate ourselves in 
b^ing beyond the range of such abominations as these ; 
and we may think ourselves fortunate when we can 
view with compassion such degradation of human na- 
ture. In truth, if the mere absence of superstition 
were sufficient to constitute religion, we should be a 
very exemplary nation. But it is a question, which I 
shall letive every man to settle vnth his own conscience, 
whether they who know God, as revealed in Scrip- 
ture, but do not worship him in the spirit and with 
the service which he requires ; or they who, in the ig- 
norance of their hearts, ascribe to him false attributes, 
and worship him with inconsistent rites, — ^it is a ques- 
tion, I say, which of these parties is farthest from God : 
there is no question at all, that both of them are in a 
state of utter estrangement; therefore, there is no 
necessity for attempting to strike the balance between 
the parties ; yet it is proper to avail ourselves of every 
facility for arriving at a right conclusion ; and there- 
fore I conclude, with a decision which cannot be ques- 
tioned, " He that knoweth his master's will, anddoeth 
it not, shall be beaten mih many stripes." 



Part IV. 
By the Editob. 

Ok her return to London, Mrs Hawkes was cordially 
welcomed to the house of her aflTectionate niece, Mrs 
Collyer, until suitable apartments were provided for 
her in Penton Place, a more airy part of the town. In 
this new residence she endeavoured, though reduced to 
a state of extreme debility, and suflTering mack from the 
weakness of her eyes, to promote the spiritual improve- 
ment of those who came to visit her. The old and the 
young, the rich and the poor, repaired to her as to a 
mother in Israel, and none came into her society with- 
out being benefited by the seasonable and judicious re« 
marks which fell from her lips. Her correspondence, 
besides, with Christian friends, \vas extensive; and 
though it was often interrupted by attacks of iU- 
ness, she was unwilling to lay aside her pen, but per* 
severed, in spite of every diflBcuIty, in her epistolary 
exertions. The thought was apt to force itself upon 
the mind of so ardent a believer as Mrs Hawkes, that 
she was shut oat from being useful in the cause of 



Cbrift, md it ma traly refreshing to her spirit, there- 
fiire, to find that she was made the instrument of con- 
verting Mr Vaughan, a gentleman in whose hou«e she 
had been for several years residing. His death is thus 
noticed in a letter to one of his relatives : — 

" Our friend Vaughan ' liueth.* He ceased to breathe 
yesterday about five o'clock. I saw him depart as 
peacefoUy as a sleeping infant. I must not stay to tell 
you bi« sweet sayings, save one. About half an hour 
before his death, he said, ' I am dying,' — and soon after 
added, * I am in the high road to heaven.' Ah I thither 
he is gone, having washed his robes in the blood of the 
Lamb ! Glory and praise to his holy name who, even 
at the eleventh hour, snatched him ' as a brand from the 
burning.' So rare an instance of sovereign mercy, will, 
I dare say, be drawn up in a little memorial, by his 
kind and unwearied instructor, Mr Hodson. About 
nine in the morning, when he was struck with death, 
be said, * Call for Mrs Hawkcs — she will help- me.' 
Dear creature, he had a better helper, even one who is 
Almighty ! May this Helper be yours, and mine, in the 
same trying hour 1 for, oh I how awful is the seizure of 
that invisible, last enemy, sitting in triumph over the 
body, which is all over which he can have power I " 

la the early part of the summer of 1817, Mrs Hawkes 
vas seized with an attack of nervous and bilious fever, 
which was followed by an increase of her former de- 
bility. For the sake of change of air she spent two or 
three months at Clapharo, in the house of a widow lady ; 
and in the month of October she went to reside at 
Queen's Row, Pentonville. The long continuance of 
her sufferings had been working in her soul the peace- 
able fruits of righteousness, and it was obvious to all 
around ha that she was enjoying a rich measure of that 
peace which paaseth all understanding. Severe as her 
own personal sufferings were, however, she "was called 
to «ndure a most painful aggravation to her trials in the 
death of her beloved sister Mrs Jones. Though, in the 
course of nature, the interval of separation could not be 
long, hf-r sensitive he^rt felt deeply wounded. She thus 
refers to the subject, in a letter to her nephew, Mr Jones : 

*' Ah 1 your dear sainted mother used to animate us 
aU by her sweet letters, and help us by her prayers 1 
and we should remember that this office of love now 
devolves upon such as are left behind. Love one an- 
other, and help one another, are divine injunctions. I 
trust, my dear nephew, that you feel an increasing love 
and gratitude to the God of all grace, that he hath 
'called you out of darkness into his marvellous light.' 
It is indeed marvellous light 1 which * shineth more and 
more unto the perfect day:' and what that perfect day 
is, ' it hath not entered into the heart of man to con- 
ceive/ I long that the veil which obscures it from 
shining on my soul, should be taken away. I long to 
widen the poor narrow crevices of my heart, which ad- 
mit only a glimmering ray, that it may be filled with 
light. I long to be with her who now rejoices in the 
full blaze of day. Let us not seek her among the 
dead, but among the living; and trim our lamps afresh, 
and listen for the bridegroom's coming ; tor He will 
come, and bow soon we know not. To me, a weary 
pilgrim, * Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly.*" 

la the summer of 1823 she was called to part with 
another sister, whose death she thus feelingly notices 
in a Utter to a very old friend :— 

'* As long as my lingering troubled life is spared, I 
hope 1 fcball be able to communicate, at least occasional- 
ly, with my beloved and old friend. Many years have 
we communed together concerning our trials — our hopes 
and fears — our prospects both as to this world and the 
Mxt ; and I trust that till we are separated by death, 

we shall continue so to do. Ah, my de^ friend, our 
time is shortening every day 1 and as death is now lay.) 
ing its awful grasp on many around us, so it ^I'il] as- 
suredly soon lay hold on us. By this time you have 
no doubt heard that, with almost a sudden stroke, it 
has taken away my dear sister Mynors ! I will not 
attempt to delineate my feelings on this most affecting 
occasion. The shock it has given roe has shaken my 
tottering tabernacle to the very centre, so that I think 
it will much hasten its entire downfal. I cannot dwell 
on the subject. Righteous art thou, O Lord, in all 
that thou doest 1 I will lay my hand upon my mouth, 
and pray for resignation, and increasing trust in the 
name of the Lord, as a strong tower into which alone 
we can run and be safe." 

Old age was now rapidly advancing, and the death of 
two sisters within the short space of two years, pro- 
duced a most debilitating effect upon the constitution of 
Mrs Hawkes. After having resided for twelve years in 
Queen's Row, circumstances occurred which compelled 
her to remove, and by the kindness of her friends, com- 
fortable lodgings were procured for her at Highgate, 
where she remained nearly five months, at the end of 
which time she settled in Cross Street, Islington. Her 
various ailments now increased both in frequency and 
severity, and she often longed to depart and to be 
with Christ, which is far better. At midsummer she 
removed with great difficulty from Cross Street to 
Park Street, Islington, and she seemed to revive a little 
with the change. To others, it might appear as if 
death were not far distant ; such was not her own im- 
pression, as appears from occasional remarks. 

'* A friend having congratulated her, about this time, 
on her nearness to glory, she replied, * Not very near ; 
He is not ready, and / am not ready.' At another time 
she remarked, ' I feel stripped of every shred, and re- 
duced to faith alone ; but that is enough.' To a friend 
who called upon her in the hope of profiting by her 
conversation, she said, * I am too weak to converse ; I 
am too weak to pray ; I am too weak even to think : 
but I am in the ark, and all is safe.' Writing to her ne- 
phew, Mr E. T. Jones, she says : — 

** Again the desired haven is not quite so near ; yet 
it is within my constant view, and I have only to stand 
ready for the solemn signal to cross the unknown Jor- 
dan of death ; which faith in Christ, our blessed de- 
liverer from all its horrors, can alone enable us to look 
upon without trembling. After many years of expecta- 
tion, and, I trust, preparation for this solemn event, I 
sincerely feel that when death has really fixed its grasp, 
it opens to the recollected mind, about to enter the 
eternal world, views and impressions which it is not 
easy to imagine beforehand. Therefore, we have need, 
my dearest Eden, to look again and again, that our 
house is indeed firmly built on that solid and blessed 
Rock, which will save us from being shaken when the 
storm ariseth. Through infinite mercy, I am fiivoured 
with much peace in my nearer approaches to the grave. 
But * my times are in His hand,' and I trust for dying 
grace in dying times. My iron constitution, as I may 
call it, seems now to say, — It is enough, — and yields 
pretty fast to the long and large demands of disease, 
though it still shows signs of resistance. I am indeed 
a monument of m»rcy 1 Abundant in loving-kindness, 
both as concerns my temporal and spiritual life, do I 
daily experience that adorable, covenant-keeping God, 
whose name is * Emmanuel, God with us 1' Oh ! that 
we may live in him daily and hourly." 

Death, however, was nearer than she suspected, and 
the closing scene, though painful to desh and blood, 
was marked by Christian composure' and resignation 
on the part of the sufferer. 



** The parting spirit liad a long and difficult struggle 
to get free. Her ' iron constitution/ as she termed it, 
made a natural resistance to death, as it had kept up a 
long fight with disease. The result of this conflict 
shows now little can he gathered from the mere cir- 
cumstance of what is called ' dying easy ; ' one condi- 
tion alone is required for a safe and peaceAil departure, 
— * For thou art with me.' Psalm xxiii. 4. 

'* On Sunday, Oct. 14, she expressed that she was 
suffering * great pain,' — * all over,' — ' shaken to death.' 
But, at the same time, she was perfectly conscious ; of 
which there were many proofs. That night, her ne- 
phew, Mr Thomas Eden, (who had for some time been 
one of her kind medical attendants,) sat up with her, 
thinking she was very near death. On Monday, the 
pain, 'all OYer,' as she said, increased most dread- 
fully ; so that her screams and moans were distressing, 
and the tossing of her arms was violent and incessant. 
She still however knew every body, — looked at each 
with signs of dear recognition, and called them by 
name. Besides great pain, the shaking of her frame was 
violent, so that persons were obliged to sit on each side, 
to hold down her arms with pillows. Her medical 
attendant made the remark, — ^that there was not a 
muscle or tendon exempt from agitation. About twelve, 
on Monday night, the violent pain seemed in some 
measure to abate. On Tuesday, her eyes appeared 
more fixed ; yet she still recognized, and cast an ex- 
pressive look, first on one, and then on another. In 
turning her head, she accidentally caught eight of a 
portrait of the Bishop of Calcutta, and said, 'Dear 
Bishop 1 ' which proved that she was still able to dis- 
tinguish objects. Afterwards a stupor came on, and 
she seemed to lose sensibility to every thing. Her 
frame became more quiet, and she lay breathing less 
and less strongly. About three o'clock in the after- 
noon, the Rev. Dr Fearon came in, and seeing her in 
the act of departure, he immediately knelt down, and 
said, ' Let us commend her spirit,' and shortly after, it 
was perceived that she had ceased to breathe." 

Thus have we traced the life of an eminent Christian 
trained up in the school of affliction through a protract- 
ed series of years, and evincing, by her whole deport- 
ment, that she had ample reason to bless God for all 
her trials. Had our space permitted, we should have 
liked to re-trace the various steps of her Christian pro- 
gress, quickened and animated as she was by a succes- 
sion of sufferings of various kinds, extending through a 
lengthened period of thirty years. But we forbear, and 
simply conclude by strongly recommending the volume 
on which our sketch has been founded. It is a precious 
mine of Christian experience developed under circum- 
stances of sore adversity, such as are not unfrequently 
the lot of God's chosen people in this valley of tears. 

About the year 496, Clovis, king of the Franks, was bap- 
tized, and received into the general church. He himself, 
perfidious, ambitious, and cruel, was no honour to any 
religious denomination. But some remarkable circum- 
stances in providence attended his reception of Chris- 
tianity. The Franks, or French, were a German 
nation known long before, who dwelt about the lower 
Rhine. Having passed this river, they entered into 
Gaul under the conduct of Pharamond, their first king, 
about the year 420. Clodio, Merovsus, Childeric, and 
Clovis, reigned in succession after him. Like the rest 
of the barbarous nations who desolated the lower em- 
pire, they still advanced gradually in conquests, and 
Clovis ruined the Roman power entirely in GauL But 
it was his destiny to contend with other barbarous in- 
vaders all of whom he, however, subdued at length, 

and by much carnage and violence he became the 
founder of the French monarchy. Wicked as he was, 
he was fitted to become a useful instrument of provi- 
dence, like Henry VIII. of England, many ages after. 
He had married Clotilda, niece of Gondeband, king of 
the Burgundians ; she was zealous for the doctrine of 
the Trinity, though both her uncle and the whole 
nation of the Burgundians professed Arianism. Could 
her private history be known, it would probably be 
instructive and edifying. For what else but the grace 
of God and the effectual operation of his Spirit, could 
induce a royal lady, brought up among heretics, and 
given in marriage to a powerful pagan, to persevere 
alone so firmly in the apostolical fiiith, in an age when 
divine truth had scarcely a single patron of great 
power in Europe? Having a son by her husband 
Clovis, she endeavoured to persuade him to permit the 
child to be baptized, and earnestly reasoned with him 
on the vanity of his idols, and preached Christianity 
to him with much sincerity. Clovis, who it seems had 
great affection for his queen, consented at length to 
the baptism of the infant, but he died in a few days 
after. Clovis in a rage declared, " I have lost my 
child because he has been devoted to your deities ; had 
he been devoted to mine he would have lived." The 
pious queen answered, " I thank God, who has thought 
me worthy to bear a child whom he has called into his 
kingdom." She had afterwards another son, who was 
baptized by the name of Clodomer. On his falling 
sick, the king said, ' Yes, I see he will die like his 
brother, because he has been baptized in the name of 
your Christ." The mother prayed for his recovery, 
and the child was restored to health. Clotilda perse- 
vering in her exhortations, Clovis heard them patiently, 
but remained still inflexible. It pleased God at length 
to give him a striking lesson, from which he ought to 
have learned the true art of happiness. Fighting with 
the Alemanni, he was upon the point of being entirely 
defeated. Finding himself in the utmost danger, he 
lifted up his eyes to heaven with tears, and said, '* O 
Jesus Christ, whom Clotilda affirms to be the Son of 
the living God, I implore thy aid. If thou givest me 
victory, I will believe and be baptized, for I have called 
upon my gods in vain." While he was speaking, the 
Alemanni turned their backs and began tx> flee, and at 
length submitted and craved quarter. 

Penetrated with a sense of divine goodness, as many 
wicked men have been for a time, Clovis submitted to 
the instructions of Remi, bishop of Rheims, whom the 
queen sent to teach him. The chief difficulty he start- 
ed was, that his people would not follow him in his 
change of religion. This was obviated by the facility 
with which they received Remi's lessons. What the 
lessons were, and what exercises of mind and consci- 
ence attended the change, we know not ; the external 
circumstances and forms alone we are informed of, and 
they are not very instructive. The king himself was 
baptized at Rheims, and so was his sister, and three 
thousand of his army. He was at that time the only 
prince who professed orthodox Christianity. Anasta- 
sius, the Eastern Emperor, favoured heresy, the rest 
of the European princes were Arians. Thus a woman 
was employed as the instrument of a change in her 
husband ; it is true the change was only nominal, but 
it was followed by very signal effects in Europe, namely, 
by the recovery of the apostolical faith, and, no dnubt, 

by the happy conversion of many individuals Mil- 

ners Church History. 

Published by John Johnstonb, a. Hunter Square, Edinburgh; 
J. R. Macnair. & Co., 19, Olattford Street, Olufow ; Jamsi Nisarr 
«E Co.. Hamilton, Adams, ft Co., and R. ORooMBaioot, London; 
W. Co Bar, Junior, & Co.. Dublin; and W. M'Comb, Belbat; and 
•old by the Booksellert and Local Agents in aU the Towns and 
ParijibM of Scotland ; and in the principal Towni in Bngiand and 

Subioibtn will have their copica dellvtrsd st th^ RsiMenets, 






l«r— Tbc Rlie of the Refonnation In ScotUnd«— the Death of 
Patricii Hamilton, the First ScotUah Martyr. By the 
Rev. James ^ee. Page 65 

a. .Sacied Poetry. ** Lines Addressed to her Little Boy," by 
thcla'e Mrs Wilson, of Bombay 67 

S.— The Seasons, •» known to the Hebrews. By the Rer. 
David Bfitcbell.— Seed. Time, A 

4.— The History of Peter Waldo, 70 

5.— Sacred Poetrr. ** Christ our Strength/* By Wills, Page 7t 

C— Galileo, and Ills Discoveries, A, 

7— A Diacourse. By the Rev. John Paul. CondudM 7% 

S.—The Concision of Tongues 75 

9.— Courtesy 77 

10 — Christian Treasury. Bxtracts from Dr Cormack and 

Cedl 0. 

11 — Biographical Sketch. The Rev. J. B. Howison 78 


Minister of Gllcomston Parish, Aberdeen.. 

Thx portion of Scottish ecclesiastical history 
to which the attention of the reader has been 
directed in the First Series of this Publication, 
teaches some most important lessons, and fur- 
nishes some topics for serious reflection. At a 
very early period, the truths of the (jospel were 
introduced mto the northern part of this island in 
all their purity ; and we had to observe, on the 
one hand, their rise and progress, — and, on the 
other, their gradual degeneracy and corruption. 
It was long before the authority of the BLshop ot 
Rome was acknowledged by the Scottish clergy ; 
but the rites and ceremonies of the Romish Church 
took the pkce of that simpler service which had 
received the sanction of Christ and his apostles. 
The overthrow of the Culdee institutions formed 
the prelude to a change in the forms of worship, 
and in the constitution and government of the 
Church ; yet the bishops of Scotland were slow 
in surrendering their independence. At length the 
Bishop of Rome succeeded in placing his yoke up- 
on their neck; they forgot the stern resistance 
with which their fathers met all his encroachments, 
and perhaps in no part of Europe was his swaj 
submitted to with more passive feelings. It is 
worthy of observation, that wherever Popery uni- 
versaliy prevails, ignorance and irreligion are its 
uniform attendants. In whatever form of religion 
external rites occupy the place of that worship 
which springs from the heart, and bodily exercise 
is held to be of more importance than that godli- 
ness which is profitable unto all things, and the 
purdoQ of sin is represented, not as a thing ob- 
tained by the blood of the *< Mediator between 
God and mon,^ but as a matter of barter on the 
part of a grasping priesthood, there every restraint 
M trodden down, and wickedness is practised with- 
out scruple and without remorse. These are the 
characteristics of Popery ; and their effects were 
cjcpefienced in Scotland, in all their extent* The 
No. 5. Feb. 2, 1839.-1 i</.] 

Culdees, indeed, continued to instruct the people 
in the doctrines of the Bible, and did not entirely 
disappear from the land till the times of Resby 
and Cranmer ; but, as was to be expected, their 
followers were few ; for the people of Scotland, 
in all ages, have acknowledged the influence of 
an establishment. Still, a ray of light penetrated 
the gloom of the popish worship, even in the 
darkest hour of ignorance and superstition, and a 
few of God's chosen ones were found in the straths^ 
and glens of the land of our fathers. It is grati fy ing 
to know, that its remotest districts, and its upland 
wilds, were cheered by the reading of the Word, 
and the voice of prayer and of praise. In secret, 
the friends of true religion sought their God ; for 
they easily apprehended the danger of openly dis- 
senting from the Church of Rome ; but the time 
was at hand when the throne of St. Peter was to 
be shaken, and when the cry, from the one end of 
Europe to the other, was for the religion of the 

To every reader who is at all acquainted with 
the early history of Christianity in Scotland, it 
cannot fail to be known, that the doctrines which 
Luther so strenuously defended were maintained 
and professed in Scotland before the beginning of 
the sixteenth century. It is only necessary to 
glance over the thirty-four articles which consti- 
tuted the accusation of the Lollards of Kyle, as 
given by Knox, or the twenty, as given by Spot- 
tiswoode, to be convinced of this fact. The 
authority of the Pope is distinctly questioned ; 
they deny that he is the successor of St. Peter, 
and they maintain that he deceives the people 
by his bulls and indulgences. These and similar 
doctrines were the leaven which was about to 
leaven the whole lump. Even after the time ox 
Blackadder, whose death took place in the year 
1500, the opinions of the Lollards were veiy 
secretly maintained, and they seem to have been 
Second Series. YoLri. 



fully aware of the danger of incurring the jealousy 
of the Church. After Luther had separated from 
the Romish Churchi iht Scptfish clergy- heg%^ to 
feel some alarm about tb^ spreadiiig qf th^ new 
opinions, as they were then termed, and they had 
8u£Scieat influence to get an act of Pflrliament 
passed in 1525 prohibiting the importation of any 
books of Luther or his disciple^ into Scotland, 
which that act somewhat emphatically declared to 
have been always " clere of all sic filth and vice " 
Dr M'Crie justly observes, that in all probability 
such books had been already introduced into this 

Hitherto the opinions of the Lollards or of 
Luther had not been adopted by any person of 
influence or learning in the country, but the time 
had arrived when they were to receive the sane- 
. tion and powerful support of one of the Romish 
clergy. Patrick Hamilton, a young man related 
to the royal family, had early imbibed a taste for 
the new opinions. In his childhood he had been 
appointed abbot of Feme, in Ross^shirei and was 
educated at St. Andrews under the celebrated John 
Mair. He was taught to detect and despise the 
9ttbtilties of the scholastic philosophy^ and his 
mind displayed that freshness and vigour which is 
the result of deep acquaintance with the litera- 
ture of ancient times. At a very early period he 
was suspected of heresy, and was summoned be- 
fore a council ; but as his opinions were not then 
sufficiently matured, he retired to the continent. 
As might be expected, he repaired to Wittenberg, 
and obtained the friendship of Luther and Me- 
4ancthon. After he bad spent some time at 
Wittenberg^, these eminent men gave him a re- 
commendation to Lambert, Principal of the Uni- 
versity of Marpurg. Lambert was deeply learned 
and eminently pious, and was at great pains ia 
teaching Hamilton the doctrines of the Bible. 
So soon as he discovered the truth, his character 
underwent a thorough change ; he was formerly 
doubtful and timid, but all doubts and fears had 
fled away, and he displayed all the courage of a 
champion of the GospeL He would now return 
to Scotland to enlighten his countrjrmen ; and 
notwithstanding the entreaties, and even tears of 
his kind instructor, he embarked in the year 1527» 
and arrived safely in Scotland. He began his 
career of instructing the people, and proclaimed, 
in the plainest terms, the way of salvation by 
Christ. But the clergy watched all his move- 
ments, and they caused him to be arrested and 
Wt into prison. Attempts were made to induce 
him to give up disturbing the tranquillity of the 
Church, but he would listen to no compromise. 
He viewed the tranquillity of the Church as the 
calm of spiritual death, and defended his doctrines 
with such earnestness and knowledge of the Bible, 
that he was the means of converting Aless, a 
Popish priest, who had visited him for tlie pur- 
posie of bringing about a change in his opinions. 
As nothing else would do, he was condemned to 
be burned, and was led to the stake. His de- 
HMQoar in this hour of fearful trial was that of 

a Christian hero, — ^it was worthy of the bravest 
of the saints and martyrs of Jesus. When he 
wo^ on the scaf&ld, he turned to th^ ma^ who 
had been lopg his servant, and stripped off his 
gown, coat, and cap, and desired him to receive 
all that he had of worldly goods, and along with 
them the example of his death. " What I ^am 
about to suffer, my dear friend," said he, ** appears 
fearful and bitter to the flesh, but remember, it is 
the entrance to everlasting life, which none shall 
possess who deny their Lord." * His torments 
were great and protracted, but lie exhorted those 
around him to seek the Gospel of Christ, for 
which he was that day brought to an excruciating 
death. His meekness and patience made a deep 
impression on all present. He exclaimed, witn 
his eyes raised to heaven, ^ How long, O God, 
shall darkness cover this kingdom! How long 
wilt thou suffu* this tyranny of men I" He ex- 
pired as he uttered these words, — " Lord Jesus, 
receive my spirit." The leading doctrines of this 
holy martyr were contained in a small volume, 
written in Latin, which has been translated by 
Fox, and introduced into his Book of Martyrs. 
It is said to be quaint and obscure, but proves 
Hamilton to have made higher attainments than 
were to be found in Scotland in that age. Arch- 
bishop Beatoun condemned Patrick Hamilton to 
the flames, but the object for which this foul deed 
was committed was not obtained. The new 
opinions spread with amazing rapidity, and in the 
next generation the Popish superstition, the Papal 
authority, and prelacy itself entirely disappeared 
in Scotland. 

One circumstance connected with the death of 
Hamilton must not be omitted. One Alexander 
Campbell was directed to get into his company^ 
obtain his c(mfldence, and ascertain the precise 
nature of his religious principles. This man was 
a Dominican friar, and much attached to his 
order ; he was, moreover, a person of good talents 
and accomplishments. In his conversations with 
Hamilton he freely admitted that many things in 
the Church required to be reformed, and drew 
from him his opinions and views, with which he 
expressed his entire satisfaction, but speedily re- 
ported to t^e clergy all that he heard, and put a 
malicious construction on the sentiments of one 
who had unbosomed himself in all the unsuspect- 
ing confidence of friendship. When Hamilton 
was brought to the stake, he was annoyed by the 
friars, and chiefly by Campbell, to retract, and 
when he would not cease, he said to him, ** Wicked 
man, thou knowest I am not an heretic, and that 
it is the truth of God for which I now suffer ; so 
much thou didst confess to me in private, and 
thereupon I appeal thee to answer before the judg- 
ment-seat of Christ." These words were remem- 
bered, when this faithless friend was found to be 
overwhelmed with terror at the solemnity of the 
summons ; he lost all relish for the enjoyments of 
life, became insane, and died at Glasgow about a 
year after in a state of utter desperation. This 
4 Tyttcr'f Uiitory of ScotlMd, vol. t., page 911* 



i^raarkaUtt ctrcHmstance impressed the people 
with the strongest convictions that Piitrick lift- 
roil too died a martyr to the truth. 

The FoUowing venes were addrctied by the lata Mas 
Wilson of Bombay to her little boy, on obtcrviagr hii 
countenance sad when the Ajrah waa suigMig to fain a 
HJndi^flraol song u^ 

Thou'kt as a beam of light, 

A rainhow In the storm. 
But iiaickiy o*er tby brow so bright 

Cooica sorrow'* cUrkening fora } 
Now shall I bid tby fears away. 
And w« shall sing a sweeter lay ; 

We*U sing of love diviae. 

In yonder radiant spbares, 
Where endless light and beauty shine 

* Midst all their happy years, 
WHiere all is pure, and calm, and bright. 
Eternity's nndouded light. 

Thy brother there doth stand 

With angel harp and voice. 
Amid the holy saintly band 

Who in the Lord rejoice. 
His joy shall never pass away,,—. 
His crown of gold shall ne'er decay. 

And thou art loved in heavae 

By all the bliaafal choirs. 
While spiiita bright come down at evcH 

With their celestial lyres. 
To hover o'er thine infimt head 
And hetp their watch around thy bed. 

Sleep on thy mother's breast ; 

Thy dreams shall be of joy, 
bi some ftur diaf ant realms ef reel, 

Where paias do not annoy. 
Then let me bid thy fears away. 
And let me sing a sweeter lay. 

Bt the Rev. Davio Mitchell. 



The seasons were observed by the Hebrews with a 
reference to agricultural pursuits. They were treated 
by the inspired penmen and the Jewish rabbins in con- 
nection with the labours of the husbandman. These 
periods were six in number : ** Seed-time and harvest, 
and cold and heat, and summer and winter." To con- 
vey to the mind a proper conception <^ the sons of 
Jacob at these respective seasons, we will require to 
be reminded that the Jews were a numerous people, 
and occupied a fertile portion of the dominions which 
God had given to man. Canaan was a fruitful land, a 
land which the Lord had chosen, and a land which the 
Lord had blessed. The curse of Eden seepas for a 
time to have been, in a great measure, removed, and 
the earth yielded her increase. Every portion was 
productive, the mountain as well as the valley. The 
ni^ed rock brought forth as well as the slanting de- 
clivity. Com was produced in handfuls on the lofty 
sunomit, the choice wheat loaded the fruitful vale, len- 
tiles and beans were abundant. The vine mantled the 
sunny plain and the mountain side; the oh ve sprung 
out of the barren crag, and men did suck oil from the 
fliaiy cock. In the days of prosperitjr^ every eli^le 

spot was celtivated, and every pertioA WEs pfeductife. 

The rugged eminence was not neglected, nor the alia, 
vial bank by the fiowiag stream. Maundrell, when 
describing the marks of cuUivatioa on the beighu of 
Palestine, says, '* For the husbanding these mountaiBS, 
their mannar waa to gather np the stones, aad place 
them in several lines, along the sides of the hills, in 
the form of a walL By such borders they supported 
the mould from twnUing or beiag washed down, and 
foitted many beds of excellent aoi^ rising gradualljr 
one above another, firom the bottom to the top of the 
moanteias. Of this form of euttare you aee evident 
footsteps wherever you go in aU the mountains of Pa- 
lestine. Thes the very reeks were made fruitful. The 
hiHa, though improper for aU cattle except goats, yeC 
bmng diapoeed into suoh beds as are before dtteribed* 
served vary well to bear cotni meloas, gourds^ oueuB»« 
hers, and snob like garden stuffs, which makes the 
pnadpal food of these countries seversl moDiths in the 
year. The ummS roeky parts of all, which could not 
well be adji«sted in that manner lor the production of 
cocn» might yet serva for the plantation ef viaea and 
oUve-tree% whieh delight to extract^ the one its ful- 
nesik and the either iu sprightly joiosi ehiefly out of 
stteh dry and ttnty pUMes»" 

Canaan, ia, ita present deeerted and bairen condition, 
still e?incea aemcroee tests of fortiUty. Many thiaga 
spriag ap as a spentaaeous pceduetion without any 
culture. Grain has been discovered shooting forth ob 
the grassy bank without the aid of the husbandman. 
Travellers have found barley and oats growing in a wild 
state abont fifoiint Taboc. This^. indeed, is not pec»* 
liai to Palestine. The soil in the kingdom of Siam 
produces vice year after year without any culture, and * 
wheat was found, some time ego^ growing spontaneously 
on Mount Etna in Sicily. The Holy Land, in spite of 
the sluggish indolence of the Turk, the ravages of war« 
and the rapacious hand of the tyrant, continues to 
bring forth valuable productions. Wheat, barley, miU 
let, cotton, and tobacco have been mentioned, and 
treea and shruba of various kinda have been enumerated & 
the apple, the fig-tree, the viae, the olive, the poroe« 
gsanate, the citron, the aloe> the cypress, the cedar, the 
sjicamoret the mulberry-tree, the arbutus, the aspen, the 
acacia, the tuipentiiie-trae, the oleaadec, the tamarisk, 
the dmond-tree, the myrtle-tree, the mustard-phint, 
the locust-tree, the peach-tree, and the palm-tree. The 
last mentioned waa highly prised by the Hebrews, and 
considered by them and the surrounding nations as an 
emblem ef Palestine. Several coins of Vespasian and 
other Roman emperors " are extant, in which Judea is 
personified as a disconsolate female, sitting under a 

We have already said that Canaan was densely 
peopled The Hebrews' small canton, at present formo 
ing part of Syria, about two hundred miles in length 
and ninety in breadth, contained multitudes as the sand 
upon the sea-shore. On their journey to take posses- 
sion of the promised inheritance, they could number 
six hundred thousand able men, which leads us to con* 
dude that there must have been upwards of two mil- 
lions of people, in the days of David and Solomon 
there appears to have been about five millions. In the 
time of Josephus the province of Galilee alone could 
produce a hundred thousand warriors. This posses* 



fiion of the Jews, fertile «s the garden of the Lord, 
was richly studded with cities from Dan to Beersheba ; 
large towns and suburbs were to be seen in every tribe ; 
** Judah and Israel were many as the sand which is by 
the sea in multitude." 

When we consider the crowded population of Pales- 
tine, the way in which each man could lay daim to the 
inheritance of his ancestors, and the restoration of that 
which was sold on the year of jubilee, we are led to 
the irresistible conclusion that the period of ploughing 
and sowing must have presented to the eye a very ani- 
mated scene. This busy season, called by the rabbins 
Zero, commenced about the middle of the Hebrew 
month Tizri, including all Marchesvan and the former 
half of Chisleu, corresponding to the period that in- 
tervenes between the commencement of October and 
the beginning of December. At the early part of this 
season the climate is agreeable, warm during the day, 
and cold during the night. Towards the end of seed- 
time it becomes cooler, and snow begins to cover the 
mountain-tops. About the end of October, or the 
beginning of November, the former rain began in ge- 
neral to fall, and then the Jew commenced the labours 
of the field in right earnest, ploughing his ground, sow- 
ing his seed, and gathering in his latter grapes. Mo- 
rier declares that, in Persia, the peasants begin to 
plough and irrigate the ground about the end of August. 

The mode of cultivation amongst the Jews seems to 
have been of the simplest kind, and the implements of 
husbandry of the most primitive description. Doves' 
dung appears to have been valued by them as an article 
of manure, and is much esteemed by the Orientals 
still. Morier describes the dung of pigeons as the 
'* dearest manure that the Peruans use ; and as they 
apply it almost entirely for the rearing of melons, it 
is probable on that account that the melons of Ispahan 
are so much finer than those of other cities. The 
revenue of a pigcon«hou«e is about a hundred to- 
mauns per annum ; and the great value of this dung, 
which rears a fruit that is indispensable to the exist- 
ence of the natives during the great heats of summer, 
will probably throw some light upon that passage in 
Scripture, where, in the famine of Samarin, the fourth 
part of. a coab of doves* dung was sold for five pieces 
of silver." The Hebrews were also in the practice of 
using salt for manure ; this is dear from our Saviour's 
statements, as he described genuine discipleship to 
be like salt in its strength ; as he declared the neces- 
sity of being vitally under the power of the Gospel in 
heart and in life ; as he detailed the pure and spiritual 
preparation which the Holy Ghost engenders, and 
which man should cultivate ; as he delineated the deep 
mortification and stem self-denial which believers 
should contemplate when they enter upon the Chris- 
tian warfare, the following expressions flowed from^his 
lips : '* Whosoever he be of you that forsaketh not all 
that he hath, he cannot be my disdple. Salt is good : 
but if the salt have lost his savour, wherewith shall it 
be seasoned ? It is neither fit for the land, nor yet for 
the dunghill ; but men cast it out." Luke xiv. 33-35. 
' The implements used by the andents in agricultural 
pursuits were very simple, and much less effective than 
those employed in modem times. When Dickson, in 
bis ' Andent Husbandry,* describes the Roman instru- 
ments of labour, he says that Cato mentions two kinds 

of ploughs, " which he calls Romanieom and campud^ 
cum, the first proper for stiff soil, and the other for 
b'ght soiL The Romviicum, it is probable, had an iron 
share, and the campanicnm, like the Scots plough, with 
a share or sock driven upon it" The Hebrew plough, 
it is probable, was of the slightest kind and the simplest 
constraction. This agrees with the form of the utensil 
used in the East at the present day. Morier states 
that he frequently saw it drawn by a single ox, and not 
unfirequently by an ass. The same implement is often 
drawn in Syria by a small cow. The Jews appear to 
have employed more than one animal, and seem to have 
accomplished the work with oxen : they were prohi- 
bited from putting an ox and an ass into the same yoke. 
If the Hebrew plough, then, was similar to that used 
in the East at present, which is not at all unlikely, 
when we reflect on the pertinadous adherence of the 
Orientals to ancient usage, it must have been a very 
plain instrument, as will appear from the examination 
of the sketch. 

There is only one stilt, the beam and yoke are re- 
markably short, so that the ploughman, without shifting 
his position, can goad the oxen with the one hand, and 
hold the plough with the other. Maundrell and Buck- 
ingham describe the goads as being ponderous and 
formidable weapons ; the former measured one in the 
neighbourhood of Jerasalem, where the people were 
ploughing for the purpose of sowing cotton, and found 
it eight feet long, tapering to a point at the one end, 
with a sharp prickle for driving the oxen. The other 
end was about six inches in drcumfcrence, and armed 
with a strong iron paddle for deaning the plough. This 
instrament may teach us the nature of the weapon 
used by *' Shamgar the son of Anath, who slew of the 
Philistines six hundred men with an ox-goad." The 
work of the ploughman was deemed important in Is- 
raeL He had to line his furrows, drive his oxen, and 
keep his machine in order. It was a proverb in Pales- 
tine that the man engaged in this labour should not 
gaze behind him. Hesiod fordbly illustrates this in his 
poetical delineation of Oriental matters : 

" Let bim attend hte diarge, and carefUl trnoe 
The light-Un'd fturow,— gase no more about; 
But have his mind intent upon the work.** 

The becoming earnestness of the workman in this 
kind of labour has been employed by One greater than 
Hesiod, to exemplify things more momentous than bodily 
transactions. It has been employed by Christ to show 
the impossibility of being fiuthful in the service of God 
without making all other things subservient to this grand 
purpose. He declares that if his professed followers, 
and especially ministers of the Gospel, have their hearts 
still set upon worldly ^sanations and worldly delights; 


tkt if they are ftiU unduly attached to their pleasures, 
tbeir luxuries, their kindred, and their social joys, they 
are incompetent labourers in the vineyard of Jehovah. 
'* Another also said. Lord, I will follow thee ; but let 
me first go and bid them farewell which are at home at 
my house. And Jesus said unto him, No man, having 
put his hand to the plough, and looking hack, is fit for 
the kingdom of God." Luke ix. 61-62. 

The present condition of Canaan stands in painful 
contrast with its former fertility and crowded popula- 
tion. " Nebo stoopeth;" Bashan languisheth; Bethel 
has come to nought ; " Sharon is like a wilderness ; " 
the " excellency of Carmel " has £ided ; and " the glory 
of Lebanon" departeth. Volney asserts, that " the art 
of cultivation is in the most deplorable state, and that 
the countryman must sow with the musket in his hand ; 
and no more is sown than is necessary for subsistence." 
Every day he found fields abandoned by the plough. 
Since his time, travellers of more recent date confirm 
his testimony. They all unite in describing Canaan as 
a desolation, and few men dwelling therein. When a 
sojourner of celebrity visited the valley of Elah, (tur- 
pentine,) fiunous as the scene of David's victory over 
Goliah, he saw only one solitary plough dra^vn by two 
oxen. The north of Jerusalem '* presents an aspect of 
frightful nakedness and sterility." The fruitful plains 
are n^lected ; the thorn and the thistle are the rugged 
substitutes of the " rose of Sharon and the lily of the 
valley." The Druses on Lebanon, striving to break 
the yoke of the Egyptian invader, are too anxious to 
gird on the sword to be proficient husbandmen. The 
inhabitants of Judea are broken down by the tyranny 
of the brigand Aboug6sh. The land presents dreary 
solitudes and barren wastes, interspersed with various 
tribes. Here, we see a Bedouin encampment extended 
on the plain. There, is a village of miserable hovels, 
with inhabitants the pictures of poverty and wretched- 
ness. In the midst of yonder shapeless mass of ruins, 
a few dingy cottages are erected ; and there the indo- 
lent Turk sways the sceptre. Tyre, whose merchants 
were princes, can only boast of a few mud huts, and 
two or three fishermen drying their nets on the rocks. 
Go to the ancient capital, and there you will see the 
daughter of Zion sitting like a cottage in a vineyard. 
And who does not feel for the benighted Jews clinging 
to her rubbish and her stones, either clandestinely as- 
cending their ruined foregroimd, and then entering the 
comfortable habitation to avoid the avaricious eye of 
the designing Turk; or walking through the streets 
of their deserted dty, wretched, blind, and naked ; or 
lingering about the valley of Jehosaphat, calmly sub- 
mitting to insult, injury, and reproach ; or gathering 
in from Egypt, Barbery, and the uttermost parts of the 
earth, to spend their last hour in the neighbourhood of 
Zion, and to be buried at their still beloved Jerusalem. 
Glance east over Jordan, and the same desolation at- 
tracts the attention. The herds of Bashan no longer 
feed by Gadara ; here and there a descendant of Jeho- 
nadab, the son of Rechab, may be seen' pitching his tent 
in the plain ; and the Arabians roaming at large on the 
pastures of Amon. It was not so when the house of 
Jacob was triumphant. In those days Canaan was fer- 
tile and populous. During seed-time, the land pre- 
sented a lively picture of agricultural activity. The 
plalna were ploughed, and the mountains were culti- 

vated. The thousands of Ephraim and Manasseh issued 
forth to handle the implements of the husbandman. 
The sons of Judah, who were many, engaged vigorous- 
ly in the toils of the day. The knd, in the length and 
breadth of it, presented a moving scene to the man of 
a contemplative mind. If, from the top of Pisgah, he 
beheld the inheritance of Reuben ; or from the moun- 
tains of Judea, he turned his eyes toward the vale of 
Hebron ; or from Gilboa, he looked toward the stream 
of Mejiddo; or from Carmel, he viewed the banks of 
Kishon; or from Tabor, he took a survey of the ex- 
tended plain of Esdraelon ; or from Hermon, the region 
of Argob, all would be life, labour, and activity. In 
the morning the husbandman sowed his seed, and in 
the evening he kept not back his hand. The furrows 
were settled, the land was mollified with showers, and 
Jehovah blessed the springing of the year. And has 
the scene passed away without leaving a vestige of 
former prosperity ? Has it glided along into the abyss 
of forgetfulness, never more to be remembered? No; 
every portion of the history of the Hebrew nation forms 
a standing memorial of the goodness and the fidelity of 
the Almighty to a rebellious people, and is clearly in- 
tended to be transmitted from century to century, until 
the consummation of all things. The external condi- 
tion of the Jews also furnished numerous symbols and 
emblems for their spiritual instruction and the edifica- 
tion of the saints in after ages. The seasons have been 
employed by the Great Teacher to delineate the trans- 
actions of God in his treatment of the visible Church. 
The seed-time has been selected by Christ as an in- 
structive similitude of the great work which is carried 
on in the day of grace. Those within the pale of every 
Christian community receive numerous tests of the skiU 
and assiduity of the heavenly Husbandman. They have 
been planted as in a vineyard, which has been hedged 
in and fenced around with many pledges of the Culti* 
vator's care. How numerous are the agents at work 
in this extensive field of husbandry ? How varied the 
methods adopted by the same Spirit for breaking up the 
fallow ground, and sowing the seed? We may look back 
upon Palestine, and wonder at the animated sight. We 
may reflect, with amazement, on the myriads of Israel, 
assiduously engaged in the toils of the field. But when 
we contemplate the resources of the heavenly store- 
house, and the number of instruments employed in the 
field of grace, a more astonishing spectacle presents it- 
self to the eye of the understanding. How multifarious 
the transactions of one day in this scene of the Liord's 
compassion? How many distinct pressures on the con- 
science of an ungodly man ? How many demonstrations 
of divine goodness ? How many offers of mercy ? How 
many exhibitions of Christ's loveliness ? How many apos- 
tates receive their final warning? How many obtain 
their first view of Jesus ? How many doubts are re- 
moved ? How many souls are refreshed ? How many 
ministering spirits surround the couches of the dying? 
and, how many souls are wafted to glory ? This mighty 
workmanship is the production of one God, one Media- 
tor, and one Spirit. Paul plants, and Apollos waters, 
but God giveth the increase. Reader, in this field of 
culture thou hast a place. Canaan is now a desolation ; 
the sons of Jacob are dispersed among the nations, and 
dwelling under the doud ; but thou art enjoying the 
blessings of heavenly Husbandmen, On the maimer ia 



which thou reeeivett the feeod, the ^uml wlety of thy 
gpirit depends. Some ere too haughty end arrogeat to 
Ifive the teBttmony of Jenit a proper place in the in- 
ward man. The conscience U benumbed, the heart 
obdurate, the will rebeUious, Ae affecdonB the ready 
tervants of guilt, and Satan, by his innnuatione, speedily 
effaces every vestige of sacrednen from the mind. Soeae 
receive the Word with ecstaqr and transport In the 
midst of this transient glow of excitement, tbeyeeem 
bold and courageous ; but in the season of peril and 
perplexity, their confidence vanbhes, and their unbelief 
appears. Some embrace the Word with readiness, and 
for a season evince a desir^ to realise its power ; bat 
betimes the fueination^ of the world resimio their at- 
tractiveness, wealth unfolds its treasures, the anxieties 
of life are ascendant, and the soul is ensnared and un- 
fruitful. And others receive the troth with meekness 
and docility. The heart is opened by the Spirit of 
God, the Word is lodged in the inward part, the dew of 
heaven descends, the seed sends forth the germ of a 
new life, and yields fruit to the glory of Qod. ** When 
any one heareth the word of the kingdom, and under- 
standeth it not, then cometh the wieked one, and eateh- 
eth away that which was sown in his heart. This is 
he which received seed by the way-side. But he that 
received the seed into stony places, the same is he that 
heareth the word, and anon with joy reoeiveth it : yet 
hath he not root in himsdf^ hot dureth for a while ; for 
when tribulation or persecution ariseth because of the 
word, by and by he is offended. He also that reeeiveth 
seed among the thorns is he that heareth the word ; 
and the care of this world, and the deoeitfulness of 
riches, choke the word» and he beoometh unfruitful. 
But he that reeeiveth seed into the good ground is he 
that heareth the word, and understandeth it; which 
also beareth fruit, and bringeth forth, some an hundred- 
fold, some sixty, some thirty." Katt ziii. 19-.23. 

Waldo was a rich roerdiant of Lyons, a city of Franco, 
which, in the second century, was very eminent for 
Christianity, as it also was for the sufferings and death of 
its martyrs. But in the time of Waldo, Lyons was not 
what once in this respect it had been ; it was sunk in the 
grossest superstition, and the people were utterly igno- 
rant of divine truth, for the Scriptures were not allowed 
to be ever read by them. Though the doctrines of Chris- 
tianity were sadly altered from those the early Christians 
taught from the Scriptures, still some very great errors 
were not then generally admitted into the religious 
creed of persons who belonged to the Roman Catholic 
Church ; one of these was the doctrine of tnmsubstan- 
tiation, or the belief that the bread and wine used in 
the sacrament of the Lord's Supper were really the 
body and blood of our Lord, and not merely syrobcds 
of UuU bodv and blood. But about the year 1 160, the 
Pope and his ministers ordered every man to believe 
that they were actually converted into the wafer and 
the wine, and in consequence, people were obliged to 
fall down and worship the consecrated wafer as if it 
were God. The idea is very shocking, and appears very 
absurd ; it appeared so to Waldo, who, though he was 
a member of the church whose rulers commanded this 
doctrine to be believed and this homage to be paid, was 
so struck by its impiety and unreasonableness, that he 
boldly opposed it, and freely declared what he thought 
both of the doctrine and the worship which was the 
consequence of believing it. Waldo was not at this 
ttme a truly religious man; he aeted in this re» 

speet merely because he ibdoghi die tMng ^ppottd 
to common sense, not because divine grace had 
taught him better things; but a circumstance hap- 
pened soon after which produced a great effect on 
his own mind. One evening as he sat conversing mtb 
a party of friends after supper, otie of them suddenly 
fell down dead on the floor. It seemed to Waldo as if 
the death of this man brought to him the message, 
" Be ye ready." He reflected on the shortness, the 
uncertainty of life, and began to inquire after the things 
of another worid, where men must live for ever. Waldo 
then felt himself a sinner, and he knew not how to ap- 
pease an uneasy conscience. Penances, almsgiving^t, 
and absolutions would not do : he did not find any to 
direct him aright In this dilemma he thought of the 
Word of God, that word which is profitable for reproof, 
for example, for instruction in righteousness ; but ttie 
Bible was scarcely known to the people, and had he 
not been a more learned man than in those days wns 
commonly met with, he must probably have retLaineJ 
ignorant of it. Waldo, however, knew something" of 
the Latin tongue } he obtained a New Testament in 
that language ; he read it, and found in it the blessing 
and the peace he sought t he found he was indeed a 
sinner, but he found he bad a Saviour, he discerned the 
love of God in sending his well-beloved Son to die for 
mankind, he felt the love of Christ in undertaking the 
redemption of a sinful race that could not save them- 
selves, he saw how vain it was to think of other savi. 
ours, to apply to other intercessors, when, by His one 
offering. He hath perfected yerevrr tbem that are sanc- 
tified, and now ever liveth to make intercession for us. 
And having received this blessed knowledge, and 
this sweet store of holy comfort from the Sacred Scrip- 
tures, Waldo could not think of locking within his own 
breast the knowledge he had gained, atid refusing to 
impart to others the blessings bestowed upon himself. 
This is ever the effect of divine grace, that it makes 
those who have received it willing to give, and glad to 
distribute, of the spiritual good so freely given unto 
them. Waldo having learned the value of the Sacred 
Scriptures, set about translating them, in order that he 
might be able to impart to others the glad things they 
contained. He then began to teach and preach ; great 
crowds came to hear him ; he explained the Scriptures, 
he taught the truth in simplicity, be set an example ia 
his own life how Christians ought to walk and fear 
God, and he laboured to convince those who heard him 
that the religion which then prevailed was not the re- 
ligion of the Bible, nor were the lives of men then at 
all like the lives of those who at first professed the 
doctrines of the Bible. You may easily conceive 
that such conduct would soon draw upon him the 
indignation of the Romish clergy. The Archbishop 
of Lyons was exceedingly irritated, and would have 
apprehended him ; but Waldo had a large party in 
that place ; he had formed a church there, and its 
members were so attached and faithful to him, that 
he lived concealed three whole years among them. 
But the Pope, Alexander III., heard at last of these 
transactions, and was very angry. He instantly ex* 
communicated Waldo, and commanded the Arch-, 
bishop to proceed against him and his followers with 
the utmost rigour. In consequence of this order Waldo 
was obliged to flee from Lyons, and his followers were 
all scattered about as sheep having no shepherd. Waldo 
himself was a wanderer from place to place, beii^ per- 
secuted from city to dty, even as our Iiord told hb 
disciples they should be. At length he retired into a 
distant country where he died, afrer having laboured 
for twenty years in the work of his Lord. Wherever 
he went, oe bad preached the gospel ; and as his scat- 
tered flock, like the disdples, when they were driven 
from Jerusalem by persecution, also went everywhere 
preadiing the kingdom of God, the doeiriiMt of thm. 



•Bible were widely diffused, and the new translation of 
liie Bible waa earned into different lands. These 
people were called Waldensea ; they increased greatly 
and were aeverely persecuted, but they retired into 
peacafnl and sedaded yalleys, where they cherished 
their reli|non in retirement : others scattered over the 
aoatb of France, became soon eonspieaons by the per- 
secutions raised against tbem. 


Lord, when I think how Tainly and bow long 

IVe wasted the brief hours of mortal life, 

Waging the useless intermitting strife 

With unborn sin ; this world's ways among, , 

Following to evil with the giddy throng s 

By eonacienee urged yielding to sin's desire s 

I wonder that thy mercy doth not tire 

Of daily blessing, so repaid with wrong* 

Then comes the peaceful thought — *tia aU ibr thee 

O Lamb of Ood, who bled on Calvary, 

Not for the sinless, or the earthly strongs. 

But to deliver sinful men like me. 

TboQ art my refuge. Lord ! — and life, and strength ; 

Following thy steps 1 6nd tbe narrow gate at length. 



Thi history of the Florentine Astronomer is full of 
the most lively intereat and instruction. For the fol- 
lowing spirited sketch of his diseoveriea we are indebted 
to Professor Nicbol's deservedly popular work, * The 
Phenomena and Order of the Solar System : — 

This is not the place fully to do justice to Galileo, 
for bis labours stretch far and belong to many sciences : 
and even with regard to his services to astronomy, we 
must be satisfied with the briefest sketch. The ques- 
tion of the invention of the telescope is not, !n my 
eatimatiori, one of difficulty or doubt A combination 
of glasses producing a magnifying effect on remote ob- 
jects, was hit on by the merest accident, by a Dutch 
spectacle-maker, and Galileo hearing of the accident, 
but without knowing the eombination which produced 
it, directed his mind to the point, and produced an in- 
strument, which, in his hands, immediately yielded 
results worthy of so great a discovery. 

1. One of the first fruits of telescopic observation 
was the discovery of the phates of Venus, This beauti- 
ful planet waa no longer a stumbling-block« but a grand 
and capital confirmation of the central position of the 
tun ; and the discovery must have produced the greater 
effect with candid minds, because of the fact, that the 
supposed non-existence of the phenomenon now verified, 
-was adduced as an argument against the true doctrine. 
One cannot avoid regretting that Copernicus did not 
live to enjoy this signal triumph. 

2. Galileo next discovered the rotation of the aun 
upon his axis. This mighty globe revolves around his 
axis in twenty-five and a-half days, as Galileo discerned 
in the motion of those singular spots upon the surface 
of the tun. whose nature waa explained only in our own 
limea. Now one of the grand olgeetions of the Ptole- 
maiata to the rotation of the earth, and the consequent 
removal of their fiivourite crystalline sphere, was this, 
** How is it possible that the earth can move — a pon- 
derous mighty body] Motion is quite unnatural to 
such a mass, whose proper dnposition is sluggishness and 
repose.** Observe how the discovery of the Bohir 
rotation bore upon these Ifine metaphysiea ! To reply 
by rcaaoning was out of the question, because impos- 
sible ; but here the metaphysicians encountered a fact. 
The sun, a fax mightier and nobler orb than the earth, 

VotJttes on his axis,-«tbefefore why may not the earth 

rotat* ? Withetit reference to this argument, the fact 
now brought to light was a first step towards the estab- 
lishment of a great cosmical phenomenon. 

S. The earth, said the Ptolemaists, is fiir more dig- 
nified than the other planets, which we allow to have 
orbitual motions. It is, as you Copemicans confess, 
attended by the moon $ and none of the other planets 
have such attendants. But the proper position for a 
dignified body Is repose, and, therefore, the earth must 
be at rest. O Logic 1 what a shock you had again to 
encounter I The wonder-revealing tube of Galileo, 
directed to the planet Jupiter, discerned that this mng- 
nificent body — ^the grandest in our system, — is attended 
by the imposing cortege of no less than four moons, con- 
stantly circling around him ; but, Jupiter, as the Ptole- 
maists agreed, had a motion in an orbit : and yet, tested 
by their own principle, he is four times more dignified 
than the Eartn I Quitting for a moment the scene of 
dispute, I may be pardoned for referring to the intrinsic 
interest of this splendid discovery. Not only did it 
exhibit the solar system in beautiful epitome, for such Is 
that scheme of orbitual movements of which Jupiter b 
the manifest centre ; but it suggested the idea, that our 
system itself is not the last nor the highest of such me- 
chanisms, — that even as Jupiter with his train revolves 
around the Sun, that luminary himself with his attend- 
ants primary and secondary, may also sweep around 
some other centre, — ^nay, that the countless hosts of 
heaven may be bound together by similar sympathies, 
and co-operate in the production of cycles almost ade- 
quate to represent eternities ! 

Were man exclusively a truth-seeker, how happy had 
been inquirers at the occurrence of so great and wonder- 
ful a source of knowledge — ^how welcome these revela- 
tions of the telescope ! But, instead, they were the 
signal for all diseord and passion : they began the fierce 
war between the old and new opinions. Galileo and 
his telescope were hated — and with most perfect sin- 
cerity; his opponents would not even look through 
that glass; and, I believe, the mere sight of it hnd as 
terrifying an influence over learned academicians, as the 
musket of Cortes over the Mexicans 1 The senses 
having unexpectedly turned crown-evidence, the learned 
divan of Europe flew back most resolutely on meta- 
physics, and would have nothing whatever to do with 
the evidence of the senses. The discovery of the 
Satellites especially, — the four new planets as they were 
then called — instead of being welcomed as throwing 
new light on the wonders and order of the univers , 
was a heresy which ought above all things to be put 
down. Francesco Sizzi, an astronomer of no mean 
note, and a townsman of Galileo's, thus gravely and 
impressively delivered himself: '* There are seven win- 
dows given to animals in the domicile of the head, 
through which the air is admitted to the tabernacle of 
the body, to enlighten, to warm, and nourish it ; which 
windows are the principal part of the microcosm or 
little world, two nostrils, two eyes, two ears, and one 
mouth ; so in the heavens/ as in a macrocosm or 
great world, there are two favourable stars (Jupiter 
and Venus,) two unpropitious (Mars and Saturn,) 
two luminaries (the Sun and Moon.) and Mercury 
alone undecided and indifferent. From which and 
many other phenomena of nature, such as the seven 
metals, ftc, which it were tedious to enumerate, we 
gather that the number of planets is necessarily seven. 
Moreover, the Satellites are invisible to the naked 
eye, and therefore can exercise no influence over the 
ISarth, and therefore would be useless, and therefore do 
not exist. Besides, as well the Jews and other ancient 
nations as modern Europeans have adopted the division 
of the week into seven days, and have named them from 
the seven planets ; now, if we increase the number of 
planets, this whole system falls to the ground til"* 

* Quoted ttom Mr Diinkwatar's eaoeUant LUb of OalliM.' 



Header 1 in judging of Sixzi's logic, beware of one 
inference, — Siza was as iane as yourself! 

There is much emphasis in that last paragraph ; " If 
the nnw planets were acknowledged, what a chaos Would 
ensue ! " Repose-loving man cares not to be disturbed 
by discoveries; be prefers old opinions, somebow as 
Selden liked his old slippers — because they were easiest 
for his feet. 

The ipirit as distinguished from the mere opinions of 
these times, will be tolerably apprehended by an ex- 
pression of another astronomer, — a young German, 
Martin Horky. *' I will never," says he, " concede his 
four new planets to that Italian, though I die for it.*' 
Horky was very valorous, but the suspicion is, he would 
rather have made Galileo die for it.* Nothing of this 
uproar disturbed the calm and even soul of the great 
Florentine, or bent him from the way of truth ; and he 
simply replied to the vagaries of the thousand Sizzis, 
** That although these arguments might have force in 
inducing us to believe beforehand, that no more than 
seven pbrnets existed ; they were hardly sufficient to an- 
nihilate those new ones which were actually seen to exist. " 
The following is a letter written by him at that time, 
to a man after truth's own heart, — John Kepler : '* Oh 
my beloved Kepler, bow I wish that we could have one 
long laugh together ! Here at Padua is the principal 
professor of philosophy, whom I have repeatedly and 
urgently requested to look at the Moon and planets 
through my telescope, which he pertinaciously refuses 
to do! Why, my dear Kepler, are you not here? 
What shouts of laughter we should have at all this 
solemn folly 1 And figure the Professor of Pisa labour- 
ing before the Grand Duke with logical arguments, as 
if with magical incantations, to charm the new planets 
out of the sky I " Galileo could well afford to laugh, 
for he knew that the telescope would become a com- 
mon instrument, and that, on behalf of all his dis- 
coveries, the universal sense of mankind would soon be 
with him. Of course it has been so. Looking back- 
wards to that time, the eye disoenis much cloud and 
dust, — ^the school-boy world sulking and noisily refusing 
to be taughL One figure alone is clear, standing in- 
destructible, with his far-reaching tube — in a niche in 
the temple of Truth 1 

It was evident from the first what would befal Galileo. 
He was too near the centre of the power wielded by 
these metaphysioo-theologians, to escape ; and in those 
days there were no counterbalancing powers. 

In the first place, the idea of the motion of the Earth 
was declared heretical at a formal and solemn meeting 
of the Sacred College ; and Galileo, its most celebrated 
defender, was cited before the reverend tribunal, and 
asked to retract his theory. Firm and moderate al- 
though he was, the instincts of humanity at first pre- 
vailed, and he entered into an agreement, not again to 
demonstrate that the Earth moved. I verily believe, 
that the venerable astronomer — for then his head was 
blanched, not by grief or care, but by effect of delight- 
ful watchings— I verily believe, that, trusting to the 
ultimate consequences of what he had already done, and 
nothing doubtful of the issue of truth, he meant to ful- 
fil his promise 1 But as well might the old man have 
aimed to rule the whirlwind or chain the thunderbolt ! 
The feeling of Truth, — ^the feeling that he was possessed 
of great discoveries, would have burst ail the bonds 
within which be could possibly have compressed him- 
aelf. Nature does not give a man a great secret that 
be may repose with it^ Love of the heavens accord- 
ingly prevailed, and again Galileo taught the grandeur 

* There is ■ wbimilcal Inddent connected with Horky. He bad 
teen Introduced to Galileo hj Kepler ; and like other creepera, 
Imagined that abuse of Oallleo would please his patron. Finding 
himself grossly mistaken, he sought to be reconciled to Kepler to 
iccelve pardon. Kepler %vrltet, that he had pardoned him, but not 
uiutt he had compelled him to look through a telescope, and to 
confiess that he saw Jupiter's sstallitcf 1 The penance was indeed 

of God's imi verse. A second prosecution awaited him i 
when, once more bending to the weakness of the fleshy 
he signed the following abjuration : *' I, Galileo, in the 
seventieth year of my age, being brought personally to 
justice, being on my knees, and having before my eyes 
the Holy Evangelists, which I toudh with my own 
hands, with a sincere heart and fiuth, I ahjure, curse, 
and detest the error and heresy of the motion of the 
Earth." What a spectacle ! A venerable old nan- 
one whose grey hairs it might have delighted every 
lover of truth to touch in reverence — compelled to self- 
desecration, by that unholiest passion in man's bo som 
his anger that others do not think like himself I 

At the age of seventy, blind old Galileo was placed 
under restraint, because he had unravelled to man the 
beauty and simplicity of the order of the celestial spheres. 
No longer, then, could he trace and mark the motions 
of those pure orbs, but in thought they were the same 
to him still ; and perchance that short period of sorrow 
called into more vivid action those energies and echere«il 
imaginings which are most suitable for a less troubled 

During the confinement of Galileo, he had one visitor, 
whose fame is as enduring as his own. While on hit 
travels through Italy, our Milton, under all risk of oblo- 
quy, sought out his residence, and held converse with 
the astronomer. It is dear they had talked of all 
things but misfortune ; nor could Milton have wished 
otherwise, than that if ever his fates were untoward be 
might be like Galileo. And the wish had been pro- 
phetic 1 The days came when all around the illustrious 
bard^-both moral and physical worlds — were dark, dark 
as the extinguished orb of noon I In that moral mid- 
night, when birds of evil were screaming and screech- 
ing around him his heroic soul remembered of Galileo. 
The Florentine cheered his gloomy term, by visions of 
the bright stars, and the immortal poet by dwelling on 
those principles of justice, of beautv, and love, which 
guide the moral providence of the Almighty. 


By the Rby. John Paul, 

CmofUie MiniUen qf Si, QakberT* ParitK Edhihmrgh. 

'< He spake also this parable : A certain man had a fig- 
tree planted in his vineyard; and he came and 
sought fruit thereon, and found none,'* &c. — Lube 
ziii. 6-10. 
In a former Discourse upon this snbject, we 
directed attention to two different heads of in- 
struction, suggested by the parable before us, and 
we now proceed to remark, 

III. That when men fail to make suitable re- 
turns for the privileges bestowed upon them, this 
is such an aggravation of their guilt, that sentence 
of condemnation is ready to go forth against them. 
This \A plainly declared to us at the conclusion 
of the sixth verse, where it is said of the owner 
of the vineyard, when he came seeking fruit, that 
he found none ; and in consequence of that, said 
to the dresser of it, •* Behold these three years I 
come seeking fruit on this fig-tree, and find none; 
cut it down, why cumbereth it the ground ? " A 
severe sentence, no doubt; but not too severe 
when we consider not only the criminal, but also 
the highly aggravated conduct which caUs it forth. 
The heinousness of that conduct is here set before 
us in a double point of view* 
1. The proprietor of the fig-tree is here repre- 



senteS to bare come three separate years seeking 
fruit, and finding none. 

How far the allusion here made may have a 
reference to the three eras in the Jewish history, 
when God, in a manner, came to the Jews at one 
period of time before the captivity, at another 
sabsequent to it, and at another by the preaching 
of John the Baptist and of Christ himself, or to 
the three years of our Saviour's personal ministry 
which were just expiring, or to the nature of 
£g-treeB themselves, which, it is alleged, if they 
d^ppoint the expectations of the planter three 
years together, after the time at which they should 
have at first yielded fruit, may justly be rooted 
out, and looked upon as for ever barren, is a mat- 
ter of pure curiosity, but of no consequence. The 
drramatance itself denotes, in the most striking 
manner, the long-sulTering patience of God. This 
patience long endures and attends upon men ere any 
determination to punish them is taken up. God 
does not upon the first symptoms of provocation, 

Eroceed to the execution of his wrath. No. But 
e waiteth to be gracious. He gives to them all 
space to repent. He earnestly invites them to 
return to him. He sweara that he is not desirous 
of their destruction. He inculcates the truth, 
that he is ready to foigive them; that he delighteth 
to show mercy ; that he opens the arms of a re- 
conciling affection to prodigals that will return ; 
and that unable though they be either to count 
the number, or to set forth the value of the mer- 
cies they have already received, yet that he is still 
willing to multiply their mercies, if they thereby 
may be reclaimed. No doubt he does take account 
of the days of his forbearance ; yet fury is not in 
God, and we perhaps say enough in proof of his 
forbearance, when we say, that though he is not 
obliged to spare them at all, he yet abstains from 
punishing them in the very act of sin; that though 
they give to him daily occasion for the very ex- 
tremity of his displeasure, for acts of his highest 
and moat signal vengeance, yet he makes only 
here and there examples of his sore justice, and 
endures the affronts of those whom he sustains and 
raises them up when he might utterly ruin them. 

He expects from his people an improvement 
corresponding to the opportunities which they 
enjoy, and in this prospect he waits patiently to- 
ward them all. The Jews experienced this. We 
also have experienced it ; and notwithstanding that 
he has often come seeking fruit, and found none ; 
notwithstanding that he has often found us, in- 
stead of tradii^ with our talents, and multiplying 
them by a profitable employment, absorbed in se- 
cular or sensual gratifications, and supposing that, 
becanse we have not been already cut off, our 
nnprofitahlenesB will always meet with a like suc- 
cessful impunity, has hoped for our reformation 
nevertheless, and spared us in the view of our 
amendment. And this it is which enhances the 
guilt of those who receive God's gifts in vain, — 
namely^ that he has already so long borne with 
them. Atrocious, indeed, is their conduct, who 
not only fnwtrate the grace of God, but despise 

the riches of his long-suffering, after these riches 
have been expended upon them, and derive en- 
couragement for their sloth even from the very 
forbearance which has been so long exercised to- 
ward them. My brethren, God's Spirit strives 
with us, but he will not always strive with us. 
He toiU maintain the honour and the interest of his 
goodness. He wiU not, he cannot, endure men 
always to scoff at it ; and he will convince them 
at last, and make even their mouths to justify it, 
that the more they have been accustomed either to 
presume upon or to despise his patience, the greater 
have been the loads of their guilt, and the deeper 
are now their obligations to his vengeance. 

2. But there is a second cireumstance of aggra- 
vation here mentioned, as warranting the severe 
sentence that is ready to be put forth. The fig- 
tree is represented not only as unfruitful, but also 
as positively hurtftUt as the occasion of injury to 
the trees that were around it. It cumbereth the 
ground ; it occupies what might be taken up with 
trees that would grow, and extend, and gather 
strength, and render their fruit in due season. 
This was unquestionably the case in respect of the 
Jews, who, besides turning to no account their 
own spiritual privileges, occasioned no small in- 
jury to the spiritual improvement of others. And 
m general, we may observe, that when men under 
the Gospel are equally negligent, offering no re- 
turn for the concern that has been lavished 
on them, besides being unprofitable themselves, 
they often lower the quality, and abridge the mea- 
sure of fruitfulness in other men. And this is 
chiefly owing to the influence which they may na- 
turally enough have acquired in society. Besides, 
being of a contagious nature, their conduct sets 
forth a dangerous example, and more or less tends 
to obstruct the pereonal improvement of those 
who observe it. And what aggravated wickedness 
is included in this ! Upon such, there is some 
ground to fear that judgment is already preparing 
to fall. For, only but observe the alarming charge 
that in the parable is given respecting Uie tree : 
<* Cut it down ; why cumbereth it the ground ?'* 
Of the execution of this, we have a signal monu- 
ment in the destruction of the Jews as a nation 
and people; in the desolation of their city and 
temple, together with all the calamities that were 
consequent on it. And what happened in their 
case is but too accurate a picture of what shall be 
the doom of those men whom God has favoured 
with endowments demanding a corresponding im- 
provement of them, and yet who not only fail 
themselves to produce fruit, but infuse the poison 
of their example into others, who would have 
borne and brought it forth. Oh ! that all of us, 
ashamed of our past unfruitfulness, would no 
longer remain unmoved at those dismal effects of 
which such conduct will be productive ; that, in- 
stead of remaining heedless in our unprofitableness, 
we would remember that we are one day to be 
overtaken with sickness, and stretched on the bed 
of death, and appear before the judgment-seat of 
Him under whose government we now are ; that 



we are to receive according to the deeds done in 
the body ; that as the tree falleth so shall it for 
«Yer lie ; and that one of the chief miseries of 
those who shall fall short in the account of their 
etewardshipf will consist in a sense of their loss, 
in the contrast between what their condition is 
and what it might have been, — ^between the fire 
that is always kindled, and the worm that never 
dies, and the lake that ever bums, and being ap- 
proved and applauded by Him, who would have 
crowned them with exceeding happiness and eter«> 
nal glory, and enriched them with a variety of 
blessings, greater and mightier than tongue can 
tell, or heart conceive* 

We have yet to considery— • 

IV. The kit point of instruction presented to us 
■by the parable* which is this,'^>That« besides be- 
ing long-suffering toward them« God allows of 
Jesus Cbribt as the Intercessor of men ; he allows 
of his supplications being offered up for lengthen* 
ing the season of his mercy« and trying them still 
farther with the means of his grace. The prayer 
which the dresser of the vineyard la here repre- 
sented as putting up for the fig-tree is,—" Lird, 
let it alone this year also." The object of it is 
not that it mifty never be out down, but only that 
it may not be out down nowi The trial which he 
entreats may be given to it, is but for a ttfiM,-^ 
and if during that time, it do not revive, become 
fruitful, and yield a return adequate to the addi- 
tional pains that are taken with it, that after that 
it may be hewn down, and cast into the fire. 

And what is it that, if it be thus spared, he here 
promises to do for it ? He promises to " dig about 
it," and to <' dung it," — ^to use the fittest means by 
which new vigour is likely to be infused into it 
And does not Christ, as the great Intercessor of 
the human race, do the very same thing ? Every 
year that transgressors are spared, is he not mul- 
tiplying to them the instruments of their improve^ 
ment, — affording to them still more opportunities 
of turning to a good account the field of occupa- 
tion into which he has put them ? He who, while 
they were sinners, did give himself up for their 
salvation, — ^who, even upon the cross, could offer 
up a prayer for the fotigiveness of his very mur- 
derers who were impiously depriving him of that 
life which was both taken up and laid down for 
their sakes, — exhibits, now in heaven, the same 
kindness toward his enemies ; prays to his Father 
that he would still exercise his long-suffering pa- 
tience, and is afraid only of this — ^that they should 
hjl to turn it to any answerable account. 

If the tree bear fruit, ** well,"— both the owner 
and the dresser of it will be unspeakably pleased. 
And if the unfruitful professors of Christianity 
will, even at the eleventh hour, but turn from the 
unfruitfulness of their ways^ work out their own 
salvation, in a full reliance on those succours that 
are freely offered, and that will never fail, and, as 
the stewards of the Most High, will do the work, 
and improve the trusts of their Lord and Mastery 
they shall reap the fruit, and receive the recom- 
pense, of faithful servants. God will graciously 

condescend to reward tbemi Christ will wdcom« 

them as the fruits of his successful intercession! 
and there will be joy in heaven over their repent- 

But, if still the tree should bear no fruiti^if it 
still should dieappoint the expectations that are 
formed of it, after that it shall be cut down. The 
punishment of unfruitful men is eUte^ thoug-h it 
should not be ewifi i the infliction of it is certain, 
though it may not be speedy. The season of grace, 
long as it may be lengthened out, will go by. The 
opportunities of reconciliation, much as they may lie 
multiplied, will pass away ; and then, if they still 
misimprove the means that are given to them, \ hey 
will assuredly be taken out of the vineyard of the 
Lord, and their roots shall be rottenness, and tl>eir 
blossoms shall ascend like the dtist ; <' for, aa the 
earth, which drinketh in the rain that cometh oft 
upon it, and bringeth forth herbs, meet for them by 
whom it is dressed, receiveth blessing of God, so 
that which beareth briars and thorns, is rejected, and 
is nigh unto cursing, whose end is to be burned." 

Nor can such a termination be regarded as nn- 
jusU If vengeance be wantonly provoked, what 
wonder if at last it be inflicted, — and what venge- 
ance can be equal to that of disappointed aflTec- 
tion ? It is in vain to imagine that God shoiiUi 
make those bear fruit who obstinately refuse it> — 
that he should continue his favours, when hi» fa- 
vours are regularly pervetted. If they have ears 
to hear, and yet will not hear, of what use to send 
forth the voice of inspiration, or the sound of the 
truth? If they have eyes, and will not see, all 
light will be lost on lliem. If they have hands, 
and will not do the work that is appointed to them, 
it is of no avail that they are preserved in the place 
where it may be done. No mercies will melt, no 
privileges profit, no means reach, minds so stub- 
born and so stupid as these I And will it be just 
to complain, when they meet with the issi>e of 
which they now are forewarned ? No, my breth- 
ren ; God tells them here, that if they abuse his 
grace they must feel his justice % that if they re- 
ject the offers of his love, they must endure the 
stripes of his wrath. He gives to them now the 
most positive assurance that a di^ is approaching 
when he shall ease himself of his enemies, — when 
he will be avenged of his adversaries ; that he, if 
he cannot obtain their acquiescence in the way of 
cordial submission, will at last fulfil his pleasure 
upon them in the way of righteous indignation, — 
that he must reign, he muet rnle over them, if not, 
as loyal subjects, for their happ>ines8» at least, as 
rebels and as reprobates, for their everlasting per* 

Sedng then that these things ate to oome to 
pass, brethren, take ye heed that ye walk worthy 
of tiiat vocation wherewith ye have been called. 
Improve, with diligence, preparation, and prayer, 
all the dispensations of Providence, all the means 
of grace, and all the opportnnities of improve- 
ment with which God has favoured youp For- 
get not that solemn account, which you one day 
must give, of the talents you have received* vdA 



Alt ftwfal ewtenw which one day will be prf>- 
nounced on those who hare misimproved them. 
To vou, to me, to every one of us, He hath said, 
"occupy till 1 come," and blessed will it be for us 
ill if we, when He doth come^ can give a good 
Kconnt of our occupation. 

It must indeed be acknowledged that, to look 
back upon time squandered away and opportuni- 
ties let slip, and advantages turned to no profit or 
bit, must indeed be unpleasant, and were this 
our only state, vm should gain little bv our doing 
w. But if there is to be another life, and that 
an eternal one, and if we are assured that much 
will be required where much has been eiven, then 
the unpleasantness of the thing, instead of being a 
reason why we should not pursue them, becomes 
the strongest of all reasons why we should. The 
ttnse of our own iniquity, the pains of a guilty 
mini the pangs of a repentant heart must be ex- 
perienced by all of us at some time, and we should 
rather that they come upon us now for a little, 
than hereafter for ever. Better that we discover 
our real state in this life, where an atonement for 
?in is heW out, than suiFer it to be concealed 
until the next world, where there remains no 
more offering for sin. Better that we now make 
the most active inquiries after our sin, and 
mourn over their number and agG[ravated nature, 
and implore their pardon, for His sake, through 
whose blood they can be cancelled, than suffer 
them to remain a debt upon our spirits at the 
great Hay of account. If we cannot now endure 
these spectres of guilt which it may be our me- 
mories do present to us, how will we endure them 
hereafter? If to view them during the short 
period of self-examination occasion such uneasi- 
ness, to what a height will not that uneasiness 
rise when we shall find them in the next world 
hiunting us unremittingly for ever ? That un- 
easiness, that anxiety, that torment which, with 
rach good effect, they might now produce in us, 
if we sought after their forgiveness, will be turned 
into a remorse unspeakable and eternal. I am 
not recommending these to your liking, nor at- 
tempting to reconcile your sentiments to their ex- 
perience. This only am I contending for, that 
upon the principle of a regard for our own inter- 
est, we should never shrink from that severe 
Bcratiny of our own hearts, to which one day we 
must submit. The recollectiott of our past life, 
the suspicious examination of its different parts, 
is a duty that must be done frequently when it 
may be of use, or once for all when it can be of 
none ; and if we ere nut willing to purcbese an 
interval from present pain at the priee of eternal 
Borrow, if we do not wish to forfeit things eternal 
for the sake of a deceitful tranquillity that is but 
temporsl, then let us have submission to the re- 
proaches of a mind that may I'epent, and lie con- 
verted, and be forgiven, rather than fell kt last a 
prey to the gnawing* of that worm that neter dies. 
If upon inquiry, we have the happincjss to find that 
we have made a profitable use of the gifts God 
hu bestowed on us, and know, aad era sure that 

we will obtain his approbation fbr the employment 
to which we have turned them, then let us give 
to him the glory of them, and be grateful for the 
succours He has been pleased to bestow, and re- 
solve that we will love him with still greater 
ardour, and serve him with still greater diligence, 
and pray to him with earnestness and in faith that 
He would enable us daily to make still greater at- 
tainments, and to preserve those we may have al- 
ready made ; that He would strengthen us for yet 
farther progress in our Christian course^ and guido 
us to run the race of this life that we may not 
lose the prize of the life that is everlasting. Btit 
if, on the other hand, we can arrive at no such 
conclusion, if we hal^e the clearest and most 
convincing proof of having perverted, or even 
hidden, the talents that have been given to us, 
then, let us repair instantly and without delay, to 
the throne of grace, and pray that repentance may 
be granted to us ; that our un fruitful ness may be 
forgiven ; that through the intercession of the Great 
Mediator another year may be added to us, and 
that the God of grace, atablishing and strength- 
ening us, may enable us to do what is well pleas- 
ing in his sight, and to work the work which He 
hath given us, habitually and stedfastly, to our 
life's end. 


A might/ hunter thence be shaU be itjriod, 
Berore the Lord, m In AespUe of heaven. 
Or ttom heaven claiming lecend tov'retgnty i 
And from rebeUion abaU derive bis name. 

Faradite LoH, 

[Iw a very useful work which has recently appeared 
under the title of *• The Evidence of Profane History 
to the Truth and Necessity of Revelation,** we find 
the following remarks on a very interesting subject.] 

The sons of Noah were Japketh, Sbem, and Ham. 
The first two were blessed by their father for th<*ir 
dutiful and respectful conduct to him. The posse^w 
sions of Japheth were to flourish, and their colonies 
were to be diffused, while the posterity of Shem was 
marked out for the peculiar people of God. Ham had 
wickedly insulted his father, and he was cursed by him 
in the posterity of his eldest son Canaan, of whom it 
was said, '* A servant of servants shall he be to his 
brethren." Each of these prophecies has been literally 

Japheth peopled the " isles of the Gentiles," as the 
European countries are termed in Scripture, and his 
descendants have spread out in colonies over every part 
of the globe: the Portuguese, the Dutch, and the 
English, have " dwelt io the tents of Shem," by their 
possessions in the East. From Shem the Jews arc 
descended, to which nation the apostles and the earliest 
ChrisUaDS belonged, and from which Christ himself 
arose. Lastly, the negro raees of Africa, who are the 
children of Ham, have even to this day been the ser'- 
vants of servants, the lowest and the most abject of 

After the ^luge, Joieplnis iaforraa ns, *' Manldnd 
long remained together as one femily, inhabiting the 
tops of the mountains round Ararat." While they were 
thus Qnited« it is generally allowed that their future 
destinations were assigned to them by Noah, speaking 
under the divine inspiration. Moses mentions the 
diviaioits of the earth, when the Israelites were in 
sight «f tMl VkAf Land; and rauiads theat as of a 



thing well knovm, tlkst Canaan had been from the be- 
ginning the lot of their inheritance. '* Consider the 
years of many generations : ask thy father, and he Y\nll 
show thee ; thy elders, and they will tell thee, — When 
the Most High divided to the nations their inheritance, 
when he separated the sons of Adam, he set the 
bounds of the people according to the number of the 
children of Israel." Many learned men are of opinion 
that some of the families of Noah dispersed in an 
orderly manner to their respective settlements ; and that 
this was the first dispersion, related in the tenth chapter 
of Genesis. The whole of the earth was at this time 
*' of one language, and of one speech." 

Nimrod, whose name is said to mean a rebel, is by 
profane authors named Bel us, signifying Lord; the 
first being his Scripture name, on account of his re- 
bellion against God, and the last his Babylonian name, 
on account of his empire there. He was the son of Cush 
and the grandson of Ham ; and '* he began to be a 
mighty one in the earth." ** And the beginning of his 
kingdom was Babel, and Erech, and Accad, and Cal- 
neb, in the land of Shinar." 

The identity of the land of Shinar with that of 
Babylonia, may be said to possess all the certainty 
which can be desirable for an inquiry referring to times 
of such remote antiquity. The physical characters of 
the country, — the ineffable impress of the hand of 
nature, — every existing monument, and all the tradi- 
tionary and valid records which have been saved from 
the scythe of time, unite in determining the land of 
Shinar and of Babylonia on the alluvial plains of the 
Euphrates and the Tigris. 

There Nimrod and bis followers determined to build 
a city and a tower which they vainly boasted should 
reach to heaven, to make themselves a name, and to 
prevent their being scattered abroad upon the fiice of 
the earth« While they were building tlus tower, which 
they intended as a monument of their glory, they were 
dispersed by a miracle ; for the Lord confounded their 
language, so that they could not understand each other, 
and they were scattered over the face of the whole 
earth. On this account, the place was named Babel, — 
a word signifying confusion, '* because the Lord did 
there confound the language of all the earth." 

Josephtis says that ** the place where the tower was 
built is now called Babylon,*' and that " traditions of 
the building and overthrow of it and of the division of 
language which then took place, were contained in the 
books of the Sibyls (or heathen oracles) preserved at 
Koroe." And it is recorded oy most of the ancient 
historians, that an immense tower was built by gigantic 
men at Babylon, at a time when there was but one 
language among mankind, and that the attempt dis- 
pleased the g^s, who therefore demolished the tower, 
overwhelmed the workmen, and dispersed them over 
the face of the whole earth. 

About six miles distant from the site of ancient 
Babylon, a vast heap of ruins is still to be seen, which 
is with probability conjectured to be the remains of the 
tower of Babel. It is nearly half a mile in circum- 
ference, and about two hundred feet in height ; on the 
summit is a solid pile of brick, broken at the top, and 
rent by a large fissure. Around it lie immense fitig- 
ments of brick- work, of no determinate figure, tumbled 
together and converted into solid, vitrified masses, as 
if they had undergone the action of the fiercest fire. 
It is known by the name of the Birs Nimrood. 

Its situation in a vast and dreary solitude, in a desert 
of immense extent, is very striking ; and " the idea 
entertained by the first of the nations of men, of pre- 
Tenting their being scattered abroad upon the face of 
the earth, by building a lofty tower which should reach 
to the high heavens, is applicable, in the most remark- 
able manner, to the wide and level plains of Babylonia, 
where scarcely o*ie oligect eziata different firom another ^ 

to guide the stranger in his journeying, and which in 
those days, as in the present, were a sea of land, and 
the compass unknown.*' 

The enterprise of the giants in heathen mythology 
appears to be a mutilated record of the tower of Babel 
Ovid represents this as before, instead of after the 
deluge ; but such confusion, under the uncertainty of 
tradition, and the want of chronology, is quite naturaL 

And, that hlith heaven no more mean mlfht IM 
Than earth, (he gianU the celeetUl realm attempt i 
And raife a pile of mouncaim to the atari. 
The lire Omnipotent Olympiu claTe, 
And with hi« thunderbolt threw Pellon down 
From Otia't top ; the horrid form beneath 
Their own Ta«t heap Uy buried. Earth, *tis saUU 
Was «>aked with blood impregnated with Ufe. 
The warm gore of her lona. Lett no remains 
Of thif her Mvage progeny exist. 
She turned it to the form of men. But these 
Alike defied the goda, and ftirious were, 

Greedy of cruel slaughter. Oflkprlng of blood 


Babylon became the capital of Nimrod^s dominions, 
—the Babylonian or Assyrian monarchy. This was 
the first empire established in the world. Erech, one 
of the dties which Nimrod built, is supposed to be the 
same which occurs in Ptolemy under the name of 
Araca. Accad lay northward of Erech, and both 
places were near the joining of the Tigris and Eu- 
phrates. Calneh is supposed to have been the same 
with Ctesiphon on the Tigris, as the country around it 
is called Chalonitis, a name which appears to have been 
derived from the Scripture word Calneh. 

The great mounds of Erech are called by the nomad 
Arabs Irak, Irka, and Senkerah, and sometimes El 
Asayah, *' the place of pebbles." This interesting 
ruin, which has been identified by Colonel Taylor with 
the Erech of the Scriptures, is surrounded by almost 
perpetual marshes and inundations. In the territory 
of Sitacene a remarkable pile of buildings is still met 
with. It is one hundred and twenty feet in height, 
and the brick-work is about four hundred feet in cir- 
cumference. Its structure of sun-burnt bricks and 
layers of reeds announce it to be a Babylonian relic 
The embankments of canals and of reservoirs, and the 
remnants of brick- work and pottery occupy the sur- 
face of the plain all around, while the name bears a 
close affinity to that of the Accad of Scripture, which 
ought by force of circumstances to be in the same 
neighbourhood with Babel and Erech. 

At the same time that Moses relates the account of 
Nimrod, he adds, *' Out of that land went forth Asshur, 
and builded Nineveh, and the city Rehobotb, and Ca- 
hih, and Resen, between Nineveh and Calah/* *' It 
appears indubitable that Assyria owes its name to 
Asshur, and was also called Aturia, by the transmuta- 
tion, according to Dion Cassius, of the s into t by the 
barbarians. Benjamin of Tudela corroborates the fact 
that the great Nineveh was called * the great Asur.* 
Hyde says that Assyria was first named from Ashur, 
and Abii-el-Fedah notices Nineveh as the capital of the 
domain of Atur." And Mr Rich mentions that the 
better-informed Turks who reside at '.Mousul, say it 
was El Athur or Ashur, from whom the whole country 
was denominated. There is a town in the same situa- 
tion as Rehoboth, called by Ptolemy, Birthas, which 
signifies sireeti in the Chaldee language ; and as Reho- 
botb has a similar meaning in the Hebrew, It is con. 
jectured to be the same city. Resen is supposed to be 
the same with the Larissa of Xenophon, the situations 
being alike between Nineveh and Calah, and described 
by him, as well as by Moses, to have been *' a great 
dty." Mr Rich, who visited this spot in 1820, gives 
a very interesting account of these venerable ruins, 
which lie " four horseman's hours from Mousul,'* the 
ancient Nineveh. A pyramidical mound stands on an 
oblong platform, and round it are traces of ruins like 
those of a dty, which spread to a great distance < 



wird. ftagmentB of burnt bricks with cuneiform 
iDScripttons on them are scattered about, thicker than 
those of Babylon, and much resembling the Nineveh 
Wcks. . , , 

About a quarter of a mile from the rums, is the large 
Ullage of Nlmrod, sometimes called Diraweisb, and it 
IS curious that the villagers still consider Nimrod as 
their foooder. The village story-tellers have a book 
which they call * Kesseh Nimrod/ or Tales of Nimrod, 
with which they entertain the peasants on a winter 
nighL Near this pUce there is a dam built across the 
Tigris, constructed of large hewn stones, cemented 
with lime, which at low water stands considerably 
above the river, and which the inhabitants attribute to 
Nimrod. These anecdotes would be of small import- 
ance in themselves, did they not serve to show that 
tradition still preserves the memory of the immediate 
detcendanta of Noah in the country which, as Scrip- 
ture instructs us, they 6rst inhabited. 

Axwn the spiritual knowledge which abounds in the 
preaent day, it is to be feared that many of the relative 
doties and graces which belong to the Christian charac- 
ter are in danger of being overlooked. One may be 
very sound among his fellows upon the great doctrines 
of the Gospel, and it would be a want of that charity 
which thmketh no evil to say, that he was not fully 
persuaded of their truth in his heart. From sad ex- 
perience, however, it may be otherwise : for we are 
told, that even Satan can transform himself into an 
angel of light. But take the most favourable view of 
the case, it becomes a subject of inquiry, how the doc- 
trines of the Gospel aflFect the every day practice. To 
guide as in this inquiry, let us look to the third chapter 
of the First Epistle of St. Peter, where the Apostle 
concludes a long list of Christian graces, by calling on 
the believer, amongst other things, to *• be courteous." 
I ** Courteous," in the ordinary meaning of the word, 

applies to that civility which should subsist between man 
and man in their intercourse one with another. How 
often it has been shown in the conduct of men of the 
world, must be fiimiliar to all who have had dealings 
with them. If this disposition proceeds from the mere 
impulse of good feeling and good manners on their part, 
how much more ought it, as a matter of higher and 
nobler principle, to actuate the conduct of those who call 
themselves Christians ! An opposite behaviour not only 
injures their own peace, — ^it gives occasion to those 
who have intercourse with them to consider their 
Christian profession as consisting merely in words, and 
having no meaning. Such a consequence is deeply to 
be deplored, and bewilders those who otherwise might 
have been desirous to attain to the knowledge of the 
truth. It is no uncommon thing to hear the remark, 
" Oh, so and so, I dare say, is a very good man in his 
own way ; but I wish to have no business transaction 
with hioL He is void of all courtesy, and I cannot 
meet him even on the terms of ordinary civility." — 
Agun, if another be a Christian, it is remarked some- 
times, ** He is a very ill-natured one, harsh to all with 
whom he has any thing to do. I would rather deal 
with one who would knock me down, than urith him 
who professes religion, and does not act up to it." — 
These, and similar remarks, are of more frequent 
oecurrenee than professing Christians are at all 
twire oL Their influence on the minds of those who 

utter them, must be of the most injurious nature. It 
is no doubt true, that the spirit in which such remarks 
are made, may oflen proceed from the natural hostility 
of the unrenewed mind to what is good. Even the most 
amiable to outward appearance, may have a deep-rooted 
aversion to the doctrines of the Gospel. But admit- 
ting this, how does it become Christians to give no 
occasion for suspicion being cast on their profession ! 
Taking the very lowest view of the subject, it is an 
easy thing surely for a reasonable being to maintain 
that courtesy with his neighbour, without sacrificing 
any principle, which may lead him to be respected by 
that neighbour. It consists with our own experience, 
that when such a one has been removed from this 
lower world, men of all classes with whom he has in. 
tercourse, have joined in one common feeling of regret. 
But if a Christian, who is beset with many infirmities 
so long as he is in the body, still feels the risings of 
natural passion within him, where is lus confidence? 
He surely cannot be ignorant of that. Will He, in 
whom he puts trust, not direct him to a vray of escape? 
Assuredly he wiU. '* Set thou a watch upon my lips," 
said the Psalmist, ** that I sin not with my tongue.** 
So may every Christian, so should every Christian, 
pray, every morning that he rises, that in his daily 
business and intercourse with his fellow-men, he may 
show all the graces of the Christian character. 

Courtesy costs litde trouble to any one, — it should 
cost none to the Christian. He should lay account with 
trials and afflictions which await him in passing through 
the world. His course here cannot be always smooth. 
Let him, therefore, as the Apostle says, ** as much as in 
him lieth, live peaceably with all men;" and whether 
in his dealings in business, or in the retirements of do- 
mestic life, let him exhibit that meek and quiet spirit, 
which, in the sight of God, is of great price. Thus 
will he exemplify, in his conduct, the influence of those 
higher principles, which will not only command the 
esteem of all around him, but may also lead others, from 
his good conversation, to search for themselves that 
Word, which has made him wise unto salvation. 


The iniquitiet of the Fathen visited upon thmr ChiU 
dren. — God has declared, that he will visit the iniqui- 
ties of the fiithers upon the children. The enemy of 
divine revelation may find this declaration incompatible 
with his views of justice, and may found upon this as- 
sumption an objection to the divine origin of the Book 
in which the declaration is made. But what shall be 
said of the validity of this objection, when we find the 
fact itself broadly and prominently meeting us, in the 
administration of the divine government ? To follow 
out the objection consistently now, it will be necessary 
to conclude, that the world is not governed by a being 
of infinit« perfection; nay, that the Ruler and the Judge 
of all the earth, if such there be, is deficient in justice, 
and does not do that which is right. But this is a con- 
clusion at which Deism itself would shudder, and which 
can find admittance only into the cold and the dark 
bosom of Atheism. Where then does the fiu!t meet us? 
Every where : in the history of nations and individuals, 
and in our own daily observation. In the history of the 
Jewish monarchy, we find the guilt visited apparently 
less sometimes upon the actual transgressor, than upon 
his descendants ; so that, in his day, were '* peace and 
truth," while captivity and its worst evils awaited them. 
I (2 Kings XX. 19.) And without going remotely intQ 



antiquity, wbo k«ows not of v^olc mtions su^rinf, 
in various respecUi, for aucceuive generatioas, qi\ ao- 
count of crimen and profligacy, committed before they 
were born? Take next individual human beings, and 
mark the effects of the good or evil of their conduct 
and character upon their children. Take, first of all, 
a dissolute parent, and let him he one that morea in 
the lower rnnks of lifo. The first form, in which his 
children suffer for hta misconduct, is that of hunger and 
Qold ; while they ar« qhnoxious to the diseases which 
often accompany these privations, and not seldom fall 
their victims. Again, they are exposed to the two-fold 
evil, which arises from misgovemment, on the one 
hand, and the contagious example of vice, on the other. 
Another consequence of the dissolute father's conduct 
is, that there is withheld fron his children the educa- 
tion necessary to their acting a useful and respectahle 
part in life ; as well as the yet more needful and im- 
portant instruction in religious faith and duty. Then* 
with what peculiar disadvantage does the child of an 
immoral and dissolute parent, compared with that of 
the virtuous, enter upon the business of life ? Do we 
want a servant ? There are few situations, and these 
the very lowest, which his neglected education enables 
him to fill » and, even for these, we are desirous, if 
possible, to obtain the diild of religious and virtuous 
parents, who has never been familiar with vice, and 
has been taught at least a sacred regard to truth and 
the rights of his neighbour. Thus it appears that God 
has, in point of fact, so connected the fortunes (if the 
word be allowed) of children with their parents, that 
they must suffer for their iiiiquitica...Rnv. Da Oor- 
MACK. (^Inquiry into the J)ocirmM <^ OrifVtal Sim,) 

The Ooepei a itimi &f men^g syiir£fi.^-The Gospel 
becomes a trial of men's spirits, and by it '* the thoughts 
of many hearts are revealed/* The n\an who loathes his 
dungeon will gladly take this lamp and explore his way 
to liberty ; while another who loves his bondage will 
only dispute or clumber by it. — Cecil. 



The following Sketch of one whose many estimable 
qualities endeared him to all his acquaintances and friends^ 
we have received from a highly respected minister, to 
whose care it had been committed by the author. We 
give it insertion all the more cordially, that we can 
ourselves attest, from personal knowledge, the fidelity 
with which the character of this amiable and pious 
young man is drawn. 

Speaking of the happtneas accruing to belicyera from 
religion, the vrtsc man says, ** Her ways are ways of plea- 
santness, and all her paths are peace." To the truth 
of this declaration of Scripture every Christian will be 
ready to set his seal. Tet, it is to be lamented that 
many, who not only bear the Christian same, but whose 
faith and praotiee nffoid hopelul evidence that they have 
emerged from darkness into light, should do so Mitle to 
prove to " them who are without," the easiness and 
tightness of their blessed Master^ yoke. Too fre- 
quently do we see even such persons betraying a want 
of charity and iellow^feelii^, both in speech and con- 
duct, towards those on whose souls the clear light of 
Scripture tmth does not appear to have arisen. And 
what ia likely to be the result of this unseemly deport- 
ment ? To despise or shun one from whom we difiTer, 
— to meet him with a severe or gloomy countenance^ 
^ surely not using the most probable mMoi of induaim 

him to form a thvomnlde opinion of us or of our cwieA , 
It is, no doubt, &r more congenial to the spirit of n 
Christian, to associate only with such as are like-mindod i 
but if he restricts himself exclusively to their society, b 
he not seeking his own gratification rather than his 
Master's glory ? Surely, having himself received grace, 
he ought to go forth into the world, not to partake of 
its evil, but to show, in his own deineaoottr, the truly 
amiable and delightful character of the religion of Jeaus. 
(Matt. y. 15, 16.) In his words, his actions* and his 
countenance, should be seen, as in a glass, the attractire 
beauty of holiness, that spectators may be made to feel 
the desirableness of a religion that enables Ite followers 
to subdue irregular passions* calmly to bear alfliction« 
and wjuries, thankfully to enjoy the common blessings 
of Providence, and joyfully to look forward to a scene 
of bliss beyond the grave, without fiear of nature's Iss^ 
enemy. Our blessed Saviour prayed, not that his dis- 
ciples should be taken out of the world, or how could 
they shine as lights in it ? The habitual conduct and 
conversation of the pious and highly gifted individual 
who forms the subject of the following narrative afford- 
ed a lively commentary on this most blessed and invit- 
ing passj^ of Holy Writ. The child of distinguished 
Christian parents, his mind became early instructed in 
the lessons of piety. In advancing years, he discovered 
an intense thirst Uu general knowledge^ and a versa- 
tility of talent rarely equalled. Deeply versed in litera- 
ture and the sciences, refined even in thought, and pos- 
sessing all that is most attractive in mind, manners, and 
person, his society was anxiously sought and duly ap- 
predated. The buoyancy of his spirits, and phiyfulnesa 
of his humour nuule him the darling of youth and age ; 
children hailed his appearance with rapture, and the old 
caressed him with parental affection. With habitual 
cheerfulness there was blended a beautiful propriety of 
deportment, creating in beholders so much respect that 
his presence was at all timQs a check to unbecoming 

The man of the world has ibrborn to scoff at things 
sacred, and the infidel to avow his impious creed, awed 
by the presence of this young but established Christian, 
and there is reason to belieife that his example and 
conversation were eminently blest to several such char- 
acters. To do good in a quiet unobtrusive way was 
his constant aim. Sin was never comraiited in his 
presence, in word or deed, without a reproof, yet so 
delicately was that reproof administered that the offender 
never thought of resentment, but eyed his monitor with 
complacency, not unmingled with gratitude and self- 
condemnation. Few better understood or practised the 
apostolical precept, '* to become all things to all men, 
that he might win some." ^o one abhorred more the 
Pharisaic spirit; no one was ever more truly imbued 
with that of the publican. Conscious of his own short- 
comings, and knowing who had made him to differ from 
others, he regarded hi« fellow-creatures with a lenient 
eye ; and, while he never spared the sin, felt a tender 
compassion for the sinner. Instead of shunning and 
despising the fidlei^ hi^ endeavour was, by the most 
gentle attractive meajia, to awaken him to a sense ol 
his guilt, and point out the way of return to God. 
They who knew him personally, and may peruse thia 
humble tribute to the memory of departed excellence^ 
wHl b« able, tu all to mind bi» habitual self-duunl. 



£ipotitifm, and 
delicmtt ragard Sot the feelings o£ others. No oae eould 
be long in ju» society without pcreeiving that he was 
blest with no sniall portion of the spirit that marks the 
followers of Christ WorldUngs, ignorant of the operas 
tionk uf restrabiing or sanctifying grace, wondered to see 
one in the prime of life abstaining, and that without any 
apparent elTort, from irregularities which are commonly 
tolerated, if not approved, in youth, and felt that there 
niii<;t be a '* pleasantness in wisdom's ways," which 
thf y hud in vain sought in those of folly. There are, 
perhH\w, few afflictions incident to mortals, under which 
Mr Howison bad n<Jt been called to suffer, jret was he 
not ntst down. He who had taught him to do his will 
ermbied him also to bear his wiU. He had mourned in 
bitieniccs of spirit, yec in joyful hope, over the remains 
of ^Nith his parents, and bad seen a numercus femily of 
brothers cut down in their bloom by consumption, the 
9ecds of which iiisidious disease were but too deeply 
tooted in bis own constitution t he was himself seldom 
free ^rom indisposition, and had experienced many 
wy^re alLacks of iilneas, yet a comj^aint never escaped 
his lips ; his mind appeared at all tiroes in the frame of 
Job, when he sud, ** Shall we receive good at the band 
of God, and shall we not receive evil also ? " Passive 
under his own afflictions, deeply did he sympathize 
with those of others. No personal interest or con- 
venience were ever sufiTered by him to inteifere with 
the ealH of friendship, or the dudes of humanity. 
Many afTeeting instances could be mentioned in proof 
of these asaertions, did not the limits of this narrative 
prevent their insertion. More than onoe he was instru- 
mental in saving the lives of individuals, at the imminent 
risk of his own. From the period of his being licensed 
ss a preacher of the Gospel, his greatest delight was to 
deliver from the pulpit his Master's message to lost 
rianers ; and this he always did in the language of so- 
lemn, yet sweet persuasion, and holy boldness. Con- 
vineed himself of the great importance of Scripture 
truth, he longed to recommend it to others ; and, had 
it pleased God to spare his valuable life, there is little 
doubt but that he would have been a burning and a 
shining light in the ChunSk of Christ. But the time 
was approaching when, alas I too soon for those who 
lovt^d him, be was to be removed to a temple " not 
made with bands, eternal in the heavens." Though 
sujBeriog from a severe cold, he could not be dissuaded 
from preaching, whenever an opportunity occurred, dur- 
ing the stormy winter of 1836. His indisposition in- 
creased, «id before the end of February, an attack of 
mftammation confined him to a sick-bed, whence, it 
was feared, be would never arise. However, by the 
blessing of God upon the means prescribed, a temporary 
check was given to the disease, he rallied a little, and 
ss spring advaneed, was able to enjoy the fresh air in a 
garden chaise. But the hopes raised by this circum- 
stance proved fellacions. To use the luiguage of one 
of his affectionate attendants, " he drooped like a flower 
having a worm at the root." From the first it does not 
appeer thai be entertmned any very sanguine expecta- 
tions of being restored to health, yet the prospect of 
being cut off from the land of the living in the prime of 
VSe, at a time, too, when his prospects were brightening 
6n all sides, caused him no concern. He mourned his 
abittOB itsm ObuMh privOa^a^ bn^ enjoying seasons 

^ sweet Qonuniinion with God, resignied himself en- 
tirely to his will. His desire, however, once more to 
commemorate bis Saviour's dying love, at a communion 
table, was at length gratified, and frequently afterwards 
he was heard to express great thankfulness that he had 
been enabled to attend upon that sacred occasion, in 
bodily and spiritual cooifort. In the beginning of 
August he was removed to Edinburgh, and thence to 
the south of Perthshire, where it was hoped he might 
derive some b«iefit from the mild climate, but vain are 
all the efforts and plans of friends, when the decree has 
gone forth, •< Thou shalt die." The dear sufferer be- 
came rapidly weaker, yet, though his outer man was 
visibly decaying, his inner man received strength equal 
to his day. He spoke of his departure as an inevitable 
event, and meekly resigned himself and all his concerns 
to the care of a covenant-keeping God. When suffer- 
ing severely he would sometimes exclaim, *< O for faith 
and patience," or, " When will this struggle be over?" 
Then, as if spealdng to himself, he added, " I am roost 
mercifully dealt with," or, " How thankful I ought to 
be for this affliction 1 I fear I was in a very worldly 
frame when it began ; my proud heart required to be 
abased, and my merciful Father laid me in the dust." 
His sufferings at times, from cough and breatblessness, 
were dreadful; and the enemy of souls appeared to 
take advantage of his great weakness, to suggest fears 
and doubts as tp his spiritual state. Upon such occa- 
sions, he observed, '■ Oh I how sad to be distressed in 
body and, at the same time, afflicted with the absenee 
of God's countenance! Lord help me I Give me pa- 
tience," or, •* Give me a sweet text, I am very low to- 
day, O for another sight of his blessed countenance." 
In the evening of a day on which he had been visited 
by two pious friends, he expressed himself thus : *< I 
have had some sweet thoughts to-day, the Almighty 
has been very kind to me ,* he sent two of his servants 
to minister to me. I was much comforted by Mr 
W.'s prayer, he is a good man. To be called a child 
of God, what a privilege I " Being asked how he felt 
after a day of comparative ease, he said, " I trust I have 
been enabled to throw myself more than ever on the 
Saviour ; my mind has enjoyed a sweet peace." That 
his love to the Saviour was ardent and habitual, the 
following observations may bear some testimony : 
** Read to me from the Gospels, in them I can more 
perfectly realize a Saviour's presence, using his own 
sweet words." •• O to be with Jesus I to serve him 
without sin." ** Avoid vain disputations, and look 
constantly at the Saviour. Keep him, bis offices and 
his words, constantly in view, whether reading the Old 
or the New Testament." " O how I hope in the last 
struggle, that there will be some one near to whisper to 
me the name of Jesus ! " On regret being expressed at 
the prospect of losing him, he observed, ** It is cruel of 
you to wish to detain me here ; is it not better to be with 
the Saviour ? The dark valley must be passed through 
some time, and why not as well early as late ? " When 
about to separate from a friend, whose blessed privilege 
it was to attend upon him almost hourly, during some 
of the last weeks of his life, he said, '* Well, dear S., 
God be with you ! never lose sight of the cross of 
Christ ; keep close to it, it leads to glory ; and let your 
prayer for me be, that I may have a speedy dismissal." 
Thougb his baltttaal conduct through life had beei^ 



faurnanly speaking, in the sight of man, so pore and 
blameless, that, compared with the mass of his fellow- 
creatures, he may be said to have been, like Nathaniel, 
without guile, he disowned all dependence for salvation 
on any thing short of a Saviour's merits ; and sought 
for that salvation, to use his own words, as a '* miser- 
able sinner at the foot of the Redeemer's cross." His 
only source of hope and comfort arose from the fulness 
and freeness of the Gospel provision and promises. 
He delighted to dwell upon such passages as the fol- 
lowing: " God so loved the world, that he gave bis 
only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him 
should not perish, but have everlasting life." ** Ho 1 
every one that thirsteth come ye to the waters, and 
whosoever will let him take of the water of life freely." 
" Come unto me all ye that labour and are heavy laden, 
and I will give you rest." " Him that cometh unto 
me, I will in no vriw cast out." Precious to his soul 
was the doctrine of justification by Christ, and most 
warmly did he recommend it to others. One instance 
may be mentioned, among many, in which the Lord 
was pleased to bless his efforts for the good of souls. 
Calling one evening on an acquaintance, the conversa- 
tion assumed a serious turn, and in the course of it Mr 
Howifton discovered that his young friend was suffering 
under the terrors of a broken law, and appeared to be 
totally ignorant of the way of salvation as provided by 
the Gospel. Here was an opportunity of '* speaking 
for his Master," which Mr Howisoc gladly embraced. 
He proceeded to unfold the glorious scheme of jastifi- 
cation, through faith in the Son of God ; the influence 
of that blessed Spirit accompanied the words of instruc- 
tion ; light broke in upon the mind of the astonished and 
delighted youth, and they parted not till, like the Ethio- 
pian Eunuch, he was prepared to go on hit Chrbtian way 
'* rejoicing." Two years after this happy event took 
place, a lingering disease brought the young disciple to 
an early death-bed, from which he wrote to his beloved 
spiritual lisither in the language of exulting hope and 
perfect peace ; thanking him as an instrument, under 
God, of bringing him to the knowledge of a Saviour's 
matchless love, and rejoicing in the prospect of soon 
enjoying the purchased possession in the presence of his 
adorable Redeemer. 

Mr Howison survived his return to Edinburgh only a 
few weeks. To the last he suffered much, and could 
apeak but little. His mind, however, seemed at peace ; 
DO word of impatience or of murmuring escaped him. 
In nothing was the sweetness of his disposition more 
exemplified, than in the grateful manner in which he 
received the attentions of those who waited upon him. 
He frequently expressed, in short but endearing terms, 
his affection for friends, both absent and present. To 
two young ladies whom he had known from their 
early childhood, and in whose spiritual welfare he was 
much interested, he sent a message in the following 
words : *' Tell them I shall never see them again in the 
body, but I hope to meet them in heaven." To a little 
boy, to whom he had for years acted a parent's part, he 
said, " Dear boy ! never forget your God, and He will 
never forget you ; pray to Him with your heart, and never 
forget your prayers." Speaking of an absent friend, he 
said, " Tell her to mix cheerfulness with religion." He 
was very desirous to cherish a spirit of humility in himself 
fknd others, '■ Remember you have nothing of your own," 

or observations bearing the same tmporti were freqnentljf 
addressed to individuals around him* On the doctrine 
of assurance, his expressions were guarded. " Judge 
of your state," said be, ** by your love for the Bible and 
for prayer ; if that is cold, take the alarm." On one 
occasion, when suffering much from fever and breath- 
lessness, he exclaimed, *' O, when will this struggle be 
over 1 O, for patience I patience is more difUcult to 
attain than resignation. O, if the old Adam were to 
arise now and get the better of me, what should I do ? " 
The respective merits of different ministers and sermons 
being discussed in his hearing, he said, " O, what 
would I give to hear but the poorest sermon," alluding 
to style, &c., *' that ever was preached within the walls 
of God's house." Referring to his own ministerisl 
duties, he said, *' I would gladly have spoken again in 
my Master's behalf, but His will be done." Among his 
latest remarks were the following : Being asked if he 
enjoyed a sure hope, he replied, after a pause, " I am 
enabled to lie at the foot of the cross." At another 
time, *' I have no fears as to the Almighty." On hear- 
ing Dr A.'s opinion that he could not live long, he ex- 
claimed, " He is a messenger from heaven I an angel to 
tell me that I shall soon get rid of this shell, this useless 
body." He then spoke of the blessed feeling of being a 
child of God ; said he '* had not a Saviour to seek now i 
had no fears, none." For some time preceding his de- 
parture, he lay motionless, and apparently free frtxn 
suffering, when, suddenly, as his friends were watching 
round his bed, he made a sign to one of them to stoop 
down, upon her doing which, he feebly pressed her 
hand between both his, and, applying it to his lips, 
kissed it several tiroes ; soon afterwards he became in- 
sensible, and the gentle happy spirit was peacefully dis- 
missed, leaving many a heart to sigh, many an eye to 
weep ; for if ever mortal may be said to have possessed 
the power of attaching to himself the hearts of his fd« 
low-creatures, it was he, and long will his memory be 
cherished, his instructions be remembered, and his say* 
ings repeated, by all who knew him. In summing up the 
character of this dear departed saint, much might be said 
of his natural talents, which were of the highest order^ 
and of his extensive acquirements, the result of an ardent 
thirst for knowledge, and the most persevering industry. 
To him all the works of creation were objects of the 
deepest interest, and every science by which an acquaint- 
ance with them could be cultivated, afforded food for 
study to his active mind. But it is especially aa an 
enlightened devoted disciple of the Lord Jesus, that he 
is presented to the general reader. Genuine piety, and 
its attendant — ^peace, may be said to have accompanied 
him almost from the cradle to the grave. Lovely in 
life, tranquil in death, the Saviour, to whom all his 
powers were consecrated, prepared him early for a more 
exalted sphere of action than this infant state of man 
presents, and removed him to the full enjoyment of the 
" rest that remaineth for the people of God, " on the 
14th of October, 1836. " He is no longer here, but ia 
risen I" 

Pubbihed by John JoRifsroifs, a, Httntcr Sousre, SdtaibarKh s 
J. R. Macnais, ft Co.. 19. OlMtford Street. 01a%(ow ; Jamm Nisbct 
fi.^' Hamilton, Adamb, « Co.. and R. OBooMaaiDoa, London ; 
W. COMY. Junr. ft Co.. DubUn ; and W. M«Comb, Belbat 5 mni 
fold by the Booluellen and Local Afcnu In all the Towns and 
Parishes of Scotland ; and in the principal Towna in Si«land and 

SubwribeiB will liave tfadr copies dd|v«td at thsk 






).— The Eailj Settlers in Kew BruAtwick. By the ReT. 

Oeorse Bunu, D.D., .,„Page 81 

1— The Wisdom of God in the Crefttton of the Vegetable 

World. By the ReT. WilUam Grant, 84 

S— Analyiia of the Forty-fifth Pialm. Abridged from Bishop 

Horsley. Prefhce and First Section, 85 

4.— Sacred Poetry. * A New Year's Day Hymn.' By C.Moir, Esq., 86 
S— Biographical Sketch. John Mason Good, M. O. Part I. 

By the Editor, 87 

6 — A Discoorte. By the Rer. John Smyth, D.D., |0 

7— Home Mlssiooary Sketches.— 1. A Poor Widow, a. The 

Surgeon of an East Indiaman 9f 

8 — Sacred Poetry. • The* Hope of Israel.' By the Rev! 

W. M. Hetherington, A.M. m 

9— A BUnd South Sea Islander, ^. 

10.— Christian Treasury. Extract from^Dr Doddridge. 94 
11 — The Young Shown where to find Happiness. Extracted 

from • The World's Religion,* by Lady Colquhoun, . . , . 4». 


Miniater of Tweedsmuir» Peeblet-shlre, formerly of St. John's^ New Braniwlck. 

In reaUzingthe solemnities and delights of a 
Scottish Sidbhath within the newly formed Pro- 
vince of New Bmnswick, one leading object with 
the writer of these pages, as its first Scottish 
minister, wag the introduction of our national 
psalmody, hitherto unknown in that interesting 
land. This, as might have been expected, was at 
once hailed with rapture by every Scottish emi- 
grant, reviviDg, as it did, in his yet unalienated 
breast, some of his earliest and dearest associations, 
awakening recollections at once " pleasant and' 
roournful to the soul," if it did not, in every case, 
rekindle, '^ as by a live coal from off the altar," 
that hallowed fervour which had well-nigh died 
away under the unkindly influence of other habits 
and other scenes. But, at the same time, there 
were to be consulted the predilections and anti- 
pathies of various classes with whose habits and 
hearts the songs of our Zion were not thus de- 
servedly interwoven, and who might naturally have 
urged their first and best impressions as powerfub- 
advocates in favour of ** psalms, and hymns, and 
spiritual songs," to which the harp of the son of 
Jesse was never strung. With the view of dis- 
arming prejudices so natural, and securing a favour- 
able reception of the time-honoured and justly 
cherished " Psalm-book " of our beloved Church, 
the following statements were made, and are here 
introduced, as not altogether unprofitable or un- 
interesting to our readers : — The version of the 
psalms now adopted as the national psalter, wdk 
introduced by the joint authority of English and 
Scottish Parliaments, and ratified by the General 
A&sembly of the Church on the 23d Nov. 1649. 
The translation was made by a very distinguished 
Hebrew scholar, Francis Rouse, Esq., M.P., one 
of Crom weirs Counsellors of State, and preferred, 
on account of his acquaintance with the Greek 
and Latin hinguages, to the Provostship of Eton 
School. His translation underwent various cor- 
No. 6. Feb. 9, 1839— 14<f.] 

rections hj a Committee of the General Assembly. 
In many instances, the versification is far from 
being smooth or agreeable to the ear. The fact 
is, a literal was more an object of attention than 
an elegant translation, and we have the satisfaction 
to know that we utter praise in the very words of 
inspiration. Our version is capable of the same 
defence with that of Stemhold and Hopkins, for- 
merly used in the Churches both of England and 
Scotland, as compared with the one now authorised 
in the sister establishment. *' The book of Psalms," 
says that celebrated Oriental scholar, the lata 
Bishop Horsley, *Ms a compendious system of 
divinity for the use and edification of the common 
people of the Christian Church. In deriving the 
edification from it which it is calculated to convey, 
they may receive much assistance from a work 
which the ignorance of modem refinement would 
take out of their hands, I speak of the old singing 
psalms, the metrical version of Stemhold and Hop- 
kins. This is not what I believe it is now gene- 
rally supposed to be — nothing better than an awk- 
ward version of a former English translation. It 
was an original translation of the Hebrew text, 
earlier by many years than the prose translation of 
the Bible, and of all that are in any degree para- 
phrastic, as all verse, in some degree, must be, it 
is the best and most exact we have to put into the 
hands of the common people. The authors of 
this version considered the verse merely as a con- 
trivance to assist the memory." Listen to the 
testimony of Bos well, the biographer and friend of 
Dr Samuel Johnson, in regard to our metrical 
version of the psalms : << Some allowance must no 
doubt be made for early prepossessions, but at a 
maturer period of life, after looking at varions 
metrical versions of the psalms, I am well satisfied 
that the version used in Scotland is, upon the 
whole, the best, and that it is vain to think of 
having a hettei\ It has in general a simplicity 
[Sbcond Ssaus. Tol. L 



and unction of sacred poesy, and in many parts its 
transfusion is admirable." And it is well known 
that when tbei aiid oi Sir W^ler Scolt was asked, 
with Ihe Tiev of unprayiag our preaest versieii, 
his reply was, to those who made the applica- 
tion, completely satis&ctory, and put an end to 
all further agitation on the subject. It was to 
the effect that the version now in use throughout 
the Church of Scotland, with the associations con- 
nected mth it, could not be improved. 

It has been already hinted that the various 
classes, with their no leas varioaa likings and di»- 
likin<rs, interposed a formi<kble barrier in the wav 
of obtaining a firm footing for our Scottish psaf- 
mody and music in the c«MDAmenciag period of 
Presbyterianism in New Brunswick. It may, 
therefore, be expected that some characteristic 
sketches should here be preaented witb a more 
general and extended object. The population of 
the colony is composed, in a large proportion, of 
the natives of Great Britain and Ireland, with a 
considerable admixture of Americans, properly so 
called, Germans, Dutch, Acadian French, African 
tribes, and Indian aborigines. The natives of the 
Province, or those actually bom within the ter- 
ritory of New Brunswick, are, to a large extent, 
the children or immediate descendants of persons 
who had emigrated from the older inhabited coun- 
tries. And it is well known that birth often de- 
termines the religion of the parties. Presby- 
terianism, as was to be anticipated, has for the 
greatest proportion of its adherents Scotch and 
Irish, or the children of such ; while natives of 
the United States and their descendants, occupy a 
place next to them in point of numbers. 

The establishment of Presbytery in Scotland, 
the prevdence of the same principles in the north 
of Ireland, and their wide-spread influence along 
with the kindred tenets of Congr^tionalism or 
Independency throughout the Uni ed States, suf- 
ficiently account for the strong partialities in their 
favour, cherished and manifested by those who 
look to either of those quarters of the world as 
their fiather-land. At the same time>,it is not 
meant to be affirmed that none connect themselves 
with our Scottish Churches abroad who happened 
to draw their first breath in other regions of the 
globe than those now specified, or who have Eng- 
lish or Welsh blood flowing in their veins. The 
Dutch almost always attach themselves to their 
communion, but seldom or never do French, 
Africans, or Indians intermingle with the wor- 
shippers in our Zion. The former and the latter 
are of the Roman Catholic communion, while the 
people of colour classed under the other head 
^nerally attach themselves to the Methodist or 
Baptist persuasions. Having to deal with the 
consciences, the habits, the prejudices, and the 
feehngs of such a variety, not merely of charac- 
ters^ (for that falls to the lot, more or less, of 
every minister of the Gospel at home or abroad,) 
but of characters influenced, if not formed, by 
peculiarities of country, the situation of a colo- 
nial cteigyman is one o£ great delicacy, and no 

little difficulty, requiring, in no common degree, 
<< the wisdom of the serpent and the harmlessness 
of the dove.* In addition to t^oae iabenn and 
trials wbieh he mast share in common with his 
brethren in the bosom of the parent Church and 
in his •wn beloved knd^ be has calls for the exer- 
cise of skill and address, caution and prudence, 
vigilance and circumspection, discernment and 
discrimination, firmness of principle and strength 
of character, united with gentleness of disposi- 
tion and placidity of temper, which are peculiar 
to himself and the sphere assigned to hiia by 
Providence. It is to be recollected, also, thafe the 
characters of men undergo a wonderful transmu- 
tation from change of place; and while this 
might form one of the most interesting subjects 
of intellectual inquiry, it frequently unfolds one of 
the most trying caaea of casuistry to which our 
ministers abroad are required to address them- 
selves. The affecting truth is, that a process of 
deterioration is too generally undergone, and that 
' not the less marked and melancholy, that the 
worldly circumstances have been greatly improved. 
<' When riches increase, set not your hearts upon 
these," is an admonition which comes \iith pecu- 
liar effect from the pulpits of a flourishing British 
colony. The struggles of competition during 
the infancy of the settlement are comparatively 
little known ; and while capitalists of great com- 
mercial skill, intelligence, and address have scarcely 
found out the distant field thus opened for enter- 
prise, mercantile adventiu*er8 of inferior grade and 
very humble acquirements a^e enabled to carry 
all before them, and are often surprised at their 
own rapid and distinguished success. Thus raised 
by ths peculiar favour of heaven from circum- 
stances of indigence and obscurity to a station of 
respectability and independence, they too often 
want solidity of mind to maintain the rig^ht balance 
in their elevation ; they rule with the iron rod of 
oppression ; pride, luxury, or revenge alternately 
mark their conduct. Had they remained in the 
land of their nativity, earning a precarious and 
scanty subsistence, and satisfied in the humble 
sphere and narrow circumstances which seemed to 
have been all that was destined for them, they 
wonld most probaMy have been found among th« 
most consistent inutators of Him who was <* meek 
and lowly in heart." But a change of plac^ 
having resulted in a change of worldly circant- 
stances, nropitious far beyond their most sanguine 
anticipations, the feebleness of a mind, imable to 
withstand the influence of prosperity, which 
VK>uld have remained concealed amid the obscurity 
whieh originally surrounded it, has been det<>cted 
and exposed, while the despotism of newly ac* 
quired power, and the indulgence of passions just 
roused from their lethargy, proclaim to the world 
that the means of gratification were only wanting- 
to discover the latent tendencies of the heart ia 
all their strength and deformity. In regard to 
those who move in the humbler walks of life, the 
shopkeepers, mechanics, artisans, and tradesmen 
of our colonial possessionsi it may be stated as 


flie Insult of many jesra' obsenration, that a dif- 
ferent daas of temptationB are more peculiarly 
addressed to f Aem, by which they are too often 
ledneed to their temporal and eternal min. Fond- 
ness for show, ostentation, and display ; lote of 
conseqnenoe and affectation of superionty ; eager- 
ness for pleasure and amusement, prore fatal to 
many even in these ranks of life, who would have 
escaped their sednctiye and baneful influence had 
thcry neyer abandoned the simplicities of tiieir 
early home. To vast numbers of the same classes 
(though, alas ! the remark is by no means con- 
fined to them) does the intoxicating^ draught, 
recommended as it is by lowness of price, prove 
too powerful a temptation to be resisted; and 
hence that bane and curse of our own country 
being more easily procured, and still more fiery 
and maddening in its quidities, is to a g^reater 
extent ruinous to character, and comfort, and 
prospects in lifs throughout the most flourishing 
of our transatlantic seUlements. It is, however, 
wortiiy of remark t^at, notwithstanding the ab- 
sence of an efficient parochial economy, such as 
exists in Scotland, there are even among the 
denser masses of popidation much fewer cases of 
irregularity of conduct, on the part of candidates 
for holy wedlock, previous to that sacred connec- 
tion, than are to be witnessed and deplored in the 
TiUages, hamlets, and sequestered vales of this 
boated land of scriptural education and sound 
morality. Delicacy forbids enlarging on this topic ; 
and I therefore leave it with the remark that, 
wfaetiier the effect produced is to be attributed to 
higher principle, or the more refined usages of 
society, it is surely so much more seemly in itself, 
as well as consistent with the Christian profession, 
as may well make us blush for the sad contrast 
whidi we eicfaibit, and aknost envy a state of senti- 
ment or feeling so much more powerful as a cor- 
rective of evil, than all the restraints imposed by 
a Chorcfa proverbial for the purity of its principles 
and the rigour of its discipline. O when will it 
l>e the lot of the true philanthropist to witness his 
country's peace and safety founded on a surer basis 
than the severity of law, and its prosperity derived 
from the only true and certain source, — the moral 
character of its people, and the blessing of its God ! 
In reference to those duties which come strictly 
noder the character of religious, it must be con- 
fessed that the colonists do not stand distinguished 
for their strict and conscientious discharge. The 
Sabbath is not sanctified, nor is public worship 
attended as in this country ; family worship is not 
performed, nor is catechising of the young by their 
parents end guardians practised, as it is among our 
Scottish people ; reverence for the name of Grod 
is not manifested either by high or low, young or 
old, to the same extent as even in our d^necate 
Jand ; and there is not the same general resort to the 
tahle of the Lord, as distinguishes the inhabitants, at 
kMt, of the Lowlands of Scotland. On this latter 
point there is a strange and unaccountable back* 
wardnese. Here ministers are rather called npon 
to diseo«n|^ and debar, than to Mccite aad iJJve lo 

the holy sacrament of the Supper. The custom 
seems to be for all at a certain age to come for- 
ward, and those who have been under scandal have 
no sooner been formally absolved from it than, with 
peculiar rashness and daring effirontery, they claim 
and take their places among the most established 
and consistent of the saints at that sacred festival. ' 
A certain degree of obloquy attaches to all such as 
are not in full communion with the Church. It is 
quite otherwise in foreign parts. Whether it 
arises from a dread of peculiar responsibility arising 
from observing the ordinance, and of additioufd 
obligations being thereby imposed, or from the 
conviction of a want in respect either of due pre- 
paration, or suitable qualifications for the right 
celebration of it, the truth is that the number of 
the communicants is small indeed, compared with 
the number of the congregations. To be regular 
sitters in a church, and to receive baptism for their 
children, are thought by a large proportion of colo- 
nial Presbyterians, very different things from being 
partakers of the Lord's Supper. And to show 
how much custom regulates matters even of this 
very sacred character, it has often been remarked 
that Scottish emigrants on their first arrival on a 
foreign shore have embraced with eagerness the 
earliest opportunity of joining in the Sacrament, 
but after a second or third recurrence of the sacred 
season, discovering that man^of the most respect- 
able people of the place did not engage in the 
solemnity, and that no reproach would be incurred 
by the neglect of it, they too have abandoned that 
part of their Christian profession, and have thus 
made it apparent, by a change of circumstances, 
that they regarded more the fashion of the world 
than the law of Christ, in tlie form of godliness 
which they assumed. How many religious pro- 
fessors, whose sincerity is now above all suspicion, 
would have the falsity of their pretensions most 
fearfully displayed by a mere bodily removal! 
Who can tell the number among us who would go 
away and walk no more with Jesus, had they not 
the multitude to give them countenance ? What 
multitudes are borne abng the smoothly gliding 
current of popular opinicm, and how few are to be 
found resisting the stream I What a vast propor- 
tion of our people must be regarded as the sinners 
or the saints of accident 1 How small is the com- 
pany of those who dare to be singular and good ! 
Which ought we most to deplore, the formality at 
home or the laxity abroad ? To relieve, however, 
some of the grim features of the picture now ex- 
hibited, it must be recorded to the honour of our 
foreign churchmen, that on all occasions when an 
appeal is made to their charitable feelings they 
evmce a liberality that is above all praise. Objects 
of Christian beneficence hold that place in their 
estimation to which they are justly entitled, and 
amid all the defects with which they have been 
charged, they honour God by their efforts and 
their eaorifioes, they << provoke one another to love 
and to good woiks.'' 

Such aie the characteristic features <^ the enc- 
oessfiil ooloaiat in a new and io«riflfaing settle* 



mentt and the difficulties attendant upon the 
labours of a faithful minister in such a state of 
matters can only be understood by one who has 
himself encountered them. 

By thb Rev. William Grant. 
** The earth ii (UU of the glory of Ood.*' 
" All the parts of the world are so constituted that 
they could neither be better for use, nor more beauti- 
ful for show." Such was the reflection of one who 
lived ignorant of the true God (Cic de Nat. Deer.) 
Not dissiroikr is the language of the inspired apostle, 
" The invisible things of God, from the creation (con- 
stitution) of the world are clearly seen, being under- 
stood by the things that are made." From this un- 
doubted truth he draws the following lesson, ** so that 
they are without excuse, because when they knew God 
they glorified Him not as God, neither were thankful." 
Romans i. 20, 21. To make this subject plainer, to 
display your blindness in overlooking such wisdom and 
kindness and power as are stamped on the works of 
God, let me endeavour to make known their greatness. 
Suppose the years rolled back to that time when, at the 
command of God, light first displayed the new-bom 
earth , that you were with Him when he bade the fir- 
mament arise ; that you now beheld the dry land appear, 
rising from the waters, a mass of rugged unclothed rock. 
The second evening of creation sets in, and now let its 
solitary hours of quietness be spent in arranging the 
duties of the coming day. Before the morning dawns, 
attempt to frame some plan by wliich the vegetation of 
the earth shall be produced. Put forth from your view 
the work of creation. It is not the power I speak of, 
but the wisdom. Suppose that by some magic power 
you had but to wish and it was done to plan their iforms, 
and qualities, and numbers, and situations, and at once 
reality appears clothed with all the qualities you desired 
them to possess ; you are not required to build, but to 
plan. See what a variety of provisions you must make, 
what a multiplicity of objects you must attain ere you 
can equal the system whose wisdom you overlook. The 
structure of the various herbs must be so contrived as 
to absorb the moisture of the soil, and breathe it forth ; 
they must be provided with organs which can assimi- 
late the rain and the tender dew to their own sub- 
stance ; they must be instructed to absorb the noxious 
gases which exist in the atmospheric air; their roots 
must be t«ught to strike downwards into the soil, or 
to cling to the barren rock ; their leaves to expand to 
the enlivening sun. The juices which nourish them 
must, at certain seasons, be shaped into buds, and blos- 
soms, and seed bearing fruit ; all the varied organs re- 
quisite for this must be planned ; organs various in 
each and these varied in all. When all this has been 
done, the difficulty has scarce commenced, it is but the 
threshold of greater and more arduous toils. 

Every part of the earth has a different soil or a dif- 
ferent climate, you must provide for this. The most 
Aixuriant of the fruit-bearing trees of the tropics, are 
but stinted and useless shrubs in a colder climate; those 
which flourish here, degenerate to barren herbs when 
transported to other dimes. What change shall you 
make ? What difference between them ? What form 

or organs will remedy the evil? or how will you bo 
modify and allot these changes that every soil and every 
clime shall have their due proportions ? What skill or 
wisdom can devise a scheme so well adjusted as that 
which now exists ? " Such knowledge is too high for 
us.'* Even when aided by the observation and expe- 
rience of ages, we cannot tell the actual distribution of 
plants ; nay. we do not even know with certainty the best 
situation or the best mode of cultivation for the most 
fiimiliar and well-known herb ; all that we have learned 
by practice and patient research is, that the situation 
which is, is the best. We imitate and adopt the les- 
sons which nature affords, thus confessing the wisdom 
of its Creator, and our own ignorance. Not knowing 
in what these advantages consist, though we know they 
do exist, our utmost skill is directed to learn the rules 
of nature and adopt them. 

But the difficulty still continues to increase. This 
clothing of vegetation is not merely for ornament ; not 
merely to purify the air, and to season the earth ; it is 
also the food and support of myriads of animals, — for 
the beasts of the field, for the birds of the air, for in- 
sects, and for roan himsel£ Can your wisdom devise 
a sufficiency for all these various tribes ? can it secure 
a continual provision, or one suited to the varied forms 
and appetites, and internal structure of unnumbered 
species ? Can you provide not only a sufficiency for 
each — a supply not merely large enough, and varied 
enough to prolong the existence of so varied and so 
numerous a host of creatures, but so abounding in 
variety as to please and gratify the senses, and help to 
cheer and gladden the period of life ? All this has been 
planned by the wisdom of God. Is it not strange that 
such surpassing skill should have failed to call forth yoiir 
attention or awaken praise ? 

But your wisdom must be taxed still further ; you 
must not only choose the situation where each plant 
can grow, you must place them where they are required. 
Attention must be paid to the inhabitants who require 
them as well as to the soil which will bear them. The 
inhabitants of the tropics must be nourished with vege- 
table food, their land must abound with such fruits of 
the earth as may be plucked with impunity ; to the na- 
tives of the frozen north such fare would prove useless, 
nay injurious. The flesh of animals is the nourishment 
which their climate requires. But how are they to 
sustnin their herds without vegetation ? and what plants 
can thrive amid biting frosts and perpetual snou'^? 
He who provides for the ravens when they cry, has not 
failed to supply the wants of his creatures— the rein- 
deer and the seal are the food of man ; the one finds 
support in the frozen sea, the other in the peculiar moss 
that flourishes amid regions of snow, and there alone. 

There is still another testimony to the wisdom of 
God — one which is seen by all, although too often un- 
able to awaken praise in the selfish heart of man. In 
the very decay of the herbs and plants around us, there 
exists a principle of renovation and life. In dying they in- 
crease, and nourish the soil from which their successors 
are about to spring. The superabundance of this season 
prepares the earth for another, and secures an ample sup- 
ply for the next. Thus like the febled phoenix, which 
after all was but an emblem of nature ; the vegetation 
of the earth contains the elements of life in its death, 
the germ of nourishment wd future being in its deosy* 



To have contrived such a scheme is utterly beyond 
the wisdom of the wisest of men. If then they could 
not arrange the duties of one day of creation, and that, 
perhafM, the least complicated of any — ^how far would 
the duties of the others transcend their skill 1 But say 
the plan had been laid before them ; that every heri> 
bad been described, it^ qualities, its form, and situation ; 
— ^who could create them ? who can form the smallest or 
the simplest of plants though endless years were allotted 
for the task ? How great then, how wise was He who 
planned and executed; who spoke and it was donel 
How kind, how considerate to prepare such a habitation 
for man, to deck it with every ornament — to supply it 
with every necessary, to store it with abounding com- 
fort ! and how strange that man, seeing and tasting these 
unnumbered mercies, should be ungrateful to Him who 
gave them ! For how fitting is the language of the 
Psalmist, * O Lord our Grod how excellent is thy name 
in all the earth.* 



P&£?ACS AMD First Section. 

This forty-fifth psalm is a poetical composition, in the 
form of an epithalamium or song of congratulation, 
upon the marriage of a great king, to be sung to music 
at the wedding-feast. The topics are such as were 
the usual ground- work of such gratulatory odes with 
the poets of antiquity : they all fidl under two general 
heads — the praises of the bridegroom, and the praises 
of the bride. The bridegroom is praised for the come- 
liness of bis person and the urbanity of his address — 
for his military exploits — ^fior the extent of his con- 
quests — for the upright administration of his govern- 
ment — ^for the magnificence of his court. The bride 
is celebrated for high birth — for the beauty of her 
person, the richness of her dress, and her numerous 
train of blooming bridemaids. It is foretold that the 
marriage will be fruitful, and that the sons of the great 
king will be sovereigns of the whole earth. Now the 
relation between the Saviour and his Church is repre- 
sented in the writings both of the Old and New Tes- 
tament under the image of the relation of a husband 
to his wife. It is a fiivourite image with all the an- 
cient prophets, when they would set forth the loving 
kindness of God for the Church, or the Church's dutiful 
return of love to him ; while, on the contrary, the 
idolatry of the Church, in her apostasies, is represented 
as the adultery of a married woman. The image has 
been consecrated to this signification by our Lord's 
own use of it, who describes God in the act of settling 
the Church in her final state of peace and perfection, 
as a king making a marriage for his son. Hence it 
should seem that this epithalamium, or song, celebrates 
no common marriage, but the great mystical wedding : 
Christ is the bridegroom, and the spouse his Church. 
And accordingly it was the unanimous opinion of all 
antiquity, without exception even of the Jewish ex- 
positors, that this is one of the prophecies which re- 
late to the Messiah and Messiah's people. Thus on 
verse 1. " I speak of the things which I have made 
touching the King," or, '* unto the King i " or, as the 
original might be still more exactly rendered, '* I ad- 
dress my performance to the King," — ^it is a remark, 

and a very just remark, of the Jewish expositors, thai 
the appellation of the <* King," in the book of Psalms^ 
is an appropriate title of the Messiah ; insomuch, that 
wherever it occurs, except the context directs it to 
some other special meaning, you are to think of no 
earthly king, but of the King Messiah. By the ad- 
mission, therefore, of these Jewish commentators, the 
Messiah is the immediate subject of this psalm. 

Farther, to settle this point of the general subject of 
the psalm, I must observe, and desire you to bear it in 
remembrance, that in the prophecies of the Old Testa- 
ment which set forth the union between the Redeemer 
and his Church, under the figure of the state of wed- 
lock, we read of two celebrations of that mystical 
wedding, at very different and distant seasons ; or, to 
be more distinct and particular, we read of a marriage 
— a separation, on account of the woman's incontinence, 
t. «., on account of her idolatry — and, in the end, of a 
re-marriage with the womnn reclaimed and pardoned. 
The original marriage was contracted with the Hebrew 
Church, by the institution of the Mosaic covenant, at 
the time of the Exodus ; as we are taught expressly 
by the prophets Jeremiah and Ezekiel. The separa- 
tion was the dispersion of the Jewish nation by the 
Romans, when they were reduced to that miserable 
state in which to this day they remain. It is this 
event which is predicted in many prophecies, as the 
expulsion of the incontinent wife from the husband's 
house. Her expulsion, however, was to be but tem- 
porary, though of long duration. The same prophecies 
that threatened the expulsion, promise a recoucilia* 
tion and final reinstatement of her in her husband'* 
fiivour. '* Where is this bill of your mother's divorce- 
ment ? " saith the prophet Isaiah. The question im- 
plies a denial that any such instrument existed. And 
in a subsequent part of his prophecies, chapter liv. 
5-7,, he expressly announces the reconciliation ; 
which is to be made publidy, as we learn from 
the latter part of the Apocalypse. After Christ's 
final victory over the apostate faction, proclamation is 
made, by a voice issuing from the throne, — *' Tho 
marriage of the Lamb is come, and his wife hath made 
herself ready." And one of the seven angels calls to 
St. John, *< Come hither, and I will show thee the 
Lamb's vnfe" Then he shows him " the holy Jeru- 
salem." These nuptials, therefore, of the Lamb are 
not, as some have imagined, a marriage with a second 
wife, a Gentile Church, taken into the place of the 
Jewish, irrevocably discarded : no such idea of an ab- 
solute divorce is to be found in prophecy. But it is a 
public reconciliation with the original wife, the Hebrew 
Church, become the mother Church of Christendom, 
notified by the ceremony of a re-marriage ; for to no 
other than the reconciled Hebrew Church belongs in 
prophecy the august character of the Queen Consort. 
The season of this renewed marriage is the second 
advent, when the new covenant will be established 
with the natural Israel ; and it is this re-marriage which 
is the proper subject of this psalm. 

The psalm takes its beginning in a plain unaffected 
manner, with a verse briefly declarative of the import- 
ance of the subject, the author's extraordinary know- 
ledge of it, and the manner in which it will be treated. 
« My heart is inditing a good matter ; " or, rather, 
" My heart hibours with a goodly theme." <* I addresi 



tuf p«rfoniuiiic6 iotb« Kinfs" that is, to tbe great 
King Mesnmb. '* My tongue ii the pen of a ready 
writer ; " that ia, of a well instructed writer,— a writer 
prepared and ready, by a perfect knowledge of the 
subject he undertakes to treat. 

But with what sense and meaning is it that the 
Psalmist oompares hii tongue to the pen of such a 
writer ? It is to intimate, that what he is about to 
deliver, is no written composition, but an extempo- 
raneous effusion, that what will fall, however, in that 
manner from his tongue, will in no degree fall short of 
the most laboured production of the pen of any writer, 
the best prepared by previous study of his subject; 
inasmuch as the Spirit of Ood inspires his thoughts 
and prompts his utterance. 

After this brief pre&ce, he plunges at one into the 
sulject he had propounded i addressing the King Mes« 
siah as if he were actually standing in the royal pre- 
sence. And in this same strain, indeed, the whole 
song proceeds ) as referring to a scene present to the 
prophet's eye, or to things which he saw doing. 

This scene consists of three principal parts, relating 
to three grand divisions of the whole interval of time, 
from our Lord's first appearance in the flesh to the 
final triumph of the Church upon his second advent. 
And the psalm may be divided info as many sections, 
in which the events of these periods are described in 
their proper order. 

The first section, consisting only of the second 
verse, describes our Lord on earth in the days of his 
humiliation. The five following verses make the 
second section, and describe the successful propagation 
of the Gospel, and our Lord's victory over all his 
enemies. This comprehends the whole period from 
our Lord's ascension to the time not yet arrived of the 
fulfilling of the Gentiles. The sequel of the psalm, 
from the end of the seventh verse, exhibits the re- 
marriage, — ^that is, the restoration of the converted 
Jews to the reh'gious prerogative of their nation. 

I. The second verse, describing our Lord in the days 
of his humiliation, may seem perhaps to relate merely 
to his person, and the manner of his address. 

** Thou art fiurer than the children of men ; 

Grace is poured upon thy lips : 

Therefore God hath blessed thee for ever." 

We have no account in the Gospels of our Sa- 
viour's person ; but, from what is reoorded in them, 
of the ease with which our Saviour mixed in what in 
the modern style we should call good company, — of 
the respectful attention shown to liim, beyond any 
thing his reputed birth or fortune might demand, and 
the manner in which his discourses, either of severe 
reproof or gentle admonition, were received, we may 
reasonably conclude, that he had a dignity of exterior 
appearance, remarkably corresponding with that au- 
thority of speech which, upon some occasions, impress- 
ed even his enemies with awe, and with that dignified 
mildness^ which seems to have been his more natural 
and usual tone, and drew the applause and admiration 
of all who heard him. '* Never man spake like this 
man," was the confession of his enemies ; and, upon 
his first appearance in the synagogue at Naaareth, 
" all bare him witness, and wondered at the gracious 
words which proceeded out of his mouth." Thus, 
without k<>owing it, the congregation attested the 

completion of this prophecy of the Pialmiat, in one 
branch of it, — in the '* grace " which literally, it seems, 
" was pourad upon hia lipe." But certainly it roust 
have been something externally striking— something 
answering to the text of the .Psalmist in the former 
branch, '* Adorned with beauty beyond the ions of 
men," which, upon the same occasion, before his dis- 
oourse began, '* fastened the eyes of aU that were in 
the synagogue upon him," — that is, upon the village 
carpenter's reputed son ; for in no higher eharacter he 
yet was known. We may conclude, therefore, that 
this prophetic text had a completion, in the literal and 
superficial sense of the words, in both its branchea, in 
the beauty of our Saviour's person, no less than in the 
graciousness of his speech. 

But beauty and grace of speech are certainly used in 
this text as figures of mudi higher qualities, which 
were conspicuous in our Lord, and in him alone of all 
the sons of men. That image of God, in which Adam 
was created, in our Lord appeared perfect and entire. 
This was the beauty with which he was adorned be« 
yond the sons of men. Again, the gracefidness of his 
speech is put figuratively for the perfection, sublimity, 
excellence, and sweetness of the doctrine he delivered, 
the glad tidings of salvation. Thia is the grace which 
is poured over the lips of the Son of God. 

It is to be observed, that the happiness and glory 
to which the human nature is advanced in the person 
of Jesus, the man united to the Godhead, and now 
seated with the Father on his throne, is always repre- 
sented in holy writ as the reward of that man's obe-> 
dience. In conformity with this notion, the Psalmist 
says—" Therefore," for this reason, in reward of the 
holiness perfected in thy own life, and thy gtadoua 
instruction of sinners in the ways of righteonsneas, 
*< God hath blessed thee fi>r ever," bath raised thee 
from the dead, and advanced thee to endlesa bliss and 

Thus the Psalmist closes his brief description of our 
Lord on earth, in the days of his humiliation, with the 
mention, equally brief, but equally comprehensive, of 
the exaltation in which it terminated. 


By Charles Mom, Esq. 

O THoa whose glory fills the heavens. 
Whose bounty clothes the earth. 

To thee a hymn of thanks we raise 
For blessings from our birth. 

For that untiring love thou dost 

From day to day renew, 
O may it on our hearts descend 

like heaven-distilled dew. 

For mercy great, unending still. 
Which gave up to the grave 

Thine only Son, the sinless One, 
Our sinful souls to save. 

While entering on another year 
Our cares on lliee we cast. 

Beseeching aid in days to come 
Which cheered us through the past. 

That still the freedom may be oun 
To kneel down in thy sight. 

And worship Theo at shut of day. 
And in the morning light. 



That from temptation's fatal paths 

Tbrni tarn our steps away ; 
Asd keep us from unholy thoughts 

That kad the mind astray. 
Ko oaore may lust of worldly wealth 

Command thoughts that are Thine; 
Nor may we envy other's lot. 

Or at our own repine. 
Than all the riches earth can hoast 

Or gems heneath the sea. 
We know the pious, humble heart. 

More precious is to Thee. 
How needful, then, to tndn our thoughts,- 

And fan the heaTenly flame 
Of faith, in the believing heart. 

Triumphing o'er sin and shame. 
And holding by the Word, Thou hast 

For grace and guidance given, 
Fkss tliroiigh this world in holy fear, 

Tnie candidates for heaven. 


Bt the Editor. 
The lather of this distinguished man was a mimster 
belonging to the English Independents, and his mother 
was tj^e fhrourite niece of John Mason, the celebrated 
author of the Treatise on Self-Knowledge. The sub- 
ject of the present Sketch enjoyed the high privilege 
of bdng reared under the immediate tuition of his &ther, 
who resigned his pastoral charge that he might devote 
himself exclusively to the education of his children. At 
the earnest request of his friends, howeyer, Mr Good 
was prevmled upon to associate with his own fiunlly a 
limited number of pupils, and in this way the advan- 
tages of a private were to some extent combined with 
those of a public education. The mode of instruction 
pursued, appears to have been remarkably judicious, and 
accordingly, its beneficial effects were speedily perceived 
in the rapid progress of his pupils, not merely in the ac- 
quisition of knowledge, but of proper habits of reflection 
and study. In proof of this we may advert to one 
peculiarity well worthy of imitation, the habit of 
** abridging and recording in common-place books, upon 
the plan recommended by Mr Locke, the most valuable 
results of their researches." The value of this plan 
lies, we conceive, not so much in the stores of know- 
ledge wliich are accumulated, as in the art which is ac- 
quired of carefully noting and judidously selecting those 
facts or passages of authors which are worth remember- 
ing. The truth is, the great end of education, especially 
in its earlier periods, should be the mental training of the 
child to industry, and activity, and habits of reflection ; 
and if there is any one error which is more liable to be 
fhllen into in the present day than another, it arises 
from the anxious desire which is evinced to put the 
child in possession of knowledge, rather than to give 
him the capability of acquiring it. Against this error 
Mr Good seems to have been particularly on his guard, 
and the benefits were incalculable, in so far as the sub- 
ject of our present Sketch was concerned ; his whole 
future life was characterised by the most unwearied in- 
dustry and perseverance, and activity of thought. 

At the age of fifteen, John Mason was apprenticed to 
Mr Johnston, a surgeon apothecary at Gosport, and for 

the first time in his life quitted the patelrnU roof. To 
a youth educated under other circumstanoes, this would 
have been a eritieal,.a trying season ; but the principles 
imbibed and the habits acquired undel' the careful and 
judicious superintendence of his fisther, showed them* 
selves in the industrious eJcertions of the young appren* 

The death of Mr Johnston led to a change in Mr 
Good's plans, and accordingly, after a short time spent 
in Havant, where he enjoyed the society and advice of 
his fiither, he entered into a partnership with a Mr Deeks, 
a respectable surgeon in Sudbury. Before engaging^ 
however, in this new tmdertaking, he spent nearly a 
year ui London in laborious professional study, the 
effects of which were soon apparent in the increasing 
reputation which he acqiured in Sudbury and its neigh- 
bourhood. Though at that time only twenty years of 
age, his medical skill, his cheerful and fascinating man-* 
ners, his kind and judicious treatment of his patients^ 
brought him a most extensive practice. The following 
year he noarried Miss Godfrey, an amiable and accom- 
plished young lady, in whose society he promised him- 
self much solid and substantial enjoyment { but, alas I 
bow frail and fleeting is all earthly bliss 1 In little 
more than six months after his marriage, his youthful 
bride died of consumption. To a heart possessed of 
such warm and affectionate sensibility, this dispensation 
must have been peculiarly trying, and more especially 
as we have Uttle reason to think that he was other than 
a stranger to the consolations of the (Gospel. His time 
was wholly spent in desultory study and in the active 
duties of his profession. After nearly four years of 
widowhood Mr Good entered into a second marriage i 
the object of his choice was a daughter of Thomas Penn, 
Esq., of Balingdon house, a banker in Sudbury ,.—11 
union which for thirty-eight years was the source of 
much happiness to both parties. 

A short time after this erent, Mr Good fell into dr- 
cnmstances of considerable pecuniary embarrassment. 
Instead, however, of submitting to be extricated from 
his difficulties by his father-in*law, who generously 
stepped forward to his assistance, he resolved, in a noble 
spirit of independence, to extricate himself by his own 
exertions. It is thus that benefit is often evolved from 
apparent evil. This cakmity, which would have crushed 
a mind of an inferior description, prompted him to put 
forth his energies with remarkable vigour and success. 
His biographer thus remarks : 

" Mr Good's exertions, on this occasion, were most 
persevering and diversified. He wrote phiys ; he made 
translations from the French, Italian^ fte. ; he composed 
poems; he prepared a series of philosophical essays; but 
all these efforto, though they soothed his mind and 
occupied his leisure, were unproductive of the kind of 
benefit which he sought. Having no acquaintance with 
the maiuigers of the London theatres, or with influential 
men connected with them, he could not get any of his 
tragedies or comedies brought forward ; and being totally 
unknown to the London booksellers, he could obtain 
no purchasers for his literary works ; so that the mann* 
script copies of these productions, which in the course 
of two or three years had become really numerous, 
remained upon his hands} yet nothing damped his ar. 
dour. He at length opened a correspondence with the 
editor of a London newspaper, and became a regular 
contributor to one of the Reviews; and though these, 
together, brought him no adequate remuneration, tfaer 
served as incentives to hope and perseverance." 



Several of the employments here enumerated are far 
from indicating a mind as yet brought under the influ- 
ence of divine truth, bat the impressions of his early 
years were not altogetlier effaced. To religion, as far 
as he had yet become acquainted with it, he was warmly 
attached, and accordingly, subjects intimately connected 
with it appear to have constituted the theme of several 
of the essays composed at this time ; of these, the bio- 
grapher has inserted one of considerable ingenuity on 
•• Providence." 

Early in the year 1793, Mr Good was invited to enter 
into partnership with a surgeon and apothecary of ex- 
tensive practice in London. This proposal he gladly 
embraced, as holding out to him the prospect of being 
able to discharge all his debts. In this, however, he 
was mistaken ; his partner, he soon found to his cost, 
was a foolish and imprudent man. '< The business 
failed* the partnership was dissolved, Mr W. died in the 
Fleet Prison, and Mr Good was again generously assisted 
by his affectionate relative at Balingdon house." His 
energy, however, was still unrepressed ; he persevered 
in the faithful discharge of his professional duties from 
year to year, until at length he found himself established 
in a very extensive .and lucrative practice. In the 
literature of his profession, Mr Good was laborious and 
inde&tigable ; and in a short time he was regarded as 
one of the leading medical practitioners of the metro- 
polis. His associates, however, were chiefly limited to 
a eiMi of literati, who, proud of the exertions of human 
TMson, are unwilling to bow implicitly to the dictates 
of revelation. In the end of last century, Socinianism 
was the school of theology to which many of the prin- 
cipal literary men of London adhered, and at the head 
of this coterie of proud worshippers of human reason 
stood Dr Wakefield and Dr Geddes ; the former, one 
of the most eminent classical scholars of his day, and the 
intimate friend of Mr Fox ; the latter, occupying the 
place assigned to him by the 'common consent of his 
associates, of leading the theological sentiments of that 
perverted school. The description of Mr Good's first 
interview with Geddes is so interesting, that we make 
no apology for extracting it. 

** I met him accidentally at the house of Miss Hamil- 
ton, who had Utely acquired a just reputation for her 
excellent letters on education; and I freely confess, 
that at the first interview I was by no means pleased 
with him. I beheld a man of about five feet five inches 
high, in a black dress, put on with uncommon negli- 
gence, and apparently never fitted to his form; his 
figure was lank, his &ce meagre, his hair black, long, 
and loose, without having been sufficiently submitted 
to the operations of the toilet, and his eyes, though 
quick and vivid, sparkling at that time with irritability 
rather than benevolence. He was disputing with one 
of the company when I entered, and the rapidity with 
which at this moment he left his chair, and rushed with 
an elevated tone of voice and uncourtly dogmatism of 
manner towards his opponent, instantaneously persuaded 
me that the subject upon which the debate turned was 
one of the utmost moment. I listened with all the 
attention I could command; and in a few minutes 
learned, to my astonishment, that it related to nothing 
more than the distance of his own house in the new 
road, Paddington, from the phice of our meeting, which 
was in Guildford Street. The debate being at length 
concluded, or rather worn out, the Doctor took posses- 
sion of the next chair to that in which I was seated, 
and united with myself and a friend who sat on my 

other side, in discoursing upon the politics of the day. 
On this topic we proceeded smoothly and accordantly 
for some time, till at length disagreeing with us upon 
some points as trivial as the former, he again rose 
abruptly from his seat, traversed the room in every 
direction, with as indeterminate a parallax as that of a 
comet, and loudly, with increase of voice, maintaining 
his position at every step he took. Not wishing to 
prolong the dispute, we yielded to him without further 
interruption ; and in the course of a few minutes after 
he had closed his harangue, he again approached us, 
retook possession of his chair, and was all playfulness, 
good humour, and wit." 

This is a fiathful portrait, we doubt not, of one of 
the most eccentric and dogmatical men that ever lived*. 
Possessed of considerable learning, hirtnind was never- 
theless reckless and unrestrained, of which we have 
ample proof in his published version of part of the Old 
Testament, which was exposed by Dr Horsley in the 
British Critic, with his wonted ingenuity and critical 
acumen. . 

Of the diversified objects of study to which Mr Good 
directed his active and vigorous mind, the acquisition of 
languages appears to have been that which he prosecuted 
with most remarkable success. In a letter to Dr Drake, 
dated October 1799, that is about two years after he 
eommenced his much esteemed translation of Lucretius, 
he says, " I have just begun the German language, hav- 
ing gone with tolerable ease through the French, Italian,. 
Spanish, and Portuguese." In a few months after this he 
had so far mastered the German as to send to the above- 
mentioned correspondent various translations firom some 
of its poets. No better proof than this could be adduced 
of a peculiar aptitude for the study of languages. In 
the following year he studied the Arabic and Persian, 
and afterwards the Russian, Sanscrit, Chinese, and 
other languages — and all this amid the harassing cares 
and anxieties and indefatigable labours of his profes- 
sional pursuits. With the mode, however, in which 
Mr Good prosecuted his philological studies we are by 
no means satisfied. He seu out with an idea similar to 
that which was entertained by the late distinguished 
Orientalist, Dr Murray — that all languages have a com- 
mon origin and a general unity of principle. Now, in 
so far as the principles of grammar are concerned, we 
grant that they must necessarily be universal, as having 
their foundation in the laws which regulate the pro- 
cesses of thought. It is quite otherwise, however, 
with the terms employed to express our ideas, which in 
most cases are altogether conventionaL Had there 
been any necessary connection between the word and 
the thought which it expresses, or even, an imaginary 
connection between the sound of the word employed 
and the shade of meaning of which it is the symbol, 
there might have been some reason for the use of the 
same terms in all languages to express the same ideas. 
This not being the case, however, the uniformity sup- 
posed by enthusiastic philologists is often quite chimeri- 
cal. Fanciful though the resemblance be, however, 
which is thought to obtain between the terms employed 
in different languages to denote the same thing, even the 
hypothesis is not without its use, as assisting the me- 
mory in the attainment of languages. Nowhere, per- 
haps, has this excessive generalization been more strik- 
ingly exemplified than in the history of European 
languages, by the late Dr Murray, — a work the utility 
of whiqh is almost entirely destroyed by the anxiety 



eTiBced througBout to discover the simplost combina- 
tkms of letters in which the words of all languages have 
originated. Mr Good was not a mere linguist ; he was 
a univeiaal scholar, and the activity and unwearied 
ardour of his mind cannot be better depicted than in 
the words of his biographer. 

'* From the year 1797 to 1803 or 1804, Mr Good 
contributed hirgely to some of the Reviews and other 
periodical publications. The ' Analytical' and ' Criti- 
cal ' Reviews, were those in which his productions usually 
appeared, though there are a very few interesting spe- 
cimens of his taste and erudition in the ' British' and 

* Monthly ' Magazines. Thus in the latter magazine for 
August 1800, there is a paper on German literature, 
with two translations from ' Klopstock's Messias.' And 
in the number for January 1801, there is an elegant 
communication on the resemblance of Persian and Arabic 
poetry to the Greek and Roman, with several spirited 
versions. But during greater part of this, and even a 
longer period, his principal communications were to the 

* Critiad Review ; ' of which indeed he was for some 
time the editor, and the labour of preparing the most 
elaborate articles often devolved upon him. It has 
been in my power to specify the critiques upon * Hind- 
ley's Persian Lyrics,' • AUwood's Literary Antiquities 
of Greece,' and of some poems, by Sir B. Burgess, and 
Mr Cowley. In the beginning of 1803, his labours 
were still more multifarious. He was finishing his 
translation of Solomon's ' Song of Songs,' carrying on 
bis life of X>r Geddes, walking from twelve to fourteen 
miles a- day, that he might see his numerous patients ; 
nor was this all. In a letter to Dr Drake, dated Jan. 
29, 1803, after speaking of these engagements, and ad- 
verting with thankfulness to the state of his business 
as a surgeon, (which then produced near fourteen hun- 
dred pounds per annum,) he proceeds thus : . 

"I have edited the * Critical Review,' besides writ- 
ing several of its most elaborate articles ; I have every 
week supplied a column of matter for the ' Sunday 
Review ; ' and have for some days had the great weight 
of the ' British Press' upon my hands ; the committee 
for conducting which have applied to me lately, in the 
utmost consternation, in consequence of a trick put 
upon them by the proprietors of other newspapers, and 
which stopped abruptly the exertions of their editor, 
and several of their most valuable hands." 

Though not published till after the period to which 
the above quotation refers, Mr Good's translation of 
Lncretios was begun and finished several years before. 
The object for which it was undertaken was character- 
istic of the man, being, in the language of his biographer, 
'* \o bring himself under something like the urgency of 
a moral necessity to become thoroughly acquainted with 
the utmost possible variety of subjects, upon which 
men of literature, science, and investigation had been 
able to throw any light." It is accordingly a work 
of roost astonishing erudition and research, and must 
long remain a standing monument of the author's un- 
wearied industry, refined taste, and vast acquirements. 
Nor was this translation penned in the silence and soli- 
tude of the closet. * It was composed in the streets of 
London during fhe translator's extensive walks, to visit 
his numerous patients.' This is perhaps the finest in- 
stance of the vsluable art of economizing time of which 
we have either read or heard, and we call the attention 
of our readers to it, as a bright example of industry and 
wedwiiy which it were well that all should imitate. 
The mental and bodily powers are much more fi«quently 
impaired by idleness than by excessive labour; and 
therefore we would cordially recommend the saying of 

the late Dr E. D. Clarke, as peculiarly worthy of notice. 
** I have lived to know that the great secret of human 
happiness is this :— Never suflfer your energies to stag, 
nate. The old adage of * too many irons in the fire,* 
is &lse ; you cannot have too many ; poker, tongs, and 
all — keep them all going." 

The extraordinary exertions of Mr Good, both literary 
Mid professional, from 1800 to 1812, almost exceed be- 
lief. It would occupy, in fact, too much of our space to 
enumerate simply the works which issued from his pen. 
There were two, however, connected with Theology, 
which fell more immediately within the province of this 
journal,— we allude to his translation of the " Song of 
Songs," and of the book of Job ; both of which are 
highly valued for the critical remarks, and the copious 
illustrations from other authors with which they abound. 
The language in which he characterises the latter book 
is singuhirly felicitous and just ; " nothing can be purer 
than its morality ; nothing sublimer than its philosophy j 
nothing more majestic than its creed." We cannot 
agi-ee with him in his idea that it was written by Moses, 
OT indeed by any individual subsequent to the days of 
Abraham ; the language, the style, the allusions appear, 
in our view, to indicate an earlier period as the date of 
its composition. 

Towards the Autumn of 1810, Mr Good was ear- 
nestly solicited to deliver a course of lectures on popular 
science in the Surrey Institution, which were attended 
by crowded audiences both during that and the two suc- 
ceeding winters. The substance of these lectures was 
afterwards published under the vague and indefinite 
title of the 'Book of Nature,' — a work including a 
great extent of general information expressed in a sim- 
pie popular style. No indiridual could have been 
selected more happily suited to address a popular 
audience than Mr Good. His manner was free, open, 
unrestrained; his language plain, perspicuous, often 
elegant, while his reasonings, instead of being abstract 
and metaphysical, were enriched with many interesting 
facts, and enlivened with some beautiful and well-sus- 
tained flights of fancy. 

In the year 1820, Mr Good, at the suggestion of his 
friends, entered upon a higher department of professional 
duty than that in which he had hitherto been engaged. 
He now commenced practice as a physician. His di- 
ploma was obtained from Marischal College, Aberdeen. 
From this period till his death, Dr Good turned his 
attention more particularly to studies connected with 
his profession, as the fruits of which, he gave to the 
world, his ' Physiological System of Nosology,' and his 
invaluable ' Study of Medicine.' In our next we shall 
consider more minutely the religious character and 
history of this excellent man. 



Bt THE Rev. John Smtth, D. D., 

Minister of St. Georges Parish, Glasgow. 

" And ye, fathers, provoke not your children to wrath : 
but bring them up in the nurture and admonition 
of the Lord." — Ephes. vi. 4. 

It is the sublime saying of a Master in Israel, 
that *' the bosom of Jehovah is the seat of law/ 



All that is holy^ just and good, has ita dwelling- 
place there <' from everlasting to everlasting." In' 
creating rational and immortal beings, one main 
design of God is to bless them with the experience, 
that << in the keeping of His commandments there 
is a great reward." Obedience to these is, at 
once, their duty and privilege. The apostasy of 
our race, has, it is true, brought along with it a 
universal disrelish to the service of God. As men 
do not like to retain Him in their knowledge, so 
their carnal minds are enmity against God ; and 
are not subject to the law of God, neither, indeed, 
can be* 

Hence, the manifest and argent necessity of a 
method of salvation which provides not only for 
our restoration to divine favour, through perfect 
righteousness and atoning blood; but, likewise, 
for our being << renewed in the spirit of our minds." 
The regenerating power of the Holy Ghost is not 
less indispensable to new obedience than the 
finished work of the Saviour. The law of God, 
indeed, requires from all men conformity to its 
enactments ( but, the righteousness of the Uw is 
fulfilled in those only who are made new creatures 
in Christ Jesus ; and who are, thereby, disposed 
and enabled to walk not after the flesh, but after 
the Spirit. << Do we make void the Uw through 
faith ? God forbid : yea, we establish the law.^ 

It merits special and grateful consideration, 
that so many of the divine precepts appeal to the 
strongest affections and sensibilities of our nature. 
Their supreme authority is not more distinctly 
apparent, than is their accordance with the moral 
constitution which we have received from the 
Father of our spirits. From the various relations 
in which we are placed as superiors, inferiors, and 
equals, arise corresponding duties, none of which 
can be discharged aright, without the light of 
Scripture revelation, and the power of the Holy 
Ghost. • 

The immediate subject of this discourse, re- 
lates to the duties of the Christian as a father : 
And the terms in which the Apostle's exhorta- 
tion is expressed are as tender as they are in- 
structive : '^ And ye fathers, provoke not your 
children to wrath ; but bring them up in the nur- 
ture and admonition of the Lord." 

Parental duties commence with the existence of 
the child, and terminate, only, at the death of one 
of the parties. It is scarcely necessary to advert, 
minutely, to these obligations which devolve upon 
you with respect to the preservation of the lives 
of your infants ; as the strong instincts of the 
parental nature provide for their safety so far as 
human exertions can avail, in all, but the most 
flagitious and abandoned of our race. 

It is a delightful proof of a heavenly Father^s 
beneficence, that he has not left such duties to de- 
pend on the dictates of conscience and Scripture 
solely ; but has made the performance of them 
one of the sweetest and most sacred of all our 
pleasures. Those stirrings of affection within us, 
which are experienced, antecedeniltf to aU rea- 
sonings about their moral excellence and pro- 

prietyy have, in ii-isdom and mercy, been awakened 
by the God of the Spirits of all flesh, for ends 
worthy of his infinite perfections. With what 
profound gratitude oug^t we to recognise this 
provision of divine munificence ; beholding in the 
tie which knits the heart of a parent to his child, 
an imperfect but touching emblem of that which 
binds each member of the household of faith to 
their Father in heaven, 

I. The first duty which a Christian father owes 
to God in behalf of his children, is a solemn dedi- 
cation of them to Him in whom they Uve^ and 
move, and have their being. 

A memorable instance of such dedication occurs 
in the Scripture history of Samuel who was 
brought unto the house of the Lord in Shiloh ; 
and of whom Hannah said, "For this child I 
prayed ; and the Lord hath given me my peti- 
tion which I asked of Him. Therefore, also, I 
have lent him to the Lord : as long as he liveth, 
he shall be lent to the Lord." The effect of a 
specific act of dedication to Jehovah, on the mind 
of a parent, is eminently beneficial. It is asso- 
ciated with all those feeUngs of dependence, humi- 
lity, and thankfulness which we ought to cherish 
in the reception of important benefits ; and, it is 
calculated to deepen our sense of responsibility to 
Him who bestowed them. The remembrance of 
the act is precious to the heart in seasons of duty 
and of tnal ; and, whether the Lord giveth or 
taketh away — ^the piety of which it is so befitting 
an expression, dictates the prayer, <^ Blessed be 
the name of the Lord." 

But such dedication to God is not to be a 
solitary act. It ought to be frequently renewed, 
as indicating our continued sense of his authority 
and our <* memory of his great goodness." 

II. The ordinance of baptism is an invaluable 
mean of grace for guiding us in the dedication of, 
our children to Jehovah. It would be unseason- 
able to enter, at present, into any elaborate proof 
of the scriptural authority of infant- baptism. Suf- 
fice it to remark, that although the evidence in sup- 
port of it were less cogent than we believe it to 
be, the practice would find many an argument in 
the affections of a pious mind. It is true, that 
nothing short of direct precept — or of an esta- 
blished course of practice from the earliest period 
of the Christian* Church (which arguea a divine 
command) should authorize the administration of 
baptism to infants. Judging, however, as we do, 
from the nature and designs of the Abrahamic 
covenant ; from the encouraging words of Chri^it, 
<< Suffer the little children to come unto me, and 
forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of 
heaven;" — ^from apostolic usage, according to 
which whole households were baptized, and from 
the testimonies of the primitive fatherai we be- 
lieve that infant baptism is of supreme authorityy 
and that it affords a precious mean of grace, when- 
ever it is faithfully improved. There are few sub* 
jects, however, in regard to which more lament- 
able ignorance prevails. By some, the baptizing 
of infunts seems to be regarded as an ecdesiasli* 



cal ceremony, which is needful for sanctioning 
a name to the child ; whilst others conceiye and 
speak of ity as if it possessed some mysterious 
Tirtue for << making young Christians." Such 
notions are not confined to the most illiterate por« 
tions of the yisible Church. They have been 
promolgated by the advocates of baptismal rege- 
neration ; and their influence has been exten- 
sively felt even within the pale of the Presbyterian 

SuflTer* brethren* the word of exhortation on 
this subject Bear in mind, that baptism is one 
of the sacraments of our holy faith; that the 
water poured out, and thereafter sprinkled on the 
child, ia significant of our original guilt and pollu- 
tion, and of our deliverance from both ** by the 
washing of regeneration and the renewing of the 
Holy Ghost.* In thus dedicating your children 
to God, you solemnly declare your belief in the 
supreme and infallible authority of the Scriptures 
ss the sole guide of your faith and practice. You 
voluntarily undertake, by vows the most sacred 
which can bind the conscience, that you will, in 
devout reliance on the grace and strength of Grod 
our Sayiour, bring up your children in the nurture 
and admonition df the Lord . that, by all divinely 
appointed means, you will seek to promote the 
kingdom of God within them, — in order to their 
full enjoyment of its glory and blessedness here- 

Iir. A Christian father is bound to provide for 
the temporal necessities of his children, as God 
hath prospered him. 

The helpless years of infancy and childhood, 
render your offspring absolutely dependent on your 
support. ** If any provide not tor his own, and 
specially for those of his own house, he hath de- 
nied tlie faith, and is worse than an infidel." 
1 Tim. V. 8. In terms still more explicit the 
same apoatle addresses the Corinthians, 2 Epistle 
xiL 14» ^I seek not youra, but you; for the 
children ought not to lay up for the parents ; but 
the parents for the children." 

Ilie portions which were allotted by the an- 
cient patriarchs to their offspring, were agreeable 
to the dictates both of nature and revelation. 
There k considerable danger of extreme views on 
this point. A parent who is distinguished by 
eminent spiritudity of mind, who is habitually 
conversant with heavenly things, and who accepts 
in their utmost latitude the command and the 
promise accompanying it, ** Leaye thy fatherless 
children with me, I will preserve them alive," is 
sonEietiines tempted to overlook the temporal wel- 
fare of his household, or to consider it as a mat- 
ter of trivial consequence; and, to fortify his 
reaaonings by attaching an indefinite enlargement 
to the Saviom's precept, <' Seek first the king- 
dona of God and his righteousness : and all these 
things shall be added unto you." 

It may seem unjustifiable to find fault with any 
one whose confidence in the Lord Jehovah is so 
strong and unlimited. And the instances of such 
confidence are 90 rare, in the present age of secu* 

lar ambition, that even our dissent is mingled with 
profound veneration of the man of faith and prayer. 
Others are careful and troubled about many things t 
his soul is engrossed with the attainment, for 
himself, and his family, of *< the one thing need- 
ful|" satisfied that if this be their portion, " he 
leaveth an inheritance to his children's children." 
Still, it is proper and necessary to remind him, 
that Providence, all bountiful and considerate, 
moreover, of his promises to '' the seed of the 
righteous," opemtes by means ; and that neglect 
of these is displeasing to God. We have no right 
to devolve on others the support of our families, 
provided we are enabled, by lawful industry, to 
secure for them a moderate competency of this 
world's goods $ and, it is the duty of every man 
to endeavour to place those with whom he is con- 
nected by the strongest and dearest ties, beyond 
the reach of indigence or straits. But, there is 
another, and a more perilous extreme — ^more peril- 
ous, because the soul, for which the gain of the 
whole world would not compensate, la mainly en- 
dangered* We refer to the hoarding up of wealth at 
all haaards,— if within the limits of iMure equity,— 
in order to aggrandize our families, that they may 
distance less prosperous neighbours in outward 
display. Of all the passions which settle them- 
selves on things beneath the sun, this ought to be 
regarded as especially ignoble. It contracts and 
debases the soul ; brings it down from the emi- 
nences which it was formed to traverse, to become 
of the earth, earthy. For the superiority confer- 
red by illustrious talent, acquirements, and virtue, 
we feel the risings of many a sympathetic emo- 
tion. These we naturally connect with what be- 
longs to the permanent character of our race — ^to 
the records of its future, as well as of its present 
glories. But wealth, for its own sake, or for the 
sake of gratifying personal and domestic vanity, 
can never awaken one feeling of satisfaction ex- 
cept in minds of kindred earthliness. Brethren, 
beware of the influence of devotedness to the 
world. Beware of its influence over the hearts of 
your offspring. Provide for their welfare, present 
and prospective* as God enables vou, and implore 
the divine blessing on your exertions for their be- 
nefit. But see that your arrangements embrace 
the widely extended interests of their imperishable 
souls. You may not, without heavy guUt, expose 
either yourselves or them to situations, however 
lucrative, in which their religious and moral prin- 
ciples shall be in hazard of contamination* '* Evil 
communications corrupt good manners." A single 
sentence of infidelity or of impurity may defile 
their whole nature ; and, although the wealth of 
Croesus were the prospect in reversion, you must 
not, for filthy lucre's sake, leave them the prey 
and sport of the emissaries of Satan, — the enemies 
of all righteouanese. Riches take unto themselvea 
wings and flee away ; and death, on the verge of 
whose dominions we are ever treading, shall 
wrench them from the firmest grasp. There are 
pleasures of the intellect and the heart sacred to 
truth and virtue : there are, above all, joys with 



which nothing merely external intermeddleth. 
There is contentment with our lot, and the full- 
ness of a grateful heart ; there is the testimony of 
a good conscience, and the approving testimony 
of God« Let these precious olnects never be 
separated, in your aims, from the inheritance which 
you labour to transmit to your children ; and, 
rather than forego them, be willing to sacrifice all 
the pomp and circumstance of worldly station. 
A truly Christian parent will tremble, lest his 
offspring have just cause to accuse him as the in- 
atrument of their final ruin, as having bartered 
their undying souls for the gold that perisheth. 
Infinitely rather would he bear the prospect of a 
habitation for them in the lowliest dwelling-place ; 
that the bread of poverty and the water of afflic- 
tion should be their fare ; and that, disregarded by 
<<the children of this world," they should pass 
their lives in deepest obscurity, than that their 
immortal happiness should be forfeited, and that 
for ever. How differently shall the relative magni- 
tude of things present and things eternal be beheld 
in the light, and amidst the solemnities of the judg- 
ment day ! In this world, the laws of moral per- 
ception are often reversed ; but, in eternity all 
things are seen exactly as they are. The decep- 
tions glare of the world gives place to the un- 
veiled hght of truth. Illusive shadows are suc- 
ceeded by dread realities. 

Blessed God : Give to us, and to our children, 
a portion beyond the grave. Let us be mutually 
partakers of thine own inheritance, ** which is in- 
corruptible, undefiled, and which fadeth not away." 
** The life is more than meat, and the body than 
raiment.** *^ May their souls and ours live before 
thee." << Thy favour is life : thy loving-kindness 
is better than life." 

( To be continued in owr next.) 

1. — A Poott Widow. 
In a sombre looking dwelling, I came upon an aged 
individual, and I have every reason to believe an aged 
Christian. Her very appearance bespoke contentment ; 
her little wares were all so regularly arranged, her 
house so *' neat and clean," that I was sure she was 
not such a one as her profligate neighbours, whom I 
had but recently left. Her humble deportment, her 
heavenly smile, her open welcome, beckoned me to 
take a seat. I was desirous to know something of this 
remarkable saint. At first our conversation was rather 
general, but gradually became more particular. Leaf 
after leaf she unfolded of her experience, which was 
remarkably edifying. So great spiritualify of mind 
I scarcely ever witnessed. 'Tis only those who, after 
having visited thirty or forty families, sunk in the mire 
of profligacy, and ignorant of the truth, fall in with 
such a case as this, that can share in the Missionary's 
joy on such a discovery. To his own soul, while plod- 
ding through such a moral wilderness, they are as ** pools 
of water dug in Baca's vale." 

I read and remarked on the 42d Psalm, fraught with 
BO much consolation to one who is, or had been, in spiri- 
tii9l distress. As I began to enlarge upon, and to apply 

the declarations of, the Psalmist to herself, the tears 
began to start from her eyes, and stealing from beneath 
her withered eyelids, rolled down the furrows of her 
wrinkled cheeks. The big sob was gradually gathering 
within, till at length she gave utterance to the fol- 
lowing : — 

^' Sir, although now a poor and helpless widow, I 
was once rich. 1 dwelt in Holland for many years ; my 
husband being a trader 'twizt Amsterdam, England, and 
New South Wales. Providence there endowed me 
with every thing that could gratify my taste, or delight 
my senses. I had my house and garden well stocked 
with the bounties of nature ; " and here she abruptly 
paused; — "but what of all that? I was poor indeed. 
Thus did I live in the midst of temporal comfort and 
aflnuence ; but, O my poor soul was truly barren I there 
was no English Church where I was, and the Bible in 
the Dutch language was a dead letter to roe. Oft have 1 
stood at my cottage door on a Sabbath mom, and looked 
wistfully towards the hind of my fathers, where Gospel 
ordinances were in so rich abundance. Oh how my 
soul wept within mc, when I remembered the days of 
old, in which I was wont to engage in the services of 
the Church of Scotland 1 Thus placed in a foreign land, 
although rich, yet was I poor." I could enter into the 
feelings of this woman, bereaved of all the spiritual pri. 
vileges she had once so highly enjoyed. I could trans- 
plant myself in imagination, and picture her seated in 
some sequestered spot, having taken a solitary walk on 
a Sabbath morning, listening to the supposed tollings of 
the parish bell. It tolled, but not to her. With 
striking pathos did the lines of that sublime and heart* 
touching Psalm, the lamentation of the exiled Jews» 
start up in my mind : 

«* By Babel'f f treami we nt and wept. 
When Sion we thought on. 
In midst thereof we hang'd our harps 
The willow trees apon." 

To continue the narrative, her husband's ship found- 
ered at sea, and was never more heard of. The widow, 
a few months afterwards, returned to Scotland, about 
seven years ago ; and although now obliged to w^ork 
for a livelihood, she is fiir happier than when she sat 
in the lap of plenty. Although '* poor, yet is she 

2 ^The SuaoEON or an East Indiauan. 

At one door I knocked, and an old decent woman 
answered my call. I thought, by her woful deport- 
ment, that all was not right within. I entered the 
room ; and on turning round, my anticipations were 
too truly realized. I beheld one whom I never ex- 
pected to find there, stretched on a bed of pain, of lan- 
guishing, and of death. O how was I stunned when I 
viewed one who recalled to me many a year long since 
past by. This was the surgeon of an East Indiaman. 
He was studying in the medical classes when I was 
passing through the curriculum of arts ; and although 
even then I was not personally acquainted with him, 
yet I at once recognised the features I so well knew, 
though much changed. I could not help pausing, and 
reflecting, even before I could utter a single word. 
What an awfiil change the hand of disease and death 
effects on man ! obliterating the very traces which na- 
ture has stamped, and which we would almost consider 
indelible. Oh, what ^ change was there I Still when 



1 looked, I saw, as it were, before me, a shattered 
hbric; the ruins of a splendid edifice, in which there 
dwelt the soul of learning and genius like the smoulder- 
ing remains of some ancient and magnificent cathedral, 
wttii silent majesty and awe proclaiming its former 

His expanded hrow, his eyes sunk in their sockets, 
which occasionally cast their languishing look towards 
me, his pale and Hvid countenance, and his hollow faint- 
ing Toioe, an conspired to rivet on my mind the melan- 
cJioly scene. Oh I had some of his gay and thought- 
less fellow-students been here, methinks that. 
Hen would tlitjr have paoMd and dropt a tear. 

This fiital illness he had only lately contracted. He 
had been a three-years' voyage out with the vessel of 
^iHiich he was suigeon* The ship, on her return, having 
wintered at London, he seized the opportunity of coming 
down here to see his friends. Who knows what is hid in 
the womb of futurity ? How mysterious are the ways of 
Providence I He came here to die. In fact, he had again 
returned to London, and was just on the eve of setting 
sail, when he was attacked by this malady, and confined 
there for some days ; and seeing that his complaint was 
inoeasii^, and rapidly making inroads upon his consti- 
tution, he determined on going back to his father's 
lioose, where he would have the kind hand of a mother, 
to minister that attention which a stranger could never 
bestow ; and thus was he situated when I saw him. 
He recollected me, and from beneath the bed-clothes 
drew forth his shrivelled hand, to give me a welcome. 
I made some serious observations on the circumstances 
in which he was placed, to which he listened with 
eager attention. I also read with him, at his request, 
a Psalm suited to his afflicted condition, of which every 
word he seemed to weigh. He lingered in this con- 
dition for some days, and expired, not however, with- 
out giving evidence that he was resting implicitly on 
Him who is the sinner's stay. 

After I heard of his death, I visited his aged and sor- 
rowing parents, to drop the balm of consolation into 
their wounded souls. They have been enabled to bear 
up with resignation under their affliction. I have no 
doubt but that they looked forward, with fond antici- 
pation, to him as a means of comfort and support in 
their old age ; and he, too, expected to eiQoy many a 
happy year. How striking a commentary on the words 
of Job, '* Thou destroyest the hope of man I " 


By thb Rev. W. M. Hsthsrinoton, A.M.9 

Wnitter of Torphichen, 

Came they not from the house of bondage ferth ? 

From Egypt snd her tyrant king ? 
Shook not the earth? did not the trembling sea 

Its waves obedient backward fling? 
Then whelm stem Pharaoh in its refluent tide. 
While Israel hymned her conquering God and guide ? 

Did not the desert yield them heavenly food,— 

The rock pour forth a living stream ? 
While the doud-pillar led their steps by day. 

By night an uncreated beam I 
Recoiled not Jordan from their hallowed tread, 
'^ to the promised land unchecked they sped ? 

They conquered, reigned, sinned, and were chastened 

Wielded by God's avenging hand. 
The pestilence, the fiunine, and the sword, 

Swept wasteful o'er the guilty land ; 

The prophet's warning voice is raised in vain, 

In foreign lands they drag the captive's chain. 

In their affliction to their God they turned ; 

He, pitying, heard their contrite cries. 
Restored them to their loved Jerusalem, 

And bade her walls and towers arise 
In renovated beauty, while the song 
Of joy swelled loud from Judah's ransomed throng. 

Judah returned ; but where was Ephraim still? 

Where the lost Ten of Jacob's race ? 
Roam they through distant deserts wild and vast» 

Without a home or resting-place? 
Is their's the fettered captive's hopeless doom,— 
Find they no peace, no refuge but the tomb ? 

Again stem war beleaguers Salem's towers ; 

'Tis conquering Rome's remorseless tread ; 
The eagle, speeding to his gory feast, 

Swoops on the dying and the dead. 
'Tis done, — the temple burns, and, Judah, thou 
Art crownless, sceptreless, and homeless now I 

Thus was the page of prophecy fulfilled; 

But was this all the light it gave ? 
Did it reveal Jehovah, strong to smite. 

And not Jehovah, strong to save ? 
Beheld the Seer, guilt, judgments, woes to be, 
Tet could no future peace, bliss, glories, see ? 

No I down the vistas of approaching years 

Triumphant visions met his gaze ; 
Lo I Zion's daughter from the dust uprears 

Her prostrate form, aromid her blaze 
The glories of her King, the mighty One, 
The Lord of Hosts, from his eternal throne I 

And lo 1 from distant east, west, north, and south. 
Trooping in countless throngs they come ; 

Rivers, seas, deserts, smile around their steps. 
While haste the God-led pilgrims home. 

All, all return ; in ivondrous union join 

Thy rod, O Judah. and lost Ephraim, thine I 

Yes ! there they come from their long banishments » 

In vain the nations rage, the Lord 
Hath for his battle-bow strong Judah bent, 

His quiver is with Ephraim stored ; 
The alien armies perish in his ire. 
For Jacob's God is a consuming fire I 

Awake, awake, O Zion, in thy might 1 

Put on thy strength thou rescued one I 
lift up thy voice, sing to the Lord thy God, 

Who wondrous things for thee hath done I 
Who hath redeemed, sustained thee on thy way. 
Thou mother of a nation in one day ! 

Arise, ye nations, hasten to behold 

Salem, the joy of all the earth, — 
The holy city of the mighty God, 

Whence issue life's pure waters forth ! 
Shout, earth ! for now o'er all thy wide domains 
The Lord our God, and his Anointed reigns I 


A bUnd South Sea Islander. — ^Mr Williams in hia 
narrative of Missionary Enterprises in the South Sea 
Islands, mentions an old blind chief of the name of Me, 
who was brought under the influence of the GospeL 
Mr Williams having found this old blind man laid upon 
a bed of sickness, and intimating to him that he thought 
the sicknesa would terminate in death, wished him to 



tell what he thought of himself in the sight of Gk>d, and 
what was the foundRtion of his hope : " Oh," he re- 
plied, ** I have been in great trouble this morning, but 
I am happy now. I saw an immense mountun with 
precipitous sides, up which I endeavoured to climb, but 
when I had attained a considerable height, I lost my 
hold and fell to the bottom. Exhausted with perplexity 
and fiitigue, I went to a distance and satilown to weep, 
and while weeping, I saw a drop of blood fidl upon that 
mountain, and in a moment it was dissolved." Wish- 
ing to obtain his own ideas of what had been presented 
to his imagination, Mr Williams eaid, '* This was cer- 
tainly a strange sight, what construction do you put 
upon it ? " After expressbg his surprise that I should 
be at a loss for the interpretation, he exclaimed, " That 
mountain was my sins, and the drop that fell upon it, 
was one drop of the precious blood of Jesus, by which 
the mountain of my guilt must be melted away." Mr 
Williams expressed his satisfaction at finding he had 
such an idea of the magnitude of his guilt, and such 
exalted views of the efficacy of the Saviour's blood, 
and that although the eyes of his body were blind, he 
could with the "^e of hi$ htart** see such a glorious 

The grand ConsumnuiHan — Who can express the joy 
and glory of that day when Christ shall give up the 
kingdom to the Father, and present unto him fldl its 
faitMul subjects transformed into his own image I a 
beautiful and splendid Church indeed, for ever to be 
the object of the Divine complacence, for ever to dwell 
in the Divine presence, in a state of the greatest near- 
ness to God, who shall then be all in aU. Well may 
the expectation of this Ulustrious period cheer the 
Christian under his greatest extremities, and make him 
of all men the most happy, when otherwise, on account 
of his sufferings in the flesh, he might seem of all men 
most miserable — Da Doddridgb. 


* Decslfed ; they, Ibndly . 
Their appetite with foi t, 
Chew'd bitter ashes." 

of fruit 

There is something interesting and attractive in the 
ingenuous frankness of youth ; and when amiable and 
estimable qualities also appear in the young, the interest 
is enhanced, and, '* Oh I that they were the Lord's 1 " 
is the fervent desire of the believer in Jesus. But how 
affecting is it to see these young persons in the families 
of the worldly, and to know, that those in whom they 
naturally confide, who are the guardians of their early 
years, are the roost ready to warn them against the 
way of life, and to lead them in the path that separates 
from God. We speak not of the pernicious example 
of the openly wicked, which it h too evident, mast be 
prejudicial to youth ; but we allude to the conduct of 
worldly-minded parents, whose desire it is to w«rn 
their offspring against extremes in religion, (of all eviis 
what Uiey most dread,) and to initiate them in scenes 
of vanity and foUy, which ensnare and contaminate. 

It is possible these pages may be perused by some 
young persons whose situations are simihir to what has 
been stated, but who have not yet become the slaves 
of the world. Oh 1 that they could induce them to 
reflect ere they enlist themselves among its votaries, 
who are solely intent on human %pplauiBe ; desirous of 
decoration and splendour $ oaring for notldng but their 
temporal interest ; and making Belf-indolgenee, case, 
■ad pleasure, their diief concern. 

Were there no hereafter, the attempt might warrant^ 
My be made, to derive mtisfiu^tion from what, not- 
Mithstaadii^, never afforded it StiU, were it our all, 

it were reasonable to strive to attain iomething, even 
where others had failed. But to cast asido the cer- 
tainty of blessedness for that which, on trial« haa ever 
proved fiilladous, is surely madness* We are not 
aware that a single instance is on record of the worldly 
having acknowledged that they had found what they 
sought, — ^happiness. But many times has " vanity of 
vanities, all is vanity," been at the last hour, the ex- 
damation of men of the world ( and having seen, and 
known, the most this earth can give, they hftve con- 
fessed that its joys are illusive, and its possessions 

The testimony of one individual to the vanity of the 
world, after having enjoyed its favours in the highest 
degree, and to whom it was every thing, ia so valuable, 
that, although well-known, we make no apology for 
transcribing it. So devoted was he to his idol, that 
outside varnish, good breeding and good manners, eon- 
stituted his model of perfection 1 And he enforoed to 
his own son, that the principal ol](i«cti to which he 
wished him to devote his attention, were his appear- 
ance, his elocution, and his style ; to promote which 
worldly advantages, he cared not to what vices this 
near relative was degraded 1 To gloss over this part 
of his history, his memorialist charitably wishes that 
he had lived to publish his letters to his son himself, 
which would have given him the opportunity of ex. 
punging some obnoxious paa»ges. But be who so 
unreservedly recommended the world, with its follies, 
its principles, and practices ; in his latter day8» to that 
son, thus avows that it had fiuled him :— . 

" I have seen,'* said Lord Chesterfield, " the sillv 
rounds of business and pleasure, and have done with 
them all. I have enjoyed all the pleasures of the 
world, and, consequently, know their futility, and I 
do not regret their loas. I appraise them at their real 
value, whidi is, in truth, very low; whereas thoae 
who have not experienced, always over-rate them. 
They only see their gay outside, and are dazzled with 
their glare; but I have been behind the scenes. I 
have seen all the coarse pulleys and dirty ropes which 
exhibit and move the gaudy machines ; and I have seen 
and smelt the tallow candles whidi ilhiminate the 
whole decoration, to the astonishment and admiratloa 
of an ignorant audience. When I reflect hack upon 
what I have seen, what I have heard, and what I have 
done, I can hardly persuade myself that all that firivo- 
lous hurry, and bustle, and pleasure of the worid, had 
any reality ; but I look upon all that haa past as one 
of those romantic dreamt which opium eommonly ocoa> 
sions ; and I by no means desire to repeat the nauaeoas 
dose, for the sake of the fugitive dream. Shall I tefl 
you that I bear thi^ melancholy situation with that 
meritorious constancy and resignation which most peo- 
ple boast of ? No ; for I really cannot help it. I bear 
it because I must bear it, whether I will or no. I 
think of nothing but killing time the best way I can, 
now that he has become mine enemy. It is my reso- 
lution to sleep in the carriage the remainder of the 
journey." Poor worldling is thia all that you have 
gained, even in time ? 

But it may* moreover, be luefiil to know* that thia 
noble personage was deemed peculiarly fortunate among 
the worldly. We therefore quote « pMsage from a 
letter addressed to Lord Chesterfield, by « ptiU more 
celebrated worldling and infidel, Voltaire^ and wfaieh 
likewise proves that he alio thoagfat but meanly of all 
the world can give. 

'* Tnlly," says he, " wrote a fine tread«( on Old 
Age, but he did not realise his assertions, and his latter 
years were ht from being happy. Yoit have lived 
longer and more happily than he dSA. Tour lot haa 
been, and is stUl, one of the moat desimUe m thst 
great lottery where the prties we so fiiw« and wheae 
the great prize of constant happiness haa never yet 



bem dMWn by any one. Tour philosophy has never 
been ditoompoaed by those phantoms which have 
sometimes overset pretty good heads, nor hare you 
ever been, in any respect, a pretender, or the dope ci 
pretenders, which, in my estimatioo, is an uncommon 
degree of merit, and contributes to that shadow of 
feUdiy which may be enjoyed in this short life." 

Here we have the testimony of one who lilcewise 
enjoyed the world's highest fiivours and distinetaons, 
that its felicity is but a shadow, — that its prises are 
few, and the greatest prize unattainable, — and that the 
man who could write a fine treatise on Old Age, was, 
nevertheless^ (being devoid of the consolations of re- 
ligion,) not happy in his latter years. And we have 
tills shadow of felidty attribated to him who himself 
tells ua, he did not possess it. In similar language, 
he who is told that his lot is so favoured, compares 
worldly pleasure to a dream, which has no eidstence 
but in iancy. Tet, if it were real, it is not enviable ; 
fior it is not durable. It withers as certainly as the 
openiaff leaf is nipped by the frost of winter. Its 
tefldrncy is to decay. Place a man on the highest 
piramele of worldly prosperity, and there let him re- 
■lain wbUe in the body ; he may feel enjoyment, but 
it ceases necessarily, and of itself. To suppose an im- 
poistfale case, as we are constituted, that some one 
were continued on earth, with youth, health, and aU 
the gifts of time, lor a thousand years, satiety and 
disgust would arise from the repetition of pleasures so 
msubataatial as those the world affords. In the pos- 
sessioQ of auch, m immortal spirit cannot solace itself. 
They neither ennoble nor elevate. They are trifling, 
they are degrading, they are vain ! * 

And is it for these that the worldly so anxiously 
seek ; lor which they, with so much eagerness, toil ; 
and Ibr which they loee heaven? Are these a fair 
exchange for everlasting life ? ** O my soul, come not 
thoa isto thcsr secret ; onto their assembly, mine hon- 
our, be not thou united." 

Bui powibly the young may imagine, or may be told, 
that religion is gloomy, and that the only satisfaction 
that can be derived from it, is in the hope to which it 
give« rise in the view of another state of existence. 
Ah I think not sa How many testimonies might be 
adduced, to give the lie to a representation so false 1 
How many, among the gay and the prosperous, have 
confessed, when changed by grace, thart they knew not 
joy until they tasted it pure and unmingled from its 
fbonUBii, — godliness 

P^rhapa we may be permitted, iA proof of this asser- 
tion, to quote the language of a yeuog and beautiful 
woman, living among the most distinguished inhabit- 
ants, and in the gayest circles of the French capital. 
Here, every thing to allure was present, and the world, 
in aH its splendour, held out its most attractive fiisci- 
natione. She was the daughter of Baron Cuvier, and 
the name of her eminent siro ensured her the notice 
nod regard of the world. 

Buit Clementine had sought and found " the pearl 
of great price," and had learned to despise the glitter 
of earth's parade. ** I want to tell you," she writes, 
** how happy I am. My heart has at length felt, what 
my mind he» long understood ; the sacrifice of Christ 
■Dswers to alt my wi^es, and meets nil the wanta e# 
my soul ; and sinca I have been enaUed to embsase, 
with ardour, all its provioons, my heart enioys a sweet 
and incomparable tranquillity. Formerly, I vagiiely 
assured myself that a merdfid God would pardon me ; 

* AnaaiMdota oeeu» to the witter, wliich was related to her by 
her lamentfrf bther, Str John Sttidair. fie wm inrited by a lata 

•tateaaan. Lord Uelyffle, then high, in ofBoej, to mend 
Mew Yeae'a day with him at Whabt«doa Common. He arrived 
there the day belbre, and in the morning repaired to the chamber 
or his hoee, to wiah hii»a happy new yetf . ** It had need be hap- 
pier than the last,'* reptied Lord BC " for I cannot recollect a 
liBele hanoj day in it." And thia waa the man who waa the eary 
tffiaayTwBveonsidexed atttie hfitfit of worldly Fro«perity^ 

but I now feel that I have obtained that pardon,— that 
I obtain it every moment, — and I experience inex- 
pressible delight in seeking it at the foot of the eross. 
My heart is Aill, and it is now that I understand the 
angelic song, ' Glory to Qod in the highest, and on 
earth peace, good will towards men.' " 

In another letter she writes, '* I experience a plea- 
sure in reading the Bible, which I have never felt be- 
fore; it attracts and fixes me to an inconceivable 
degree; and I seek sincerely there, and only there, 
the truth. When 1 compare the calm peace which the 
smallest and most imperceptible grain of ftith gives 
to the soul, with all that the world alone can give of 
joy, or happiness, or glory, I feel that the least in the 
kuigdom of heaven is a hundred times more blessed 
than the greatest and most elevated of the men of the 

And again she says, " the certainty, that without 
divine grace I can do nothing, but that that grace is 
always with me, that it surrounds me, preserves me, 
supports me, — ^thb sweet assurance fills my heart; 
and thus I feel most profoundly, that faith alone can 
satisfy the void which I sometimes used to feel in my 
souL The profound conviction, that there is an in- 
finite and merciful Being, who orders all things,^ — that 
not a hair of the head &lls without his pemSsslon, — 
and that he will control every circumstance for my 
real welfare, gives me an habitual peace and tran- 
quiHity which nothing else could inspire."* 

And is there ground for suspicion here that gloom 
possessed the raind? Is there reason to apprehend 
that religion was, to this young person, the source of 
melancholy, and that she only resorted to it as a sub- 
terfuge, earth's gifts having failed her? No; It Is 
dutinctly stated in these valuable extracts, that it 
*« answers to all her wishes, and meets all ihe wants 
of her soul ; " that '* incomparable tranquillity, habitual 
peace, and inexpressible delight," were experienced in 
consequence of a reception of Gospel truth ; that faith 
can alone satisfy the void that is &lt in the soul of 
man; and that nothing else can inspire the habitual 
peace which true religion imparts. 

Yet language like this is not peculiar ; it is common 
to all who have learned to place their confidence in a 
crucified Redeemer. Among genuine believers we 
never hear the voice of despondency or complaint, 
unless when fiiith fidls, and they are unable to realize 
their interest in the blessings of salvation. Give them 
the possession, and the anticipation of these, and they 
ask no higher joy; entire satisfaction is the result. 
** The statutes of the Lord rejoice the he«ui, and his 
people rejoice in his Word, as those that find great 

If we are favoured by fiimiliar intercourse with the 
pious, or if we read the accounts of them, transmitted • 
to us by those who are so, we cannot fiul, also, to be 
struck with the conviction, that remarkable support 
and consolation, along with their trials, are afforded 
them, and that tranquillity and confidence, in days of 
adversity, and at the hour of death^ is the firuit of re- 
liance on the Saviour. 

The authoress hopes she may be forgiven for mea» 
tioning the experience of a much loved sister, whose 
resignation and peace on a death-bed were eminently 
conspicuous. This endeared relative was, earlier than 
many of her contemporaries, called to her everlasting 
rest ; but not before she had lef^ for the benefit of 
others, a short but luminous compendium of her &ithy 
or before she had proved its sincerity, by her separation 
in heart from the world,, and by the ezceUsaee of hav 
temper, and her practice. 

* Alfemolr of Gementlne Cuvier appeared In the Cvangellcal 
. Magaaine in 1S28. The writer la indebted foe theae estracta from 
, her letten, to an interesting little w«rk entttlsdi •• Vhs RmmT 
' Fhded.** Vf John Aogell Jamea. 



That religion wag not in her productive of gloom, 
may be gathered from some observations which hare 
been noticed in her Memoir, and which are still fresh 
in the memory of the writer, to whom they were made. 
« I have never/' sud she, " been so happy as last 
night. I was not able to sleep, and began to meditate 
on the employment of saints and angels around the 
throne. I ruminated until I thought I saw the multi- 
tude of the redeemed, which no man can number. I 
fancied I heard their angelic voices, singing the song 
of Moses and the Lamb. Methought I joined with 
them, and at last I concluded, by praying that I might 
be soon, if not immediately, removed, to unite my note 
of praise with theirs.*' *' Such expressions,*' adds her 
memorialist, " illustrate the character of those highly- 
favoured moments, in which Grod is sometimes pleased 
to animate his faithful people, by a peculiar blessing 
upon their meditations, concerning the heavenly state. 
' He thus giveth songs in the night.' " 

When days and months of languishing were after- 
wards appointed her, confidence in God, and un- 
disturbed serenity in the prospect of a future state, 
continued to be experienced by her. It is stated, that 
** at this period she said to a friend, ' I never spend 
one dull hour,' although she was very often necessarily 
left alone, being unable to bear the fatigue of society 
for any length of time together. A younger sister one 
day lamented that her sufferings were so great, she 
replied, * I would cheerfully suifer it all over again, 
that you might enjoy the same consolation from re- 
ligion, in the same circumstances.' Her uncommon 
patience struck every one who saw her. She never 
complained ; and when it was noticed to her, said, * It 
would be a wonder if I were not patient, when I have 
BO many mercies to be thankful for.' ' Her thoughts 
and occupations,* writes a near relative, ' were in sick- 
ness, as tiiey had ever been in health, such as became 
one, so deeply impressed as she had the happiness to 
he, ^vith the unspeakable comfort, as well as import- 
ance, which belongs to the truth as it is in Jesus.' " 
And again, it is added, " Never was a death-bed more 
tranquil and calm. Not a doubt nor a fear disturbed 
her. Not a complaint or a murmur once escaped her 
lips ; all was peace, peace."* 

In reference to what he had beheld of her bodily 
sufferings and peaceful state, and to the value of the 
Bible in promoting a confidence so enviable, a relative 
to whom she was tenderly attached, (her brother, 
now Sir George Sinclair, Bart.,) thus bore testi- 
mony : — " If called upon to tend the sick-bed, and to 
witness the protracted sufferings of one unto whom 
the heart is closely knit, by the double ties of reverence 
and love ; have we not found, that, whilst the taper 
of life is imperceptibly hastening to extinction, the pure 
lamp of faith still bums internally, with unquenchable 
and undiminished, nay, even with increasing bright- 
ness ? Have we not perceived, that when all human 
help is vain, — when the memory of the past is fading 
away, — when the occurrences of the present cease to 
interest, and all personal concern \n the future events 
of this world is about to be cut off for ever, the mercies 
of our God, and the promises of our Redeemer, are the 
theme on which the dying sufferer still loves to expati- 
ate and to reflect ? When the eloquence of the orator, 
the liveliness of the wit, and the sublimity of the 
philosopher, can no longer fascinate or instruct, the 
Scriptures are still listened to with avidity and deUght. 
When a transient slumber has recruited for a time the 
hat decaying strength of the body, how eagerly does 
the mind again seek to refresh itself at this pure and 
inexhaustible source of spiritual peace and serenity I 
It is then that the perusal of the Bible disarms death 
of aU its terrors, — it reminds the expiring Christian, 

• Mmolr of Hsiinah SInclsIr, prefixed to her Letter on the 
Skliislples of tb» Chrirtlu fUtiu 3j the Bev. Lcgh "'-^ 

that in humble reliance on the Savionr't suffenngt tni 
intercession he is hastening to an inheritance of eternal 
happiness, fu greater than it has entered the heart of 
man to conceive." 

And again, we ask, is gloom manifest here ? Were 
dissatisfaction, and discontent, the result of a life 
spent in the service of God? And was sorrow, or 
comfort, the most apparent at its close ? The reply 
to such inquiries is evident But if we peruse the 
writings, or listen to the melancholy lamentations of 
those who have spent their lives in the pursuit of 
worldly gratifications, we shall soon be convinciid 
where chagrin shows itself, and where gloom really 
exists. The contrast is striking I I^et not the sub- 
ject be carelessly and hastily considered; let it be 
deeply pondered, and viewed with the seriousness it 
demands. If the pleasures of the world afford not 
satisfaction even in time, where is the inducement to 
make them our portion, for time is the limit of their 
durance ; they pretend not to exist beyond iL They 
come with a flattering show, and dauding appearance 
of earthly happiness, to entrap the unwary ; but, when 
grasped, they are discovered to be phantoms instead ot 
realities ; and even if they should be enjoyed for a 
moment, they vanish when we most need their aid, — 
in the season of aflUction, of poverty, of sickneaa, of 
old age, and at the hour of death 1 

But we began this chapter by addrening those in- 
teresting characters among the young, whose sincere 
desire it is to live as they ought, but who, from unto- 
ward circumstances, have not been accustomed to view 
genuine religion in its just light. With them we 
would importunately plead. Oh I halt, inquire, pray. 
Is it rational to suppose that God claims no more of 
your time, of your thoughts, and of your affecHons, 
than the worldly are disposed to allow ? Can religion 
be comprised in a few cold, heartless, ceremonies? 
Can the world's pleasures ensure lasting happiness? 
And if not, how is joy here, and joy hereafter, te be 
attained? In these questions, your conduct during 
life is involved. Oh, then, solve them without delay. 
If the will of God is revealed in the Scriptures, there, 
with Clementine, seek the truth. Seek it unweariedly, 
seek it prayerfully. Light, it is promised, shall be 
given when thus sought, to walk in the path ; straight, 
indeed, may be the entrance, and narrow the way, but 
still it is the hallowed path that leads to unending 

The foregoing paper we have extracted firom a very 
valuable little Work which has recently appeared from 
the pen of Lady Colquhoun, whose writings on the 
" Kingdom of God," and ** The Impressions of the 
Heart," are well known. The subject of the present 
volume, " The World's Religion as contrasted with 
Genuine Christianity," is one with which, from her 
rank in society, the excellent authoress had ample 
opportunities of becoming acquainted, and she has dis- 
played admirable tact and skill in performing a delicate 
and difficult task, — exposing in its true light, the hollow 
and meaningless nature of the nominal religion, almost 
universally prevalent among people of the world. While 
however, Lady C. is faithful in dissecting the fiilse, 
though fiuhionable, religion of multitudes, she is equally 
happy in delineating the principles and the character of 
genuine, because Scriptural, Christianity. 

_ _ tAMMf K \At^ ana n. w«wwwd»iuw». *jwmw«m, 

W. COERT, Junior, ft Co.. Dublin; and W. M*Cohb. Bclftrt ; and 
sold by Uie Booluellen and Local Asenia In all the Towm and 
Partihea of Scotland ; and In the principal Towna In •»—'"*-• — ^ 
SUbicriben ivffl bare thalr copies deUrercd'at Aslr 





I.-Tbe SUte of Religion in Scotland before the Period of the 
RefonnatiMi. By the Rev. Thomas M*Crie Page 97 

2.--Falk, The G«naan FbiUuitbropiflt, 99 

3.— Analytii of the Forty-fifth Psalm. Abridged from Bishop 
Uonley. Second Section, 100 

4.— The Protestant Church of France, During the Reign of 
Louii XV. By the Rev. John 6. Lorimer. 103 

5.-A Discourse. By the Rev. John Smyth, D.D .104 

6 — Sacred Poetry. *' To Niagara." By J. S. Buckingham, . 107 
7.— Biographical Sketch. John Mason Good, M.D. Part II. 

By the Editor, a, 

8.--0n the Practical use of Christian Biography, 110 

9.— Anecdotes, n i 

10 — Christian Treasury. Extracts from Drew and Warwick. A. 
11.— 'Description of a Renowned Malagasy Idol, and a Notice of 
its Former Worshippers, (b. 



[The following it the first portion of a series 

of Lectures on the History of the First and 

Second Reformations in Gotland, which Mr 

M*Crie is in the course of delivering in 

Edinbnrg-h, and which wiil appear in suc- 

cetti^e Numbers of our PerioaicaLl 

Before entering on the history of the lleforma- 

tion, it may be necessary, in order to appreciate 

tbe foil Woe and importance of that glorious de- 

livenmce, to take a brief survey of the state of the 

world, and particularly of our own land» previous 

to its introduction. 

It may be truly said, that, before this period, 
"the whole world wondered after the beast." 
There was not a nation in Christendom, and hard- 
Jj any class of people, who did not bow to the 
authority of the Roman See, if we except the 
Waldenses, who inhabited the inaccessible fast- 
nesses of the Alps. The Pope, pretending to be the 
vicar and representative of Jesus Christ, not in 
the lowliness of his appearance when on earth, but 
ia the splendour of his kingly dignity in heaven, 
had risen to such a pitch of arrogance, as to 
assume the character, not only of the head of the 
church, but of supreme potentate and plenipoten- 
tiary over all the kingdoms of the- world. Our 
Lord has said, " My kingdom is not of this world," 
teaching us that his Church was not to claim 
temporal dominion over men ; but the Church of 
Home, in direct contravention of this statute, and 
interpreting literally those passages of Scripture 
m which the glory of the Church is set forth under 
images drawn from earthly kingdoms, transformed 
herself into a worldly monarchy, and challenged, 
in civil as well as ecclesiastical aflOdrSf the homage 
of the greatest princes of Europe. If at any time 
one of these monarchs ventured to disobey the man- 
dates of the Italian priest who happened to be seated 
in the chair of St. Peter, he was immediately ex- 
communicated, and his kingdom laid under an 
interdict — the effects of which were, that his sub- 
jects were absolved from their allegiance^ and to 
No. 7. Feb. 16, 1839— IJrf.] 

assassinate him waa declared a meritorious service, 
entitling the murderer to heaven—other princes 
were summoned to make war against him— the 
churches throughout the country were shut up — 
the sacraments suspended — ^the dead buried in the 
high-ways— «nd the muffled bells rang a funeral 
peal, as if some fearful curse hung over the de- 
voted land* In such circumstances, the stoutest 
monarchs were compelled to yield, and submit to 
the most humiliating penance. Two of them, — 
one, a king of England, another, a king of France, 
—were compelled to hold the Pope's stirrup while 
he mounted on horseback ; a third, was ordered 
to lie prostrate on the earth, while the haughty 
pontiff, placing his foot on his majesty's neck, 
exclaimed, '^ Thou shalt tread upon the serpent, 
and trample on the dragon and lion;" another 
was whipped by proxy, the Cardinal of Lorraine 
receiving the lashes on his bare back in the name 
of his royal master, lying flat, as lyAubigne ex- 
presses it, << like a mackarel on a gridiron :" while 
another, Henry IV., emperor of Germany, having 
offended the Pope, travelled to his residence to 
beg his pardon ; and there did he stand at the 
gate, barefooted and bareheaded, for the space of 
three days, before his holiness would admit him to 
his presence ; and after all, he deprived him of his 
crown and transferred it to another. 

The spiritual power claimed by the Pope was, as 
it still is, not less extraordinary. Not content 
with assuming the prerogatives and even the names 
of Deity — the lordship of conscience, the gift of 
infallibiUty, and the power of absolving men from 
the consequences of^ sin in a future world ; he 
went beyond this, and exalted himself above the 
Most High. While he presumed to consecrate 
vice, and dispense with the obligations of the di- 
vine law, he invented new sins, and created new 
worlds in which they might be punished. Ia 
dulgences were openly sold for money, by which 
the deluded people were taught to believe that 
their yenial sms would be forgiven, and the souls 
[Second Series, Vol. L 



of their departed friends redeemed out of a place 
called purgatory. 

Th^ Pope» lK>waTer, wfth all bla pVetensionst 
was mereljf the head of a vast conspiracy agsinst 
the civil and religious liberties of mankind, the 
ramifieatioRB of which extended over the whole 
earth, and every member of which, from the pon- 
tiff down to the meanest monk, was sworn to 
advance the interests of the body. Swarms of 
priests and confessors infested every country — ^pe-; 
netrating, like the plague-frogs of £gypt, into the 
recesses of every family, from that of the king to 
that of the cottager, polluting every thing they 
touched I and, by means of auricular confession, 
made themselves masters of the secrets of every 
court, every household, and every bosom in the 
land ;•>— so that a regular system of espionage was 
established, by which secret intelligence of every 
movement might be conveyed to head*quarters, 
and the whole complicated machinery, obeying 
the touch of some unse^ hand, could bd made to 
bear, with decided and irresistible effect, on the 
accompUshinent of its designs. 

Yon may wonder how such a system of or- 
ganised tyranny and oppression could have been 
tolerated so long without any combined attempt 
being made to shake it off. But our wonder will 
cease when we consult the Scriptures, wher« we 
learn that the antichriatian system is the master- 
piece of Satanic ingenuity, expressly devised for 
deluding mankind; *' whose coming is after the 
working of Satan, with all power, and signs, and ' 
lying wonders, and with all decetvableness of 
unrighteousness in them that perish." We will 
cease to wonder when we consider that Popery is 
the religion of corrupt human nature, admirably 
contrived to gratify its pride, and chime in with 
its lusts and passions — ^furnishing pardons which 
may be procured for money, and presenting ob- 
jects of worship which may be seen and handled ; 
enlisting all the fine arts — architecture, music, 
painting, and statuary — ^into its service; appeal- 
ing to every sense ; enthralling the mind by the 
mystery and plausibility of its doctrines ; fascinat- 
ing the imagination by the gorgeousness of its 
ritual; and overwhelming reason itself by the 
very magnitude of its paradoxes and absurdities. 
And we will cease to wonder, when we think on 
the power which they were able to wield in sup- 
port of their system ; that the slightest heretical 
whisper was sufficient to consign the person to 
the dungeons of the Inquisition ; and that if he 
persisted in holding his opinions, he was doomed 
to expiate in the fiames of a cruel death, the crime 
of having dared to question the dogmas of the in- 
fallible church. 

The stote of religion in Scotland, immediately 
before the Reformation, was deplorable in the ex- 
tivme. Owing to the distance between us and 
Rome, it was the more easy for the clergy to 
keep in ihe minds of the people a superetltious 
Teneration for the papal power ; and our ances- 
tors, who heard of the Pope only in the lofty 
pn^yrics of the monks, regarded him as a kind 

of god upon earth. Of Christianity almost nothing 
remained but the name. An innumerable multitude 
of saints wefe substituted in the place of Him, who 
is the ** One Mediator between Ood and man." 
The exactions made by the priests were most 
rapacious. Thd beds of the dying were besidged, 
and their last ^loments disturbed by these harpies, 
with the view of obtaining legacies to their con* 
vents. Nor did the grave itself put a period to 
their demands, for no sooner had the poor far- 
mer or mechanic breathed his last, than the priest 
caoM and carried off his corpse-present ; and if 
he died rich, his relations were sure to be hand- 
somely taxed for masses to relieve his soul from 
purgatory. The profligacy of the priests and 
nigher clergy was notorious. The oniinances of 
religion were debased; << divine service was ne- 
glected, and, except on festival days, the churches 
(about the demolition of which such an outcry 
has been made by some) were no longer employed 
for sacred purposes, but served as sanctuaries for 
malefactors, places of traffic, or resorts for pas- 
time."* One anecdote will sometimes show the 
state of matten better than whole JMigcs of de- 
scription. It seems a chief part of the priest's 
office in those days was cursings (a practice to 
which, perhaps, some may trace the habit of pro- 
fane swearing, so disgracefully characteristic of our 
countrymen.) A letter of cursing cost a plock ; 
and nothing was more common than for the 
country people, when any part of their property, 
even the most trifling article, was amissing, to pay 
the priest for cursing the thief. The process is 
thus described in a friar's sermon, quoted in Knox's 
history. << The priest whose duty and office it is 
to pray for the people, stands up on Sunday, and 
cries, '*Atie has tint a spurtill; thair is a flail 
stoun beyond the burne; the gndwyif on the 
other side of the gait has tint a home spune : — 
God's malesone and myne I give to thame that 
knawis of this geir and restores it not 1'" f 

Peraecution and the suppression of free inquiq- 
were the only weapons by which this system of cor- 
ruption and imposition could be supported. Every 
avenue by which truth might enter was carefully 
guarded ; the Scriptures were effectually kept from 
the view of the people by being locked up in a dead 
language; the most frightful pictures were drawn of 
those that had separated from the Church of 
Rome; and if any pereon hinted dissatisfaction 
with the conduct of churchmen, or proposed the 
correction of abuses, he was immediately marked 
as a heretic, and if he did not consult his safety 
by flight, immured in a dungeon, or committed to 
the flames. Such was the power and the vigilance 
exercised by the clergy, that it was not safe to 
utter a word against them even in one'a sleep ; 
and it is recorded bv Knox as a fact, that one 
man, a precentor or chanter as he was called, was 
actually apprehended, and had he not recanted 
would have suffered death, because he was over- 
heard saying in his sleep one night, " The deevii 
tak the jmestis, for they are a greedy pack l^ 
9 M'Crie*! Life of Koox, i. ». f Knox'i Btotonr, p. 14. 



Af^an illafltratlon of the groM igndnmcc t^hkh 
then prevailed amotig' the clergy^ Buchanan in- 
forms ns that in 1545, when severe laws were 
enacted against the reading of the New Testa- 
ment) such was the blindness of the priests, that 
many of tbenii scandalised at the term NeWy 
naaintained that it was a dangerous book lately 
written by Martin Lnther, and cried out, they 
would have no New Testament, give them the 
Oid one ! * The following is still better. When 
Thomas Forret, usually called Dean Thomas or 
the Vicar of Dollar, waS examined before the 
Bishop of Dunkeld on a charge of having ventured 
to preach from the gospel or epistle for the day, 
and *< shown the mysteries of the Scripture to the 
people in their own language^ so as to make the 
clergy detestable in their sight," the following con- 
versation took place : — '< My joy, dean Thomas," 
said the bishop, *' I love you well, and, therefore, 
I mnst give you my counsel how you shall rule 
and guide yourself.^ *< I thank your lordship 
heartily," replied the dean. <<My joy, dean 
Thomas," continued the bishop, " I am informed 
that you preach the epistle or gospel every Sun* 
day to your parishioners, and that you take not 
the cow' nor the uppermost cloth from your pa- 
rishioners, which thing is very prejudicial to the 
churchmen. My joy, it is too much to preach 
every Sunday ; for in so doing you may msKe the 
people think that we should preach likewise. But it 
is enough for you, when yon find any good epistle, 
or any good gospel, that setteth forth the rights of 
the holy church, to preach that, and let the rest be.* 
<< Truly, my lord," said the vicar, *< I have read the 
New Testament and the Old, and all the epistles and 
gospels, and among them all I never could find any 
evt] epistle or any evil gospel, but if your lordship 
will show me the good and the evil epistles and gos- 
pels, then I shall preach the good and omit the 
eviU* " / thank God/' replied the bishop with 
gceat Tehemenoe, <' that I never knew what the 
Old and New Tettament w€U ! Therefore, dean 
Thomas, I will know nothing but my portuise 
and pontifical." From this saying there arose a 
proverb which was common in Scotland for many 
years after, applied to persons who were grossly 
ignorant :-««<' i e are like the bishop of Dunkeld, 
that kent neither new kw nor auld." 

Bnt the time bad now arrived, in the all-wise 
providence of God, when the eyes of men were to 
be opened to the abominations of this mystery of 
iniquity. The Reformation, you are aware, com- 
menced in Germany in 1517) when the heroic 
Martin Luther declared war against indulgences ; 
but it was a considerable time after this before its 
blessed light reached the shores of Scotland. As 
we intend to confine oursdves to the history of 
the Reformation in our own country, we shall not 
enter into any general account of its rise and pro- 
gress abroad. Bnt there is one feature of this 
glorious work, which has been too much neglected 
by those who have written its history ; and to which, 
«• it characterised the Reformation in our own 

Uuid no'les^ than m others, we cannot refrain 
from adverting — ^we mean th^ strictly religious 
character of its origin. Without denying tha^ 
many who took a prominent part in promoting it, 
were actuated by worldly and selfish motives, and 
without overlooking the influence of secondary 
causes, which contributed to its advancement, such 
as the revival of learning, the invention of the art 
of printmg, and the posture of political affairs in 
the countries where it was introduced,-^it ought 
never to be forgotten, that the reformation of reli- 
gion in the Church was the result of its revival in 
the souls of men. The first Reformers were, with- 
out exception, men of piety and prayer — men who 
had deeply studied the Bible and their own hearts ; 
and it was by discovering in the Bible the true 
doctrines of salvation, which alone can purify the 
heart and pacify the conscience, that they were 
led first to see the corruptions of the Church of 
Rome, and then to seek their removal. The Re- 
formation was the triumph of truth over error ; 
and it was the preaching of the pure Gospel by 
the Reformers, and especially the great doctrine of 
justification by faith through the righteousness of 
Christ, that gave its deathblow to the Papal sys- 
tem. It is true, that had the Reformers not re- 
ceived the support of the civil power, in all human 
probability the infant Reformation would have 
Deen strangled at its birth, as it actually was in 
Spain and Italy, and the whole of Europe might 
have been yet lying under the dominion of anti- 
christ. And it is a striking fact, that since the 
era of the Reformation, the Protestant religion 
has made little farther progress in Europe, and 
that those nations which refused to receive the 
Protestant rehgion continue Popish to this day ; 
while in those that embraced it. Protestantism 
continues to flourish in proportion to the zeal with 
which it was welcomed, and the purity in which 
it was established. But though, in accomplishing 
his gracious designs, God employs earthly meansi 
and makes use of events in the political world, it 
is not the less on this account the work of God. 
History is a record of the operations of Divine 
Providence; but it is also a record of human 
guilt and frailty, exhibited not only in the malici- 
ous opposition of the enemies of religion, but in 
the unworthy motives and mistaken policy of its 
professed friends. And the first lesson which 
the student of Church history requires to learn 
is to distinguish between these two things — ^to 
remember that the work may be of God, though 
the manner of working is of man ; and not to con- 
found the cause of truth and righteousness with 
the follies, the mistakes, and mismanagements 
of the instruments employed in advocating and 
advancing it. 


John Falk was bom at Dantsic, in 1768. He be<* 
longed to a family of the dasB of labonren, and iieenied 
destined to pass an obscura life at his fgither's trade. 
But he showed such uncemmoB taten^ dnbg bis 



ctrliett yewt at icbool, tlist the moniriptl oooddl of 
luji natiTc ^own resolved to pay the ezpeme of his 
studies ftt the univeruty. Yonog Falk therelbre pre- 
pared to enter a higher school, and endeavoured to 
justify the singular kindness of which he was the 
object* When the time for his departure had come, 
he was called to appear before the assembled magis- 
trates of Dantzic. He presented himself before them, 
filled with a lively sense of obligation, and with tears 
in bis eyes. Those venerable men placed the young 
student in the midst of them, affectionately gave him 
their hands, and blessed him. One of the magistrates, 
among the rest, whose hair was white with age, took 
him by the hand, and said to him, ** John, you ought 
to go. Go, then, under the protection of God« &e- 
member that you are our debtor ; for we have furnished 
what the poverty of your fiunily could not, and have 
paid the expense of your education. John, you ought 
to pay that debt. Therefore, to whatever place the 
Lord shall call you, and whatever may be your future 
condition here helow, always remember that you have 
been poor* And if, at some future time, poor children 
knock at your door, say, in your heart, * These are the 
old magistrates of Dantzic, the Burgomaster and the 
Councillors, who have come to me for assistance/ — and 
do not close the door of your house against them/' 

The youth replied to the old man's noble and touch- 
ing words, only by a flood of tears ; and then went to 
the University of Halle, treasuring up in his heart the 
memory of the blessings and exhortations which he had 
received. His powers of mind there received a rapid 
development, and he soon acquired the reputation of 
an eminent scholar. The most illustrious men of his 
age and country, Goethe, Herder, Schiller, Wieland, 
invited him to the little town of Weimar, the Athens 
of modern Germany, and esteemed him as a man 
worthy to be placed by their side. John Falk culti- 
vated literature with success, not having yet found 
what is the true end of life, but endeavouring always 
to do what is becoming and good. Having become a 
husband and a father, he enjoyed uninterrupted do- 
mestic felicity, and saw promising children grow up 
around him. 

Meanwhile war extended its ravages In Germany, 
«ven to the shores of the Baltic. Napoleon, attended 
by his grand army, rolled his impetuous waves like an 
irresistible torrent, and left behind him countries laid 
waste, cities burned, hamlets covered with bloody 
ruins, heaps of dead, and a multitude of orphan chil- 
dren, who wandered hither and thither, without support, 
without refuge, and without bread. John Falk felt 
himself moved by such an amount of distress, and 
thought he heard the voice of God, commanding him 
to succour this afflicted people. He left, therefore, his 
peaceable and studious retreat; he gave up writing, 
that he might act, and, with a generous cotuage, threw 
himself ibto the midst of the fearful scenes of the war. 
General Coehorn, who appreciated the noble character 
of Falk, gave him the command of two companies of 
choa«n men, with orders to re-establish order and safety 
in the Tillages. He went from place to place, repress- 
ing the excesses of the soldiery, arresting plunderers, 
protecting the peasmts, enforcing the restitution of 
goods, and hastening wherever there were misfortunes 
to repair. It was aa admirable sight, to see a man of 
real goodness take his pUce, without fear of death, 
amid the tumults of warlike passions, restraining the 
licentiousness of camps, half by persuasion and half by 
force, and taking all pains in his power to heal the 
wounds which his companions in arms had made I He 
was, so to speak, a guardian angel to the population of 
Germany,~-an angel who followed the demon of battle 
to allay his rage. 

But while John Falk was engaged in this lovely em- 
pToymentk a severe domestic affliction smote him in his 

tenderest ■flectibiia. The Uoody btttk of Ldpsic, 
where the fortune of Napoleon fell beneath the blow% 
of allied Europe, gave rise to an epidemic disease which 
spread through a great part of Germany. In sonie 
villages, more than sixty children lost their parents in 
a few days. In others the diildren died, leaving^ their 
fathers and mothers overwhelmed with grief. John 
Falk lost, in leas than a month, four chil^en, already 
grown up, on whom he had built the sweetest hopes cl 
his old age. In rain he surrounded them with all that 
paternal solicitude could do. God, who had other 
views concerning him, took them in his arms to hide 
them in the tomb. . . 

While Falk was bearing his children to their last 
earthly abode, a crowd of orphans, covered with rags, 
pale, emaciated with hunger, with their eyes in tears, 
and their hands stretched out in supplication, heaet thi' 
door of his mansion. *' Oh I*' said Falk, who had not 
forgotten the words of the old man of Dantzic, ** Here 
are the burgomaster and coundUors of my native town, 
calling at my door in the shape of these poor children." 
He opened his house to them all, day and uigkt ; he 
took them to his broken heart ; he gave them food and 
clothing ; and finally, with a few pious men, he formed 
an association, called " The Society of Friends in Need. ** 
This institution proposed to accomplish two distinct 
objects : first, it assisted the poor villagers, by giving 
them bread to eat, materials for rebuilding their burnt 
houses, seed to sow their fields, and money to purchase 
cattle; in the second place, it undertook to receive 
poor children, orphans, or foundlings, to procure for 
them a suitable education, and prepare them to gain an 
honest living. 

John Falk applied all his time and fortune to the ae* 
complishment of this excellent work. • He founded a 
House of Refuge and Education for P(K>r Children ; 
and, with' a holy zeal, he went himself through the 
streets and lanes, to find those who had lost their pa- 
rents, or whose parents were unable to bring them ^p. 
Thus^ one part of the evils of war was repured ; Ger- 
many, long laid waste and ravaged by dreadful calami- 
ties, began to hope for better days, and Christian cha- 
rity wiped away the bitter tears Uiat flowed from the 
eyes of forsaken in&ncy. One man alone undertook 
these great works, «id he soon gathered numerous 
friends around his institution. The poor boy of Dant- 
zic paid the debt to the unfortunate, which he con- 
tracted when he received the aid of his fellow-citizens. 
He was energetic and persevering in his work, because 
he relied upon the God of mercy; and he gave to the 
world another proof, that Christians are the true phi- 
lanthropists ; or rather, that they alone deserve that 
honourable name. 


Second Section. 

Hjs proceeds to the second great period in the divine 
history of Christianity, the successful propagation of 
the gospel, and our Lord's final victory over all hi^ 
adversaries, — a work gradually accomplished, and oc- 
cupying the whole interval of time from his ascension, 
to the epoch, not yet arrived, of the fulness of the 
Gentiles coming in. 

From the commendation of the comeliness of the 
King's person, and the graciousness of his speech, the 
Psalmist, in the same figurative style, passes to the 
topic of his prowess as a warrior, under which charac- 
ter our Lord is perpetually described in the prophecies. 
The enemies he had to engage are the wicked passions 
of men, the devil in his wiles and machinations, and 
the persecuting powers of the world. The warfare is 



tsontuined tbrougli the whole of the period I have 
mentioned; commencing upon oar Lord's ascension, 
at wlucb time he is represented, in the Revelations, as 
gcnng forth upon a ** white horse, with a crown upon 
his head and a bow in his hand, conquering and to 
conquer." The Psalmist, in imagery almost the same, 
accosts him as a warlike prince preparing to take the 
field, describes his weapons, and the magnificence of 
bis armour, and promises him victory and universal 

3. *• Gird thy sword upon thy thigh, ^ 
O Most Mighty ! with thy glory and thy majesty." 

In the Hebrew language, the words glory and ma- 
jesty are used in other places for splendid dress and 
for robes of state ; and being things ta be girt on, they 
must here denote some part of the warrior's dress. 
The whole verse might be intelligibly and yet faith- 
fally rendered in these words : — 

•• Warrior T gird thy sword upon thy thigh ; 

Buckle on thy refulgent dazzling armour/' 
The Psalmist goes on : — 

4. ** Take aim, be prosperous, pursue, 

In the cause of truth, humility, and righteousness." 
that is, take aim with thy bow and arrow at the ene- 
my; be prosperous or snccessfiil in the aim taken; 
ride on in pursuit of the flying foe, in the cause of re- 
b'gious truth, evangelical humility, and righteousness. 

** And thy right hand shall teach thee terrible 
[^wonderful] things.'* 

In these last words, the Saviour is represented un- 
der the image of a great champion in the field, who is 
prompted by his own courage, and a reliance on his 
own strength and skill, to attempt what might seem 
impracticable, and at last achieves what seems a won- 
der to himself Such great things he vrill be able to 
effect; for 

5. *• Thine arrows are very sharp 

In the heart of the king's enemies ; 
Insomuch that peoples foil under thee." 

The war in which the Psalmist represents the Saviour 
as engaged, is very di^erent from the Tnars which the 
princes of this world wage with one another : it is not 
for the destruction of the lives of men, but for the pre* 
servation of their souls. It may happen, indeed, that 
the stmgglea of Christianity with the adverse faction 
may kindle actual war between the secular powers, 
taking part on the one side or on the other. This our 
Xiord himself foretold. ** Suppose ye,'* he said, *< that 
I am come to give peace on earth? I came not to 
send peace, but a sword." Such wars, however, are 
not within the view of thia prophecy. This pro- 
pheric text of the Psalmist relates only to that spiritual 
war which Christ wages with the enemies of man for 
man's deliverance, — ^to the war arising from that en- 
mity which was originally put between the seed of the 
serpent and the woman's seed. 

The offensive weapons in this war of charity, ac- 
cording to the Psalmist, are of two sorts, — a sword and 

The common military sword is a heavy massive 
weapon, for dose engagement : wielded by a strong 
and sldlfuJ arm» it stabs and cuts, opens dreadfid gashes 
where it falls, severs limbs, lops the head, or deaves 
ti\c body. 

The firrow is a Hght miisile weapon, which in an^ 

dent times was used to annoy the enemy at a distance, 
and particularly when put to flight. It comes whizzing 
through the air unseen ; and, when it hits, so small is 
the wound, and so swift the passage of the weapon, 
that it is scarcely felt till it fixes its sharp point in the 
very heart. 

Now both, these weapons, the sword and the arrow, 
are emblems of one and the same thing ; which is no 
other than the Word of God, in its different effects 
and different manners of operation on the minds of 
men, represented under these two different images. 

The Word of God may be dirided, indeed, into two 
parts, — ^the word of reproof, commination, and terror ; 
and the word of persuasion, promise, and hope. The 
first, the word of terror, is the sword girt upon Mes- 
siah's thigh ; the second, the word of persuasion, is the 
arrow shot from his bow. For the sense of the first 
metaphor, we have the authority of the sacred writers 
themselves. ** The sword of the Spirit," says St. Paul 
to the Epheaians, " is the word of God." And in the 
Epistle to the Hebrews, the full signification of the 
figure is opened, and the propriety of the application 
shon-n. ** For the Word of God," says the inspired 
author, '* is quick and powerful, (rather, lively and 
energetic,) and sharper than any two-edged sword, and 
pierdng to the parting of soul and spirit, and to the 
joints and marrow." The comparison of the word of 
promise to the arrow is more easily understood ; being 
more fiBuniliar, and analogous to those figures of speech, 
which run through aU languages, by which, whatever 
makes a quick and smart impression on the moral feel- 
ings is represented under the image of a pointed missile 
weapon, — as when we speak of '* the thrilling darts of 
harmony,," or *' the shafts of eloquence." The Psalm- 
ist speaks of these arrows of God's word as sticking in 
'* the hearts of the Kbg's enemies." Such, no doubt, 
were many of those Jews who were pricked to the 
heart by St. Peter's first sermon on the day of Pente- 
cost. And by the joint effect of these two weapons, 
the sword and the arrow* the word of terror and the 

word of persuasion, *' peoples," says the Psalmist, 

that is, whole kingdoms and nations in a mass, — " shall 
fiOl under thee,'* — shall forsake their andent supersti- 
tions, renounce their idols, and submit themselves to 

So much for the offensive weapons, the sword and 
the arrovra. But the defensive armour demands oiur 
attention ; for it has its use, no doubt, in the Messiah's 
war. His person, you will remember, is dad, in the 
third verse, '< with refulgent dazzling armour." This 
may be understood of whatever is admirable and ami- 
able in the external form and appearance of the Chris* 
tian religion. 

It yet remains to be explained what is meant, in the 
Psalmist's detail of the Messiah's war, by those " won- 
ders " which *' his own right hand was to show him." 
*' Thy own right hand shall show thee wonders ; " but, 
instead of ** terrible," we find in some of the oldest 
English Bibles the better-chosen word " wonderful." 

Now the ** wonderful things " which Messiah's " own 
right hand" showed him, I take to be the overthrow 
of the Pagan superstition, in the Roman empire and 
other great kingdoms of the world, by the mere preach- 
ing of the Gospel, seconded by the exemplary lives and 
the miracles of thp first preacher?, and by their patient 



andurtnca of inpriionmest, torture, and desth, for tlw 
ffeke of Christ. 

These were the ** wonderful things" effected by 
Christ's rig[ht hand ; and in these this part of the 
Psalmist's prophecy has reeeired its accomplishment. 

If his expressions went of necessity to '* terrible 
tMttgs," or were determioed to that meaning by the 
context, insomuch that the inspired author could be 
understood to speak, not of things rimply wonderful, 
but wonderful in the particular way of being frightful, 
an allusion, in that case, might easily be supposed to 
what is indeed the explicit subject of many other pro- 
phecies, — the terrible things to be achieved by the 
Messiah's own right hand, in the destruction of anti« 
Christ and the slaughter of his armies, b the latter 
ages. But as terrible things are not of necessity in- 
duded in the import of his words, which goes not 
, necessarily &rther than " wonderful," — and as he men* 
tions those wonderful things before the thread of his 
prophecy is brought down to the second advent, the 
season of those exploits of terror, — it becomes us to be 
cautious how we force a sense upon the Psalmist's 
words which might not be intended by him, or rather 
by the inspiring Spirit. It will be safer to rest in those 
wonderful things which actually came to pass ?rithin 
the period he is yet upon, and were undoubtedly 
brought about by Messiah's power, as the true accom- 
plishment of this part of the prophecy. 

The war of this period of the prophecy is finished : 
The battles have been fought, and the victory is gain- 
ed. The Psalmist in the two next verses, the sixth 
and seventh, exhibits the King seated on the throne of 
his mediatorial kingdomr and governing with perfect 
justice. He addresses him as God, whose throne is 
everlasting, and sceptre straight ; as a monarch whose 
heart is set upon righteousness, whose antipathy is 

6. ** Thy throne, O Ood ! is for ever and ever ; 
A straight sceptre is the sceptre of thy royalty, 

7. ** Thou hast loved righteousness and hated 

wickedness ; 
Therefore Ood hath anointed thee, thy own God, 
With the oil of gladness above thy fiellows." 
Of no throne but God's can it be affirmed with 
truth that it is for ever and ever ; of no king but of 
God and of his Christ can it be said that he loves 
righteousness with a perfect love, and hates wickeder 
ness with a perfect hate s of no sceptre but the sceptre 
of God and of his Cbrbt, that it is a straight sceptre. 
The sceptre has been from the earliest ages a badge of 
royalty ; and the straightness, ascribed by the PsJmist 
to Messiah's sceptre, is to be understood of the invari- 
able justice of the administration of his government. 

The throne of God, whether we understand it of 
God's natural dominion over the whole creation or, 
more particularly, of his providential government of the 
moral world, or, in a still more restricted sense, of 
Christ's mediatorial kingdom, is everlasting ; and the 
government, both in the will of the Governor and in 
the execution, is invariably good and just. But the 
kingdom of tlie God-man is in this place intended. 
This is evident from what is said in the seventh verse : 
'A' God, even thine own God, hath anointed thee with 
the oil of gladness above thy fellows ; " t. e., God hath 
advanced thee to a state of Ijliss and glory above all 

those whom thou hast vouchsafed to call thy fellowa. 
It is said, too, that the love of righteousness and hatred 
of wickedness is the cause that God hath so snointed 
Ami, who yet, in the sixth verse, is himself addressed 
as God. It is manifest that these things can be said 
only of that person in whom the Godhead and the 
manhood are united, — ^in whom the human nature is 
the subject of the unction, and the elevation to the 
mediatorial kingdom is the reward of the Man Jesus ; 
for Christ, being in his divine nature equal with the 
Father, is incapable of any exaltation. Tbus, the 
unction with the oil of gladness, and the elevation 
above his fellows, characterise the manhood ; and the 
perpetual stability of the throne, and the unsullied 
justice of the government, declare the Godhead. It 
is therefore with the greatest propriety that this text 
is applied to Christ, in the epistle to the Hebrews, and 
made an argument of his divinity ; not by any forced 
accommodation of words which in the mind of the 
author related to another subject, but according to the 
true intent and purpose of the Psalmist, and the literal 
sense and only consistent exposition of his words. 




Br THS Rev. John G. Loeim eb, 
Mmtter of St. Dauitfs Pari$h, Glaagvw* 

Part L— Feom 1714 to 1755. 

The next period in the history of the French Protestant 
Church, to which I must direct the attention of the 
reader, ia the period embraced by the reign of Lonia XV., 
stretching from 1714 to 1774, being a space of sixty 
years. In the present paper I can come down only to 
1755. It might have been hoped, thai the puaerable 
condition of the country at the death of Louis XIV. 
would haVe mitigated the spirit of persecution; and 
certainly there was a little relaxation under the Regent 
the Duke of Orleans, who, though personally a wretched 
profligate, saw the impolicy of violenee, and repeatedly 
expressed himself in fsvourable terms towards the Pro- 
testants ; but any gleam of sunshine was soon overcast* 
In 1724, Louis XV« issued a loiv declaration, em* 
bracing nearly twenty articles, and, if possible, breath- 
ing a spirit of more fiery persecution than had hitherto 
been manifested. He complains of the decrees of former 
years having been but coldly and remissly executed, 
especially in the provinces which had been a0Ucted with 
the plague ; as if the judgments of Ctod were not enough, 
and it was necessary to add to them the violence of 
man. The articles of his edict are most sanguinary. 
Any one, on any pretence whatever, publicly profesaing 
the reformed faith, was, if a man, to be sent to the 
galleys for life ; if a woman, to be shorn, and confined 
as long as the judges thought proper. In both cases, 
there was a oomplete confiscation of property. That 
the reader may have some idea what the French galleys 
were, one of the most firequent punishments to which 
the Protestants were abandoned, I subjoin an account 
of them from a little work entitled, ' The French Con-* 
vert,' published shortly after the revocation of the edict 
of Nantes. It must have passed through many editions, 
as that which I possess is the sixteenth. It is entitled. 



* A true Relation of tbe happy Conrersiim of a Noble 
French Lady from the erron and supentitions of Popery 
to the Reformed Religion, by means of a Protestant 
gardener, her servant; wherein is shown, her gpreat 
and unparsUeled sufferings on the account of her said 
conversion ; as also her wonderful deliverance from two 
assassins hired by a Popish priest to murder her ; and 
of her ffiiraeolous preserradon in a woodior two years, 
and bow she was at last providentially found by her 
husband, who, together with her parents, and many 
others, were brought over to the embracing of the true 
religion/ The story might be pronounced a romance, 
the events are so singular, had not the truth of them 
been solemnly attested. The picture which it indirectly 
presents of the profligacy, and treachery^ and violence 
of Popery, ia moat appalling. The following is the 
sceount of the galleys of which we have heard much, 
and will continue to hear more :—> 

*' Some they condemn to the galleys, where they are 
coupled commonly with the vilest miscreants condemn- 
ed thither for the most flagitious crimes, whose fearful 
oaths and execrations are continually wounding their 
piotu ears: there are generally five of them placed 
open every form, fettered with a heavy chain, about 
ten or twelve feet long : they shave their heads from 
time to time, to show they are slaves, and are not al« 
lowed to wear their hats or periwigs: they have only 
beans, and nothing else, for their food, with about four- 
teen oanees of coarse bread a-day, and no wine at all. 
They are devoured by vermin, and forced to lie upoi 
one another as hogs in a sty; and every day threatened 
and tormented by friars and priests, who, not being able 
to conrinoe theon by reason, think to do it by severitv. 
He declared also, that when he was delivered, the 
number of those chained to the galleys for the sake of 
religion was about three hundred and seventy, who 
glorified God in their sufferings, with an unparalleled 
courage and constancy." 

To return to the articles of 1724. All those among 
the Protestants who dared to preach were immediately 
to be put to death. The pablio preaching of the Gos- 
pel is the great instrument in the hands of the Spirit 
of God, of conversion and sanctification ; and so it is 
the instrument against which, in all persecutions, Satan 
lifts up the most terrible power. The children of Pro- 
testant parents were ordered, under a heavy penalty, to 
be baptized by tbe Popish priest within twenty-four 
hours after birUi. This, by one of the fictions of the 
Church of Rome, so brings them under the Popish 
yoke, that they may be compelled like deserters from 
an army, if they attempt afterwards to withdraw from 
her allegiance. All Protestant parents sending their 
children out of the country for education, were liable 
to a fine of six thousand livres. In self-defence, the 
Popish party were obliged to provide schoolmasters and 
schoolmistresses; not from any love for the arts of read- 
ing and writing, but that the Protestant children might 
be regularly carried to the Roman Catholic festivals. 
They were required to attend tbe schools, and repeat 
the catechisms, till they were fourteen years of age ; 
" and from fourteen to twenty, attend the instructions 
on Sundays and holidays." There could be little dan- 
ger of Protectant leanings after such a training. Then 
those attending sick Protestants, such as surgeons and 
nurses, were required, under heavy penalties, imme- 
^tely to send for the Popish priest. If the sick re- 
fosed the sacraments at his hands, and recovered, they 

were doomed to perpetual banishment, and the loss of 
one-half of their property; if they died, their memory 
was publicly arraigned and dishonoured. " No physi* 
dans, surgeons, apothecaries, or midwives, no book* 
sellers, or printers, may, or shall, be admitted to exer« 
cise their art and profession, in any place within our 
realm, without producing a" (Popish) ''certificate/* 
Various similar persecuting enactments were passed, in 
regard to Protestant marriages ; but of these we shall 
have occasion to speak more fully aftervrards. Such 
waa the dread persecution of Louis XV. ; and what was 
the character of the Protestants at this time? Were 
they unsound in the fiiith? Were they disaffected tub* 
jects of the State ? It would be diflScult to produce direct 
evidence, perhaps, of the precise religious condition of 
a Church which was scattered and trodden down, whose 
ministers were not allowed to publish any works, nor 
suffered to meet for the administration of discipline* 
These things were most adverse, not only to theiv 
Christian character, but to the proof of it ; but if pa« 
tient endurance under protracted trial, and the most 
sted£ast loyalty, furnish evidence of soundness io the 
faith, then the Protestants of France gave* ample proof 
of their Christianity. Popish assertions that they had 
become Socinian in their religious views are entitled to 
little weight. Of course, some were much more spirit- 
ual than others ; but this is no more thao what is to 
be met with in all Churches, and in all conditions of 
Churches. There may have been a Frendi translation 
of the Bible by Le Cene, one of the French refugees, 
Sodnian in its tendency ; but we have no evidence that 
he was a Protestant minister, and though he were, this 
would be most Inadequate ground on which to fiisten 
any general charge of Socinianism against a Christian 
Church. Moreover, it was not drculated in France. 
Tbe submission and loyalty of the Protestants were re« 
markable. Indeed, nothing can be more striking than 
the contrast between the way the people treated their 
Sovereign, and the way in which he treated them. 
Repeatedly did Roman Catholic criminals confined in 
the same prisons with the persecuted Protestants seek, 
but seek in vain, to enlist them in a conspiracy, which, 
if successful, would have released both. One case is 
mentioned, where they not only solemnly protested 
against a horrible conspiracy, but gave infornuition of 
it, and so saved the lives of a captain and his garrison. 
On another occasion, in May 1705, they refused to stir 
out of their cells, when Roman Catholics of some con- 
dition had destroyed the governor of the castle, mas- 
tered the guards, made their escape, and left the doors 
open. At a later day, in 1744, when they were al- 
lowed to hold a National Synod in the deserts of Lower 
Languedoc— a privilege which, so far as I can learn, had 
not been enjoyed for more than half a century — what 
did they resolve upon ? Did they denounce their op- 
pressors, and proclaim rebellion against the State ? No ; 
they commanded that a fast should be kept in all the 
Reformed Churches of the kingdom^ "for the preserve^ 
tion of his Majesty's sacred person, the success of hlh 
arms, a cessation of war, and the deliverance of the 
Church.** Ministers are ordered to preach at least one 
sermon a-year on the duty of submission to dvil autho- 
rity. When news arrived, during the sitting of the 
Synod, of the illness of the king, " they all fell dpon 
their knees, and made a fervent prayer to God for his 



recovery; " and when he wbb restored, they sung ' Te 
Deum,' and mingled in the general rejoicing. In a 
petition to Marshal Count de Saze, to implore his inter- 
cession with 4heir Sovereign in their hehalf, they de- 
clare themselves ''firmly resolved to sacrifice their lives 
and fortunes for his Majesty's service." Nay, they 
proceed atiU farther, and counsel their teachers to ab- 
stain from points of controversy with the Romanists, 
and to vpeak with the utmost circumspection of the 
sufierings of the Protestant Churches ; to avoid work- 
ing on stunts' days, lest they should give offence ; and 
in fine, to bear patiently all the ill usage they might be 
exposed to on account of their religion. What noble 
sentiments are these I What an admirable spirit, and 
mode of proceeding! How unlike the suggestions of 
natural feeling I Surely this compliance with the Scrip- 
ture call, " to love their enemies ; to bleu those who 
cursed them ; to pray for those who despitefully used 
and persecuted them," indicated the presence of no 
doubtful Christian disdpleship. An eminent Protestaqt 
minister, in 1746, thus expressed himself:— 

" This I can affirm for truth, that if his Majesty 
allow the Protestants the liberty of being pastors, to 
celebrate their marriages, baptize their children, and 
perform the other ministerial offices of their religion, 
only in the desert, they would be ready to do all that 
men can do to demonstrate their gratitude and their 
attachment to his person. Nay, I dare say, that were 
they to be employed in repelling the enemies of the 
State, they would fill the world with the fame of their 
exploits; and Louis XV. would be no less charmed 
with their bravery than Henry the Great was with that 
of their forefathers." 

Reviewing these manifestations of Christian feeling 
and conduct, I cannot but think the labours of those 
fiiithful men must have been eminently blessed, who 
acted as their teachers. When all Protestant schools 
and colleges were overthrown, and when it was death 
to assemble the people and preach the Gospel, and dis- 
pense ordinances, in 1731 a seminary was erected at 
JLausanne, in Switzerland, for the education of Pro- 
testant ministers for France, drawing its chief sup- 
port from Holland and England. Doubtless it was 
of such men a Missionary in France lately made 
the interesting statement, speaking of Mirabel, and 
of a person whom he met there.* ** He told me," 
says he, " that formerly in the days of persecu- 
tion, the pastors were received and concealed by his 
family. He showed me a large tumbler, on which 
were written these words; ' I love God,' and the date 
of the year 1738 ; and which he informed me had been 
<used by the pastors in the days of persecution, when 
administering the Lord's Supper in desert phices. He 
also showed me a white embroidered linen doth, more 
than a century old, which he said had been used to 
carry infants into the same desert places to be baptized 
by the pastors." It would not have been wonderful, if 
men provoked and oppressed as the Protestants were, 
had been driven to Resistance. One or two slight cases 
of this kind there may have been ; but the Protestants 
were remarkable throughout for patient endurance, and 
the most unsullied loyalty : and what so likely to form 
to such a character as the diffusion of Christian instruc- 
tion, even amid trials and difficulties ? 

While the character of the Protestant Church was 
■ TWfDti^th Report of £uri>peao Society-, |), 5, 

thus so praiseworthy, what was the character of the 
Church of Rome, her great enemy, during the same 
period? Not to speak of the persecution of the Pro* 
testants, which she instigated and upheld, and which 
proved her a tyrant, she, in other respects, presented a 
miserable aspect to the eye of Christendom. The 
Church of boasted unity, appeared rent and torn in her 
own members. The Jansenists and Jesuits carried on 
a most furious warfiire, which ended in the persecution, 
even to imprisonment and death, of the Jansenists. The 
Work of Quesnel upon the Gospels, who was an eminent 
member of this body, was condemned by the Pope, and 
he himself driven into exile, where he died. The con* 
troversy connected with his book gave rise to the 
celebrated bull of Unigenitus, issued by the Pope in 
1713 : a bull which denounces, as hererical and repro- 
bate, such precious and important truths as-^*' That it 
is useful and necessary for all persons to know the 
Scriptures — that the reading of the Scriptures is for 
every body — that the Lord's day ought to be sancti- 
fied by Christians, in reading pious books, and above 
all the Scriptures— that to deprive the unlearned people 
of the comfort of joining their vcnoes with the voice of 
the whole Church, is a custom contrary to apostolical 
practice, and to the design of God ; " and many others. 
Indeed, the great leading truths of the Gospel salva- 
tion were all pronounced heretical, and their preachers 
accursed, while the Jesuits, t^e successful party, were 
ere long found to be so formidable to the peace of the 
Church and of the nation, that they were first deprived 
of their power, and ultimately suppressed. What a con< 
trast is here between the Protestant Church and the 
Church of Rome, and how honourable to the former ! 
To be continued. 



By the Rev. John Smyth, D. D., 

Minister of St, George's PariMk, Glasgow 

(Concluded from p. 9S.) 

'* And ye, fiithers, provoke not your children to wrath : 
but bring them up in the nurture and admonition 
of the Lord."— EpHfis. vi. 4. 

IV« The next class of parental duties to which 
we reqnest attention, relate to the education of 

1. Of these the first we mention is useful, but 
above all Christian instruction. 

Children, as soon as they are capable of intel- 
lectual and moral perceptions, ought to be made 
acquainted with their relations to Jehovah — ^their 
Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier. Every exer- 
tion should be made for impressing their minds 
with reverence of the Divine presence and au- 
thority i with a sense of His universal providence, 
as embracing the concerns of every living thing ; 
with the knowledge of their fallen and debased 
condition by nature and practice ; and with the 
way of salvation through the obedience unto death 
of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. 'J'he ex- 
amples of holy living and holy dying recorded in 
the sacred Word, especially the example of the 
blessed Redeemer ; — ^the sources of strength, and 
pf victory over every «vil habit, ^nd pf fitness for 



idl good works^ ought to be oorefally explained, 
and the necesaity of the great salvation for man's 
present and eyerlaeting well-being should be faith- 
fully exhibited and enforced. It is not meant that 
religion shonld be the exclusive subject of tuition. 
There are many other branches of learning which 
Claim a place in the education of children. So far are 
we from deprecating a liberal course of instruction 
as incompatible with the "bringing up of the young 
in the nurture and admonition of the Lord,*' that 
we have the concurrent testimonies of ages in 
maintaining that the most finished and profound 
scholarship has been united in numberless cases 
with the most devoted piety. Let the Bible, — 
the entire^ unadulterated Bible, be first and last in 
the ordering of your educational plans. Let it be 
the text-book of your households, as it ought to be 
the standard of belief and practice in every semi- 
nary of the land ; from the humblest parish school, 
to the most erudite of our universities. 

** These words which I command thee this day 
shall be in thine heart. And thou shalt teach 
them diligently unto thy children, and shalt talk 
of them when thou sittest in thine house, and 
when thou walkest by the way, and when thou 
liest down, and when thou risest up. And thou 
9h!dt bind them for a sign upon thine hand, and 
they shall be as frontlets between thine eyes.** 

Whilst the Bible is thus honoured above all 
books, as the only imerring guide to peace, and 
holiness, and heaven, it discovers a perverse con- 
tracted ness of mind to exclude from the education 
of children any branch of learning which is calcu- 
lated to increase their stores of useful informa- 
tion ; to enlai^ their knowledge of the economy 
of nature ; to refine their taste, or to prove, in 
any other way, subservient to their usefulness as 
members of civil society. It is greatly to be re- 
gretted, that among the disciples of Christ there 
are sometimes found strong prejudices against the 
acquisitions of literature and science, as if these 
were necessarily injurious to devotional feeling. A 
little learning, it luis been truly said, is a dangerous 
thing ; Imt accurate and extensive learning will 
lead men to acknowledge their ignorance, and the 
consequent necessity of a revelation from on high 
to guide their feet in the way of peace. Opposi- 
tion to what is generally deemed a liberal course 
of education is often evinced by those who are 
ignorant of its value, and who ought, therefore, 
even on the score of modesty, to witiihold their 
judgment. Teach children the Bible, it is said, 
and they require no other knowledge for making 
them virise unto salvation. True. But, what is 
the Bible ? Is there a book in the world for a 
thorough understanding of which, the stores of 
learning are so indispensably requisite? It is, 
indeed, consolatory to know, that the wayfaring 
man, though regarded as a fool in human estima- 
tion, is taught by the Spirit of God to apprehend 
the truth as it is in Jesus, without the aid of hu- 
man erudition. But, whilst '< the things which 
belong onto their peace** are clearly made known 
\o tboM who are " children in u^d^r* tandjng," it 

is a heartless libel on the sacred Wcro, and an 
ungrateful requital of its Divine Author to main- 
tain that the whole contents of the Holy Oracles 
can be understood or relished without an intimate 
knowledge of many branches of human learning. 
Its narratives are blended with the history of many 
an ancient land. Its prophecies cannot be under- 
stood without extensive information of the facts 
which verify their divine inspiration. Its poetry 
is rich in images selected from every field on which 
the Almighty has spread the riches of his liber- 
ality. Heaven above, and earth beneath, and the 
waters under the earth, furnish the sacred penmen 
with illustrations of their Creator's power, wis- 
dom, and goodness. The doctrines of grace and 
the exceeding great and precious promises of 
Scripture can be appreciated only by those who 
have communed much with their own hearts, and 
reflected profoundly on the government and coun- 
sels of God. Genuine learning is truly what the 
father of modern philosophy has called it, " the 
handmaid of religion." It is allied not to pride 
of intellect, but to the meekness of wisdom. 
Educate your children in every branch of know- 
ledge which their tastes and their several walks in 
life render expedient. But, let all be reverently 
subordinate to the knowledge of God, and of 
Jesus Christ. Teach them, that if they are desti- 
tute of this, " One thing is lacking," which no 
created resources can supply. Instruct them care- 
fully in divine truth. See that they understandwhat 
they read. Labour to be instrumental in inciting 
them to feel as well as to understand the Word of 
God. Impress upon them their absolute need of 
the illumination and teaching of the Holy Ghost, 
who alone teacheth savingly and to profit. En- 
force the necessity of habitual dependence upon 
the Spirit's power and grace for guiding them in- 
to all truth. In conducting tiie education of 
children, much depends upon the methods em- 
ployed, and the manner in which instruction is 
communicated. The understanding ought, doubt- 
less, to be a primary object of concern ; for unless 
the mind clearly perceives what is addressed to it> 
a main design of education must be defeated. 

For this purpose great clearness and simplicity 
of statement are necessary. The language used 
ought to be adapted to the comprehension of the 
young. If similitudes, or any illustrative emblems 
are employed, they should be natural and striking. 
Of these our Lord's parables are most apposite 
and perfect specimens. All of them are faithful 
to nature, and, therefore, find ready access to the 
mind and heart* 

Whilst the understanding is furnished with use- 
ful, and especially Christian knowledge, the affec- 
tions of children ought to be secured.. A kind and 
winning address makes its way to the bosom of your 
child. He responds to your looks of gentle love, 
and quickly sympathises with them as expressive 
of the regard which you bear him. The gravity 
of parental wisdom, and the dignity of parental 
station, do not suffer ; they are enhanced by mild 
and affectionate treatment* Th(it xa^n is c^ stranger 



to human naiore, who imagines that the dictates 
of stem authority will command the homagpe of 
the conscience and the heart. Children may bow 
to it in fear and trembling ; but, in such submis- 
sion there is no genuine obedience. All is cold, 
constrained, and often debased by hjrpocnsy. << Fa- 
thers provoke not your children to wrath, but 
bring them up in the nurture and admonition of 
the Lord." Let paternal love preside over your 
instructions, and be manifested in all your conduct 
towards your children. With the same view, let 
exhortation be made as agreeable as possible, con- 
sistently with the necessary discipline of the intel- 
lect and the heart. We are quite aware of the 
natural enmity which even young children feel to- 
wards divine things ; and we could not transgress 
the words of truth and soberness by describing it 
as always << a delightful task to teach the young 
idea how to shoot" in a heavenward direction. 
Still, brethren, nothing in your deportment or man- 
ners should augment difficulties, which are in them- 
selves confessedly vast, of conveying to your off- 
spring the knowledge, and along with it, the love 
of religion. It is to the last degree indefensible 
to associate gloom, and austerity, and bondage of 
spirit, with the work of Christian education. Pa- 
rents ought, by all practicable means, to render 
the acquisition of Christian knowledge especially 
a privilege, — ^to allure their children to it by every 
lawful attraction. Nor need you be speedily dis- 
couraged. Patience and constancy are virtues of 
first consequence in tliis good work. Relax not 
your exertions, because of difficulties and obstacles 
which present themselves. These were to be 
reckoned on. They are intended to be trials of 
your faith, and ought to be regarded as salutary 
discipline. Recollect the inoonsideration and the 
waywardness of youth ; and be ye very lenient 
and pitiful : " For precept must be upon precept ; 
line upon line; here a little and there a little. 
Be stedfast and immoveable, always abounding in 
the work of the Lord : forasmuch as ye know that 
your labour shall not be in vain, in the Lord." 
You cannot command the blessing ; but you can 
commit all results to Him who hath said, << Train 
up a child in the way that he should go $ and when 
he is old, he will not depart from it." 

Whilst we urge a conciliatory and an affection- 
ate mode of imparting instruction, we should keep 
back a part of the whole counsel of God, if we 
were to omit mentioning, in the next place, 

2. Christian restraint and correction. By this we 
do not understand corporeal punishment merely, 
(which ouffht to be resorted to in cases of extreme 
necessity alone) but other kmds of discipline suited 
to the age, temper, and habits of the young. *^ He 
that spareth his rod hateth his child : but he that 
loveth him chasteneth him betimes." << Chasten thy 
son while there is hope, and let not thy soul spare 
for his crying." 

Corporeal discipline n»y be administered whilst 
the heart remains unaffected by any holy or vir- 
tuous considerations. Unless the soul be deeply 
impressed with the obligations of repentance for 

past sins, and purposes of godly living in the time 
to come, nothing is effectively gained. It is 
important to observe, farther, that chastisement 
ought to be distinguished by Christian discretion, 
and tender solicitude for the improvement of the 
child, whilst it is marked by unbending decision of 
character. A parent ought never to punish his 
child, if he be himself under the influence of pas- 
sion. The coolness of deliberative wisdom, and 
the steady determination of resolute principle, ought 
to characteriiro all his corrective discipline. To 
recede from a fixed, but more especially from a 
declared purpose, in such circumstances, is to sur- 
render parental authority and consistent character 
for the indulgence of ill-timed and pernicious lenity. 
Restraint and correction should be administered 
with all Christian seriousness ; and the heart of 
the parent should beam forth from the cloud that 
has interposed its gloom for a season betwixt him- 
self and his child. It ought to be seen, that a 
fathttT^s hand is uplifted for the stroke, whilst a 
fathers heart bleeds bebause of the necessity of 
inflicting it. Had Eli thus corrected his sons, in- 
stead of vielding with indulgent weakness to their 
sinful wishes, those words of inspired wisdom 
would never have been recorded, « Behold, I will 
do a thing in Israel, at which both the ears of 
of every one that heareth it shall tingle. In that 
day I will perform against Eli all things which I 
have spoken concerning his house : when I begin, I 
will also make an end. For I have told him, Uiat I 
will judge his house for ever, for the iniquity which 
he knoweth ; because his sons made themselves 
vile, and he restrained them not And therefore 
I have sworn unto the house of Eli, that the ini- 
quity of Eli's house shall not be purged with sacri- 
fice nor offering for ever.'' 1 l^amuel iii. 11-15. 
Had David acted towards Adonijah differently from 
what is narrated, << His father did not displease him 
at any time," — ^we should, in all likelihood never 
have read of Adonijah's conspiracy against the 
government and throne of Israel. 

Correction ought to correspond to the measure 
of the offence committed. When it exceeds ia 
severity, dissatisfaction is felt on account of ths 
injustice done, and the beneficial effects, which 
might otherwise have accrued, are to a great extent 
frustrated. Study, likewise, the natural tempers and 
dispositions of your children. The kind o( disci- 
pline which is necessary and proper for one is not 
suitable in the case of alL Labour to have a clear 
and discriminative knowledge of their prevailing 
habits of thought and feeling ; and strive, betimes, 
to rectify whatever is evil or amiss in these, by 
wise and merciful treatment. 

Lastly, Let parental instruction be accompanied 
and followed by Christian example and many fer* 
vent prayers. 

The consistent life of a Christian parent is im* 
measurably superior to the most conclusive reason* 
ings on this subject. When a parent is not only 
a counsellor, but '* i living epistle of Christ ;" when 
the graces and attainments of the divine life are 
engraven on his whole conduct, children i^ceive 



the moit donvinoin^ of all proofs that he has not 
only the form, hot also the power of godliness. 
With what tenfold augmented effect will a parent 
enjoin attendance upon the sanctuary, who is him- 
self statedly in observance of its hallowed duties ; 
or inculcate the obligations and the privilege of 
prayer, who unites both for and with his children, 
at the throne of his Father and their Father, of 
his God and their God I How impressive are the 
lessons of truth, integrity, temperance, purity, and 
Spiritual mindedness, when they proceed from lips 
which a live coal from the altar of God has 
touched, framing them to utter habituallv the lan- 
guage of chastised thought and elevated feeling I 
The example of a godly parent transcends the 
power of human computation. It is often recalled 
to mind in scenes remote from the domestic circle, 
and has been often sanctified for rescuing a soul 
from death, and covering the multitude of its sins. 
The reminiscences of the paternal home in which 
" prayer was wont to be made ; " in which the 
book of God was read as a part of family devo- 
tion; and the sweets of affectionate intercourse 
were rendered still more sacred by the communion 
of Christian love — ^these* when vividly remem- 
bered, have been blessed for arresting the purposes 
of wickedness, and inspiring the high resolves of 
piety. Even when a father's or a moUier's example 
IS no longer to be found in the living world ; 
when beloved parents bays gone the way of all 
the earth — ^the reflection of the sun which has 
set, may be seen, gilding with its radiance, the 
horizon which separates time from eternity ; and 
proclaiming as in beams of parting glory* << Be 
followers of them who, through faith and patience> 
inherit the promises." 

Parents, do your hearts respond to these thinffs? 
Do yon desire that your children should be fol- 
lowers of you, even as ye seek to be followers of 
Christ ? Accompany your instractions, your cor- 
rective discipline, your good example^ with many 
earnest and persevering supplications. With God 
is the residue of the Spirit. He has employed an 
ailment which cannot fail to come directly home 
to the strongest working of natural affection, when 
be addresses 70a by bis own beloved Son ; *< If 
ye, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto 
your children, much more shall your heavenly 
Father give his Holy Spirit to them that ask 
him." Pray, then, for yourselves, that ye may 
receive grace to be faithful to the spiritual welfare 
of yourselves and your children, rray for ihwh 
as Abraham did when ha said, << O that Ishmael 
might live before thee ! " or as Job did, when ** he 
rose early in the rooming, and offered burnt-offer- 
ings according to the number of his sons and his 
daughters." Thus shall Jehovah's promise be ful« 
fiil^, '< I will pour my Spirit upon thy seed, and 
my blessing upon thine offspring : and they shall 
spring- up as among the grass, as waters by the 
willow courses." Be instant in prayer ; be impor- 
tohatc ; be strong in faith, giving glory to God. 
Desist not, because of seeming discouragemsnts ; 
but learn to pray always, and not to faint. With 

what growing solicitude would yon repeat your 
applications to an earthly physician if your child 
were labouring under a severe malady 5 and shall 
not the mental distemper of sin, which, unless 
checked, will assuredly destroy the children whom 
you love as your own souls, furnish the strongest 
reason for your going again and again on their 
behalf, unto Him who alone healeth our spiritual 
diseases ? Y*»s, parents ; you must wrestle, like 
Israel of old, who had power with God, and pre- 
railed. Yon must say, with that revered patri- 
arch, "Ividll not let thee go unless thou bless us.'* 
Then, may you cherish a good hope through grace, 
that when your prayers, like those of David the 
son of Jesse, are ended, and when, on the great 
day of account, you stand before Him that sitteth 
on the throne, it shall be your sublime privilege 
to say, « Behold, here are we, and the children 
whom thou hast given us.** Amen. 

Jugust 13, 1S37. 
Haix. t Sovereign of the world of floods 1 wboM majeitjr »pd might 
First datzles, then enrapturci, than o'erawes the aching tight : 
The pomp of kings and emperors. In every cllme and sone. 
Grows dim beqeatli the splendour of thy glorious watery throne. 
No fleets oan stop thy ptogress, no Armies bid thee sUy, 
But onward,— onward,— onward,— thy march sUU hold» its way ; 
The ristni; mists that teil thee as thy heralds go before. 
And the mnste that proclaims thee is the thund'rlng cataract's roar. 
Tby diadam'e ail emerald, of the dearest, purest hue. 
Set round with waves of snow- white foam, and spray of feathery dew ; 
While tresses of the brightest pearls float o'er thine ample sheet. 
And the rainbow lays ito gorgeous genu in tribute at thy feet. 
Thy reign is firom the ancient days, thy sceptr^ from on high ; 
Thy Urth was when the distant starft first lit the glowing sky;; 
The sun, the moon, and all the orbs that shine upon thee now, 
Beheld (he wreath of glory which first bound thine in&int brow. 
And firom that hour to this, in which I gaze upon thy streamt 
From age to age, in Winter's frost or Summer's sultry beam. 
By day, by night, without a pause, thy waves, with loud acolalm. 
In ceaseless sounds have still proclalm'd the Qreat Eternal't onme. 
For whether, on thy forest banlcs, the Indian of the wc^d, 
Or, since his day, the red man's foe on his fatherland has stood ; 
Whoe'er has seen thine incense rise, or heard thy torrents roar, 
Milft have knelt before the Ood of all, to woiahip and adore. 
Aoeept. thea, O, Snpremdy Oroat! O, Infinite I 0| Ood{ 
From this primpval altar, the green and virgin>sod, 
The humble homage that my loul in gratitude would pay 
To Thee whose shield has guarded me through all my wandeKng way. 

For, irttie eeean be ae nought in the hollow of thine hand. 
And the ftars of the brigbt firmament, in thy balance grains of sand ( 
If Niagara's rolling fiood seems great to us who humbly bow, 
O ! Great Creator of the Whole, how passing great art Thou I 

Bnt though thy power is Ux more vast than finite mind can scan. 
Thy mercy la sdll greater shown to weak, dependent man : 
For him thou cloth'st the fertUegtobe Mth herbs, and Ihiit, and seed» 
For him the seas, the lakes, the streanis, iupply his hourly need. . 

Around, on high, or Cur. or near, the universal whole 
Frodaims thy glory, as the orbs in their fixed courses roll ; 
Ap<V from creation's gratefril voice, the hymn ascends above. 
While heaven re-echoes back, to oarth the cboru«— ** God Is love." 

J. S. Buckingham. 



Part II. 

Bt tbb EniTOB. 

In early life; Mr Good, ag we bave seen, was educated 
under the immediate care of big father, who appears to. 
Imvs besn an smineotly pioiu worthy man. .. fa cw9^ 



quenee of the insirucdong then received, he appears to 
have held religion and religious men in great respect, but, 
with a native tendency to excessive speculation, he ap- 
pears to have been left in his youth altogether ignorant of 
the narrow limits which bound the exercise of human rea- 
son. The natural effect of a training defective in this 
important particular, upon a young man living " without 
God in the world,' was speedily seen to the grief of his 
£sther and relatives, in his open avowal of the cold, the 
heartless tenets of Sodnianism. For years he remained 
a firm believer in their creed, such as it is. During 
this time he always contrived to be an ardent admirer 
ind a devoted student of the Bible, chiefly, however, as 
the source of critical speculation and literary amuse- 
ment. And yet it is gratifying to remark, that in his 
preface to the translation of Lucretius, published as far 
back as 1805, he thus speaks in admiration of the Sacred 
Volume : " I delight in profane literature, but still 
more do I delight in my Bible : they are lamps that 
afford a mutual assistance to each other. In point of 
importance, however, I pretend not that they admit of 
comparison ; and could it once be demonstrated that 
the pursuits are inconsistent with each other, I would 
shut up Lucretius for ever, and rejoice in the confla- 
gration of the Alexandrian Library.*' By a comparison 
of dates, we find that this golden sentiment was penned 
not more than two years after the publication of the 
' Memoirs of Dr Geddes,' in whose heterodox views 
Dr Good unfortunately coincided. And even in dis- 
cussing the opinions of the Sodnian translator of the 
Scriptures, we may perceive the candour of the bio- 
grapher occasionally overcoming his prejudices, so far 
as to lead him to dispute many of those very principles 
lying at the root of that system of theology to which he 
had for some years professed his adherence. The fiut 
is, the mind of Dr Good was too honest and too acute 
to permit his being in its full extent a Socinian. He 
perceived, and even to his intimate friends readily ad- 
mitted, many of the inconsistencies and fidlacies to 
which he weekly listened in the congregation at Essex 
Street. And on the authority of his biographer we are 
informed, that *' during much of the time that he pro- 
fessed Sodnianism, his mind was not at ease." This 
we can easily conceive to have been the case, and we 
doubt not that had he been less exposed to the harass- 
ing employments of his profession, and less flattered by 
his success in the walks of literature, Dr Good would 
have been much sooner redaimed from the barren tenets 
of semi-infidel Sodnianism than he actually was. From 
the very constitution of his mind, the reverse of all that 
is dogmatic^ and self-conceited, his case was fiur from 
bdng hopeless, and the influences to which he was ex- 
posed in domestic life were such as happily led to a 
complete change in his whole tone of thinking and feel- 
ing on religious subjects. 

"This," says Dr Gregory, "together with the de- 
portment of the Sodnians with regard to reb'gion, their 
obvious want of fairness in conducting many of their 
arguments, their intellectual pride, and the sceptical 
turn of mind nuuiifested by some of them, tended con- 
siderably to produce the desired change. To the effect 
of these were added several trying providential dispen- 
sations known to his friends, and others, doubtless, 
known only to the great Searcher -of hearts ; and com- 
bined with all that divine energy which gave to each its 
cperation, and caus^ conversations, meditations, evenU, 

fo to " worV together for good," that he who had long 
wandered was brought bai^ and naost cordially adopted 
the huiguage, ' Return unto thy rest, O my soul, for 
the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee.'" 

To a mind constituted like that of Dr Good, with an 
intense love of truth, the dogmatism and irrational pride 
which characterise the reasonings of Sodnians, could 
scarcely at any time be quite satisfactory ; but when, 
by the blessing of the Spirit, he was enabled to feel 
the utter feebleness of human reason, his views un- 
derwent an entire and a happy change. Sodnianisni 
was long ago declared by Priestley to be the half-way 
house to infidelity, and he himself afforded in his own 
person a melancholy proof of the truth of his statement. 
Such a barren unprofitable sjrstem, striking at the roots 
of all that is vital in Christianity, is ill fitted to support 
the mind amid the trials and calamities of life. Hence 
that feeling of dissatisfaction with which the mind of 
Dr Good was harassed while he professed these wither- 
ing doctrines, and more especially, we doubt not, in 
those hours of darkness and desolation of spirit, when 
of all worldly objects he could exclaim in the language 
of Job, " miserable comforters are ye all.** 

At length, after having for fourteen years steadily 
attended the minbtrations of Mr Belsham, for many 
years the apostle of Sodnianism in London, drcum- 
stances occurred which led to a collision between Dr 
Good and his minister. It may not be uninteresting to 
the reader to peruse the correspondence which took place. 

" Dear Sin, — It is with much regret I feel myself 
compelled to discontinue my attendance at the chapel 

in , and to break off my connection with a sodety 

with which I have, cordially associated for nearly four- 
teen years. 

" I sincerely respect your talents, and the indefatig- 
able attention you have paid to biblical and theolc^nl 
subjects: I have the fullest conviction of your sincerity 
and desire to promote what you believe to be the great 
cause of truth and Christianity ; but I feel severely 
that our minds are not consdtuted alike; and being 
totally incapable of entering into that spirit of scepti- 
dsm which you deem it your duty to inculcate from the 
pulpit, should be guilty of hypocrisy if I were any 
longer to countenance, by a personal attendance on your 
ministry, a system which (even admitting it to be right 
in itself) is, at least, repugnant to my own heart and 
my own understanding. 

" Without adverting to subjects which have hurt roe 
on former occarions, I now directly allude to various 
opinions delivered in your very elaborate, and, in many 
respects excellent, sermon of Sunday last ; and especially 
to the assertion that it is impossible to demonstrate the 
existence and attributes of a God ; that all who have 
attempted such demonstrations have only involved them- 
selves in perplexity ; and that, though a Christian may 
see enough to satisfy himself upon tibe subject, from a 
survey of the works of nature, he never can prove to 
himself the bdng and attributes of a God, clearly, and 
free from all doubt. 

" I mean merely to repeat what I jinderstood to be 
the general sense of the proposition ; and not to contend 
that my memory has furnished me with your own words. 
And here permit me to observe, that I have been so 
long taught a different creed, not only from the reason- 
ings of St. Paul, Rom. i 20, and elsewhere, but from 
many of the best theologians and philosophers of our 
country, from Sir Isaac Newton, Clarke, Barrow, and 
Locke, that I cannot, without pain, hear what appears 
to me a prindple irrefragably established, treated with 
sceptidsm, and espedaUy such ^ceptidsm drculatpd. 
ftom ft Christian pulpit, 



"I hsvts eTiQt ifflvtteifiinliDtoiiied mymottrei to 
TOO, becune, both as a iDinigter and as a Kcntlemaii you 
are entitled to them ; and becauso i aliould be «orry to 
be thought to have acted without motives, and even 
without safiident motives. My esteem and best wishes, 
however, you will always possess, notwithstanding my 
secession from the chapel, for I am persuaded of the 
integrity of your efforts. I am obliged to you for every 
attention you have shown me ; and shall, at all times, 
be happy to return you any service in my power.'* 

The reply of Mr Belsham was couched in the follow- 
ing terms :— » 

'* Deab Sib, — I am obliged to you for your polite com- 
munication of your intention to withdraw from 

Chspel, and of your motives for that determination. 
Having myself exercised to so great an extent the rights 
of private judgment, I would be the last person to object 
to the exercise of that right in others. I cannot, how- 
ever, help considering myself as peculiarly unfortunate, 
that after all toe pains which I have taken to establish 
the truth of the Christian revelation, I should, in the 
estimation of an intelligent, and, I would hope, not un- 
cindid hearer, lie open to the charge of inculcating from 
the pulpit a spirit of Mceptieism, and that the allusion 
which I made on Sunday last to the unsatisfactory 
nature of the exploded a priori demonstration of the 
divine existence, should have been understood as a de- 
claration of a deficiency in the proper evidence of the 
being and attributes of God. 

" I certainly would not mvself attend the ministry of 
a preacher who was sceptical either in the divine exist- 
ence, or in the troth of the Christian revelation. I must 
therefore completely justify you in withdrawing from my 
ministry, while you entertain your present views. I can 
only regret that I have expressed myself inadvertently, 
in a manner so liable to be misunderstood." 

On perusing these letters, the intelligent and reflec- 
tive reader cannot fail to be convinced that the dis- 
satisfaction which Dr Good had felt all along with the 
tenets of Socinianism had now arrived at its height, and 
be merely waited a favourable opportunity for quitting 
tbe ranks of its arrowed believers. 

Another letter of explanation was written, to which 
Mr Belsham sent no reply, probably from a shrewd 
conviction that his correspondent was determined at 
«n hazards to be no longer a member of his congrega- 
tion. The last olyjection started was certainly better 
than the first, but still both of them together, we 
inspect, were merely symptomatic of his disgust at 
Sodnianism having reached its crisis. He never was 
St any time a thorough believer in its- meagre creed, and 
though doubtless a professed admirer of one of its ablest 
and most consistent defenders, yet even in the Memoirs 
of Dr Geddes it ia not difficult to perceive that the 
mind of the biographer revolted from many of the senti- 
ments, which nevertheless be was boond faithfully 
to record. Now, however, blessed be God, he had 
been led openly to renounce that chilling system of 
&ith, and his religion assumed a warmer aid more de- 
cided aspect. He now began to li^c to God, to culti- 
vate the company of pious men, and to wait faithfully 
upon the ministry of some of tbe most useful evangelicid 
ministers in London, in oonnectioa with the Church of 
England. To the acquaintance of one individual he 
appears to have been peculiarly indebted shortly after 
his conversion to a sounder faith*-the Rev. Samuel 
Marsden. This faithful and devoted servant of the 
Host High, whose labours in New South Wales have 
aitted him to b» known in all the chUrches, had then 

retomed on a virit to England, and having been intro- 
duced to Dr Good, an inviolable friendship soon took 
place, which was attended with the greatest benefits to 
both parties. But what, above all, tended by the bless- 
ing of the Spirit to Dr Good's advancement in the divine 
life, was his subjection to severe family afflictions, 
which, in the latter period of his life, appear to have 
been mercifully sent to wean him from the worid, and 
to elevate his desires above the things of earth to those 
of heaven. And such were in a remarkable degree 
their effects* " All took knowledge of him that he had 
been with Jesus." The genuine humility, the serious 
thoughtfulnees of his deportment, anrf the growing spi- 
rituality of mind, which were evident to all his acquaint- 
ances, clearly showed that he was ripening for heaven. 

** Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright ; for 
the latter end of that man is peace." Such was indeed 
the description of the death of Dr Good. The delinea- 
tion of it given by his biographer reminds us somewhat 
of the death of Dr Bateman, but perhaps still more of 
the interesting account which Cowper has left of the 
death of his brother, who, in his last illness, was con- 
verted from a state of almost determined infidelity. 
Such death-bed scenes are peculiarly valuably, when 
recorded, as affording striking exemplifications of the 
power of vital godliness in supporting and strengthen- 
ing the soul in the near prospect of judgment and eter- 
nity. Before that solemn hour, the mind of Dr Good 
was so completely alienated from even the remotest 
attachment to the doctrines of Socinianism, that the 
passage of Scripture from which he chiefly derived 
comfort, was one which asserts in the plainest terms 
the oneness of Christ with the Father—" Jesus Christ, 
the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever.'* 

In closing this Sketch, we cannot refrain from insert- 
ing a description of the private character of this amiable 
and distinguished man, written by his eldest daughter, 
Mrs Neale. It is written with such simplicity and 
obvious fidelity, that it recalsto our minds the beautiful 
portraiture of the Rev. Legh Richmond, froor the pen 
of his daughter Fanny. 

** You will doubtless have learned much from my 
mother and sister, of my dear father's affectionate de- 
portment in his family, and especially of his parental 
kindness ; yet I cannot avoid mentioning one way in 
which, during my childhood, this was frequently mani- 
fested towards myself. My dear father, after a hurried 
meal at dinner, occupying but a very few minutes, would 
often spend a considerable portion of what should have 
been his resting time, in teaching me to pbiy at battle- 
dore, or some active game, thinking the exercise con- 
ducive to my health. 

" I never saw in any individual* so rare a union as he 
possessed of thorough enjoyment, of what are usually 
termed the good things of this life, with the most per- 
fect indifference fespecting them, when they were not 
within his reach. In the articles of food and drink, he 
always took, with relish and cheerfidness, such deli- 
cacies as the kindness of a friend, or accident, might 
throw in his way ; but he was quite as well satisfied 
with the plainest provision that might be set before him ; 
often, indeed, seeming unconscious of the difference. 
His love of society made him most to enjoy his meals 
with his &mily, or among his friends ; yet as his em- 
ployments of necessity produced imcertainty in the time 
of his returns home, his constant request was to have 
something set apart for tun, but on no account to ^i-ait 
for bis arrival 



••T perfiifM m tot ^jmlliMto 8)leftk of bitf eictrtaR 
kindness to all his grand-children. One aXampU will 
serve to show that it >va8 self-denying and active. My 
fourth little one, when an infant of two months old, 
was dangerously ill with the hooping-cough. My father 
wad informed of this, tt was in the beginning of a cold 
winter, and we were living sixty miles from town, in a 
retired village in Essex. Immediately on receiving the 
news of our affliction, my father quitted home ; and 
what was our surprise* at eleven o'clock on a very dark 
night, to hear a chaise drive up to the door, and to see 
our affectionate parent step out of it. He had been 
detained, and narrowly escaped an overthrow, by the 
driver having mistaken his way, and attempting to drive 
through rough ploughed fields. We greatly feared that 
he would suffer severely from an attack of the gout, to 
which he had then become seriously subject, and which 
was generally brought on by exposure to cold and damp, 
such as he had experienced ; and we urged, in conse- 
quence, the due precautions ; but his first care was to 
go at once to the nursery, ascertain the real state of 
the disease, and prescribe for the infant 

'* Strangers have often remarked to me, that they 
were struck with the affectionate kindness with which 
be encouraged all my dear children to ask himqueations 
upon any subject, and the delight which he exhibited 
when they manifested a desire to gain knowledge. In- 
deed, I do not once remember to have heard them 
silenced in their questions, however apparently unsea- 
sonable the time, in a hasty manner, or without some 
kind notice in answer. He never seemed annoyed by 
any interruption which they occaaioned, whether during 
his studies, or while he was engaged in that conversa- 
tion which he so much enjoyed. Whenever he silenced 
their questions by the promise of a future answer, he 
regarded the promise as inviolable, and uniformly satis- 
fied their inquiries on the first moment of leisure, with- 
out waiting to be reminded by themselves or others, of 
the expectations which be had thus excited. Theae are 
simple domestic facts, not perhaps suited to every taste. 
But as they serve to illustrate character, I transmit 
them, to bs employed or not, as you may think best." 


By the Authoress of the "Bioorafhical Sketch 
or OltmMa Morata."*^ 

It is generally acknowledged, that a perusal of the liveft 
of those who have distinguished themselves above the 
rest of mankind, is highly instructive, as well as amusing. 
In this view, men whose genius and talents have im- 
proved and delighted, or whose enterprising spirit and 
benevolent exertions have benefited others, have been 
immortalized in the page of history $ and every rerord, 
whether of their public or their private life, h&s been 
carefully treasured up, and perused with universal in- 

On this principle, Christian biography has always 
been greatly valued by those who measure their standard 
(}f excellence according to the model of Christian per« 
fection. Between this species of biography, however, 
and all others, there exists a distinction, which we fear 
is too much overlooked by many who read and ad- 

In perusing the lives of eminent Btatemncn and war« 

rior4, or of those whose names have been celebrated in 

the paths of science, philosopby* or literature, we havd, 

in most cases, derived all the benefit which they are 

ulated to produce upon ordinary minds| when W6 

have ihenby itfadHd^abrtter tetuttemee iHlh the 
varieties of hniiian ebefteCef, and the spriagi of kunum 
action ; when we have gathered some gleanings of in- 
formation upon subjects with which they were familiar, 
or obtained the practical benefits arising from schemes 
or discoveries which their genius originated. 

We never dream that we ourselves may become, 
through their means, warriors, statesmen, poets, or phi- 
losophers. We may admire, but we do not attempt to 

With regard to Christian biography, the case is very 
different. When the fidth, or the devotedness, or the 
philanthropy of the disdple of Jesus is the object of 
our admiration, we ought not to rest satisfied with 
yielding our esteem and approbation — M-e ought to fol- 
low in his footsteps, since our safety and happiness, 
as well as our duty, lie in the same path. The field is 
open to all; and, not only is each one of as invited 
to walk in the way of life, and to receive fi-eely from 
the fountain of God's sanctifying grace, but it hath been 
declared in the records of truth, that all the bye-paths 
of man's own devising, communicate with the broad 
way that leadeth to dHtruction. 

" I am the way, and the tmtb, and the life "—** With- 
out holiness, no man shsll see the Lord.'* Those, there*' 
fore, who study Christian biography, should be careful 
to separate the peculiarities of individual character and 
experience, and the extrinsic circumstances by which 
these may have been called into action, from the grand 
general outlines which characterise the whole family of 
God's children, the features of the new man which is 
created in Christ Jesus. From the former, they may 
be widely separated by natural temperament, or exter- 
nal situation ; but, towards the perfection of the Utter, 
there must be a gradual approximation. If they possess 
apy jttst claim to call themselves by the name of Jesus. 
In reading the life of any of his devoted followers, 
let no one shelter himself fitMn the tacit reproach which 
it casts upon his own, under the idea that had he been 
endowed with equal talents, or hod he been placed in 
similar circumstances, his piety would have shone equally 
prominent. It is not so. As there is no situation or 
duty in life which the grace cf God cannot sanctify and 
adorn ; and no trial under which it cannot impart peace 
and strength to the sufferer } so no train of circum- 
stances is so favourable to the development of the di* 
vine life, as that its rise or progress can be ascribed to 
any source but a renewing influence from on high. 

There is but one Gospel, one Lord, one faith, one 
baptism, to the learned and to the unlearned ; to the 
believing child, and to the believer of fourscore; to the 
dweller in palaces, and the tenant of the cottage; and 
the effects which the faith of the Gospel produces, and 
the duties which it prescribes, are universally the same 
among the tribes out of every kindred, and tongue, and 
people, and nation, to whom It is proclaimed. 

The varieties produced in individual character by 
any outward circumstances whatever, are but the dis* 
tinctions of time, and shall pass away when time shall 
be no more; but sanctification is a woric begun for 
eternity : It acknowledges no sucb distinctions. The 
work of the Spirit is in every believer, a renewal of the 
whole man after the image of God, enabling him, from 
day to day, '< to die unto sin« and to live onto righte* 



Of fufik wko otoe the iMina <»f ' Jcsw, %e 'Woul4 bow ' 
ask,-«>Ar« the trntbs of his Oospel predoiu to yo«, as 
they were precious to those of whom you have often 
read ? Are the precepts of Clirist exemplified in your ac- 
tions, as they lived and breathed in theirs 9 " The fruit 
of the Spirit is in all goodness, and righteousness, and 
truth." Are these fruits springing up in your hearts, 
and manifesting themselves in your lives? Do you 
undemand what these things mean ? While thousands 
around you af e saying, " Who will show us any good ? " 
are the desires of your hearts breathed forth in the 
Psalmist's petition, — " Lord, lift thou upon us the light 
of thy countenance ? " If it be so with you, then is it 
your duty and your privilege to go on unto perfection ; 
to rejoice in the Lord your God ; to ** let your light 
90 shine before men, that they, seeing your good 
works, may glorify your Father who is in heaven." 
There is no reason why you should not be among the 
number of the &ithful, who, having turned *'many 
to righteousness, shall shine as th« stars for ever and 

To those who are sensible that they are not expert* 
mentally acquainted with the Christian character, the 
life of one in whom it has been exemplified in all its 
desirableness, speaks volumes of warning and admoni- 
tion. It tells that there is a beauty and an excellence 
which <Aey do not prize, nor seek to obtain ; that there 
is a blessedness, both here and hereafter, in which they 
have no interest. It tells them of danger around, of 
doubt and darkness before them, without the ark of 
safety, or the light of hope. But the life of the believer 
speaks the language of encouragement even to these. 
It tells theoi, that where ikey are, tliere every pardoned 
itnaer hath once been *, and St is the privilege of the 
Ijeliever to proclaim, with his lips and in his life, that 
hh warrant for laying hold of the hope set'before him 
in the Gospel, is as freely ofiered to every child of 
Adam, as it hath been to himself. The invitation of 
the SfHrit and the Bride to every one that is athirst 
is, •' Coma, and take of the v/ater of life freely;" and 
to every partaker of this living water is the command 
given, — " Let him that heareth, say, Come." 


Dr Willis remarked to Hannah More, that he never 
saw so much natural sweetness and goodness of mind, 
united to so much piety, as in the King, — George III. 
During his illness, he many times shed tears for Lord 
North's blindness. The Bishop of London had been 
to the king that morning, he was in a very devout 
frame of mind, which his enemied will say is the surest 
fign he is stiU deranged. He told the bishop, '* that 
at the worst, his trust in. God had never forsaken him ; 
that that confidence alone had been his support." 

It is worthy of remembrance, that Archbishop Tillot- 
son, and Burnet, Bishop of Salisbury, considered their 
large revenues as trusts committed to their care. Ac- 
cordingly they set aside what remained after their 
maintenance in a plain way, for bettering the condition 
of the poor clergy, and repairs on churches, besides 
using hospitality to the poor. It is said of Burnet, that 
when his secretary informed him he had in hand about 
£500 Sterling, he remarked, — '* What a shame for a 
Christian bishop to have so much money unemployed," 
and ordered its immediate distribution for useful pur- 
poses. These two men were also sound Protestants, 
and were instruments in settling the Protestant 8ucce»- 
sioD under WHUao) the Third. 


TTie JResurrection, — That the conquest which death 
obtuns, and shall continue to obtain till the final consum- 
mation of all things, could only apply to the material 
part of man, is too obvious to "require a moment's proof. 
The immaterial part of man being spiritual in its nature, 
is placed beyond the reach of death. The removal of 
death can therefore only apply to the body, because it is 
over this alone that death extends its sway. The victory 
which shall be obtained over death, must be a removal 
of that absence of life under which the human body 
lies ; the removal must issue in the reverse ; the re> 
verse is life ; and, therefore, the body must live again. 
As the body must rise and join its immaterial partner, 
both, in a state of indissoluble union, must enter into 
a state of punishments or rewards, which must continue 
for ever. It is the diead of future punishment, arising 
from a consciousness of guilt, that arms death with all 
its terrors, and makes it an awful thing to die. Hence 
says the Apostle, ** The sting of death is sin, and the 
strenirth of sin is the law, but thanks be to God who 
givetn us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." 
— Drew. 

Or TVui/s.-^It is not in the light and sunny places 
of the wilderness that the traveller most sweetly re- 
poses. It is under the shadow of a great rock, or in 
the depth of a sequestrated valley, and so it is with the 
Christian. The snn of prosperity withers our joy, and 
changes the green leaves into the sickly colours of 
autumn. Adversity is like the winter which prepares 
the soil for the reception of the seed and for the rich and 
glowing luxuriance of spring-time. In sickness we are 
near to grace, and feel that his banner over us is love. 
What is bodily pain if we experience this nearness ? It is 
but a joyful messenger looking in at the door of our 
prison to assure us that our release is at hand, and that 
our fetters are about to be broken. 

Profitable Maxims, — Hypocrisy desires to seem good 
rather than to be so; honesty desires to be good 
rather than seem so. The worldlings purchase repu- 
tation by the sale of desert, wise men buy desert with 
the hazard of reputation. I would do much to hear 
well, more to deserve well, and rather lose opinion than 
merit. It shall more joy me that I know myself what 
I am, than it shall grieve roe to hear what others re- 
port me. I had rather deserve well without praise, 
than do ill with commendation. — ^Warwick. (^Spare 




In his excellent Work on Madagascar, Mr Ellis gives 
the following account of one of the most noted idols 
worshipped in the island, and renounced on the intro* 
duction of Christianity. 

Amongst the idols thus renounced, was one which had 
belonged to several clans or families who resided about 
six nules from the capital ; it was considered as the 
more immediate property of the head-man, or chief of 
the district, in whose family it had been kept for many 
generations; but most of the people in the neighbour- 
hood were its votaries, and united in providing the 
bullocks and sheep that were sacfificed to it. Or the 
money given to its keepers. 

The idol is a most unmeaning object, consisting of 
a number of small pieces of wood, ornaments of ivory, 
of silver, and brass, and beads, fiutened together with i 
silver wire, and decorated with a number of silver 
rings. The central piece of wood is circular, about 
seven inches high, and three quarters of an inch hi 



diameter. This central piece is surrounded l)y six short 
pieces of wood, and tax hollow silver ornaments, cabled 
crocodile's teeth, from their resemhlance to the teeth 
of that animal. Three pieces of wood are placed on 
one side of the centra} piece of wood, and three on the 
side opposite, the intervening space heing filled up hy 
the three silver and hrazen ornaments. These orna- 
ments are hollow, and those of brass were*occasionally 
anointed with what was regarded as sacred oil, or other 
unguents, which were much used in the consecration of 
charms and other emblems of native superstition. The 
silver ornaments were detached from the idol, filled 
with small pieces of consecrated wood, and worn upon 
the persons of the keepers when going to war, or pass- 
ing through a fever district, as a means of preservation. 
Besides the pieces of wood in the crocodile's tooth, 
small pieces of a dark, dose-gnuned wood cut nearly 
square* or oblong, and about half an inch long, were 
strung like beads on a cord, and attached to the idol, 
or worn on the person of those who carried the silver 
ornaments. The chief of the district, who had the 
custody of the idol* had two sona, officers in the army. 
To one of these, with another individual, he delegated 
the authority to sell these small pieces of consecrated 
wood, which were supposed to be pervaded with the 
power of the idol, and to preserve its possessors from 
peril pr death, in seasons of war, or regions of pesti- 
lence. This was a source of great emolument, for 
such was the reputed virtue or potency of the charm, 
that a couple of bullocks, the same number of sheep, 
of goats, fowls, and dollars, besides articles of smaller 
value, were frequently given for one or two of the 
amall pieces of wood attached to the idol. 

In IR32 Mr Johns visited the district, to inspect the 
schools and instruct the people. He stopped at the 
village where the idol was deposited, and spent much 
time with the family of the chief by whom it was 
kept, having met vrith. one of his sons who usually 
resided at the capital, and whose wife was nearly re- 
lated to some of highest rank in the kingdom. On 
parting, the Missionary requested this young officer to 
call on him ; which he did, on returning to Tananarivo. 
Mr Johns resumed his conversation with him on the 
subject of Christianity, and gave him a copy of the 
New Testament. The reading of this book, and the 
instructions of his friend the Missionary, convinced 
him of the sin and folly of idol -worship, and led him 
humbly to believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and grate- 
fully to rejoice in the announcements of mercy con- 
tained in the Grospel. He afterwards gave the most 
satisfactory evidence of having experienced a change of 
heart, and was among the first, in 1831, who desired 
by baptism publicly to profess the name of the Lord 
Jesus. The deepest solicitude of this young Christian 
was now awakened on behalf of his relatives, and he 
used with great industry, but kindness, all his endea- 
vours to convince them of the errors and sins of idol- 
atry, to induce them to inquire into the claims of the 
Gospel. These efforts excited great displeasure, and 
exposed him for a time to much reproach and some 
persecution from all, excepting one individual, a ne- 
phew, who had been one of the pupils in the schools, 
and was a constant reader of the Sacred Scriptures. 
By the blessing of the Lord on his conversation and 
example, several of his relatives declared themselves 
Christians ; the sale of the charms had been discon- 
tinued ever since the son of the chief had received the 
Gospel, and the discontinuance of the worship of the 
idol in the family was now proposed, but strongly and 
successfully opposed by the parents, who, while they 
mourned over the apostasy of their son, grieved not 
less at the loss of property which the change in his 
views and conduct had • occasioned. The individual 
associated with him in selling the sacrtd pieces of wood 
vros often heard to say, tbat when they sold the chansf. 

the family alwayt possened abnndance, and wcr(« 
strangers to want, but that now they were aa poor as 

The Christian part of the family continued, with 
great kindness and affection, to endeavour to induce 
the chief to attend to the pure, holy, and glorious an- 
nouncements of the Gospel, but without visible benefit, 
while the heathen party in the neighbourhood became 
gready enraged against the Christians. 

It had never, since the death of Badama, been diSi- 
. cult to' obtain accusations against any one fiivourable 
to the system of religion taught by the Missionaries ; 
and, towards the dose of 18i32, the officer who had 
first embraced the Gospel, was accused to the queen 
of having practised witchcraft, and was, in consequence, 
required to submit to the usual test, the trial by poison- 
water, or tangena. When the time was fixed for his 
taking the ordeal, some of his relatives wished to have 
recourse to the sikidy, or divination, in order to secure 
a favourable issue ; for much as his parents and more 
immediate relatives grieved on account of the erroneoua 
views, as they considered them, which he had imbibed, 
they were not %villing that he should be sacrificed to 
his enemies. But he resolutely refused to allow of any 
application to the diviners, declaring that it would be 
sin in him to let it be supposed he believed them en- 
titled to the slightest confidence. He declared his 
innocence^ and said that, since he was compelled 
to pass the ordeal, he committed himself unto God. 
This determination, in the opinion of his relative:!, 
sealed his doom beyond hope of reversal, as they sup- 
posed that, since he had despised the idols and the 
sikidy, it was scarcely possible for him to escape. 

Under these circumstances the poison-water was 
administered, and the signs of innocence appearing very 
soon afterwards, he was pronounced free from the crime 
laid to his charge, and restored to his family and 
friends, who were so deeply affected by his deliverance, 
that, from that time, strong doubts of the raHdity o£ 
the claim of the idols and divination took possession of 
their minds. This feeling increased till they renounced 
these objects of superstitious worship, became pupils 
of the Christian members of the family, and expressed 
their desires to unite in Christian worship. 

Soon after his recovery from the effects of the poison^ 
water, the officer paid a visit to his parents, who wel- 
comed him with grateful affection, and received with 
earnest attention and delight his instruction and en- 
couragement to persevere in seeking to, know and serve 
the true God. The son remained at this time a few 
weeks with his father, and during his stay, his parents 
and relatives, among the dans in the neighbourhood,, 
consented to destroy the idol that had been for so many 
generations regardad with superstitious veneration. For 
this purpose it was delivered to the Christian officer, 
who having stripped it of its ornaments, burie4 it, but 
afterwards dug it up, and, accompanied by an elder 
member of his family, brought it to the Missionary, 
with a request that he would go and spend a few weeks 
in the village, and instruct them more fully in the doc- 
trines of the Gospel. 

The idol Mras sent to England, for the purpose of 
exciting affectionate sympathy and commiseration for 
those who still worship the work of their own hands, 
and put their trust in gods which cannot save, as well 
as to exdte gratitude that some had been induced to 
cast away their lying vanities, and to call upon the name 
of the Lord. 

, Pubbahed by Jobn JoHNtroNB. 9, Hunter Square, Edinburgh ; 
J. R. Macvaib, ft Co., 29, Glauford Street, Glaagow; Jams* Nubst 
ft Co., Hahiltor, Adami, ft Co., and R. Oboomsbidob, London ; 
W. COBBT. Junr. ft Co.. Dublin; and W. M'Cohb, Bel&sts and 
told by the Bookiellers and Local Agento in aU the Town* and 
FarUhot of Scotland ; and in the principal Towni in England and 

SubKxlben wiU have their coplei ddivfred at their Bsiideoccs, 






1.— Tbe Early Martyrs of the Refonnmtion in Scotland. By 

the Rev. Tbomat M'Cric, Page 113 

2.- Oo Prayer. By the Rev. George Burns. D. D 116 

;{.-Sacred Poetry. *< Line*." By Letitia Slixabcth Landon, 118 
4.— Tbe Protectant Church of France, During the Reign of 
Louis XV. Part L From 1714 to 1755. By the Rev. 
JohnO. Lorimer.— CiMMlfMM. 0. 

6.— Sacred Poetry. "Epitaph." By C. F. Bucban, ...P^e m 

6.— Anecdote <j, 

7.— A Dlacourie. By the Rev. Nathaniel Pateraon, D.D., .... ib, 
9 — The Rich Fool ; a Picture from Real Life. By the Rev. 

John Cormack, D.D., 124 

9.~Chri8tian Treasury. Extract ftom Wbitefield XiS 

10 — Biographical Sketch. The Rev. Philip Henry. Part I., ib. 



Th£ firet person who was honoured to carry the 
tidings of the Reformation to Scotland, and to seal 
them with his blood, was Patrick Hamilton, This 
amiable and accomplished yonng gentleman was 
of noble extraction and nearly allied to the royal 
family, being nephew of the £arl of Arran and of 
the Duke of Albany. He was destined for the 
Church, bat while pursuing his studies he acquired 
some knowledg^e of the reformed doctrine, and 
with the view of obtaining better information, he 
went abroad and paid a visit to Luther and other 
Reformers in Germany. The result was a deeper 
persuasion of the truth, accompanied with a strong 
and unconquerable desire to impart to his benighted 
countrymen the beams of that saying knowledge 
by which his own soul had been enlightened. His 
friends, aware of the danger to which he would 
expose himself by so doing, used every argument 
to dissuade him from making the attempt. But 
the motion was from God, and could not be re- 
sisted. On arriving in Scotland, about the com- 
mencement of the year 1528, his spirit, like that 
of Paul, was stirred within him, when he beheld 
the ignorance and superstition which prevailed ; 
and wherever he came, he denounced in the plainest 
terms the corruptions of the Church. His clear 
arguments, aided by his fervent piety, mild man- 
ners and exalted rank, could not fail to produce a 
powerful sensation ; and the clei^ took the alarm. 
Barnes Beaton, archbishop of St. Andrews, was at 
that time primate of the Church and chancellor of 
the kingdom, a cruel and crafty man, who scrupled 
at no means, however flagitious, for effecting his 
pnrposeg. Afraid to proceed openly against Hamil- 
ton, he advised that he should be decoyed to St. 
Andrews on the pretext of a friendly conference 
with him about his doctrine. The open-hearted 
yonng man eagerly embraced the proposal, and fell 
into the snare. It is needless to dwell on the 
lerolting consequences. He was easily induced, 
by some inndious priests, to declare his sentiments. 
No. 8. Peb. 23, 1839.— Hrf.] 

At the dead hour of night, he was dragged from 
his bed, taken to the castle, and after confessing 
his faith before the archbishop, condemned to be 
burnt at the stake as an obstinate heretic. On 
the afternoon of a Friday, February 28th, 1528, this 
gentle and gracious youth was led to the pkce of 
execution, where a stake was fastened, with wood, 
coalsy powder and other inflammable materials 
piled around it. When he came to the place, he 
stripped himself of his gown, coat» and bonnet, 
and giving them to a favourite servant, << These," 
he said, " will not profit in the fire ; they will 
profit thee. After this, of me thou canst receive 
no commodity, except the ensample of my death, 
which I pray thee bear in mind ; for albeit it be 
bitter to the flesh, yet is it the entrance into eter- 
nal life» which none shall possess that deny Christ 
before this wicked generation.'' When bound to 
the stake, he exhibited no symptoms of fear, but 
commended his soul to God, and kept his eyes 
stedfastly directed towards heaven. The execu- 
tioner set fire to the train of powder, which, how- 
ever, did not kindle the pile, but severely scorched 
the left side of the martyr. In this situation he 
remained unmoved till a new supply of powder 
was brought from the castle. Meanwhile, the 
friars who stood around him, kept molesting him, 
crying out, << Convert heretic ; call upon our 
Lady ; say Salve reginal* << Depart and trouble 
me not," he said, << ye messengers of Satan." At 
length the fire was Idndled, and amidst the noise 
and fury of the flames, he was distinctly heard 

Pronouncing these last words: "How long, O 
«ord, shall darkness cover this realm ! How long 
wilt thou suffer this tyranny of men I Lord Jesns, 
receive my spirit." 

The martyrdom of this engaging and accom- 
plished youth produced a sensation, very different 
from what his murderers anticipated. They ex- 
pected by this bold stroke, aimed at a person of 
such high rank, to intimidate all others, and represa 
[Second Ssbibs. Vol. L 



the rising Reformation. The effect was preciselj 
the reverse. It roused the minds of men from 
the dead sleep into which t\iej had fallen — led 
them to inquire into the causes of l^s d^ath — ^nro- 
duced discussions-— and ultimately, what Hamilton 
had failed to do with his Uvin| Toice was accom- 
plished by his cruel death. lie 

'* Had borne hit faculties ao meek, had been 
So clear in hit great office, that hit virtuea 
Did plead like anf^els, tnunpet-tongfued, againct 
The deep damnation of hii taking off ! " 

Knox informs us that many even in the Uni- 
versity of St. Andrews began to " call in doubt 
what they had before held for a certain veritiey 
and to espy the vanitie of the received snpersti- 
tion.*' And he relates, in his own homely way, 
an anecdote which shows how matters stood : — 
" Short after this," he says, " new consultation 
was taken that some sould be bumit. A merrie 
gentleman, namit John Lindesay, familiar to 
bishqpe James Beatoun, standing by quhen con- 
sultation was had, said, My lord, gif ye bume any 
man, except ye follow my counsaill, ye will ntter- 
lie destroy yourselfis. Gif ye will bume them, 
let thama be bnmit in how cellaris ; for the reik 
of Mr Patrik Hamilton has infectit als many as it 
did blaw upoun.*' * 

Notwithstanding this prudent advice, the flames 
of persecution were kindled throughout the country, 
and numbers suffered between the years 1530 and 
1540. I shall only select two or three instances. 
The first presents a curious illustration of the im- 
policy of superstition, and at the same time of the 
wonderful power of divine grace in qualifying for 
martyrdom an individual, who was as unlikdy to 
suffer, and as little thought of being called to suffer 
such a death, as any who reads this paper. I recol- 
lect of reading in the history of the French Church, 
of an honest country gentleman, who had paid no 
regard to any form of religion, but who was so 
pestered and annoyed by the priests on some un* 
founded suspicions of heresy, that he b^an first 
to inquire what heresy was, and from one stqi 
to another was led to suffar willingly and intelli- 
gently for a religion of which he had formerly 
known absolutely nothing. The fblk>wing case is 
somewhat similar. Mr David Straiiton was a 
gentleman of property on the sea-coast of Angus. 
He was the proprietor of some fishing-boats, out 
of which the bishop of Murray demanded tithe. 
Straitton, who was a man of stubborn disposition 
and rough manners, was so incensed at the increas- 
ing pride and covetousness of the clergy, that he 
ordered his servants to cast every tenth fish they 
caught into the sea, and sent word to the bishop, 
that ** if he wanted his tithe, he might come and 
receive it where he got the stock." He was forth- 
with summoned to answer for heresy. Heresy 
was a thing he had never dreamt of. He had 
hitherto been notorious for his conteinpt of all 
religion. But now he was led to make inquiry, 
and happily sought the acquaintance of John 
JErthmB of Dun, afterwards one of the leaders of 
the Reformation^ from whose conversation he de- 
• Knox, p. 10, 

rived singular benefit. At this time Tyndal's 
translation of the New Testament had found its 
way intp Sc^tlan^ and w|i« privately circplated 
wiUi gfeat industry. One ropy snp^ed several 
families. At the silent hour of night, they would 
assemble together in a private house, and having 
ascertained that there were no spies near them, 
the Sacred Volume was brought forth from its con- 
cealment, and while one read, the rest listened with 
mute attention. One day, Mr Straitton retired 
with the young laird of Laurieston to a solitary 
place in the fields to hear the New Testament 
read to him (he was unable to read himself;) and 
it so happened that, in the course of reading, this 
saying of our Lord occurred, <^ He that denieth me 
before men, in the midst of this wicked genera- 
tk>n, him will I deny in the presence of my Father 
and his angels.'' "Dieae words poduced Uie most 
extraordinary effect on the mind of Straitton ; he 
suddenly beame as one enr^xtnred or injured ; 
he threw himself on his knees, stretched out his 
hands, and after directing his eyes for some time 
stedfastly towards heaven, he burst forth in the fol- 
lowing strain i — << Lord, I have been wicked, and 
justly mayest thou abstract thy grace from me ; but, 
Lord, for thy mercies' sake, let me never deny 
thee nor thy truth, for fear of death or corporal 
pains." The issue proved that the prayer had 
been heard. Being brought before the bishop's 
court at Holyrood House, be refused to recant, 
bold^ defended the truth, and was sentenced to be 
hi^iged and burnt The ezecution took place at 
the Rood of Qreenside ; and he died, triamphantly 
anticipating a jpyful immortality. 

The next case we shall notice presents an af- 
fectii^ proof of the trinmph of divine grace over 
constitutional timidity, an4 the love of life and 
fear of death so natural to youth. Alexamler 
Kenn^i was a jaung gentleman of liberal edu- 
cation, residing in Glasgow, who ha4 a turn for 
Scottish poetry, and at the time we refer to he had 
not passed the eighteenth year of his i^ He was 
apprehended ak>ng with Jprome jRtMs^^* who was of 
the order of Grey friars, and is described by Knox 
as << a young man of meek n%ture^ ^uick qiirit, and 
of good letters." Kennedy, on being brought be- 
fore his judgies aivl threatened with the dreadful 
doom of being burnt alive, was at firsjt inclined to 
recant. In a short time, however, he recovered 
his composure, — the poor boy (for he was little 
more) seemed all at once to. hav« been strength- 
ened ffom on high ; and after having thanked 
God for having preserved him from apcivtasy, he 
rose from his knees. <« Now," said he, addiress- 
ing his judges, <( I def|^ death* Do with me as you 
please; I praise God, latn re4uiy" His companion, 
Kussel, though naturally mild, was roused by the 
irritating language of his persecutors. *' This is 
your hour and power of darkness," he said to 
them; ^now ye sit as judges, and we stand 
wrongfully accused : But the day will come w^ien 
our innocence will appear, and ye sh^U see your 
own blindness to your everlasting confusion. Go 
on, and fiU the measure of your iniquity." Oi^ 



their way to the place of execation, Russel, ob* 
serying some Bjmptoms of depression in the ap- 
pearance of his jouthful fellow-sufferer, thus 
eQconraged him. ** Brother, fear not ; greater is 
He that is in us than he that is in the world. The 
pain that we are to suffer is short, and shall be 
light ; bat our joy and consolation shall never 
have an end. Let us therefore strive to enter in 
to oar Master and Savionr, by the same strait 
way which He has trode before us. Death cannot 
destroy us, for it is already destroyed by Him for 
whose sake we suffer.'^ And so both of them, 
after kneeling down and praying, cheerfully yielded 
themselves to the executioners— they were fasten- 
ed to the stake— the faggots were lighted — and 
their spirits ascended, as it were in a chariot of 
fire, to the realms of everlasting glory. 

The next story is of a more harrowing descrip- 
tion. It is that of a female, the wife of one Robert 
Lamb at Perth, who suffered at the same time 
with her husband. Robert's crime was that he had 
interrupted a friar when preaching that a man 
coald not be saved without praying to the saints ; 
and the only charge against nis wife was that she 
refused to pray to the Virgin Mary when in child- 
birth, declaring^ that she would only pray to God 
in the name of Jesus Christ. For tnese crimes 
Robert was condemned to be hanged, and his wife 
to be tied in a sack and drowned. The circum- 
stances attending the last scene of this poor 
woman's life, were sufficient, we might have 
thought, to have moved a heart of stone. Warmly 
attached to her husband, she implored, as a last 
and only favour, that she might be allowed to die 
in his company. This affecting request was bar- 
WoQsly refused, but she was allowed to accom- 
pany him to tha place of his execution. On the 
way, she exhorted him to patience and constancy 
in the cause of Christ ; and on parting with him, 
she said, << Husband, be glad ; we have lived to- 
gether many joyful days ; and this day on which we 
must die, we ought to esteem the most joyful of all, 
because now we shall have joy for ever. There- 
fore, I will not bid you good night, far we shall 
shortly meet in the kingdom of heaven." After 
witnessing his death, she was ordered to prepare 
(or her own, and was taken to a pool of water in 
the neighbourhood. Here the tenderness of the 
mother began to manifest itself. She implored 
her neighbours to be kind to her fatherless and 
motherless children ; and, with a look of ai^guish, 
she took Cronn her bosom the infiBnt she was s^ck- 
ling, and committed it to a nurse whom she had 
provided. Yet all this did not shake her fortitude 
or her (aith ; she rose eaperior to her sufferings, 
and calmly restgned herself to death. 

On hearing of the courage and constancy of 
these early martyra of the Reformation, one can- 
not fail to admire the power (^ fidtk in the 
glonous Go^ of Chnst,-rthat &ith, under the 
strengthening influences of which, in more an- 
cient times, << women and others were tortured, 
not accepting deUvemnee, that they might obtain 
« better feBvrrectioa." The mentid heioism of 

these sufferers not only elosely resembles that of 
the primitive martyrs of Christianity, but may 
stand a comparison with some of the most splen-^ 
did examples of courage recorded in Roman his- 
tory. The conduct of the wife of poor Robert 
Lamb may remind us of the noble matron of 
Rome, the wife of Poatus, who, when condemned 
to die with her husband, plunged the dagger first 
into her own bosom, and f hen, .handing it to her 
husband, said with a smile, <* Poetus, it is not 
painful.* We see in both the same noble con- 
tempt of death ; but when more narrowly exa-* 
mined, how different do the cases appear ! Putting 
out of view the vast dissimilarity between the causes 
in which they suffered, the Roman lady was 
obliged to die ; she could not have escaped by 
making any concessions. The Scottish matron 
might have saved her life by saying a few words, 
such as, " Hail, Mary, queen of heaven !" Her's 
was a voluntary sacrifice, on the altar of faith and 
a good conscience. 

Our admiration of the power of divine grace 
in these worthies must increase, when we consider 
that, at this time, the number of the reformed 
was comparatively very small ; that the sufferers 
met with little sympatixy from their neighbours ; 
and that there was, as yet, no public preaching of 
the Gospel in Scotland, so that it could only be 
from reading the Scriptures that any acquired the 
knowledge of the truth; and yet, in spite of 
these disadvantages, a single ray of that truth, 
darting from a single text, was sufficient to open 
their eyes, and in the faith and hope of the Gos- 
pel, they would cheerfully submit to death in its 
most frightful forms. 

It is true that the victims of Popish cruelty in 
Scotland were few when compared with those 
that suffered in other countries. But no thanks 
to Popery for that : what our ancestors felt was 
merely a sample of the bloody tragedy which it 
was now enacting in almost every nation in Eu- 
rope. Thanks, rather, under Providence, to the 
stout hearts and stalwart arms of our Reformers, 
who arrested its sanguinary career soon after its 
commencement, braved its power even on the 
throne, and never ceased till they had proscribed 
it by the laws of the Un4 

Modern writers wiU tell you that all the cruel- 
ties of which we have been speaking are to be 
traced to the barbarism of the age, and to igno- 
rance of the prin/ciplea of liberty, which, they say, 
were not understood even by Protestants for 
many years afterwards. This is a mere theory, 
unsupported by facts,*— the language of persons 
who are fond of reducing every tlung to general 
princ^lea. Protestantism disavows, by the very 
right of protesit which it daima for itself, the 
right of persecuting others for oonecience' sake. 
But Pc^ry, like every form of superatition, is, 
in its very essence and spirit, a system of intoler- 
ance» It aims at universal dominion ; it denies 
the right of private judgment in matters of re- 
hgion ; it lays the conscience and understanding 
of eyery nan at the feet of his priest i and^ifhea 



it has once taken poeseBsion of the mind, it har- 
\ dens the heart, and fits it for perpetrating atro- 
cities which human nature, undebased by its 
influence, shrinks and shudders to behold. Our 
ancestors knew it better than we do, and it was 
one of their articles of indictment against it, 
which shows that they bad feelings which were 
shocked, and a sense of justice which was out- 
raged by it, that it was <*a cruel, bloody, and 
tyrannical superstition." 

How thankful, then, ought we to feel to a kind 
and ill-requited Providence, that we have been 
delivered from such a system of oppression, — that 
we are not called to suffer, as our forefathers 
were, for professing the Gospel of Jesus Christ, — 
that we are permitted to enjoy, in unmolested 
peace, our religions privileges I If David would 
not drink of the water of Bethlehem, because it 
was in his eyes << the blood of the men that went 
in jeopardy of their lives," but " poured it out 
unto the Lord," how dearly ought we to prize, 
and how reverently ought we to improve to the 
glory of God, those privileges which have been 
transmitted to us at the expense of the blood of 
His dear saints 1 

By the Rev. George Burns, D. D., 
Mimster of TweedMmuir^ Peeblea-ahire. 

Perhaps there is no definition of prsyer, at once so 
simple and comprehensive, as that contained in the 
Shorter Catechism — a compend of Christian Theology 
which has never been surpassed by any human compo- 
sition. Prayer is there defined to be *' An offering up 
of our desires unto God, for things agreeable to his 
will, in the name of Christ, with confession of our sins, 
and thankful acknowledgment of his mercies." There 
is, unquestionably, no Christian duty more reasonable 
in itself and more natural to the human mind than that 
of prayer. Is it not reasonable, that God should be 
adored on account of what he is in himself and what he 
is to "his creatures? He who is supreme over all, 
ought surely to receive the supreme homage of all. If 
gratitude be due to any benefactor and for any benefits 
received (and, that it is so, every generous breast will 
cheerfully acknowledge,) it roust be due, in an especial 
and peculiarly exalted sense, to the Great Lord of the 
Universe, the God and Father of our Lord Jesus 
Christ. What benefactor -can for one moment be com- 
pared to him? What benefits, if weighed in the 
balance with those which he hath conferred, will not 
be found wanting both in number and in value ? With 
regard to confeinon and petition, the other essential 
parts of prayer, their reasonableness is sufficiently 
obvious. For it is evidently not enoagh that we pos- 
sess the dispositions leading to particular acts. God, 
indeed, knows the heart, and can judge of its state in- 
dependently of all external appearances. But it is fit 
and proper, that we ourselves be duly impressed >vith 
a sense of guilt and of our wants, and thus rightly 
prepared for the reception of pardon and other blessings 
from him who alone can bestow them. Feelings, when 
they do not give birth to correspondent acts, are qnes- 

I tionable to the individual himself in whom they exist* 
both in respect of their depth and sincerity. Can a 
man be said to repent who has never made confes- 
sion? Can a roan be said to be grateful, who has 
never, expressed his gratitude, either in words or by 
performances ? He who rests in contemplation alone, 
neither shows to the Deity that Be has any practical 
sense of his own unworthiness, or any feeling of de- 
pendence upon him ; and is it reasonable to suppose 
that such a being can be viewed with the same com- 
placency by God as he who avows his guilt, spreads bis 
wants before him, and devoutly supplicates his favour ? 
Now what apology can be wisely or successfnily pleaded 
for refusing to make those confessions, and to prefer 
those petitions, which are called for alike as expres- 
sions of feeling in regard to ourselves, as tokens ot* 
submission to his will, and dependence on his bounty, 
and as manifestations of respect for his character a.s the 
supreme and infinitely perfect Ruler of the universe. 

Some writers have asserted that man is naturally 
a religious being, and that the tendency to devotion is 
as strong in his nature as is the tendency to food or 
society. The celebrated Mr Addison represents the 
principle of devotion in man as constituting the chief 
distinction between him and the brute. Certain it i>, 
that while many of the inferior tribes manifest some 
approximation to reason, not one of them has ever been 
found to evince the smallest approach to devotion. 
And no less certain is it, that when adversity clouds 
the domestic scene, when a succession of calamities 
combine to destroy the happiness of life, and when 
death is threatened, either in the course of nature, or 
by accident, or by the hand of violence, the most 
thoughtless and audaciously profane arc often discover- 
ed on their bended knees, calling upon that God who 
was not in all their thoughts while health, an4 ease, 
and gaiety, were their portion. These circumstances 
strikingly prove that prayer is at once a reasonable 
exercise, and a natural, as well as a Christian, duty. 

To those who take the Bible for their standard of 
faith and conduct, it would be quite unnecessary to 
prove that prayer is a commanded duty. The express 
injunctions given on the subject in that Sacred Volume 
are so very numerous, that " he who runs may read.** 
And let it be seriously recollected, by all on whose 
minds the injunctions of the Almighty have any weight, 
that "it is from the throne of unlimited sovereignty 
that he speaks when he commands us to pray; and 
that disobedience to this is just as criminal and just as 
dangerous as disobedience to any other precept of his 
law. From that throne he speaks, that we may be 
deterred fi-om trifling with his behests, when he exacts 
from us the tribute of prayer. But I must add, that 
his throne of sovereignty is a throne of grace ; and 
that, if the command comes armed with the sanction 
of stem authority, it also comes recommended by the 
charms of tender mercy. We are thus shut up to the 
necessity of praying to him, under the penalties of dis- 
obedience to the united voice of righteous authority 
and unmerited love." 

But whilst the Holy Scriptures are appealed to as 
containing the most explicit and impressive admonitions 
to prayer, they may also be safely recommended as 
affording the best helps to the performance of that 
duty. How cold and dead does a prayer appear that is 



composed in the most elegant style of language, when 
ooe heightened by that solemnity of phrase with which 
holy writ ahounds I There is something so noble and 
dignified, so pathetic and so sublime, in its modes of 
expreasdon, as is well fitted to give a force and energy 
to our diction, to warm and animate our language, to 
elevate the soul to a lofty spirituality, and to kindle 
into dames all the sparks of true devotion that may lie 
concealed in our bosoms. Is adoration, for example, a 
part of devotion ? The Scriptures exhibit the Deity 
in the most grand and sublime points of view, such as 
are calculated to fill the soul with the most exalted 
conceptions of his nature and attributes, and to raise 
the mind above all the trivial concerns of this fugitive 
and &l]en world. Is tlianksgiving a part of devotional 
duty? The Scriptures represent the human race as 
under infinite obligations to God, as brought from the 
gulf of non-existence by his Almighty hand, as indebted 
to his goodness for every breath we draw, and for 
every drop of gladness which is mingled in our cup, as 
rescued by his grace from a state of darkness, rebellion, 
and death, and raised to the hope of inconceivable and 
endless happiness. Is ccnfeuion a part of Prayer? 
The Scriptures are a faithful mirror, in which the 
character and state of man by nature are exhibited in 
all their horrors ; in which our own fallen condition, as 
the children of Adam, and our deep depravity, as work- 
ers of iniquity, may woefully, but justly be contem- 
plated; and which thus furnish us with ample materials 
for heartfelt contrition, the lowliest prostration of soul, 
and the most humiliating acknowledgments before the 
throne of God. Is love to the Supreme Being an 
essential ingredient in true devotion ? The Scriptures 
reveal him to us under the most amiable, captivating, 
and endearing characters, as love itself, and as so lov- 
ing a lost world, as to send his only begotten Son, that 
whosoever bclieveth in him might not perish, but have 
everlasting life. In one word, does prayer to God 
imply in its nature, petitions for things agreeable to his 
will in the name of Christ ? The Scriptures expressly 
declare that, if we ask any thing in his name, believing, 
it shall be given us. 

As to the requisites or conditions to acceptable 
prayer, I have somewhere seen it justly remarked, that 
there must be, in the first place, the belief that God is 
able, and for Christ's sake willing, to grant us the ob- 
ject of our petition ; and, in the second place, a desire 
to obtain it. The latter is necessary to give existence 
to prayer in any shape ; since prayer is nothing more 
than the expression of our desires ; the former is re- 
quired to render us sincere in asking the thing from 
God. Let a wretched being, conscious of his wretch' 
edncss, desire to be delivered from the cause of it, and 
believe that God, for Christ's sake, is willing to deliver 
him ; and he wants nothing to render his prayers ac- 
ceptable to God. There is, in this, both faith and 
repentance ; and such a spirit, accompanied with real 
intensity of desire, seems to be all that is necessary to 
Avarrant us in not restraining prayer before God. How 
grossly erroneous, then, are the ideas of those men who 
conceive prayer to be the duty only of the saints, and 
who condemn all calls upon sinners to engage in that 
exercise, as nn^\^lrranted and anti-scriptural ! Let them 
consider, for a moment, what was the character of the 
prayers preferred by the Israelite?, by Aliab, Jehoahaz. 

and others, whose hearts were not right with God, and 
who died as they lived, without God, and without 
hope ; yet they were heard and answered when they 
cried for deliverance, even though the sincerity of their 
repentance was far from being above suspicion. If the 
withered hand is stretched out witli a desire to have it 
restored whole as the other, and with the belief that 
the physician is able and willing to effect a cure, there 
is no reason to doubt the success of the effort, even 
though the heart of the applicant be influenced by no 
higher principle than the selfish wish to obtain relief. 
*• Let any sinner," says a sound scriptural ^\Titer, 
*' who is conscious of no better motive than the selfish 
wish to escape the wrath to come, and to obtain ever- 
lasting life, and who believes that God, for Christ's 
sake, is disposed to bestow these unspeakable gifts on 
perishing sinners, pray for faith in the Redeemer, and 
he will, ere long, be convinced that God is still the 
hearer and answerer of prayer. It is to hear and an- 
swer prayers arising from such motives that his faith- 
fulness is pledged. The promise is made to sinners as 
well as saints : ' Ask, and ye ahall receive ; seek, and 
ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto 

To exhibit all the encouraging views given us in the 
Sacred Volume, of the utility and advantage of prayer* 
would be a task equally difficult, but no less pleasmg, 
than an attempt to unfold the riches and glories of that 
heavenly country, whose beauties eye hath not seen, 
and whose joys ear hath not heard. They are, indeed, 
as numerous as are the promises of God, and as various 
as are the blessings which form the objects of our pray- 
ers. There is, however, one view of the utility of 
this exercise, which is pressed on our attention by our 
Saviour himself, both in the form of prayer which He 
has left for our model, and in his admonitions to his 
disciples when he was with them in the world. In the 
former, he teaches us by his example to pray, " Lead 
us not into temptation ; " and among the latter we have 
the following, which was uttered on a very interesting 
occasion, *< Watch and pray, that ye enter not into 

For making preparation for an engagement, two 
things must be taken into account On the one hand, 
we must attend to the machinations of the enemy, and, 
on the other, we must consider our own resources. 
Viewing their situation as that of a war&re, our Lord 
enjoins on his followers the use of both of these pre- 
cautions as essential to their safety. He exhorts them 
to watch, from a view of the constant vigilance of the 
enemy, and he commands them to pray, from a convic- 
tion of their own inability to make an eifeetive resist* 
ance. While the one is intended to keep them sensible 
of their danger, the other is designed to keep them 
mindful where their strength lies. The one without 
the other can be of little avail, but their united force 
must ultimately prove victorious. The inefBciency of 
our own exertions, considered as the means of resisting 
temptation, must be obvious from the view which is 
given in Scripture of the number, subtilty, and power 
of our spiritual adversaries. Having the superiority in 
each of these respects, all our own defences must 
eventually yield to their influence. Their nature, also, 
being so different from our own, renders us altogether 
• See Busy <m Satiof FaUlu 



unfit to enter the Usta with them. Were we called to 
engage with men like ourselres, the contest would be 
more equal, and the prospect of a suceessful uaue on 
our side would be more flattering. But " we wrestle not 
against flesh and blood, bat against principalities, and 
against powers, agiunst the rulers of the darkness of 
this world, against spiritual wickedness, in high places." 
The power of our enemies we feel, but of their nature 
we are wholly ignorant. Bravado language, and in- 
active sneers at the preparations of the enemy, are In 
this, as in every case, indications not of a magnanimous 
spirit, but of one that is courageous only when the day 
of battle is distant ; and, however paradoxical it might 
be in other matters, in this it is certain and evident, 
that the stout-hearted are most in danger, and that 
safety consists in a conviction of weakness. " When we 
are weak, then are we strong — strong in the Lord, and 
in the power of his might." Go to God, then, first for 
a disposition to contend with sin, and then for power 
to subdue it. Your enemies are his, and in '* the Cap- 
tain of your salvation '* you have not a doubtful or re- 
luctant ally. Encounter the enemies of your salvation 
in the spirit of the young warrior of Israel, and in the 
same strength you shall conquer. " What though your 
foes be many and mighty ; what though you bear in 
your hand but the 'sling' and the * stone,' — the most 
feeble and imperfect weapons-^the Lord H'ill give pre- 
cision and force to the blow, will direct the stone to 
the ' forehead' of the enemy, and he shall sink to rise 
ho more." " The effectual fervent prayer of a right- 
eous man availeth much." It is the key which unlocks 
the treasury of God ; it is the instrument which com- 
municates an impulse to that power which moves the 


Alone, alone I No other face 

Bears kindred smile, or kindred line 
And yet they say my mother's eyes, — 

They say my father's brow is mine : 
And either had rejoiced to see 

The other's likeness in my face. 
But now it is a stranger's eye 

That finds some long forgotten trace. 

I heard them name my father's death^-^ 

His home and tomb alike the wave ; 
And I was early taught to weep 

Beside my youthful mother's grave, 
I wish I could recall one look, — 

But only one fismiliar tone : 
If I had aught of memory, 

I should not feel bo all alone. 

My heart is gone beyond the grave, 

In seareh of love I cannot find, 
Till I could fiincy soothing words 

Are whispered by the evening wind« 
I gaze upon the watching stars. 

So clear, so beautiful above, 
Till I could dream they look on me 

With something of an answering love. 

My mother 1 does thy gentle eye 

Look firom those distant stars on ire ? 
Or does the wind at evening bear 

A message to thy child from thee ? 
Dost thou pine for me, as I pine 

Again a parent's love to share? 
1 often kneel beside thy grave, 

And pray to be a sleeper there 

The vesper bell, — ^"tia eventide j 

I will not weep, but I will pray i 
God of the fatherless, 'tis thou 

Alone canst be the orphan's stay ] 
Earth's meanest flower, heaven's mightiest star. 

Are equal in their Acer's love, 
And I can say, " Thy will be done," 

With eyes that fix their hope above. 




By the Rev. John G. Lobimer, 
Minister of St. David's Parish, Glasgow, 
Part IL— From 1714 to 1755. 
Continued from p. 104. 
But I roust return to the history of the Protestant 
Church. Vast as were the multitudes who emigrated, 
and exhausting the treatment to which those were sub- 
jected who remained, the Protestant population, as a 
whole, was not nearly so much reduced In nunaber as 
might have been expected. The Rev. Dr Less, Pro- 
fessor of Divinity at Gottingen, who travelled in France, 
speaking of the period between 1715 and 1743, states 
that persecution had had the effect of increasing the 
number of Protestants. "With these persecutions,** 
says he, " the persecuted increase ; desires opposed be- 
come stronger ; love of honour, or liberty, or religion, 
transform into pleasures, pains suffered for these belovod 
objects. Compassion excited in the spectators of these 
tragedies, inclined them to favour the cause of the suf- 
ferers; the courage of the Protestants grows ; the num- 
ber of their preachers increases." At a later day \re 
find them estimated as high as from three to four million?, 
which is as large a number as they were rated at before 
persecution began in its severity. This would make 
them about a sixth part of the then population of France. 
But however they are estimated, there can be no ques- 
tion they were still very numerous. Towards 1743, it 
is stated in a pamphlet, chiefly of original papers, that 
such was the scarcity of ministers, and such the anxiety 
of the people to hear the Word of God, though for- 
bidden, that if intimation was given very late upon a 
Saturday night of one being to preach next morning at 
seven o^clock, several thousands were assembled really 
to hear him. It would seem that the decline of the 
power of the Jesuits, who had been the greatest per- 
secutors of the Protestants, and the distraction of 
the public attention with foreign war, had relaxed the 
severe measures which Louis XV. had enacted in 
1724. They still stood upon the statute book, and, 
doubtless, in many cases, were in full operation, but, 
generally speaking, they were not executed^ at least 
with the same severity. In not a few provinces their 
public assemblies were connived at, and many Prote^ 
tant marriages and baptisms were solemnized. The 
civil power seemed not averse to their toleration. This 
provoked the ecclesiastical Popish party, and so a severe 
persecution was revived. The year 1745 was a year of 
trouble in Great Britain from the movements of the 
Popish Pretender, and it was a year in which the per- 
secuting enactments in France were executed with sad 
rigour, as if the Popery of different countries had a 
common sympathy. It would weary the reader to de- 



teiltlie esses of persecution wBidi are recorded. The 
VBst iniiltitttde, we may beliere, are known only to 
God. I shall metely noticb a few. Several bales and 
oaks of religions books, by which the Protestants kept 
tip their knowledge in their solitude, were seized and 
burnt. A number of both sexes, and all ranks and 
profesatons, were imprisoned, and severely punished for 
various ofli^nces against tfie persecuting edUct of 1724. 
Some were subjected to the rack, others hanged in efflgy. 
One Stephen Amaud, for teaching some ybung peopl<i 
how to sing the Psalms of David, was branded with A 
hot iron and set in the pillory, and as he had about him 
when taken, a New Testament and a book of Psalms, 
these were hung about his neck. BIr James Roger, 
a man of eighty years of age, of indefatigable zeal 
and apostolic character, was condemned to be hanged 
for preaching the Gospel to various assemblies of Pro- 
testants. An interesting account is given of the last 
moments of this venerable martyt- : — 

** Being apprised in jail df his sentence, he took the 
first opportunity to step into the adjacent yard, from 
whence he could eaaly be heard by many coined Pto- 
testantSy and told them that ' The happy day was eome, 
wherein he was to seal, with his own blood, the grand 
truths wiiidi he had preached unto them. And ex- 
horted them to be stedfast and unmoveabie in the reli- 
gion wiiidit by the gnoe of God, they had hitherto 
professed.' This he did in so moving and so strong a 
style that every body melted into tears. About fbur in 
the afternoon, he was carried to the plaoe of execution, 
repeating, with a loud vdoe, the fifty-first psiJm. 60 
much mildness and serenity appeared on his countenance, 
that the Papists themselves, of the better sort, could 
not help crying; und even two Jesuits appointed to 
attend Mm, passed great encomiums upon lum. Thus 
died that good man, much regretted by his floek, and by 
all that are friends to truth and virtue. After his body 
had hung twenty-four hours on the gallows, it was 
taken down, dragged through the streets, and thrown 
into the river Isere, that runs through the town ; such 
was the burying-place assigned for him." 

We read, and all on unexceptionable authority, bf 
Various other kinds of great harshness and cruelty, such 
as d^rading twenty-nine persons of noble extraction to 
plebeianism, of declaring the marriages of Protestants in- 
valid, illegitimatizing their families, and rendering them 
incapable of inheriting property ; of fines, and sentences 
to the galleys, of slavery for life, of firing upon a Pro- 
testant assembly, uid killing nearly forty persohs on the 
spot, after solemnly promisiiig to protect them. Not- 
withstanding all this rigour in those provinces where 
the Protestants chiefly prevailed, it is gratifying to be 
informed by the authbr of ' Popery Always the Same,' 
a pamphlet published by the Society fbr Promoting 
Christian itnowledge, that the 2eal of the Protestants 
was not in the least degree slackened, that sixty years 
of per»ecution fiilled to destroy them, and that, so fk^ 
from beihg dbniftlshi^d, they very much increased in 
number. It is worth recording the noble reply of a 
lawyer who had been confined for a year for attending 
upon Protestant worship, and who was promised release 
if he would only agree never to return to it. "He 
could be contented," he said, <* to remain in jail, upoti 
condition that he shoiild have leave to join every Sab- 
bath-day with his brethren in the public worship of 
God, and be bound to surrender himself prisoner the 
day following, adding, that if they Scrupled to tfike his 
word, hi woidd give ihem a legal security."' 

In nn ' Historical Memorial of the tnost keroarkahle 
Proceedings against the Protestants in France, from the 
year 1744 to 1751,' we have a number of similar sad 
illustrations. Part of this pamphlet was translated 
from- the French by the Bishop of Worcester, showing 
the interest which was felt in the cause of the French 
Church in this country at that time. The author 
classes the persecution under nine difierent heads. 

"Blackened by the vilest calumnies, deprived of 
What is dearest to them in this world — their children ; 
made accountable for the elopement of those children ; 
necessitated to have their marriages celebrated by their 
own ministers, and yet charfcd, on account of those 
marriages, with fornication, tneir children pronounced 
illegitimate, and their inheritance taken firom them, 
their ministers marked out for death, and dispatched 
like common malefactors, themselves also exposed to 
heavy fines, expen^ve law-charges, whippings, the pil- 
lory, the galleys, and death, for worshipping the Supreme 
Being according to their consdenees ; nay, denied even 
the repose and quiet of the gtave itself; and yet, under 
this complication of evils, not daring to complain, lest 
the weight of their misery should be increased." 

We shall notice one or two specimens of Popish 
cruelty which have not yet been referred to. The 
Saviour and his apostles, in primitive times, were assailed 
with calbmnies. This is a bitter form of persecution, 
to which the French Protestants were largely exposed. 
They were charged with most serious crimes, were at 
no smftU trouble and expense in vindlcatihg themselves 
and bringing home guilt to their accusers ; but when 
they succeeded in doing so, a slight punishment of two or 
three months' imprisonment was all which was awarded. 
This, instead of restraining, proved an encouragement. 
Blany children and young people, from eight to nineteen 
years of age, were carried off by Popish priests to con- 
vents and nunneries. In lower Normandy there were not 
less than thirty such captures in four years, creating such 
consternation and distress that six hundred Protestants 
irnmediately set off from this district for foreign parts.* 
If the young people escaped from their confincanent, the 
parents were held responsible, and were fined and im. 
prisoned accordingly, tti such an extent that many 
fathers were reduced to beggary, or died in jail. 
By a single asset the Parliament of Bordeaux, in May 
1749, dissolved the marriage relation in hearly fifty 
cases, pronocmcing wives to be concubines, and lawful 
children illegitimate, because the parents had not been 
married, and would not be married, by a Komish priest. 
With regard to the various Ways of punishing the Pro- 
testants, on account of assemblies convened for divine 
worship, the author says : — 

" The instances of this kind are so numerous, that I 
do not well know where to begin the Account. I could 
set out with a list of &bove sit hundred prisoners, all 
taken up since 1744, in the Upper and Lower Langue- 
doc, Upper and I^ower Cevennes, Yivarais, Dauphiny,. 
Provence, County of Foix, Saintogne, and Poitou, 
among whom there are many gentlemen, barristers, 
physicians, substantial citizens, rich merchants and 
tradesmen, who have suffered long and cruel confine- 
meiit, and were not released without iffhitrary and 
rninosi fines and contributions. I might also produce > 
another list of upwards of eight himdred {Persons sen- 
tenced to divers penalties, ^mong whom there are more 
than eighty gentlemen. The parliament of Grenoble 
alone siunmoned upwards of two hundred and fifty per- 
sons, in the months of August, October, and November 
* See p. 79 of HUtorica) Mt moir. 



1744, and put them to a great expense both in travel- 
ling charges and law-charges." 

The indignities offered to the dead were very shock- 
ing. In the case of La Montagnc, in 1749, the Popish 
curate refused to bury the body, and as soon as the 
poor Protestants had found a grave for it in the open 
field, a Roman Catholic mob, headed by a surgeon, 
dug it up. 

'* They had no sooner retired from the grave, than 
these men dug up the body, tied a rope about its neck, 
and dragged it tbrough the village, skipping and dancing 
all the way to the sound of a tabret and fife. In every 
place they stopped at to take a breathing, they beat the 
body with their clubs, using these expressions, ' This 
blow is for such a meeting where thou bast been ; and 
this for another meeting. Ah I wretched Montague ; 
thou shatt go no more to sermon at Lormarin.' " 

In 1752 there were two martyrs in Languedoc, both 
miniaters of fine talents. Of M. Benezet, one of 
them, who was only beginning his pastoral work, it is 
said that he died with the most resigned, pious, and 
edifying dispositions, so that the executioner himself 
could not help saying that he did not hang a man but 
an angel. 

'* When he was taken out of prison to be brought to 
the place of execution, Mr Flechier, who was confined 
sear the prison, and who guessed by the noise what 
was transacting, looked through the bars of his win- 
dow, and aeeing M. Benezet, he cried out to Lim, 
' Be stout, my brother, you have but one step to hea- 
ven ; fight to the end the good fight ; keep your fedth, 
and you shall receive the crown of righteousness which 
is prepared for you ; sing a psalm ;' which the martyr 
hearing, he began to sing the fifty-first psalm, and being 
reproved by the major of the citadel, he told him with 
resolution, ' Do your duty, I do mine.' When he was 
at the foot of the gallows, he kneeled, and prayed to 
God with a great deal of zeal, then went up the ladder, 
and being followed by one of the above mentioned 
Jesuits, who presented him with his crucifix to kiss, 
he repulsed him with disdain ; and after a short prayer, 
desired the executioner to turn him off. So died M. 
Benezet, gloriously and like a Christian, with a courage, 
a modesty, a mildness, a serenity, and holy joy, which 
greatly edified the witnesses of his martyrdom." 

Of the other, Flechier, it Is rekted ; ** There is a 
Koman Catholic gentleman who aays he would gladly 
bestow his own blood to save his ; and if three millions 
of livres would purchase his liberty, he would oblige 
himself to raise that sum." 

This was a very sad season in the history of the poor 
Protestants. No year seems to have been more ter- 
rible than 1752. In addition to the persecutions of 
man, there was a great fiiilure of the means of sub- 
«atence in Languedoc, one of the provinces in which 
the members of the Beformed Church were most nu- 
merous. A gentleman writes : " The harvests for the 
last seasons have been so fruitless, that the whole 
country is in a state of inexpressible poverty. The 
crop of silk-worms, which used to bring in such con- 
aiderable sums, has entirely failed for the last three 
years, as have the other crops of corn, wine, and oil. 
Every thing sells at an exorbitant price, and two-thirds 
of our town, with incessant labour, can scarcely procure 
stiosistence." Such a state of things as this might have 
lioftened a savage, but it could not soften Popery. The 
Protestants, in their deep distress, had assembled toge- 
ther for the worship of that God who alone could sustain 
then, and for this the place was immoderately fined 

L.12I6, I6&, which was exacted wiUiont the delay of 
u moment. Another letter, speaking of the same dis- 
trict and period, says : *' In the meanwhile ttode ia 
entirely stopped. No payments are made. No sale of 
goods is to be obtained even at a loss. The province 
is in the utmost consternation.*' 

Dr Less, describing the general effects of Popish se- 
verity at this time, states that multitudes left their 
houses and possessions, and fled to Smtzerland or Ire- 
land, which occasioned so great a depopulation in 
Languedoc, that the Marquis de Paulney was sent by 
the Government to inquire into the cause of the emi- 
gration. And yet so little does he seem to have ascer- 
tained the true and obvious cause, that, two years later, 
we learn there was an army of not less than fifty thou- 
sand to sixty thousand men in the single province of 
Languedoc to hunt down the Protestants. Well might 
the great and good George Whitefield, in " A Short 
Address to Persons of all Denominations, occasioned 
by the alarm of an intended Invasion," printed in 17oG, 
exclaim in his animated style, — 

*' Speak, Languedoc, speak, and tell, if thou canst, 
how many Protestant ministers have been Aately exe- 
cuted, how many more of their hearers have been dra- 
gooned and sent to the galleys, and how many hundreds 
are now, in consequence of the above mentioned edict, 
Ijring in prisons, and last bound in misery and iron, for 
no other crime than that unpardonable one in the Ro- 
mish Church, I mean hearing and preaching the pure 
Gospel of the meek and lowly Jesus." 

If there can be any aggravations of a crime in itself 
so aggravated as persecution, we must say there were 
various aggravations in the period which we have been 
surve.ring : there had been all the direful experience of 
the revocation of the edict of Nantes to warn, — the 
desolation and misery of protracted and unsuccessfid 
war, — ^repeated, wide-spread, and severe distress, as in 
1748, when the specie of the country disappeared, 
thousands of acres went out of cultivation, ships rotted 
in the harbours, the village of fifteen hundred sunk 
down to six hundred, and taxes could not be raised. 
These things should all have softened and led to re- 
pentance toward God and mercy toward man ; but the 
Church of Rome is incorrigible ; she still pressed for- 
ward in her career of persecution, and that, too, at the 
very time when her own pretensions were so extrava- 
gant, that an edict was passed against monasteries, and 
the king had to restrain the ridiculous miracles at the 
tomb of the Abbe de Paris, by posting up over the 
gate of the burying-gro'und the celebrated inscription, 
'* By the authority of the king : No more miracles are 
to be wrought here." 

While the Protestant Church of France was so de« 
pressed and suffering, though withal firm and resigned, 
the Church of Scotland was, as a whole, peaceful and 
prosperous. In Scothmd, the persecution of the Pre* 
latical, in other words the Popish, party was succeeded 
by a glorious Protestant deliverance ; and the Church 
extended herself in schools and places of public wor- 
ship on the right hand and the left. She contributed 
for the relief of suffering Protestants on the continent » 
and sent the Gospel abroad to the heathen world, even 
to the Indians of America. Before the middle of the 
century, there had been division in her ranks, and her 
glory was somewhat tarnished, but still she was power* 
ful for good, and exerted that power. How diifferent 



the fbrtunet of the Church of France ! Her persecution 
tcrmtoared in a deeper and more comprehensive impri- 
fonment and slaughter. Man did all that he could to 
blot her out of existence. Most varied are God*s dis- 
pensations to his people, but they are all righteous and 
wise ; and, in the present case, there may have been 
important use ; who can tell, but that while the Church 
of Scotland was placed in circumstances to succour and 
befriend the Church of France, the very protracted 
suffering of the latter may not have been the means of 
protecting her from the successful inroads of Popish 
pretenders? Certainly nothing was more fitted to arm 
the people of Scotland against such an invasion, if they 
were in danger of forgetting the sufferings of their 
fathers, than just the continued spectacle through 
seventy years of the most unrelenting persecution of 
their French Protestant brethren. Oh! tbe wisdom 
and the goodness of God. 


Pause but one moment, — ^pass not reckless on , 
Bethink thee what is life and all its joys : 

A dream — a phantom which, while chased, is gone. 
One round of baneful pleasures, strife, and noise. 

Life's fitful fever o'er, — ^here rests the dust 
Of one. though heaven-enrolled, to raemVy dear. 

Tread lightly o'er his bed — this lonely spot — 
'Tis hallowed by affection's purest tear. 

Yet shall we meet, when earth hath passed away. 
With Christ our Lord on heaven's eternal shore. 

Where deatb-divided friends shall join in love 
And never-ending joy, to part no more. 



The following may be adduced as a specimen of the 
manner m which beggars are treated in Roman Catholic 
counnies. Mr Willis, in his * Pencillings by the Way,' 
thus describes tbe beggars in Sicily :— We walked on 
to the cathedral, followed by a troop of literally naked 
beggars, baked black in the sun, and more emaciated 
and diseased than any I have yet seen abroad. Their 
cries and gestures were painfully energetic. In the 
coarse of five minutes, we had seen two or three hun- 
dred. They lay along the side-walks, and upon the 
steps of tbe houses and churches, men, women, and 
children, nearly or quite naked, and as unnoticed by 
the mhabitants as the stones of the street. The consul 
remarked that it was an every day circumstance to find 
beggars starved to death in the streets, and that, in 
the small village near Palermo, eight or ten were often 
taken ap dead from the road-side in the morning. 



By the Eev. Nathaniel Paterson, D.D., 

Minister of Si, Andrtws Parish, Glasgow. 

"And he said, My presence shall go with thee, and I 
will give thee rest." — Exod. xxxm, 14. 

This was a word in season spoken by the Lord to 
b<£ servjint Moses deeply troubled and dismayed. 
He had a wilderness before him, formidable fo^ to 
encounter, and a stiflF-neckod people to lead. God 
na4 said, « I will not go up in the inidst of thee." 

It was this that impressed his soul with a feeling 
of ntter destitution, and might well, in his circuro^ 
stances, cause the failing of his heart through fear* 
A greater than Moses was once brought as low, 
when he exclaimed, « My God, my God, why hast 
thou forsaken me ?" The one was a type of the 
other. In the one we have an example to hum- 
ble the greatest of men engaged in the mightiest 
enterprise ; in the other an arm on which to lean, 
when overwhelmed with the burden of our cares. 
It was owing to sin in the one that we have a 
warning of dereliction ; it is owing to sovereign 
grace in the other that we, being in him, may rest 
in the promise, ** Lo, I am with you aiway, even 
unto the end of the world." 

It is humbling to the pride of worldly ambition 
to see, in Israel's triumphant deliverance, the sor* 
rows of that meekest of men, who was called of God 
to be a leader and lawgiver to his people. These 
sorrows had their source in the office which he 
held. << He that increaseth his riches increaseth 
his cares, but much weightier is the burden of care 
to him that increaseth his power." If riches be- 
come dangerous they may be buried in the ground ; 
or, as the mariner trims his sail to the temper of 
the breeze, the rich man may contract or expand 
the display of his wealth, according to the danger 
of cupidity or the safety of admiration. But he 
that IS appointed to rule has not the like refuge 
amidst his envied honours. His power cannot be 
separated from his person. His person becomes 
obnoxious because of his power. He is perplexed 
whether to lift up, or let down the arm of his 
authority. He holds an invidious trust which it 
may be dangerous to keep, and more dangerous to 
cast away. The world's history is written in 
blood ; and no wonder it is so written — being 
the history of guilty, fallen, ignorant, proud, en- 
vious, and ambitious mortals ; and it shows, by 
the short and troubled lives of rulers, that we 
should seek contentment in a humbler sphere, and 
learn to " honour all men ; to love the brethren ; 
to fear God ; to honour the king ;" to pray and 
long for the universal dominion of that Lord, 
whose sceptre is a sceptre of righteousness, and in 
whose kingdom all nations of tbe earth fihall be 

Let us see what was the condition of Moses 
when the words of our text were spoken for his 
safety and consolation. If ever man wielded 
authority by the call of Almighty God, it was 
evidently that man. His miraculous gifts were 
the seal which Omnipotence had stamped upon 
his high vocation ; and his own heart, suitably 
affected, arrogated nothing, but ascribed the safe 
conduct and mighty deliverance of the people to 
the outstretched arm of Jehovah. And that peo- 
ple had seen the Red Sea divided as with walls, 
to open them a way, and meet again on their pur- 
suers ; whilst the pillar of fire and cloud gave light 
to them, but frowned with judicial terror on their 
foes. When the desert aiforded no meat, and 
Moses was in the mount with God, they were 
ftd with manna, that the gracious bread, filling 



their hetais with Wonder and gladness, might pre- 
pare them for the grateful reception of the law, — 
« law accompanied with erery demonstration of 
the divine presence, as presiding over their des- 
tination. '< Cease from man.** Moses came gladly 
with God's covenant, expecting from their sense 
of past and present mercies, to meet a knowing 
and a willing people, but found them feasting on 
God's bread with th^ir idols, and like fools saying, 
^ These be thy gods, O Israel." Enough to break 
Uie heart of a stone, as well as the tables in his 
hand. To such a sin, in such a people, there is 
no parallel. A sin which strikes at the foundation 
of the universe which is God's temple. How 
weak the blow, i^nd yet how daring I A people 
newly redeemed from bondage, brought on their 
way, and fed with angels' food; leaving death, 
not slavery, behind ; and before, a desert where 
there was no drink, no bread, no corn ; and surely the 
calf could not supply them with manna. O what 
need of a Saviour, not only to atone for sin, and 
save from wrath, but to restore the brutish heart to 
reason, to give it " the light of the knowledge of 
the glory of God, in the face of Jesus Christ" 

This grievous rebellion could not escape some 
signal tokens of the divine displeasure. The ring- 
leaders were instantlv slain. The tabernacle was 
taken from the midst of the congregation, and 
placed without the camp, to lead the people to re- 
pent. God threatened that he would not go up 
lu the midst of them, lest he should consume them 
in the way. What cotdd be so appalling to their 
leader embarked with them in adventures so peril- 
ous? One thing alone — ^the presence of God, 
could strengthen him in conducting a multitude 
so unruly ; and that one thing God had threatened 
to withhold. '* When the people heard these evil 
tidings, they mourned, and no man did put on his 
ornaments." And Moses, in the bitterness of his 
soul, thus pled and interceded : « Now, therefore, 
I pray thee, if I have found grace in thy sight, 
show me now thy way, that I may know thee, 
that I may find grace in thy siffht ; and consider 
that this nation is thy people."^ Our text is the 
Lord's gracious answer to the supplication and in- 
tercession of his servant, '< My presence shall go 
with thee, and I will give thee rest." 

That we may rightly appreciate, let us see how 
far we may appropriate this promise, so compre- 
hensive and consolatory ; and to do this we shall 
first consider the application of the text to our time. 

Most obvious it is, that the above pleading of 
Moses was not fbr himself alone, but for the 
people also; and as the promise was given in 
answer to his intercession, it must apply to him, 
not personally, but officially, as the vicegerent of 
God to conduct his people to the promised land. 
That Moses so understood these words, is clear 
from what immediately follows : « If thy presence 
go not with fMy take us not up hence ;" — rather 
let us turn back to bondage, or tarry here and die, 
than go one step into that frightful wilderness 
without thy favour as a shield. It was therefore 
to a covenant-peoplOi — ^the Redeemer's Church in 

its wilderness state, — that the promise of onr 
text was graciously vouchsafed. But have we 
either doubt or difficulty id showing that it was 
designed for us at this day, as well as for them of 
old time ? I answer. None. But, why it may be 
said, not go at once to the New Testament, and 
get there, from the mouth of the Lord Jesus 
Christ, a word as gracious and more directly 
spoken to Christian disciples? This we cau 
easily do, but what is the meaning of the pre- 
ference ? It goes to set aside the Old Testament 
as a thing gone by, and with which we have little 
concern. This is first grievously wrong, and 
then, by so doing, we lose a grest deal. It is an 
error to draw any line of demarcation between 
the two books, as if the New Testament Were a 
new covenant, and the Old were the record of 
one that is done away. The whole Bible, from 
the words respecting the seed of the woman to 
the end of the Revelation, is all Gospel, is all 
about one covenant, one Church, one Head, even 
Christ, and one continued scheme of Providence 
conducted in behalf of a redeemed people. 
" Moses," says the Saviour, " wrote of me." The 
Church is one ; and ye being of that one Church, 
the promise of our text was designed for you. 

By this avoidance of demarcation, we interest 
ourselves in a longer course of providential deal- 
ing, and have, as one Church, a longer experience, 
so to speak, of the care and loving-kindness of 
the Lord. Hence we have a better hope, when 
we look back on the small beginnings, the hair« 
breadth escapes, the fiitherly care, the magnificent 
results, which are recorded as faUing within one 
scheme, carried on towards the completion of that 
rest which remaineth for the people of God. We 
find one man called out of a heathen world to 
become a great nation ; as at first one man was 
made of dust to people the whole earth, ^ the 
Christian school began with two disciples ; an<f 
Moses, on whose life the deliverance from Egypt 
was suspended, is exposed in a frail bark to adli- 
gators, and worse foes: and Christ, to escape 
murderers at home, is carried to the very land of 
former bondage and death. Yet we have, from 
small beginnings, and brought through straits, a 
nation as the stars for multitude ; a slave taken 
from his bulrush cradle on the deep to vanquish a 
mighty kingdom ; and the Gk>spel, at first spoken 
to one or two, now proclaimed in a hundred and 
fifty tongues, and the temples of Baal falling be- 
fore it all over the globe. The Lord hath 
brought us hitherto ; the Lord will provide. 

But yet more for our appropriation of the 
promise, we look to the type. We shall not take 
time to show, what indeed is most conspicuous in 
the language of Scripture, that eveiy thing about 
the expedition of Moses was typical of New 
Testament times. The leader was a type of 
Christ. The journey, and its termination in the 
promised land, were types of our pilgrimage, and 
of the heavenly Canaan. So that pillar of fire, 
which was not taken away by day or by night, 
was a prophetic symbol of the enlightening, com- 



fortmg, and purifying Spirit of God promised by 
the Saviour in these words, << I will pray the Fa- 
ther, and he shall give you another Comforter, 
that lie may abide with you for ever ; even the 
Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, 
because it seeth him not, neither knoweth him : 
but ye know him, for he dwelleth with you, and 
shall be in you/' If, then, we were to read our 
text merely as a portion of sacred history, we 
might draw an inference from the historical event. 
We might say the Lord is always the same, and, 
as he heard the prayer of Moses, we may venture 
to hope he will hear us, and say, << My presence 
shall go with you." But in the typical view of 
our text, we have more than history, and more 
than an inference drawn from the historical event. 
The prayer is answered already, and answered in 
our behalf* For the type is a visible and out- 
standing prediction of the antitype, — a memorial 
to God, if I may so speak, of what he has 
pledged himself to fulfil, — a memorial to us of 
what we are warranted to expect. As sure as the 
type was^ so sure the antitype wUl be ; and all 
that God u!tu to his people in the one, he wUl 
be to his people in the other. His presence did 
go with them to the promised land, and by that 
sure token it is said to us, " My presence shall go 
wth you, and I will give you rest." 

Having thus seen how to appropriate, we would 
next learn how to appreciate, the promise of our 

It is true in an absolute sense that His pre- 
sence is with all men* His immensity cannot 
admit of His absence from them ; His omniscience 
can allow to them no hiding-place from Him. Let 
the wicked, devising mischief on their beds, or 
laying a snare in the night, take alarm ; for the 
Lord's presence is with them, and His face is 
against them. But let the righteous be glad. Go 
where they will, or if their offepring travel to dis- 
tant lands, it is their stay, that, because of God's 
immensity, Hispresence is in all places and equal- 
ly nigh. " O Thou who art the confidence of all 
the ends of all the earth, and of them that are afar 
off upon the sea.'* 

It is not, however, in an absolute, but in a gra- 
cious sense that the Lord's presence is promised 
in our text It was manifested of old by the pil- 
lar of fire ; and God gives no symbol without the 
substantial good intended by the visible token. 
They had the manna from heaven, and water from 
the rock ; and the Church has now the true bread 
which cometh down from God. The visible 
Church of our land where the Lord sets his eyes 
and his heart continually — the faithful living 
and the faithful dying from age to age~-an or- 
dained ministry and dispensed ordinances, consti- 
tate not a symbol, but the living proof that the 
Lord's presence is with his people for good. 
Conies it of mans wisdom that this pillar is erect- 
ed ? No : The world by wisdom knew not God« 
Is it by the goodness of man's heart that this pil- 
lar once erected is devoutly admired and grate- 
fully preserved ? No : « The heart is deceitful 

above all things, and desperately wicked," Rulers 
have impiously assailed and sought to sweep away 
that token oi the divine presence from amongst 
us. Persecutors have hunted for a prey the flock 
of the Redeemer from hill to hill ; and the moss- 
grey atones on every mountain and glen of our 
country, yet mark the spot where the martyrs fell. 
We see " beneath the altar the souls of them that 
were slain for the word of God, and the testimony 
which they held.** And even now there fail not the 
multitudes of those, who are given to change, who 
with infidel scorn, or the spirit of reckless innova- 
tion, would rouse a tempest to drive away from their 
sight that pillar of the divine presence — abated 
because of its dark edge which frowns upon them, 
and hated yet more because of its light side, in 
which they behold their God as a consuming fire. 
No thanks to man's goodness for the erection, and 
no thanks to man's goodness for the preservation 
of the true Church in these realms ; but thanks 
be to God for the gift and preservation of that 
symbol of his presence in which we realize and 
appreciate the promise of our text, by the expe- 
rienced blessedness which it conveys. 

And that goodness of the Lord is not limited 
to any part of our pilgrimage. The promise is, 
** My presence shall go with thee:" that is, all 
the way to the land of our rest. Nothing were 
so dreaidful as to be led afar and then forsaken of 
our guide. But " faithful is he that hath pro- 
mised,*' — *' Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, to- 
day, and for ever." The way is safe if the Lord 
be there. " Fear not, for I am with thee ; be not 
dismayed, for I am thy God." The way is right, 
and there is no fear of wandering if the Divine pre- 
sence go with us. " For this God is our God for 
ever and ever ; he will be our guide even unto 
death." It is worthy of remark that this promisei 
so gracious, has a beautiful adaptation to the natural 
weakness and anxieties of the human mind. Fur- 
nished with a needful foresight, and rightly provi- 
dent of the future, we can yet discern nothing 
certain, and we cannot " see through the thin par- 
tition of an hour." Addicted to conjectures, we 
disipiiet ourselves in vain. We fear a lion in the 
way, but it may be only an imagination ; we appre- 
hend crosses which we may never be required to 
bear ; and we dread the infirmities of age, whilst 
our lot may be to die in our prime. The future 
being thus unknown, we cannot help searching 
into it, and, finding a void, we replenish it with 
imaginary fears, or, it may be, with hopes as vain. 
But God, in mercy to this weakness, and willing 
that we should walk by faith, not by sight, has 
given the promise, << That his presence shall go 
with us." This fills that unapproachable blank 
that moves onward as we tread on its precincts : 
This illumines our path all the way to its dose. 
<< Thou wilt light my candle : the Lord my God 
will enlighten my darkness." What fear of un- 
known things in company with Him to whom all 
things are known ? what darkness can overtake 
us walking in the light of his countenance ? WVat 
weakness, leaning on his arm ? 



O tbink of the weak, benighted godless wan- 
derer. He glories in his might, but death will 
break it as a thread of tow ; he seeks this light 
in the sunny smile of the world, but this smile how 
bright soever, will soon gather blackness, and frown 
upon his soul. " Know ye not that the friendship of 
the world is enmity with God ?" Bearing witness 
to this enmity, his conscience sees the darkness 
of the next step, and in the distance a to id eter- 
nity, or filled only with the fear of God as a 
consuming £re. 

We turn with trembling to the promise of our 
text, " My presence shall go with thee, and I will 
give thee rest." 

That rest is the last thing to be noticed in these 
words, and needed most in this world of troubles. 
It is of the mercy of God in Christ reconciling the 
world, that we are not all as these godless wan- 
derers, in a wilderness without palm-trees and 
water-springs ; or tossed with tempests on a sea 
without a shore. But sin has drawn down a more 
terrible judgment : " Ye were the children of wrath 
even as others,** — wrath in which the wicked are 
driven away in their wickedness, where their worm 
dieth not, and the fire is not quenched. By grace 
are ye saved ; and there is a rest that remaineth 
for the people of God. 

That rest, in some meiisure, is their portion 
even now. It is sure, and coming nigh ; it serves 
to shorten the longest road, to lighten the heaviest 
burden, and infuse into the bitterest cup the sweet- 
ness of a heavenly hope. It reduces all present 
afflictions to a moment ; and makes them good, 
both as a sign of the Lord's favour, and a prepar- 
ation for entering into his rest. And, O what 
shall that rest hereafter be ? *< God shall wipe 
away all tears from their eyes : and there shall be 
no more death, neither sorrow nor crying, neither 
shall there be any more pain: for the former things 
are passed away." No more temptation, or striving 
against sin; no shortcoming, and reproaches of 
conscience, and terrors of the law ; but quiet from 
the fear of evil. No more strife, but victory won, 
and fear excluded. << To him that overcometh will 
I grant to sit with me on my throne, even as I 
also overcame, and am sat down with my Father 
on his throne." They shall be like him ; for they 
shall see him as he is, and be for ever with him — 
see him in all his glory, and paying the homage of 
a heart full of love, shall drink of the rivers of his 
pleasure, and be filled with all the fulness of 

How precious is that rest ! Not only sweet to 
weary souls, but purchased for us at an infinite 
price : " He hath made peace by the blood of his 
cross," O taste and see that the Lord is gracious ! 
Come, ye godless wanderers, without a guide, and 
treading on the brink of a dark eternity : the Lord 
is the way, the truth, the life, and he will give 
you light. Come, ye chief of sinners : the blood 
of Christ cleanseth from all sin, and why will ye 
die ? Come, ye heathen lands, from your* blood- 
stained idols, and infant-murderers : the Lord is 
full of compassion. Come, little children, the 

Lord will gather you in his arms, and carry you 
in his bosom. Come, heartless parents, careless 
of your children's souls, and of your own ; cease 
from that world whose sorrow worketh dei*lh, and 
will leave you empty when you die : cleave to that 
only Friend, whose presence shall go with you — 
who will help, and strengthen, and uphol I you, 
with the right hand of his righteousness. Come, 
ye mourners in Zion, crucified unto the world, 
poor in spirit, and heart-broken for sin: he will 
bind up your broken heart, and give you the oil 
of joy for mourning. Come, sinners, not disown- 
ing the name, and you are welcome to Him. lie 
came not to call the righteous, but sinners to re- 
pentance ; and none but He will take your burden, 
and show you the way. Come all, come quickly, 
come now; come unto me, saith that gracious 
Lord, all ye that labour and are heavy laden. Take 
my yoke upon you, which is easy, and my burdt'n, 
which is light. '* My presence shall go with you , 
and I will give you rest." 


Dr Cobmack of Stow, in his useful little Work en- 
titled " Barzillai the Gileadite, or Considerations on 
Old Age," gives the following authentic narrative : — 
There are few probably but can recal to mind instances, 
within their own knowledge, that are strikingly coin- 
cident with the case of the rich fool in the Gospel ; 
and which tend powerfully to illustrate the duty of 
temperance, both in the pursuit and enjoyment of 
earthly things. I will briefly record a case which oc- 
curred within my knowledge, and which has afforded 
instruction to my own mind. Being a case of historical 
fact, it is not to be confounded with the fictions of 
imagination ; and if similar instances occur to the reader, 
the instruction they convey should acquire impress! ve- 
ness according to their weight and number. 

Mr AUwood was bom of parents who occupied the 
humblest place among the peasantry of a northern 
county of England, Extreme indigence marked his 
early days ; and it was through the medium of humllU 
ating drudgery, that he obtained the coarse and scanty 
food which he ate, and the miserable and ragged raiment 
which he put on. Thus circumstanced, but posses«ed 
of observation and aruteness, and animated by such an 
ambition as his condition seemed to justify, he looked 
with a species of longing envy to the youth, whose 
strength and stature indicated the attainment of man- 
hood. In the progress of slowly successive days and 
years, as he deemed them, be reached this pinnacle of 
his first, though lowly ambition ; and seized the oppor- 
tunity it afforded him of entering the kinjg's service as 
a common soldier. The variety of incidents which 
chequered a few of the following years of his life we 
pass over. Were they detailed, they would seem some- 
what too wonderful for a romance. Suffice it to say, 
that avenues to gain soon opened before him ; and chat, 
with shrewdness to seize opportunities, and avidity to 
amass, in the progress of years he became rich. He 
purchased property in his native county; and took hi; 
place among ** the great men of the earth." 

Intemperance in the pursuit, and intemperance in 
the enjoyment of earthly good, seldom meet in the 
same individual ; for, as it has been often observed, the 
vices are generally incompatible with one another, while 
the virtues of all harmonize. In the case of Mr AP- 
wood, ardour iii acfjuiring bad early formed and fbjeu 



Ae habits of temperance in the enjoymcTit of earthly 
good. He lived to the age of BarziUai : and, with un- 
abated eagerness, continued to the last to '* add house 
to bouse, and field to field." Bui the time of need at 
len^h ftrriTed, and the " treasures which he had been 
laying up for himself on earth" were then found una- 
vailing to his peculiar wants. 

In connection with his extraordinary worldly pros- 
perity, it may be proper to mention, that sickness, 
which God is pleased so frequently to bless, in pro- 
dudng " the peaceable fruits of righteousness in them 
that are exercised thereby," had scarcely been known 
to him, till that illness came which proved to be his 
la^t As he began to sink under his malady, he more 
and more distinctly perceived that he had been running 
a race— and with unusual success, as it seemed, at the 
time — at the goal of which no prize awaited him. What 
seemed at the time to be unalloyed gold, and gems of 
the purest lustre, without a flaw, were now foimd to 
be paltry baubles, whose gilding was gone ; and mock 
jewels, which had accomplished their object, when they 
bad cheated the ignorant. 

In these drcunistances, the friends — ah I much abused 
name— the friends of Mr All wood, they themselves be- 
ing still under the delusion, which had now passed 
away from before his eyes, endeavoured to restore the 
power of fiiscination, of which he had so long been the 
dupe. They endeavoured also to adapt their contriv- 
antes to his peculiar propensities. They attempted to 
roua' him, as th^^y termed it, by speaking of his large 
and rich possessions ; and having, by previous concert, 
collected his flocks and herds within view, the sight of 
which they knew was wont to afford him such singular 
pleasure, they invited and assisted him to his window, 
bade him contemplate the goodly sight, and reflect that 
these were all his own. But, alas 1 these were found 
miserable comforters, now when he needed comfort 
most. Turning away from the scene with impatience, 
and seeming anguish, he entreated that neither the 
world, nor any thing in it, should be mentioned to him 
more : he owned, that they had too long and too fatally 
eneroased him ; that instead of yielding him pleasure 
now, they yielded him pain ; and that he had spent a 
long life in acquiring that, which only imparted anguish 
unallayed by hope. For the purpose of warning, enough 
has been said ; and as nothing followed to gratify a 
kindly Christian wish, we cast the veil of oblivion over 
the dosing scene. 

Curiosity, perhaps, and in some a better feeling, may 
prompt a wish to know, " whose those things" became 
which Mr Allwood had " provided." And as instruc- 
tion noay be communicated, while curiosity is gratified, 
the information shall not be withheld ; for it is a short 
though melancholy tale. 

The rich possessions of Mr Allwood descended to an 
only SOD, a minor. The youth had been accustomed 
to hear wealth extolled as the only good ; and as it had 
been largely acquired by the father without learning, 
it was not deemed necessary to bestow much expense 
or care on the education of the son. But where no 
diligence is bestowed in cultivating the soil and sowing 
it with good seed, we may expect weeds to abound. In 
the unformed mind of young Allwood, accordingly, they 
sprung up, and shot forth in most rank luxuriance. 

I enter not upon the particulars of a painful recital. 
For the present purpose, it is enough to say, that, while 
yet in boyhood, he became thoroughly confirmed in all 
the vices of licentious manhood; and that when 'he 
had got but a little way beyond his boyhood, he sunk 
into an early grave, the shattered victim of manifold 
depravity; without a recollection that could give plea^ 
sure, and without a hope on which to pillow his dying 
hwd. Thus the unblest accumulations of the father 
"Were wasted on the vicious indulgences of the son ; for 
taey who call them pleaniret misname them ; and the 

result to that son was, that, while he lived, he lived 
unloved and unhappy ; and that, in early life, he died 
miserable and unlamented. 

** Oh, thoa 1x>unteoat Giver of all good. 
Thou art of all thy gifti, tbjaelf the crown t 
Give what thou canit, without thee we are poor. 
And with thee rich, take what thou wilt away." 


Self-knowledge — I know what a dreadful thing it is 
to carry much sail, without a proper ballast, and to 
rejoice in a false liberty. Joy, floating upon the sur- 
face of an unmortified heart, is but of short continu- 
ance. It puflfs up, but doth not edify. I thank our 
Saviour that he is showing us here more of our hearts, 
and more of his love. — Whitefielo. 



By thg Autkoreu of tMe SJketek qf «• Olyi^p^ Morata:* 4tf. 

Paet I. 

To those who delight to trace the workings of God's 
power upon the hearts of the people whom he hatli 
** redeemed from all evil," and called, justified, and 
sanctified by his grace, the following memoir cannot 
be unacceptable. 

The subject of it was one whose natural modesty 
shrunk from public observation; but the troublous 
times in which he lived brought him more into notice 
than the humility of his character would have desired ; 
and even those who observed his conduct, in one re- 
spect but to censure it, yielded theur testimony to the 
righteousness and purity of his life. 

Philip Henry was bom at Whitehall, in Westminster, 
on the 24th August 1631. His fiither, Mr John Henry, 
was a faithful and attached servant of King Charles I., 
for whose untimely fate he mourned with sincerity of 
heart, and whom he did not long survive. " His mo- 
ther/' says his biographer, " was a virtuous and pious 
woman, and one who feared God above many. She 
was altogether dead to the vanities and pleasures of a 
court, though she lived in the midst of them." She 
was most assiduous in the religious instruction of her 
children, catechising them, praying with them, and 
making their minds early familiar with the blessed 
truths of Scripture ; and her son adds hU testimony to 
the many that have been awarded to the efficacy of a 
mother's instructions and a mother's prayers. By her, 
he was early set apart for the work of the ministry, to 
whieh his own heart inclined him when he came to 
riper years. 

His childhood was spent at court, as the companion 
and playmate of Prince Charles and the Duke of York ; 
but, by the cahunities of 1641, he was removed to an 
humbler home, and, in after-life, he often expressed his 
thankfulness that he had thus been drawn away from a 
situation where he might have been tempted rather 
** to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season, than to 
sufiTer affliction with the people of God." Yet, while 
he escaped the entanglements of a court life, he pre- 
served the urbanity of a courtier's manner. Some of 
his contemporaries have attributed this to the eflfects of 
his early residence among the great and noble ; but, 
when we observe how thoroughly his heart and mind 
were imbued with the peaceful and loving spirit of the 
Gospel, and when we remember the beautiful deline*- 



tion wbicli the apostle lias lef^ us, of the " charity 
which hehavcth not herself unseemly, which seeketh 
not her own," we need not impute the remarkable 
sweetness and courte^ of his manner to any other 
cause than the in0uence of that faith which softens, 
while it purifies, the heart. It was a saying of his 
own, ** Religion doth not destroy good manners ; it 
destroys not civility, but sanctifies it." His education 
was commenced under the teaching of Mr Bonnar, at 
St. Martin's Church, and subsequently continued at 
Battersea, under the tuition of Mr Wells. But, about 
twelve years of age, he was admitted to Westminster 
School, where he made great attainments in dassieal 
learning ; and not only so, but he grew up daily in the 
knowledge and fear of the Lord. In these times, when 
religious zeal pervaded all classes of society, he en- 
joyed peculiar opportunities of being instructed in the 
way of salvation ; and his pious mother requested of 
his teacher, Dr Bushby, that he would allow him to 
attend a daily morning lecture, which was given in the 
Abbey Church by several members of the Assenably of 
Divines in rotation ; as likewise, to permit his attend- 
ance upon the occasional week-day sermons of many 
eminent preachers, whose ministrations she found bene- 
ficial to herself. These means uf grace, ^vatered by 
the dews from heaven, seem imperceptibly and gradu- 
ally to have brought forth fruit unto God at a very 
early age. In reflecting upon this period of his life, 
Mr Henry thus writes : — 

" If ever child, such as I then was, between the 
fifteenth and eighteenth years of my age, enjoyed * line 
upon line, precept upon precept,' I did. And was it 
in vain ? I trust, not alt<)gether in vain. My soul rc- 
joicetb, and is glad at the remembrance of it. * The 
word distilled as the dew, and dropt aa the rain.' I 
loved it, and loved the messengers of it ; their very 
feet were beautiful to me.'* 

There are many who blame what they term the inju- 
dicious zeal of Christian parents, in foreing upon their 
children those religious exercises in which, from their 
tender years and their elastic spirits, it is apprehended 
they are unfitted to join. But might they not suppose 
that, instead of force, persuasion and the influence of 
ijrmpathy and example had been used ? In cases where 
the temper or habits of the parents are characterised 
by moroseness or austerity, we allow that these infir- 
mities will probably be communicated to their religious 
instructions, — and the young mind naturally shrinks 
from severity and gloom ; but when the child sees and 
feels, firom daily experience, that the Word of God, 
the house of God, and the fellowship of God, impart 
light and peace to the hearts of those who love him, 
and whom he loves; when he cannot but perceive 
that, in proportion as his parents walk in communion 
with God, and in the faith of * things unseen and eter- 
nal,' they grow in that spirit of love and gentleness 
which endears them to his heart, no such eflTects can 
be anticipated. When we consider, also, that the exer- 
cises of devotion are as distasteful to the na<«ra/ desires 
of an adult as to those of a child, and that there is 
nothing in their own nature to render them distastefiil 
to either, why should we limit the grace of God, by 
supposing that He who hath removed the barriers of sin 
and blindness in the case of the parent, should be less 
willing to interpose in behalf of the child ? 

\bout sixteen years of age, young Henry left West- 

nunster, and was admitted student of Christ Church, 
in the University of Oxford. Previous, however, 
to the commencement of his academical course, he 
received the Lord's Supper in St. Margaret's Church, 
1647. He often referred to the great pakis which Dr 
Bushby took in preparing the minds of his pupils for 
their participation in this holy sacrament,; and, through 
God's grace, his instructions seem to have been abun- 
dantly blessed with rc^;ard to the subject of our me- 

*« Then it was," he thus writes, ** that I aet myself, 
in the strength of divine grace, about the great work 
of self-examination, in order to repentance ; and then 
I repented ; that is, solemnly and seriously, with some 
poor meltings of soul, I confessed my sins before God, 
original and actual, judging and condemning mjrself for 
them, and casting away from me all my transgressions, 
receiving Christ Jesus the Lord as the Lord my right- 
eousness, and devoting myself, absolutely and unreser- 
vedly, to his fear and service." 

He often makes very grateful mention of Dr Bush- 
by's agency in this blessed work ; and the first time he 
waited on him after having been turned out of hi^ 
charge by the act of uniformity, the Doctor having 
asked him, " Prythee, child, what made thee a non- 
conformist ? " he greatly surprised him by his answer. 
•' Truly, Sir," said Mr Henry, " you made me one, for 
you taught me those things that hindered me firom con- 

At Oxford he made such progress in his various 
studies as to satisfy every one but himself. And though, 
from his youth and other causes, he often bewails the 
disadvantages under which he laboured while there, yet 
the testimony of those who were eye-witnesses of his 
proficiency, many of his manuscripts which remain, and 
his subsequent attainments as a scholar and a philoso- 
pher, show how well he had improved his time. 

Among his companions at the university, there were 
some young men with whom he was induced frequently 
to associate, for the sake of their learning, but who, 
beiug averse to the life of godliness which he led, for 
a while drew him into their snares. 

'* But for ever praised," saith he, <* be the riches of 
God's grace, that he was pleased still to keep hold of 
me, and not to let me alone, when I was running from 
him, but set his hand again the second time, as the ex- 
pression is, Isaiah xi. II, *o snatch me < as a brand out 
of the fire.'" 

The knowledge which he thus acquired of his own 
weakness and proneness to fiiU, only rendered him 
more humble and watchful for the future. Hence he 
writes : — 

** Forasmuch as I have, by often experience, found 
the treachery and deceitfulness of my own heart, and 
being taught that it is my duty to engage my heart to 
approach unto God, and that one way of doing it is by 
subscribing with my hand unto the Lord : Uierefore, 
let this paper be vritness that 1 do deliberately, of 
choice, and unreservedly, take God, in Christ, to be 
mine ; and give myself to him, to be his, to love him, 
to fear him, to serve and obey him ; and renouncing all 
my sins, with hearty sorrow and detestation, I do cast 
myself only upon free grace, through the merits of 
ChrUt, for pardon and forgiveness ; and do propose, 
God enabling me, from this day forward, more than 
ever to exercise myself unto gofUinesa, and to walk in 
all the ways of religion, as much as ever I can, with 
delight and cheerfuhiess, as knowing that * my labour 
shall not be in vain in the Lord.' " 



In dw yiar Ifl&O Ifr Hoory took his degree as Bache- 
lor of Arte, in 1663 thi^t of Master of Arts, and in the 
Janmry fioUowing he preached his firsf sermon «t Hiok- 
sejf in Oxfordshire, on John viii. 34, "Whosoeyer 
committeth lin ie the servant of sio." On this occa- 
sion, we find the following passage in his diary : ** The 
Lord make use of me as an instniment of his glory, 
and his Church's good, in this high and holy calling." 

A ministry thna antidpated by a mother's prayers, 
snd entered upon with rock feelings of self«dedication, 
must needs have been attended with a blessing upon 
him who ministered, and upon them to whom he held 
forth the Word of life. Soon after leaving Oxford, he 
reinoTed into the femily of Judge Puleston of Smeral, 
in FItntfhire. There, he prayed with the femily, was 
tutor to the y6Qng gentlemen, and preached once, fre- 
quently twice, every Sabbath at the chapel of Wor- 
thenhory, a Httle town on the Dee, near Emeral. In 
this ritnation he applied himself to the discharge of his 
calling as a feithful minister of Christ ; and, in the 
following vacation, when on a visit to his friends in 
London, he received a letter from Judge Puleston, 
eontainiog a rery solemn and aifecttonate request, sub- 
scribed by the parishioners of Worthenbury, earnestly 
desiring his settlement among them as their minister ; 
and this call he wms induced to obey. 

At Worthenbavy Mr Henry's field of usefulness was 
Tery limited. Tfaere were but forty-one communicants 
in the piriah when he first dispensed the Lord's Sup- 
per; yet w humble were his tkoughu of himself, and 
80 fsr wsi he removed from a spirit of worldly am- 
bition tlist, though often solicited, he would never 
leare it 

Owing to some, delays with regard to the place of 
Mb ordination, it did not take place till September 16, 
1657. " This solemn ordinance was performed by the 
Presbytery of Bradford North, in Shropshire, by Mr 
Porter of Whitcharch, according to the directory of 
the Assembly of Divines, and the common usage of 
the Presbyterians." Previous to the laying on of hands, 
amoni^ other examinations, he was required to give a 
Mufeision of his feith, from which the following are 
eitraets :— 

** I beHeve there is a Mediator ; and that there is 
hut one Mediator between God and men, the man 
Christ Jesus. Those whom the Father hath from 
everlasting pitched his love upon, and given to Christ, 
not because of works or feith foreseen, but merely of 
hid free grace, — for those I believe Christ was sent 
forth into the world, made of a woman, made under 
the law ; for their sakcs he sanctified himself, and be- 
came obedient to death, even the death of the cross ; 
wherefore God also highly exalted him ; and having 
iBued him from the dead on the third day, set him at 
his own ri^t hand, where he ever lives to make in- 
tercession for those for whom he shed his blood. AU 
these elect, redeemed ones^ I believe, are in due time, 
wwner or htcr in their lives, effectually called, washed, 
sanctified, justified, in the name of the Lord Jesus, 
snd by the Spirit of our God. 

"I beliere the righteouanesa of Christ alone, appro- 
handed by feith, ia the matter of our justification be- 
fere God, and that no flesh can stand in his sight upon 
soy other terms, for he is the Lord our righteousness, 
m m him only i« the Father well pleased- 
t. 'i H^^^c the work of sanctification, managed bj 
the Spirit, who dwelletb in us, though, hi respect of 
W^ it be complete, (for the wko)l«m9i« j^oieved;) 

yet^ in respect of ct^greOt it is not fully perfected till 
we come to glory ; and I believe all that are justified 
shall be glorified ; for we * are kept by the power of 
God through faith unto salvation.' 

** 1 believe the gathering in, and building np^ of 
saints is the special end why pastors and teachers are 
appointed in the Church, and that Jesus Christ, accord- 
ing to his promise, will be with them in that work to 
the end of the world." 

Here, until his hands were tied by the act of uni- 
formity, he abounded in his labours of love, to win 
souls to Christ« Besides preaching, he expounded the 
Scriptures in order, catechised, and explained the Cate- 
ehism. He instituted monthly lectures, and kept up a 
monthly conference, in private, from house to house, 
where he discoursed familiarly with his parishioners on 
the things of God, after the example of the apostles. 
As a specimen of his faithfulness and fervour in preach- 
ing and in dispensing the sacraments, we give the fol- 
lowing extracts from his Remains. In dispoosing the 
Lord's Supper, he thus addresses his flock : — 

'* In this ordinance, here is Christ and all his benefits 
exhibited to thee. Art thou weak ? here is bread to 
strengthen thee. Arc thou sad? here is wine to com* 
fort thee. What is it thou standest in need of ? A 
pardon ? here it is, sealed in blood ; take iU by faith, 
as I offer it to you, in the name of the Lord Jesus : 
' Though thy sins nave been as scarlet, they shall be 
as wool,' if ' thou be willing and obedient.'" 

Again, in dispensing the sacrament of Baptism, he 
says: — 

" While our Lord Jesus was here upon the earth, 
they ' brought little children* to Him, and he ' laid his 
hands on them, and blessed them ; ' and said moreover, 
* Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid 
them not.' (There are many at this day that forbid 
little children to oome to Christ.) He adds the reason, 
' for of such is the kingdom of heaven/ Whether it be 
meant of the visible Church, often so called in the 
Gospel, or of the state of glory in another world ; either 
way it affords an argument for infimt baptism. When 
either parent is in covenant with God, their chikbe* 
also are in covenant with him; and, beii^ in covenant, 
they have an undoubted right and title to this ordinance 
of baptism, which is the seal of the covenant. So that, 
in the administration of this ordinance, this day, accord- 
ing to the institution of Christ, we look upon you who 
are the fether of this child, as a person in covenant with 
God. How fer you have dealt tm&ithfuUy in the co- 
venant is known to God and your own conscience; but 
this we know, the vows of Gk>d are upon you; and, 
' let every one that nameth the name of Christ, depart 
from iniquity.' But before we baptize your child, lam 
to acquaint you, in a few words, with what we expect 
from you. 

*' Q. 1. Do you avouch God in Jesus Christ this day 
to be your God? See to it that this be done in truth, 
and with a perfect heart. Ton may tell us you do so. 
and you may deceive us; but God is not mocked. 
Q. 2. And is it your desire that your child also may 
be received into covenant with God, and that the Lord's 
seal of baptism may be set to it ? Q. 3. And do you 
promise, in the presence of God, and of this congrega- 
tion, that you will do your endeavour towards the train- 
ing of it up in the way of godliness, that as it is by you 
through mercy that it Uvea the life of nature ; so it may 
by you also, tiirough the same mercy, live the life of 
grace ? Else, I must tell you, if you be wanting here- 
m, there will be a sad redroning one day, when yon 
shall meet together before the judgment-seat of Christ, 
and this solemn engagement of yoqra wiU be brought 
ip to witaeaa against yo«,'* 



The following is taken from one of his manuscript 
sermons : — 

<' Weak Cbristians have infirmities; but infirmity 
supposes life, and all who are alive to (Sod have an in- 
ward sense of sin, and their own lost condition by 
reason of it ; they heartily close with Christ upon Gos- 
pel terms, for pardon and peace ; and bave unfeigned 
desires and endeavours to walk in the way of God's 
commandments. But sucb are often very dull of 
apprehension in spiritual things. Matt. xv. 16. Heb. 

vi. 11, 12 They are often peevish and froward, 

inexpert, unskilful in duty, and apt to envy, judge, 
and censure, being unacquainted with the extent 
of Christian liberty in indifferent things. They are 
often fainting in adversity, much taken up with earthly 
tbings, easily disquieted and cast down, and frequently 
questioning the love of Christ. We must not, however, 
despise them, not in heart, word, or carriage. We 
must rather deny ourselves than offend them. We must 
support tbem, bear them as pillars bear the house, as 
the shoulders a burden, as the walls the vine, as parents 
their children, as the oak the ivy ; and this, because 
they are brethren.*' 

We have quoted thus largely from Mr Henry's Re- 
mains, because bis own words convey a better idea 
of his ministerial character than could be given by any 
description of ours. He remained about eight years at 
Worthenbury. At the commencement of his ministry, 
he often laboured under bodily ailments; and, con- 
sumption being apprehended, some of his friends sug- 
gested that he ought to spare himself; but he gave no 
heed to such cautions, and was wont to say, ** the more 
we do, the more we may do in the service of God." 
He was ready to look upon every return of his malady 
as a summons to meet the Lord ; and this feeling not 
only acted as a stimulus to present duty, but brought 
death near to him as a familiar friend. *' I find," said 
he, *' my earthly tabemade tottering, and when it is 
taken down I shall have a building in heaven that shall 
never fail. Blessed be God the Father, and my Lord 
Jesus Christ, and the good Spirit of grace." 

While he was at Worthenbury, he constantly set 
apart the tenth of his income for the poor. This he 
laid out in ministering to their spiritual, as well as their 
temporal necessities, especially in providing education 
for poor children. In his exertions and prayers to pro- 
mote the interests of Christ's kingdom, and in minister- 
ing to the necessities of sinners, he was assisted and 
supported by the neighbouring clergy. Among these, 
some were Episcopalian, some Presbyterian, and others 
Congregational in their views of Church government; 
but, without regard to these differences, they were 
willing to extend to each other the right hand of 
fellowship, and to unite with one heart in the mighty 
work which their Father had given them to do. They 
formed themselves into an association for this purpose ; 
and Mr Henry was requested to draw up that part of 
their agreement which related to the worship of God. 
This undertaking he discharged to the entire satisfac- 
tion of all parties. No one, indeed, could be better 
fitted than he, to act as a promoter of peace and unani- 
mity, as his demeanour, throughout the whole course 
of his life, and under the various trials of temper and 
patience to which he was exposed by the state of the 
times, was characterized by a remarkable degree of 
Christian forbearance, and by the overflowings of a 
charity which never failed. Nor hod jiis charity any 

alliance with that liberality of sentiment so much prized 
and lauded in our own times, but which we fear, in 
many cases, originates, not in a desire to embrace all 
who " love the Lord Jesus in sincerity," but rather in 
a spirit of indifference with regard to the essentiab of 

So deeply was the heart of this devoted servant of 
Christ penetrated with the love of his Lord and Ma&ter, 
and 60 completely paramount, in his esteem, were the doc- 
trines of salvation through Him alone, that, wherever he 
found any fellow-sinner building upon this sure founda- 
tion, he overlooked all minor differences. Some men's 
minds are so filled with trifling distinctions concerning 
the mere minutiae of the Holy Scriptures, that they 
scarce bestow a thought upon the all-important truths 
which they reveal. With him, on the contrary, Christ 
was ** all in all." Christ crucified was the sum and 
substance of his own faith and hope, and of his desires 
and prayers when he looked abroad upon a perishing 
world. Preaching upon Christ's prayer for his disciples, 
(John xvii. 21,) " That they all may be one," he re- 
marked that this was no doubt an answered prayer, and 
he showed, *' That, notwithstanding the many sad 
divisions that are in the Church, yet all the saints, as 
far as they are sanctified, are one ; one in relation, one 
flock, one family, one body, one building, one bread ; 
one by representation, one in image and likeness, of one 
inclination and disposition ; one in their alms, one in 
their askings, one in amity and friendship, one in in- 
terest, and one in inheritance ; nay, they are all one ia 
judgment and opinion ; though in some things they dif- 
fer, yet those things in which they are agreed are many 
more, and much more important than those things 
wherein they differ. They are all of one mind oonoem- 
ing sin, that it is the worst thing in the world ; con- 
cerning Christ, that he is * all in all ;' concerning the 
favour of God, that it is ' better than life ; ' concern- 
ing the world, that it is vanity ; concerning the Word 
of God, that it is ' very precious.'" 

In the years 1658 and 1659 Judge and Lady Pulestoa 
died. In them Mr Henry lost friends who could appre- 
ciate his services among them, and who, while they 
lived, treated him with unvarying kindness. But with 
their death his interest in the Emeral family altogether 
ceased. From other members of it, he met with an 
ungrateful requital for his labours of love. During the 
years of his residence at Worthington, his diary exhibits 
great humility of spirit ; and, while it was evident to 
all around hiui, that he lived a life of communion with 
God, he himself complains of " frowardness," '* pride," 
and ' * self-seeking." He frequen tly kept days of &sting 
and humiliation, and at the dose of one of these, he 
thus writes, " If sowing in tears be so sweet, what then 
will the harvest be, when I shall reap in joy ? Bless 
the Lord, O my soul, who forgiveth all thine iniquities, 
and >vill, in due time, heal all thy diseases. It is good 
for me to draw near to God. The oftener and the 
nearer the better. How sweet is heaven indeed, if 
heaven upon earth hath so much sweetness in it t ** 

Published by John Johnstonb, 9, Hunter Square, Bdinburgh ; 
J. R. Macnair. & Co., 19. GUMford Street, Glasgow ; Jambs Nisait 
& Co., Hamilton, Adams, & Co., and R. GaooMBRiDoi, London; 
W. CoKBT, Junior, & Co., Dublin; and W. M'Gomb, BelGut ; and 
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Parishes of ficotiand; and in the principal Towns in England and 

Sobioriben wfU hare thdr coffia dettvend at their BsiUknocs»- 






l.~Oo the R^ectloB of the Jewi. Part 1. By the Her. 
DaTid Fleming, A.M., Page 199 

2.— The Young Inquirer in Skye, 131 

l-Sieml Poetry. ** The Inllders Death-bed.*' By Rer. D. 
Amot. 133 

4.— Biographical Sketch. The Rer. Philip Henry. By the Au- 
thoress of the Sketch of*' Olympia Morata," &c. Part II., 0. 

6— ReUgioui Inttructioii In Early Childhood. By the 

Editor Page 13d 

&— A Diicoone. By tiM Rer. Jamec Bfigg, A.M 1S7 

7.— Home Ifissionaiy tketchee — 3. The Aged Veteran 140 

S.~Sacred Poetry. ** Maelstrom." By J. .iikman it, 

9.— The Last Martyrs of the Reformation in Scotland. By 
the Rev. Tbomaa M*Crie Ul 

Part I. 
Minister of Carriden, Linlitbgowihire. 

The position ^hich the Jews occupy in the pre- 
sent aspect of the world, as a people, is not a 
little striking. At all times, indeed, since their 
incorporation as a nation, the events of their his- 
tory haye been objects of the most intense and 
uniytrsal interest, as these h«¥e, in the arrange- 
ments sad evolutions of Divine Providence, been 
intimately interwoven with the highest destinies 
of the other kingdoms of the earth. But in the 
position which they hold at present in the relative 
difttribution of national blessings, there is some- 
thing peculiarly impressive and instructive. They 
stand precisely in the place which they themselves 
assigned U> the Gentiles of old, when the glory of 
their commonwealth flourished in its integrity, ^ 
and they rejoiced in the possession of all the bless- 
ings of their national covenants Then they were 
acknowledged as the peculiar people of God, whom 
he treated with special favour, and honoured with 
distinguishing mercies above all people that were 
upon the face of the earth ; while they repudiated, 
vilified, and reproached the other nations as aliens 
and outcasts, disowned of heaven, and shut out 
from all interest in the inheritance of the divine 
love. But now the scene is reversed. The Jews 
are the despised and rejected among the nations. 
The wrath has come upon them to the uttermost. 
Deposed from their high estate, and stripped of 
all their boasted privileges, — their civil polity ex- 
tinct, their temple erased from the face of the 
earth, and their country trodden down of strangers, 
•—they are scattered ^road throughout the world, 
as a corse, and an astonishment, and a hissing, and 
ar^ioach,— a proverb and a bye- word among the 

Nor is this signal reverse in the condition of the 
Jewish people to be regarded merely as one of the 
contingent casualties that happen in the revolutions 
of nations. It was the revealed purpose of the 
divine counsel from the ancient of days. It was 

No. 9. March 2, 1889 \\d,'] 

fore-ordained of God, and foretold in the records 
of inspiration ages before it became a subject fit to 
be engrossed in the record of history. Again and 
again the fearful doom that should overtake them 
in the latter days, was announced by their own 
accredited prophets, while as yet they stood high 
in the divine favour, and were full in the career of 
a growing prosperity. In the words of Moses, 
the distinguished leader and lawgiver of their in- 
fant tribes, the predicUon is thus recorded : << When 
thou shalt beget children and children's children^ 
and ye shall have remained long in the land, and 
shall corrupt yourselves, and make a graven image, 
or the likeness of any thing, and shall do evil in 
the sight of the Lord thy God> to provoke him to 
anger ; I call heaven and earth to witness against 
you this day, that ye shall soon utterly perish 
from off the land whereunto ye go over Jordan to 
possess it ; ye shall not prolong your days upon it, 
but shall utterly be destroyed. And the Lord 
shall scatter you among the nations, and ye shall 
be left few in number among the heathen, whither 
the Lord shall lead yon." Deut iv. 25. By Isaiah 
(vi. 9«) and Hosea (ix. 170 ^^^ ^ mention others 
of the intermediate prophetSy the same dread de- 
nunciation was repeated. And in the latter days 
of their commonwealth our Lord declared to them» 
at the conclusion of the parable of the rebellions 
husbandmen ; ^' Therefore I say unto yoo, The 
kingdom of God shall be taken from you, and given 
to a nation bringing forth the fruits thereof." 
Matt. xxi. 43. 

And why, it may be asked, this singular treat- 
ment of God's ancient people? What reasons 
shall we assign for the rejection of the Jews, their 
abandonment to the miserable infatuation of a 
headstrong infidelity, and their continued disper- 
sion among the nations of the world ? How shall 
we account for an event so strange, — a phenome- 
non so utterly unparalleled in the history of our 
[Second Sbbibs. Vol, L 



race ? Can it be a mere act of arbitrary power on 
the part of the Ajmijg^bt^i &a eyample pf premedi- 
tated reprpb^ition in whieb, §6 be d^li^hfed of old 
to bless the descendants of Israel with surpassing 
favour, so now it is his pleasure to visit them with 
a peculiar curse, dooming them to the helpless 
condition of an irrevocable exclusion, and leaving 
them the victims of irremediable' despair ? No, 
verily ; though the question should remain for ever 
an inexplicable mystery, we dare not think thus 
dishonourably of the character of Jehovah, or of 
the administration of his government. But the 
mystery has io part been unfoldad. The works 
and ways of God are ever in perfect consonance 
with the unity of his designs. As the original 
selection of the Jews to the highly favoured con- 
dition of God's peculiar people was intended, not 
for their own exclusive benefit, but for the benefit 
of the world at large, sa are we taught to regard 
their rejection as an event purposely designed to 
conduce to the same scheme of universal benevo* 
lence. Whatever other ends it may have been 
meant to subserve, this one, we are assured, formed 
a prominent object in the intentions of the divine 
mind-*it was intended to operate as a special in- 
strument in the hand of Providence in working 
out the gracious purposes of redeeming k)ve. 
** For I wonld not, brethren,'' says the apoetle, 
^ that ye should be ignorant of this mystery, (lest 
ye should be wise in your own conceits,) that 
blindness in part is happened to Israel, until the 
fulness of the Gentiles be come in." 

In prosecuting the subject, we ^all endeavour 
to enter a little more minutely into the considera- 
tion of the reasons that may be assigned for this 
signal dispensation of divine Providepce, the judi- 
cial blindness and rejection of the Jews ; and then 
point at the practical instruction which the fact is 
fitted to convey. 

In considering the reasons that may be as- 
signed in the arrangements of the divine govern- 
ment for the judicial blindness and rejection of the 
Jewish people, it is proper, at the outset, to pre- 
mise, as a necessary qualification of the subject 
under discussion, that the judgment of heaven with 
which they have been visited, is not to be under- 
stood as an absolute and universal decree of repro- 
bation, by which every individual of the race, 
without exception, is abandoned to a hopeless 
infidelity. No. There is no view of the subject 
against which the apostie contends more strenu- 
ously than this. He tells us plainly, in the lan- 
guage of the text, that it is only '< in part" that 
'< blindness is happened to Israel." Whatever 
may befal the greater part of the nation in conse- 
quence of the judgment of heaven, he shows, from 
a reference to the tenor of their former history, 
that '*a remnant should be" saved *< according to 
the election of grace." He holds himself up as a 
proof and an example of the fact, that all the pro- 
geny of Israd were not inevitably doomed to a 
state of hardened unbelief and incorrigible apostasy; 
and of this all the other apostles, and many of the 
early disciples, who were i^embers of the Jewish 

nation, afforded equal evidence. ** I say, then, 
h^th Qod cast away his people? God forbid. 
For I al^ am nn IsrseUte of the |ee4 <lf Abraham, 
of the tribe of Benjamin. God hath not cast 
away his people, whom he foreknew." Rom. xi. 
1, 2. And he distinctly intimates that the indi- 
viduals of his kindred, according to the flesh, were 
still fit objects, no less so indeed than the Gentiles, 
to whom the saving truths of the Gospel might be 
addressed, and who might, through faith in these 
truths, be the happy subjects of a saving conversion. 
"For the Scripture saith. Whosoever believeth 
on him shall not be ashsmed. For there is no 
difference between the Jew and the Greek ; for 
the same Lord over all is rich unto all that call 
upon him. For v|iosoever shall call upou the 
name of the Lord shall be savedf" Rom* x. 1 1-13. 
Bi|t while i( is true that a remnant, according 
to the election of grace, shall be saved, and there- 
fore that, even in their present state of dispersion, 
the Jews present an interesting field of labour to 
the efforts of Christian enterprise, it is no less 
true that the great majority of the nation have 
been eonsigned over to a state of judicial blind- 
ness and hardness of heart. And why is it that 
they are thus dealt with in the dispensations of 
Divine Providence ? In answer to this question, 
we nuy observe, 

L That God thus deals with them m the 
exercise of his supreme sovereignty* The only 
rule by which the manifestations of the divine 
gnc99 and the distributions of the divine mer- 
cy, are regulated, is God's own good will and 
pleasure. He has a right to do with his own as 
seemeth good io his sight. He may give or he 
may withhold, just as be pleaseth ; and when he 
has giren, he may again take away the gift be- 
stowed, and no one is entitled to challenge or 
gainsay his pleasure. When God, a( the first, 
adopted the children of Israel to be his peculiar 
people above all the nations of the earth, it was 
not from any intrinsic excellence, any peculiar 
merit in theip, that entitled them of right to so 
high a distinction, but his own free choice. This 
was again and again enforced upon their regards, 
by repeated declarations that they were solely and 
entirely indebted for the national honours which 
they enjoyed above others to the unmerited grace 
of God. << Because he loved thy fathers, there- 
fore he chose their seed after them, and brought 
thee ont in his sight with his mighty power out 
of Egypt ; to drive out nations from before tiiee, 
greater and mightier than thou art, to bring thee 
in, to give thee their lanjl for an inheritance, 
as it is this day " Deut. iv. 37» 38. And again, 
« Speak not thou in thine heart, after that the 
Loid thy God hath cast tliem out from before 
thee, saying. For my righteousness the Lord hath 
brought me in to possess this land ; but for tlie 
wickedness of these nations the Lord doth drive 
them out from before thee. Not for thy right- 
eousness, or for the uprightness of thine heart, dost 
thou go to possess their land; but for the wicked* 
ness of these nations the Lord tliy God doth driTe 



tbem OQt -from before tliee, and that be maj per-* 
form the word which the Lord sware unto thy 
fathers, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Understand, 
therefore, that the Liord thy God giveth thee no| 
this good land to possess it for thy righteousness } 
for thou art a stiff-necked people.** Deut* ix. 4-6t 
The adoption of the Jews to be God's peculiar 
people was thus altogether a matter of free and 
iirmerited favour ; and the privileges which he 
thus conferred on them of his own gracious con- 
descension and liberality, he had full power and 
authority to withdraw, whenever he should deem it 
fitting to do so. And this is one of the explanations 
which the apostle himself has given us of the trans- 
action under consideration, " Hath not the potter 
power over the clay, of the same lump to make one 
vessel unto honour, and another unto dishonour ? 
Therefore hath be mercy on whom he will have 
mercy, and whom he will he hapdeneth." Bom< 

II. God has been pleased to reject the Jews, 
because of their perverseness, and obstinacy in 
unbelief. Their present outcast and forlorn 
condition, is a rigbteons retribution inflicted 
on them on account of their unfaithfulnesa and 
rebellion. The terms of the covenant which 
God made ivith them as a nation, assured them 
of the ttnfiailing oontinuance of their privileges 
as hii peculiar people, if they, on their part, con- 
tinued to own his authority, aod to walk in obedi- 
ence to his commands ; but should they rebel and 
disobey, the blessing was to be exchanged into a 
cnrse-1-they were to be east off and forwken, dis- 
owned of God, and left desolate. Dent xxviii. 
1,8, 15, 63, 64, « And it shall come to pass, if 
thou shalt hearken diligently unto the voice of the 
Lord thy God, to observe and to do all his com- 
mandments which I command thee this day, that 
the Lord thy God will set thee on high above c^U 
nations of the earth : and he shall bless thee in 
the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee, But 
it shall come to pass, if thou wilt not hearken un- 
to the voice of the Lord thy God, to observe to 
do all his commandments and his statutes, which 
1 comnMind thee this day, that, as the Lord re- 
joiced over you to do you good, and to multiply 
you ; so the Lord will rejoice over you to destroy 
you, and to bring you to nought : and ye shall be 
plucked from off the land whither thou goest to 
possess it. And the Lord shall scatter thee among 
all people, from the one end of the earth even un- 
to the other* In conformity with these terms, 
the event was realized. After succ^ssiye ages of 
unnatural rebellion, when, as the crowning act in 
the measure of their iniquity, the Lord Jesus 
Christ, the Son of God, appeared among them as 
the Messiah promised to their fathers, arid was 
despised and rejected of them, their doom was thus 
pronounced : Matt, x^^iii. 37, 38 j *< p Jerusalem, 
Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets^ an4 
stonest them which are sent unto thee, how often 
would I have gathered thy children together, even 
M a hen gathereth her dnckens under her wing8» 
•od ye would not! Behold, your house ia left unto 

yoadesolater" And eo the epostle telle ue, that 
they who were " the natural," that if, the original 
branches of the olive tree, ^< were broken off be- 
cause of unbelief." It was not a mere act of sove- 
reignty, which of right appertained to God in deal- 
ing out his gratuitous unmerited blessings as he saw 
it meet — ^it was, moreover, an aot of penal judg- 
ment with which he visited them in righteousness, 
in depriving them of blessings which they had 
grossly abused, and fulEUing the terms of the co- 
venant which he. had made with them. The hus- 
bandman, in the parable, refused to render to the 
honseholder the fruits of his vineyard in their sea 
son, and becanae of this they were left to abide 
the vengeance of their ofiended Lord: and the 
Jews, because tbey stiffened the neck, and turned 
aside the head, and shut their eyes against the 
light of God's revealed word, were left to endure 
the misery of their own wilful blindness. God 
gave them the spirit of slnmbar—- eyes that they 
should not see, and eara that they should not hear. 
Their blindness was at once iheir sin, and the 
punishment inflicted on them because of their 


In the excellent series of tracts on Revivals which are 
in the course of publication at Glasgow, one has re- 
cently appeared, giving a very interesting account of 
the revival which occurred in Skye, between 1812 and 
1814. From this tract we have copied the following 
beautiful extract : — 

Many years ago, and long before any awakening took 
place in Skye, a young girl, of little more than childish 
years, residing in a glen which, during the I'erival, was 
distinguished by much pf divine power, beqtme deeply 
Impressed with tl^e idea that God was not in her native 
isle. At the same time, she was overcome by the feel- 
ing, that she must go in pursuit of him where he was to 
be found. She accordingly stole away from her parents, 
and travelled across the country to the usual outlet by 
the ferry to the mainland. As she proceeded, she nuide 
no secret of the errand on which she had departed, and 
as her relations had taken up the opinion that she had 
become unsound in her mind, little attempt was made 
to recal her. So soon &9 she was out of Skye, she be- 
gan to ask every passenger with whom she met, where 
she might iind God, for that he was not in her country. 
She called at houses too by the way, askipg direction in 
her uncommon inquiry. Pity and kind treatment mark- 
ed the conduct of all towards her. Her question excited 
surprise; but as her planner expressed siijcerity and 
deep eamestnesB, every one answered her soothingly, 
and as unwilling to interfef e with the hallucination un- 
der which they conceived she laboured. In this way 
she journeyed for days and weeks ; but, though disap- 
pointed in every application for the knowledge which 
she sought, she did not desist. At length she reached 
the town of Inverness— often beard o^ and which her 
youthful imagination had Iqng pictured the ecntre of all 
that was good and valuable, as well as great. The first 
person whom she there met, and to whpoi she made ap- 
plicatiouy was a pious lady addressed by her on the street. 
She stopped her, and said in Gialie t <* I am oome from 



Skye, where God is not — can you tell me where I shall 
find him ?" The lady was stmck, not more with the un- 
usual nature of the address, than the deep-toned earnest- 
ness and solemnity of her manner. Her first impression 
was that of all the others to whom the poor child had 
spoken by the way ; but she engaged in conversation with 
her, and became satisfied of her sanity. ** Come with 
me,*' at last she said, '* perhaps I can bring you to where 
you shall find Ood." She took her to her home. Next 
day was Sabbath. The wanderer accompanied her 
kind protector to the house of Ood. For the first time 
the Gospel was proclaimed in her hearing^t came *' in 
demonstration of the Spirit and of power" to her soul. 
She was an awakened sinner, and soon became a happy 
convert — ^lived for many years in the lady's family — 
never again returned to Skye— married and settled in 
the parish of Croy, near Inverness, and was one of the 
most eminent Christians of her day. She lived long, 
and was greatly distinguished for her devotedness and 
fervency as a follower of the Lamb. Often have the 
pious in Skye said to each other : '* Who can tell but 
the prayers of her who was led, by a way which she 
knew not, to the knowledge of the God of Abraham, 
may be receiving their answer in the great work which, 
in this dark place, He has been pleased to produce ?" 
And who can tell ? If the Lord prepares by his grace, 
those who plead with him— those who lay hold on his 
strength — will he not, in due time, answer them, and 
declare his faithfulness ? Often, doubtless, were this 
good woman's earnest supplications offered up for her 
native isle ; and if, though after a long time, the day- 
spring fiom on high did visit it, and the light which 
beams from Zion's hill, did shine into the vale where 
first she drew breath, who will say, but in granting this 
blessing, the Hearer of prayer had regard to her request, 
and fulfilled the word of his promise, that the seed of 
Jacob seek him not in vain. No one can estimate how 
great a blessing it is to have a friend-~a child of God, 
to pray for him : and no one can tell how valuable and 
important was the result, connected with the simple 
event now rekted, which separated an innocent indivi- 
dual from her country and kindred, that, fiir from her 
home, she might learn to pray to the living God, and 
that a long life might be passed in seeking Lght for 
those who sat in darkness, and times of refreshing for 
those who were perishing in a dry and barren wilderness. 

THE infidel's DEATH-BED. 

" Then miut It be an awAil thing to die.'*~BLAiR. 

ObI *tis an awful thing to die 1 

To die, and meet an angry God, 

Whose Word we in the dust have trode ; 
A Saviour, whom we have passed by ! 
Rack'd on the fearful wheel of dread. 
The thorns of guilt beneath our head,— 

It is an awful thing to die I 
Past deeds upon our memVy staring ; 
Remorse, like fiery serpent^ rearing 
Its boming crest, to madness stinging ; 
And wasted gracious moments wringing 

The blood-drops from our memory, 

It is an awfiil thing to die I 

Who would not rather live in pain ? 
Who would not with his misery cope. 
And struggle with his woes, while hope 

Still sung, though fiunt her syren strain ; 

Than die, and go — ^we know not whei^— 
Perchance to realms where stern despair 

Shall ne'er unlock his chains again ? 
Better to bear the farewell parting ; 
Better to bear our friends' deserting ; 
Better to be in darkness pining. 
While all around is sweetly shim'ng. 

Than on a couch of death to lie-^ 

Oh, 'tis an awful thing to die 1 

The priest spake comfort to my soul ; 

He said '* the worst might be forgiven ; 

The guiltiest find the path to heaven. 
Their names be writ in mercy's roU." 
He little knows it is too late ; 
He little knows the outcast's fate, 

That cries and tears may not control. 
The good man's prayers can nought avail me. 
When fiends invisible assail me. 
No heaven for me I vain, vain the offer ; 
Hell is my portion. I must suffer. 

And suiSer through eternity, — 

My brain, my brain 1 Oh God, I die ! 

D. Arnot. 



By the Avthoren qf the Sketch itf •* Olympm Mentta," fe. 

Part II. 

Having considered Mr Henry's character as a Christian 
minister, let us now view him in the retirement of 
domestic lifis. Here, in every social rektion, he abnn- 
dantly verified the apostle's portraiture of a &ithful 

bishop, — ** one that ruleth well his own house," ** an 

example of the unbelievecs, in word, in conversation, 
in charity, in spirit, in faith, in purity." In April 1660 
he married Katharine, the only daughter and heiress of 
Mr Matthews of Broad Oak in Flintshire. Her &ther 
was at first opposed to the marriage ; but, being soon 
won over by Mr Henry's meekness and prudence in 
the matter, he gave his free consent, and settled upon 
them, during his life, part of hb estete, the whole of 
which became theirs at his death. It is related of Miss 
Matthews that some of her friends having urged against 
Mr Henry that, ** although he was a gentleman, and a 
scholar, and an excellent preacher, he was quite a stran- 
ger, and they did not even know where he came from ; " 
" True," she replied, " but I know where he is going, 
and I should like to go with him." This union was 
crowned with much mutual happiness, and Mr Henry 
took every opportunity of expressing his great thank- 
fuhiess to God for such a blessing. Of his children, 
(two sons and four daughters,) the eldest son died in 
childhood, and he lived to see the others, not only com- 
fortably settled with regard to this world, but living as 
heirs of the kingdom of heaven. His son Matthew, 
who writes hb biography, was the well known author 
of the commentary on the Bible. 

Having solemnly vowed at his ordination that he and 
his house should serve the Lord, he was careful to per- 
form what he had promised. By prayer with and for 
his children, by giving them " line upon line and pre- 
cept upon precept," by diligently teaching them the 
words of life, by talking of them when they sat in the 
house and by the way-side, when they lay down and 
when they rose up, and still more by the persuasive 
force of hii own bright example, he taught them to ** seek 



first tbe kiogdom of God and his righteouiiieM.'' He 
had a very high idea of the tacredneas of the haptimial 
engBgemenU upon believing parents, and of the neces- 
sitj of pressing upon the hearts of the children them- 
selves, the obligations under which they had been 
laid, by having been made partahers of that holy sacra- 
ment. He was aoeordingly csieful to instruct his own &- 
mily in its nature, as soon as they were capable of under- 
standing it, telling them their privileges as '* baptised 
children, bom in God's house," given to Him, and there- 
fore bound to be His for ever. We have remarked that 
those parents who have been the most successful in 
bringing up their children in *' the nurture and admoni- 
tion of the Lord," have usually been the most faithful 
and affectionate in addressing them, not as aliens from 
the flock of Christ, but as those who had been given to 
him as the lambs of his Ibid, snd who are therefore 
bound, by the scdemn vow of their sponsors, to make 
themsdves his by a voluntary surrender. Baptism, it 
is true, is but an outward visible sign, but, if believing 
parents impart it to their little ones, in the spirit of 
^th, they ought to expect and to wait for the bestow- 
naent of the inward spiritual grace ; and while they tell 
them that they, as well as others, need to be renewed 
and sanctified, they ought to address them also as the 
children of prayer and the subjects of promise. 

In the arrangement of his fkmily worship, BIr Henry 
vras anxious that the time and manner of it should be 
audi as that every member of his house should, if pos- 
nble, be present, and should jmn in the exercise with 
the spirit and with the understanding. He enjomed 
his children to write his expositions of Scripture, and 
required them afterwards to give him a fiuniliar account 
of what had been expounded. In fiunily prayer, he 
vras not only most comprehensive in prayer and thanks* 
givings for family wants and mercies, and in the con- 
fession of femOy sins, but he was very psrticular in his 
petitions for every member of his household individually, 
thus bringing before each one of them his or her interest 
in God's covenant. He himself approached the throne 
of grace in the spirit of a child coming to his fiither, 
with all his wants and desires, and he was anxious to 
bring them thither also, in the same attitude of childlike 
confidence. Every servant, every sojourner in his 
family, was borne on his heart before God, and the 
manner and import of his requests for them all were 
formed according to their various characters and drcum* 
stances. His frequent prayer was, " That we might 
have grace to carry it as a minister, and a minister's 
wife, and a minister's children, and a minister's servants, 
ought to carry it, ' that the ministry might in nothix^ 
be bhimed."* Nor did he forget to plead for the peace 
of Jerusalem. " He maintained that supplication must 
be made for sll saints ; for those you do not know, as 
well as for those you do know, — for those that differ 
from you, as well as for those with whom you agree, — 
for those who are in prosperity, as well as adversity. 
For all SauUs, because all are alike related to Jesus 
Christ, because all are alike related to you as follow- 
members, and it will be an evidence that you love them 
as brethren, when you love them all and pray for them 

Soon after the restoration of Charles IL great changes 
were introduced into the religious government of the 
GhorGh. By the act of uniformity, all derg^mep tbroogh- 

out the United Kingdom were obliged either to conform 
to the rites and ceremonies of Episcopacy, or to resign 
their charges. Mr Henry felt it bis duty to choose 
the latter alternative; but, as some time elapsed before 
the law was promulgated or enforced, he continued from 
Sabbath to Sabbath to preach to his people, as if every 
meeting were the kst that they should enjoy together* 
For some time previous to his dismissal from Worthen- 
bury, his annuity was withheld by the Emeral fomily, 
because he did not read the form of common-prayer, 
even before there was any hiw for reading it. Some of 
his friends advised him to enter an action against Mr 
Puleston for the recovery of his rights ; but, some time 
after, he himself solicited Mr Puleston to refer it, "hav- 
ing learnt," he said, '* that it is no disparagement, but 
an honour, for the wronged party to be first in seeking 
reconciliation." At length, in the year 1661, a dispute 
having arisen between Mr Puleston and Dr Bridgman 
about the tithe of Worthenbury, they agreed that Dr 
Bridgman should, before the 1st of November follow- 
ing, " avoid and discharge the present minister, Philip 
Henry, from the chapel of Worthenbury, and not here- 
after, at any time, re-admit the said Philip Henry to 
officiate in the said cure, and that, upon this condition, 
Dr Bridgman and his successors should henceforth have 
a right to the tithe. Accordingly, on the 27th of 
October following, notice was given of that dismission, 
and on that same day he preached his five well sermon, and 
never again addressed his people at Worthenbury. He 
was solicited to preach elsewhere immediately, but to 
this he would not consent, being afraid of discouraging 
his successor by drawing away the people from him. 
Others of his friends wuhed Um to revive his interest 
at court, and it was even said that the Duke of York 
had inquired for him ; but to these persuasions he gave 
no heed, saying, " My friends do not know, so well as 
I, the strength of temptation, and my own inability to 
deal with it, ' Lord, lead me not into temptation I ' *' 
At Michaelmas 1662 he entirely lefb Worthenbury, and 
went with his fomily to reside at Broad Oak, where he 
continued till his death, with the exception of an inter- 
val in the year 1667, when he was compelled, by the 
persecution of his adversaries, to remove for a time to 
Whitchurch. At Broad Oak he continued, for the 
space of thirty-four years, accordingly as duty called 
him, to labour or to suffer in the cause of the Gospel. 
For the greater part of this time, he thought it his duty 
to attend every Sabbath at Whitewell Chapel with his 
fiunily, except when there was no public worship there, 
in wUch esse be preached in his own house to his fimiily, 
and such a limited number of his neighbours as might 
derive benefit from his nunistrations without infringing 
upon the law against conventicles. In 1672 some in- 
dulgence was granted to the nonconformists ; and Mr 
Henry received license to preach in his own house and 
dsewhere. Even then, he was unwilling to interfere 
with the ministrations of the parish clergyman, but con- 
tinued to attend at Whitewell Chapel, preaching at 
home only in the evening, or on those Sabbaths when 
there was no divine service in the parish church. At a 
subsequent period, he found it expedient, for the benefit 
of those who heard him, to be more regular in assem- 
bling both morning and evening on the Lord's Day ; 
hot neither then nor afterwards would he ever consoit 
to reoeiva «n^ remuneration for his labours at Qroad 



Oak I tnd tadonilf m be wrooght for the ifdrilcitl 
benefit of hu bearen, be never would permit tbeih to 
eall bim peetor. He would tBji ** Tbat be looked ufMHi 
bis fiunil/ only ae bb cbaife^ and bii preaebitig to otbers 
wai but accidental, whom, if they came, be would no 
more turn aWay than be could a poor bungry quui, tbat 
should come to bis door for an alms* And, being a 
minister of Jesus Christ, be thought himself bound to 
preach the Gospel as be bad opportunity/' He often 
said, *' that be looked upon Umself but as an asaistant 
to the parish minister, in promoting the common in- 
terests of Christ's kingdom, and the common saltration 
of precious souls, by tbe explication of those greiftt 
truths wherein we are all agreed." '.Wherever he 
preached be usually prayed for a blearing on the parish 
minister and upon his ministry. He often said, how 
well pleated be was when, after be bad preached a 
lecture at Osiitrestry, be wtot to visit tbe minister of tbe 
plara, Mr Bdwards, a worthy man, and told him ** be 
bad been sowing a handful of seed among his people,*' 
and had this answer, *' That's well, tbe Lord prosper 
your seed and mine too, there is need enough of us both." 

The liberty of indulgehoe was continued about three 
years, but was then withdrawn. After the interval of 
a year or two« another gleam of liberty was granted, 
imtil tbe year 1687f when the nonconforming clergy 
were again bdd under restraint. During this period, 
Mr Henry was more than once summoned, and even 
imprisoned, upon ^barges which, boweter, bis enemies 
could not substantiate. Under these trials of patience, 
bis babitual meekness and quietness of spirit did not 
give way» When in prisod in 168S, he thus writes to 
bis wift t-^ 

•• I continue very well at preseht, tbanks be to God; 
and feel nothing yet of the inconteniences of a prison. 
We are better accommodated, as I acquainted yoti in 
my last, than we could bave expected, tbougb we mlisi 
pay for it. Just now, six ministers, nonconformists, 
are brought in bitber from Lancashire, more than before, 
so we are far from enlargement. But our times are in 
God's bands, who hath sent us bither, t am coniident, 
for good, though bo\V, or wbicb way, or wherein, I 
know not i but * He is fbitbful, who hatb promiaed.' 
My chamber-fellows and I difiitr something in our ap- 
prehensions of things past, wbicb will not be beiped $ 
but for tbe ' unseen things' tbat are to come, tbat are 
eternal, we are all one." 

Again, in speaking to his fiunily afterwards, be tbiU 
recounts tbe mercies o^ bis imprisonment i«« 

'* Tbat it was for no cause } it is guilt tbat makes a 
prison : That it was bis security in a dangerous time : 
Tbat he bad good company in bis sufferings, who prayed 
together, and discoursed to their mutual edification t 
That he had health there ; not ' Sick and in prison : * 
Tbat be Was tislted, and prayed for, by bis fHendd : 
Tbat be waa very cbeerAil and easy in bis spirit ; many 
a time asleep, and qidet, when hie adversaries were dis- 
turbed, and unquiet: That bis enlargement was sfoeedy 
and unsought for ; and that it gave occasion to tbe tea*> 
ffistrates who committed him, to give it under tbeir 
bands, tbat they bad nothing in particular to ky to his 
charge: and, especially, that it was without a snare, 
which was tbe thing tbat be feared more than any thing 

In the same spirit be barboured no feeling of 
resentment against bis adversaries in this matter : 
fcr, in tbe reign of James the Second of England, 
Irbcn commissioners were sent throoghout the country,' 

to inqirfra afttr the trouble tbal diMenoN bad 
sustained by tbe penal biws, and tbey sent to Mr 
Henry to bive an aceount of bk sufferings, be re- 
turned answer, by letter, tbat be had indeed suffered 
bi various ways aeversl yeurs before ; yet declined to 
give any particular iiifonaation eoneembig the matter, 
having, as be wrote to the commistioners, " long sbice 
from bis heart forgiven idl tiie agents^ Instruments, and 
occasions of it, and baving purposed never to say any 
more about it." 

His well known moderation, and meekness, and sub- 
mission, however, procured bim more indulgence than 
was grfented to many others of bis brethren ; and dur- 
ing the years to which we bave referred, he continned 
to preach for the greater part of tbe time undisturbed 
in his own bouse, *' no man making bim afraid.** 

The quietness of Ms own s|yirit, during this period of 
bis life, Was freely communicated, for the encourage- 
ment of otbers, of which we have many proofs in bis 
letters. "The following is an extract from one written 
to a friend under anxietv of mind : — 

** Ood, if it be Ms will| pretent your fear aboat it ! 
Uncertainty is written upon all things here below; but 
there is an unchangeable happiness laid up i«r na in 
tbe other world, and that may be made sure. Your 
acknowledging God in it as in all your affairs, I cannot 
but rejoice in, as an evidence of the uprigbtDess of your 
heart towards bim. tt Is the life and soul of all reli- 
gion. It is, indeed, to walk with God ; and includes 
as much aa any other Scripture commands, in so f^w 
words: 'In all tky ways acknowledge Mm, and be 
shall direct thy paths.' In every thing tbou dost« bave 
an eye to Him ; make his word and will tby rule ; bis 
glory thy end ; fetcb strength from biin ; expect suc- 
cess from bim ; and in all events that happen, which are 
our ways too, wbether tbey be for us or against us, he 
is to be acknowledged, that is, adored ; if prosperous, 
witb thankfulness ; if otherwise, with submission t as 
Job, ' Tbe Lord hath given, and the Lord bath taken 
away, and blessed be the name of the Lord,' This is 
io ' set the Lord always before ds ; ' to bave our eyes 
ever toward bim. Where this is not, we are, so far, 
* withoiTt God in tbe World.* 

In 1681, there took place a public discussion at Os- 
westry between .Dr John Loyd, then Bishop of St. 
Asapb, and several nonconformist clergymen, of wbom 
Mr Henry was one. That learned prelate, in his zeal 
for tbe enlargement of the Established Church, was 
desirous to win over the dissenters by the power ot 
argument ; and, for this purpose, proposed a discussion 
upon the subject in dispute between them. This con- 
troversy, like most others of tbat nature, ended in tbe 
conviction of neither party ; but so conspicuous was 
Mr Henry's meekness, moderation, and humilixy through- 
out the whole matter, that they obtained for him tbe 
gratitude of bis own friends, and the cordial esteem oi 
those from whom be differed. Tbe bishop expressed 
great satisfaction in bis conference with Mr Henry, and 
earnestly desired further intercourse with bim, if per- 
chance he might be able to perSuade one so cbristian- 
i2ed in his spirit, and so calculated to promote tbe in- 
terests of godliness, to return into tbe bosom of the 
Church : and, from this time, they continued to asso- 
date with evety mark of mutual friendship and es- 

During the last nine years of his life, Mr Henry enjoyed 
undistdrbed liberty and enlargement ; and until tbe day 
when be was summoned to join tbe Church triumphaati 



he eonrlfta^d to ttbouf imweariAAy in liii MitUr'i 

During this interril, lie Wtts still freqtietit iii Ills at- 
tendance at Wliit«we11 Chattel ; thereby exposing his 
condoct to the atiimadrersions of two ^flbrent classes 
of people. Thus he notes in his D'lhtj :~^ 

" One nde told him, he was the author of all the 
mischief in the country, in drawing people from the 
Church ; tod the other side told him, he was the author 
of all the mlsduef. In drawing people to the Charch. 
And which of these," saith he, " shall I seek to please t 
Lord, neither; but thyself alone, and my own eon« 
science : and while I cati do that, 1 have enough.*' 

On one occasion, when ho returned from hearing a 
bitter aermott against the dissenters, that had been 
preachod by the curato on the Lord's day momii^, and 
Mme of Ilia frienda wondered that he would go again in 
the afternoon for the Second part, he repUed, *' Bat if 
he do not know his duty, I know mine s and I bleaa 
God I oMi find honey in a carcass." 

At another time, when mueh had been said in the 
sftemooD sennon at Whitewell, to prove the dissencets 
in a damnable state, with many keen reflections upon 
them ae aeUsmaCiiss, he thus began his evening discourse 
at his own faonse u^** Perhaps Some of you may expect 
now thnt 1 ehall say something in answer to what we 
bare hoafd, by which we have been so severely charged, 
but truly I hare sottMthdig else to do." " And so, 
without any fiirther notice of it," says his biogrilpher, 
'* he went on to preaeh ' Jesus Christ, and him crud* 
fied.'" He used to remark, that there was no more 
effectual aatidota against errOr, '* than the instrueting 
and oonfinning of people in the tmth, ' asit is in Jesus/ " 
How &ithfdlLy he declared that truth in all its aimf^lii. 
city, bis letters and sermons show. He thus describes 
the miserable conditioti of thOae who are without 
Christ: — 

** They are children without a father, orphans i sheep 
without a ahepherd, none to lead themi to feed them, 
to guard them t they are In the dark, and no sun to 
enlighten them. They are in a friendless condition ; 
Christ is their enemy; they are under a debt, and have 
no surety ; they are in the midst of enemies, and have 
00 Saviour ; they have a cause to plead, but have no 
sdvocate ; they are sinners, but have no prophet, priest, 
or Idng, to appear for them. They are out of the way, 
for * Christ is the oidy wayi' they are mortally dis- 
eased, but have no physician ; they are naked, and have 
no clothing, for Christ's righteousness is the ool^ 
clothing ; they are foodless, breadless, for he only is 
bread to the Soul ; they are without wisdom, and there- 
fore fools : so a Christless condition is a miserable con- 

But sUhongh he thought that the preaching of Christ 
crucified was the best antidote that he could oppose to 
the error and UliberaHty that prevailed around him, he 
sometimes found It necessary to give his more direct 
testitnony against them. One of the Parish ministers 
having, in &e pretence of BIr fienfy and his Ihmily, 
earnestly cautioned his people not to go to conventicles, 
and assigning as a reason for his adWce, " That they 
were baptized Into the Church of England," Mr Henry 
took the first opportunity of baptiring a child in pub^ 
lie; and desired the congregation to bear witness, 
*' That he did not baptize that child into the Church 
of Eugland, nor into the Church of Scotland, nor into 
the Churdi of th« "Dissenters, nor into the Church at 

Brood Odk, but into the Visible Catholic Cbuf ch of 
Jcstfs Christ." 

During the last few years of his li^ he and his bffec« 
tionate partner were again leffc alone. All his dhildfen 
were married in the course of the years 1667 abd 1068, 
and all not only with his fttU consent, but to his abun.' 
dant comfort and satisfaction. In referexioe to the mar^ 
riage of his last daughter he thus writes:^— 

"*We have sent her away, not as Laban said he 
would have sent his daughter away, * with mirth, and 
With songs, and with tabret, and with harp,' but with 
prayers, and tears, and hearty good wishes. And 
now, we are alone again, as we were in oiir beginning. 
God he better to us than twenty children I The 
Lord, I trust, that has brought us thus far, will enable 
us to i)nish well ; and then all will be well, and not 
till then." 

In the course of eight years he had twenty«fo«ir 
gratid-chiidren born. On the birth of one of them, he 
thus writes : *' I have seen my ' children's diildren : ' 
let me see * peace upon Israel,' and then I will say, 
* Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace."* 
And the time of his departure was indeed drawmg nigh. 
Each day of his Icfe had been a preparatbn for that 
great change ; and when the summons came, it found 
him at his post, and ready to be called. 

To show the feelings wifh which he contemplated 
death, we subjoin an extract fl-om a letter to his son, 
which will bring our readers, as it were, individually 
into communion with his spirit at the dosiug scene t— : 

*' See your need of Christ more and more, and live 
upon him ; no life like it, so sweet, so safe. We can« 
not be discharged from the guilt of any evil we do, 
without hie merit to satisfy ; we cannot move in the 
performance of any good required, without his Spirit 
and grace to assist and enable for it ; and when we 
have done all, that all is nothing without his mediation 
and intercession to make it acceptable : so that, every 
day, in every thing, he is ■ all in alL' Though you are 
at a distance from us now, we rejoice in the good hope 
we have, through grace, of meeting again in the * land 
of the living,' that is, on earth, if God see good ; how* 
ever, in heaven, wbicli is the true land of the truly 
living, and is best of all. The Lord God everlasting 
be your * sun and shield' in all your ways. See time 
hastitig apace towards eternity, and the Judge even at 
the door, and work accordingly; wherever yOu are, 
alone of. in company, be always doing or getting good, 
'sowing or reaping.' As for me, I midte no other 
reckoning, but thai the time of my departure is at 
hand ; and what trouble I may meet with before, I 
know not : the will of the Lord be done. One of my 
chief cares is, that no iniquity of mine may be laid up 
for vou; which God grant for his mercy's sake, in 
Chnst Jesus. Amen." 

On the Lord's day, June 21, 1696, he went through 
the work of the day with his usual vigour and liveli- 
ness I and, on the Tuesday following, he rose at six 
o'clock in wonted health, but he was never again to 
awaken upon the rising of an earthly sun. The days 
of his mourning were ended ; and ere the morrow's 
dawn, he was to stand before the throne with the in- 
numerable multitude, upon whom the " glory of God 
and of the Lamb" shsll shed light and blessedness for 
ever and ever. Immedhitely after Ihmily worship that 
mm-ning, he retired to his chamber, and was found 
soon after upon his bed in great extremity of pain. The 
means that had been Used in former illnesses gave him 
no relkf at this time. He had not the least iiit«rmis;r 



sion of pain till he breathed hie last. When the agony 
which he endured forced groang and complainta from 
him, he would presently correct himself with a patient 
and quiet submission to the band of his heavenly Fa- 
ther, and a cheerful aequiescence in his heavenly will 
*< I am ashamed/' said he, *' of these groans ; I want 
rirtue ; O for virtue when I have need of it ! Forgive 
me that I groan thus ; but indeed my stroke is heavier 
t bftw my groaning/* He would not permit his son or 
the doctor to be sent for to Chester till two or three 
hours after he had been taken ill, saying, he would 
either be gone or better before they could arrive ; but 
at length he gave bis consent, and about eight o'clock 
that evening they came. When bis son entered his 
room, he said to him, ** Oh I son, you are welcome to 
a dying father. ' I am now ready to be offered, and 
the time of my departure is at hand.'" To some of 
hu neighbours, who came in to see him, he iaid, " Oh ! 
make sure work for your souls ; by getting an interest 
in Cbrist while you are in health, for if I had that 
work to do now, what would become of me? But I 
bless God I am satisfied." Towards ten or eleven 
o'clock that night his pulse and sight began to fail. 
He took an affectionate leave of his dear wife, 
with a thousand thanks for all her love» and care, and 
tenderness, left a blessing for all his dear children, and 
their partners, and their little ones that were ab- 
sent. He said to his son, who sat by his bedside, 
« Son, the Lord bless you, and grant that you may do 
worthily in your generation, and be more serviceable to 
the Church than I have been." And when his son 
replied, " Oh I Sir, pray that I may but tread in your 
steps," he answered, " Yea, follow peace and holiness, 
and let them say what they will." One of the hist 
words he said before he departed were, ** O death, 

where is thy ? " — but he could express no more, 

and in a few minutes, after about sixteen hours' illness, 
he quietly yielded his spirit into the hands of his Re- 
deemer, in the sixty-fifth year of his age, and the forty- 
third of his ministry. 

We have now followed this servant of God from 
infimcy to manhood, and from manhood to old age. We 
have watched the progress of his spiritual life, as he 
went on from strength to strength, overcoming the 
world, the flesh, and the devil, until at length he 
triumphed over the last enemy. We can picture to 
ourselves the joy with which, released from suffering 
such as his, his spirit would escape from its frail tene- 
ment, and we can almost follow him, as he enters the 
new Jerusalem, and tunes his harp to sing the song of 
the multitude around the throne, ** Thou hast redeemed 
ns by thy blood." 

By the Editor. 

Ths obligation whidi lies upon parents to train up their 
children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord is 
readily admitted by every true Christian. But, how- 
ever deeply the responsibility u felt, it is often difficult 
to devise the system of instruction which shall be best 
adapted for the accomplishment of an ol^ect so desirable. 
And the difficulty is iUt to be all the greater, the 
younger the children are. Thus it too often happens 

that the earliest years of the child, and those, therefore, 
in which the heart is most easily reached and most 
deeply and lastingly impressed, are permitted to pass 
away without the communication of religious know- 
ledge, or the infusion of religious principles. Nor U 
this culpable neglect to be charged only upon the igno- 
rant and unrenewed. They have never themselves 
experienced tbe value of re%ion, and it is scarcely to 
be expected that they should be ardently desirous for 
the religious welfare of their children. But even in 
Christian households, where the Word of God is hehl 
in the highest estimation, tbe younger branches of the 
&mily are, in too many instances, permitted to pass 
several years of their early childhood without the 
slightest effort being made to impress the heart with the 
awful realities of God, the soul, and eternity. Should the 
friendly remonstrance be offered, the reply starts readily 
to the lips, " Ah 1 Sir, these children are too young to 
learn any thing." Too young 1 They are not too yoting 
to learn many things of which tbe unthinking parents are 
little aware. The melancholy truth is, that all tbe while 
these very duldren, though only, perhaps, two or three 
years of age, are busily engaged in hiying in a stock of 
knowledge, and imbibing a mass of principles, which go 
to form the elements of the future character. It wa» a 
fine thought, equally consistent with fiu:t and philosophy, 
which drew from the poet the striking expression, 
** The child is fkther to the man." 

It is from the habits, and principles, and dispositions, 
of childhood, that the whole aspect of our future history 
takes its origin. '* Men are but children of a larger 
growth." As tbey were in their early days, so in tbe 
great essentials of character do they continue to extreme 
old age. Hence the high importance which ought ever 
to attach to the instruction and the training- of even 
'* the puling infant in its nurse's arms.*' 

It is not many years since the truths now hinted nt 
have been recognized and, to some extent, acted upon. 
Infant schools have been brought into operation, and in 
this way attempts the most laudable have been made to 
develope and direct the faculties of the infimt mind. 
And it is still farther a pleasing cbaracterisdc of tbe 
system of infimt tuition which most generally prevaiU, 
that it is based upon religion. All this is gratifying to 
the Christian philantbrdpist ; it augurs well for the 
generations which are yet to come. The object of our 
present paper, however, is not to treat of the systems 
adopted in infant schools, but to speak of the system 
which is adopted in Christian fiunilies. It is with the 
latter alone we are now engaged, and we are dissatisfied 
with it, not because of what it is, but because of what 
it is not. It partakes too much of the character of a 
non-interference system, leaving the child to spend some 
of its most precious years without the shghtest attempt 
to convey to the mind those truths which can alone 
make wise unto salvation. A few good advices are, 
perhaps, from time to time gravely administered ; a few 
of the more flagrant outbreakings of the corrupt nature 
are reproved, but seldom does the Christian parent re- 
sort to a systematic pbm of conveying such instruction 
drawn from the Bible, as, by help of God, would most 
effectually subdue the evil tendencies of the heart, and 
would rear up the child in an intimate knowled^ of 
Divine truth. 

The attention of the writer ^^'as drawn to this sulw 



ject of Ute by the pernsal of some valuable remarks on 
it in a Christian periodical, issued by the Protestant 
Churph in France. Tbe simple and unostentatious 
manner in which the anonymous author of the article 
referred to states the system which he was led to adopt 
with hb own children, has induced us to call the atten- 
tion of our readers to it, as suggesting, perhaps, some 
hints which, by the Divine blessing, may be useful. 

'* I had two children," he says, ** the one three years, 
the other some months less than two years of age, when 
I began to institute a special religious service for them. 
Every morning I took them on my knees, and related 
to them the histories of the Bible in regular order, be- 
^nning with those of the Old Testament ; on the Sab- 
bath, I chose my subjects from the New Testament. 
I did not take the Bible in my hand, but I read it be- 
fore-hand, and I found most frequently that I had only 
to imitate its language to bring my narratives within 
the reach of my little hearers. I added a remark or 
two by way of application, suggested by the narrative. 
Then I selected a very short and simple passage of 
Scripture corresponding to the subject I had been ex- 
plaining, and I taught them to repeat it. A very short 
prayer closed the exercise. The s&rvice, in all its parts, 
extended at farthest to a quarter of an hour in length. 
My servants attended, and took an interest in it. A 
respectable minister who paid me a visit two or three 
months after I had commenced this short service with 
my children, advised me to omit giving passages of 
Scripture to be repeated, as he was afraid that this task 
would render the whole exercise irksome to my little 
pupils. I followed his advice ; but my children soon 
began to complain that I was giving them no passages 
to repeat, and, accordingly, I returned with pleasure to 
my first plan. My earliest attempts to convey religious 
instruction, at an age so peculiarly tender, were, as may 
easily be conceived, by no means encouraging. The 
children understood my explanations very imperfectly, 
but their progress was more rapid than I myself ex- 
pected. In a few months the eldest was quite capable 
of profiting by the service, and the younger followed 
soon after. 

** On this plan I went over a complete course of Bible 
hiatory, confining myself to the historical narratives, as 
the most interesting and the most useful to the young. 
I omitted a great part of Exodus, almost the whole of 
Levidcus, &c I traced the history in the Books of 
Kings, adding occasionally some narratives from the 
Books of Chronicles, by way of supplement. From the 
i^k of Job I took five or six lessons. I passed over 
tiie Psalms and the writings of Solomon, and selected 
fr^vn the Prophets, especially from Jeremiah, such 
pieces as were strictly historical. When I reached the 
New Testament, I traced the history of Christ as given 
by Luke, and the history of the Apostles as contained 
in the Acts. Here my first course terminated. Every 
day I pointed out upon a chart, 1st. The portion of 
Scripture from which I had drawn my narrative. 2d. 
The title of the narrative. 3d. The passage of Scrip- 
ture to be repeated. As an example, I may select the 
lesson drawn from the second chapterof Genesis, which 
I thus described : * Gen. ii. 1-^,— -The Day of Rest,— 
Exodus XX. 8.' 

** ThiB course lasted three years, with occasional in- 
terruptions ; and besides, whenever there happened any 
event more than usually interesting, I made it the sub- 
ject of my narrative instead of continuing the Bible 
history. In this way 1 varied my instructions, at the 
same time teaching my children to profit by passing 
events. Opportunites of this kind of course frequently 
occurred, and I readily availed myself of them." 

Such was the mmple and effective manner in which 
this excellent man succeeded in imparting a knowledge 

of the Scriptures to his children, at an age so tender 
that multitudes, even of professedly Christian parents, 
despair of being able to communicate any religious 
knowledge whatever. It is well, however, to avail 
ourselves of the first dawnings of intelligence, to occupy 
the earliest thoughts of the young immortal with those 
truths which are of the highest interest, of paramount 
importance. They cannot be conveyed to him in an 
abstract form, but by plain and simple narratives they 
may, by God's blessing, reach both his understanding 
and his heart. Let a plan siroihur to the above be fol- 
lowed, with earnest prayer to Him who alone can give 
efficacy to any system of education, and the result will 
be alike useful to the child, gratifying to the parent, 
and honouring to God. 



By the Rev. Jambs Begg, A.M., 

Minister of Liberton, 

** And he spiike this parable unto certain which trusted 
in themselves that they were righteous, and des- 
pised others : Two men went up into the temple to 
pray ; the one a Pharisee, and the other a publican," 
&c. — Luke xviii. 9-15. 

The word parable generally signifies a similitude 
or species of comparison. Yet it is indiscrimi- 
nately applied in the Word of God to figures of ya- 
rious kinds, and is even used, in some cases, where 
no figure at all is employed. An instance of this 
latter use of it is to be found in the parable we 
are about to consider. There is here properly no 
figure — ^no similitude — there is merely an example 
or instance, for the purpose of illustrating and 
enforcing an important truth, of the deepest in- 
terest to all the children of men. 

This parable was spoken, we are told, for the 
instruction of certain « who trusted in themselves 
that they were righteous." It is scarcely neces- 
sary to say that these individuals were the Phari- 
sees, whom the Apostle Paul affirms to have been 
the " straitest," or most religions sect amongst 
the Jews, and one of whom is the prominent 
character here introduced. The Pharisees were 
distinguished by the sanctity of their appearance, 
by an extraordinary profession of zeal for the ho- 
nour of God, and by the scrupulous exactness 
with which they adhered to the forms and cere- 
monies of the Mosaic law. They spent much of 
their time in the exercises of religion, practising 
many austerities, fasting often, and making long 
prayers, standing in tbe synagogues and comers 
of the streets. Besides, they were exceeding 
zealous for the traditions of the elders, and in 
obedience to them, they observed many washings, 
and shunned with cautious anxiety every external 
impurity. And, above all, they gave liberally of 
their substance to support the divine woi'ship: 
they built the tombs of the prophets, and gar- 
nished the sepulchres of the righteous. 

Professing sach extraordinary sanctity, and 
giving so many marks of regard for tbe honour 
of God, we need scarcely wonder that their coon* 



trymen regBrded them with a snperttitions terer* 
ence, gave them the chief le&tfi in the sjnagognes, 
and the uppermost rooms at feasts, as the saints 
of the Most High, the excellent ones of the 
earth. •* Many things," hoirever, says out Savioor, 
<* highly esteemed among men, are an abomina* 
tion in the sight of God." It is perfectly possible 
by otir words and actions to profess much lore to 
the Almighty, whilst our hearts are far from him, 
and to deceive others into a belief of our interest 
in the divine favour, whilst, in reality, we have 
neither part nor lot in the matter. It was so 
with the Pharisees. Amidst all their forms and 
observances, they seem to have been completely 
void of any just idea of what the Lord required 
of them. The spirituality of the law, and toere- 
fore the exceeding breadth of its commands, seems 
never to have been dreamt of; its weightier and 
most essential matters were altogether overlooked, 
and their whole time was spent in a round of, to 
them, profitless, because unmeaning, ceremonies. 
In the language of on eloquent writer, " If Ood 
was served in the letter, they never inquired into 
bis purpose, and therefore they washed their 
hands, but cared not to purify their hearts ; they 
went to the temple, but had no reverence for Him 
that dwdt between the chenibims; they made 
long prayerS) but laboured not for the gnu» they 
prayed for." And as to faith in a 8avioiir, whom 
all their sacrifices prefigured, whatever necessity 
others mi^ht have for his interference,^ — because 
they fancied themselves << righteous," they re- 
quired no interest in the righteousness of another* 
Nay, io complete was their blindness^ so grass 
their ddiiaion, they never doubted that their per^ 
sons were beloved^ and their services accepted, by 
God, at the yery time when they were violating 
not only the spirit, bnt the very letter of the 
divine law, devoaring widows' hooses, and grinding 
the faces of the poor. 

Such was the rigfateoianese of the Pharisees. 
But they not only trosted that they were right- 
eous, they also ** despised others^" or all the rest 
of men, and this most naturally ; for, imagining 
that God was pleased by mere external obser* 
vanoes, conscioas that, in these, they were emi- 
nently distinguished, they naturally supposed that 
they were far nore acceptable in his sight than 
others whose professions were less ostentatious, 
and their external actions less scmpulous and 
exact* Hence a spirit of haughty, overbearing 
self*righteonsness was engendeied, prompting the 
Pharisees to treat with contempt ail of a difierent 
sect. Their characteristic language to all others 
was, <* Stand by thyself; come not near me, for I 
am holier than thou." 

Our divine Saviour was not thus to be de. 
ceived. He judged by the heart, and not \^ the 
external appearanoew And he lost no opportunity 
of exposing snch baseless pretensions to sanctity, 
expkining the divine law in its extent and spi- 
rituality and pointing out, in the strongest lan- 
guage, their miserable want of conformity to it. 
And He whose meekness was ever so conspicuous^ 

seems to kindle into a dtane of holy indignation, 
whilst he tears off the cksak of hypocrisy in which 
they had enwrapped themselves, lays bare the rot* 
tenness which prevailed within, and denounces 
against them the severe judgments of the Al- 

t IS to them, and with this object, that he 
addresses himself in the parable under considera- 
tion ; and we shall find that the Pharisee here 
introduced possesses, in an eminent degree, the 
leading features of that character which we have 
attempted to delineate. 

The publicans, on the other hand, were a dass 
of men appointed by the Romans to collect the 
tribute due to them by the Jews as a subjugated 
nation, and they were accounted infamous, both 
because of their situation and general conduct. 
The Jews, although obliged to submit to the 
power of Rome, yet did it with all the indignant 
pride of a nation keenly sensible of their raink as 
the peculiar people of God, fondly remembering 
the time when they made tributaries of the na- 
tions, and eagerly anticipating the period when 
their Messiah would give them the sovereignty of 
the world. They therefore cordially detested the 
publicans, beoanse they reminded them of their 
present fallen and degraded condition. Bnt, be- 
sides this, by the frequent undue exercise of the 
power committed to them for promoting their 
own worldly interests, and by the general profli- 
gacy of their lives, the publicans had exposed 
themselves still more to the execration and con- 
tempt of the Jews. And by no class amongst 
them were they more abhorred than by the Pha- 
risees, who looked upon them as a people altoge- 
ther reprobate, and shunned all intercourse with 
them as they would have the destruction which 
wasteth at noon-day. Hence it is that, when 
every attempt to find matter of accusation against 
our Saviour had failed, they bring forth this as o( 
itself sufficient to condemn him, '< Behold a IHend 
of publicans 1" 

Such was the general character, and such the 
estimation in which these two classes of men wem 
held at the time of our Saviour. The one prided 
themselves in their exact attendance on the ordi- 
nances of religion, a&d were esteemed righteous, 
even to a proverb. The others were, in general, 
men avaricious in their dispositions, profligate in 
their characters, and looked upon by the Jews as 
the very "offscouring of atf things" One of 
each, we are here told, went np to the temple to 

The temple, built upon Mount Moriah, was the 
place where God had chosen to put his name : it 
was called an bouse of prayer, And thither the 
tribes of Israel were required to go np to express 
their reverence, and present their requests, to the 
God of their fathers. The Pharisee, therefore, 
went up to the temple at the hour of prapr, that 
in this, as in other things, he might manifest the 
rigid exactness with which he adhered to the 
divine requirements. 

But the temple was not a house of prayer ior 



thft Jews only, but for all people, as we find by 
th« woi^B of Solomon at its dedication, 2 Cbh>n. 
vi. 32 : ** Moreover, oonceming a stranger, which 
is not of thy people Israel, but cometh ont of a 
far country, wnen he shall come and pray toward 
this house, hear thou in heaven, thy dwelling- 
place, and do according to all that the stranger 
calleth to thee for ; that all people of the earth 
may know thy name." So that, whether we sup- 
pose the pnblican to hare been a Jew, as many 
of tiiem Were, or a Gentile, his going to the 
temple is easily accounted for. ^ , 

And the Pharisee, we are t4)ld, " stood and 
prayed thus with himself." The meaning of this 
would be, that he spoke in a low tone of voice, 
and f^emed completely absorbed in the exercise in 
which be was engaged. But the words may be 
niore literally rendered,—** standing by himself, 
he prayed thus ;" that is, he stood apart from the 
other worshippers, perhaps on some elevated con- 
spicuous situation. And this sfeems to be more 
in accordance with the habits of the Pharisees, 
who did evety thing, our Saviour tells us, to be 
seen of men, and who loved especially to pray 
where their devotions would be observed. In the 
words which immediately follow (for prayer they 
can scarcely be called) we have a statement of the 
grounds upon which one of the members of our 
fallen race ventures to claim the favour of the 
Holy One of Israel. He begins by reminding 
God of the sins which he had avoided, and the 
duties which he bad performed. He recounts 
with mach complacency what he conceived to be 
bis own peculiar excellencies, and thanks the 
Almighty that he was so much distinguished for 
h:$ piety above all the other members of the 
hum:ai race. Let its not here suppose that our 
Sdviour blames the Pharisee for thanking God ; 
because, as every thing good originates in Him, 
and as deliverance from sin is certainly a blessing, 
ud as we are required m all things to give thanks, 
so far was this part of the Pharisee s conduct, 
considered in itself, from being sinful, that it was 
the performance of an incumbent duty. But it 
tt perfectly possible to acknowledge obligations 
which we have never felt, and to profess thank- 
fobess to another for that which we think we 
bave acquired by our own exertions. In this 
iftems partly to have consisted the sinfulness of 
jfte Pharisee's prayer. He thanked God that he 
|tii3 not as other men, whilst his whole conduct, 
Powed that he felt no necessity for the divine 
Assistance. The great apostle of the Gentiles, 
inder a full perception of his natural depraVlty, 
nd of the mighty change which had been wrought 
ft him by the divine power, exclaims, ** By the 
race of God I am what I am !" But the Phari- 
Be, dead to all such feelings, whilst with his 
kouth he professes to God many obligations, yet 
fce huiguage of his heart is, *« By my own 
Krengtb and iritdom have I done it." 
, But what are those qualities which so highly 
ii^tin;,niisbed the Pharisee above his felloWs, and 
■^ ^« posiwnoa of which be to confidently 

exults ? ** He is no extortioner, nor unjust, nor an 
adulterer." Supposing this to have been tme, as he 
understood it, he was certainly not singular, for 
there have been many in all ages free from such 
gross violations of the divine law. But had he 
rightly known what justice required of him, be 
would have seen that, in his very prayer, he gave 
evidence of the falsehood of his et^tement. He 
condemns all other men indiscriminately, and es- 
pecially sneers with contempt on the poor pub- 
lican, whilst it is evident that he knows not what 
he says, nor whereof he afErras. For atigbt he 
knows, there may have been hundreds far more 
distinguished than he even in those things in 
which he so proudly boasts. Amongst these may 
have been the publican himself, whom he so tnuch 
despises ;• — may have been, do we say ? we know 
that he possessed something of fat higher im- 
portance, — that humility in which the Pharisee 
was so wofully deficient, but which, in the sight 
of God, is of great price. And therefore, in the 
very outset of his prayer, the Pharisee gives the 
lie to his own profession, and commits an act of 
flagrant injustice. 

But the grand radical mistake of the Pharisee 
was to judge of his character by those of others, 
and not by the standard of the holy law of God: 
However blameless, or even laudable, his actions 
might appear, as compared with those of other 
men,* when weighed in the balances of the sanc- 
tuary they may all be found miserably wanting. 
And it will require no proof to show that, even 
supposing all that the Pharisee affirmed of him* 
self to have been true, yet many things may 
have been lacking, and be very far removed from 
that holiness, without which no man can see o^ 
be accepted of God. 

But besides this negative goodness, the Pharisee 
•* fasted twice in the week." The object of all 
fasting ought to be, the mortification of sin. ** la 
not this the fast, saith God, which I have chosen? 
to loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the 
heavy. burdens, and to let the oppressed go free» 
and that ye break every yoke." In this, however, 
b^ in every thing else, the Pharisees had mistaken 
the means for the end, the- sign for the thing sig- 
nified. Their fasting consisted merely in abstin- 
ence — in the disfiguration of their faces, and in 
tbe performance of other mere bodily austerities. 
And surely there could be nothing weU-pleasing 
to God in a service such as this, however fre- 
quently or rigidly performed — a service which had 
no relation at all to morality — Cleaving the heart, 
untouched, the character unchanged. V Behold^ 
saith the Lord, ye fast for strife, and debate, and 
to smite with the fist of wickedness, and to make 
your voice to be heard on high. Is it such a fast 
that I have chosen ? a day for a man to afilict his 
soul, to bow down his head as a bulrush, and to 
spr^ sackcloth and ashes under him ? Wilt thou 
call this a fast, and an acceptable day to the Lord ?" 
The Pharisee also ^* gave tithes of all that he 
possessed. " The tithe, or tenth part of the grain 
and fruit; was early commanded to be consecrated 



to God ; as it ifi written, (Lev. zxTii. 30,) « All 
the tithe of the land, whether of the seed of the 
land, or of the fruit of the tree, is the Lord's ; it 
is holy unto the Lord : " and throughout the Old 
Testament, the Jews are frequently encouraged 
to the performance of this duty. ^< Honour the 
Lord," says Solomon, << with thy substance, and 
with the first-fruits of all thine increase; so shall 
thy barns be filled with plenty, and thy presses 
shall burst out with new wine.'* ** Bring ye all 
the tithes into the store-house," says Malachi ; 
" and prove me herewith, saith the Lord of Hosts, 
if I will not open unto you the windows of heaven, 
and pour out a blessing that there shall not be 
room enough to receive it." On the other hand, 
we find God complainings of the detention of the 
tithes, and pronouncing a curse on those who de- 
tained them. << Ye are cursed with a curse ; for 
ye have robbed me in tithes and offerings^ even 
this whole nation •" The giving of tithes was, 
therefore, under the Old Testament, a duty of 
solemn obligation. Now the Pharisee, in the 
parable, not merely gave tithes of all those things 
specified by the law, but of all things which he 
possessed, ». e^ of mint, of anise, and of all manner 
of herbs ; and upon this he seems to found, in a 

Ct measure, his claim to the divine favour, 
it is unnecessary to occupy time in showing 
that the giving of tithes, as the Pharisee under- 
stood them, could in no sense be meritorious^ and 
especially it is unnecessary to show, how utterly 
unavailing those additional oflferings which had not 
been required at his hands were to propitiate the 
favour of Him who spake the universe into exist- 
ence, and to whom all its fulness exclusively belongs. 
Tlius have we seen the sum of those excellen- 
cies which formed the ground of the Pharisee's 
pride ; and it amounts to this : The law of God 
required an uninterrupted abstinence from all sin ; 
but all that he eveu lays claim to, questionable as 
the justice of that claim is, is merely a freedom from 
the grosser violations of it The same law de- 
manded the continued devotion of his whole souly 
and strength, and mind, to the service of Him 
who created and preserved them ; but instead of 
this, there is an enumeration of mere external ob- 
servances, neither profitable to himself, nor pleas- 
ing to God. So far, therefore, was he from having 
any ground or pretext for boasting, that the law 
of God clearly and completely condemned him. Of 
this, however, the Pharisee wfts altogether insen- 
sible. Believing that he was perfect, wanting no- 
thing, he presented himself before God, in the full 
confidence of having his person and his services 
accepted ; and therefore, although he went up to the 
temple to pray, he does not present a single petition. 
(To be coniinuetL) 

3 Taa AoBO Vbtbhak. 

In the garret of an old house I found an aged veteran 
who had travelled over tbe greater part of the world 
in the service of bis country. When I went in he 

wai rising from his knees, as I supposed, from adores- 
ing his Father in Heaven ; his Bible was lying open be- 
fore him. An indescribable feeling passed over my soal 
when I first saw him in this attitude. Laying down his 
spectacles, he turned round and eyed me with amaze- 
ment, for I had entered rather abruptly. Here was a 
subject for a painter. His silver locks, which gently 
flowed over his shoulders — his lowering eye-brows, 
which concealed in their cavities his keen and pene- 
trating eyes — ^his weather-beaten countenance that, bsd 
braved the battle and the breeze, and his old fimtts- 
tic man-of-war dress, combined in arresting the curi- 
osity of the intruder. He stood still for a little, exer- 
cising his power of discernment, and with a rough and 
stern, but faltering voice, exclaimed, *' A servant of the 
Lord of HosU." 

We entered into conversation, and so much captivat- 
ed was I with bis manner and Christian experience, that 
I insensibly stopped tbe greater part of the forenoon ; 
and really when I came out from his company, I felt 
my own soul so much refreshed, that I regretted leav- 
ing, for, with such a man of God, I could have spent 
days without inlerruption. He seems to have read a 
great deal, hr more than any one could have imagined, 
— he questioned me particularly concerning certain works 
and authors, — ^he possesses « clear, distinct, and expe- 
rimental acquaintance with divine things, — he never fkiii 
to peruse five or six chapters of the Word of Life daily, 
which, during the night, supplies him with subject ibr 

During our converse, he deeply lamented fte 
prevailing wickedness of the world around him, from 
which he made it his prayerful care always to stand 
aloof; — ^he feelingly remarked, with the tear of compas- 
sion glistening in his eye, that it was grieving for him 
to behold that universal absorption by the world, which 
the children thereof manifested, seeing, as they must, 
because compelled by experience, that they hold its pos* 
sessions by a very slight tenure indeed. 

As to his mode of living, he keeps correspondence 
with none around him, or any where else, for hr ts of a 
naturally retiring disposition, — ^he makes his own meals, 
and conducts every thing of household duty himself. 
He stands completely an isolated being, having not even 
a friend or relative alive, which, as he beautifully re- 
marked, keeps him the nearer to God. 

When about to leave him, he calmly said, " Sir, 
perhaps ere you return to visit me, I may be in my 
grave. I long to be absent from the body, and present 
with the Lord. I rest my all upon my Saviour, my 
only hope, and the Spirit to sanctify me (for on this 
he dwelt much,} in order that I may be ' made meet fur 
the inheritance of the saints in light.' '* Indeed, I re- 
luctantly parted with him, his company and conversa- 
tion were so high a privilege. 


When dark Norwegian tempests ravj. 
Dashing the stormy northern wave. 

The hardy sailors dread ; 
Within the narrow rapid sound 
The whirling gulphs afiv, around. 

Wide desolation spread. 

Lo I where the current rests serene, 
No eddying pool nor gulph ia i 



To ibore tlie glassy plain ; 
Bat shattered wrecks, or planks, or trees* 
The mariner afinghted sees. 

And flies the fatal main ; 

For with the qaick receding tide 

He knows the treacherous smiles subside,^ 

The horrid cauldron boils ; 
Soiprised within its vortex wave, 
'So art avails, no arm can save, — 

In vain the seaman toils. 

Oft, floating to the dutant isle. 
The savage race, if caught a while. 

Against the torrent strain. 
Til) the resistless current's course 
Down bears them with redoubled force, — 

Shrieking, they shriek in v^n. 

Engulphed within its dreadful grasp, 
Thej struggle, strive, till life's last gasp. 

In hopeless conflict faQ, — 
Till, with velocity increased, they sweep 
Short, shorter circles down the deep, 

Idor strength nor heart avaiL