zealous and persevering. God loves importunity in prayer. "The kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the violent take it by force." We must go up, therefore, to its golden gates and knock again; and, though the angel of deliverance may not come forth to our help immediately, we must not cease to knock. We must urge our suit until the answer to our prayer is given. "When we seek God," says Luther, "He often locks Himself up, as it were, in a private chamber; if we intend to come in unto Him, then we must knock; and when we have knocked once or twice, then He begins a little to hear. At last, when we make much knocking, then He opens and says, 'What will ye have?' 'Lord,' say we, 'we would have this or that.' Then says He, 'Take it unto you.' In such sort must we persist in praying and waking God up." The church in Mary's house had learnt this lesson; hence the whole season of the Passover was no doubt spent in prayer; and now that one night only intervened ere Peter was to be arraigned before the tribunal of Herod, the little community are again together; and though to human reason all hope has fled, they still plead with heaven in humble faith and hope.

We must leave them, for a moment, and again look into the prison. It is a strong and massive building, with iron gates, and wards leading one into another. In the interior is the apostle, guarded, after the Roman custom, by four quaternions of soldiers,—that is, by four companies of four each,-who watch by turns, two outside the door, and two over the prisoner within. And between these two he is chained, by one arm to one soldier, by the other to the other soldier. He is asleep, asleep on the very night prior to his expected death!

"He loves, and is beloved again;

Can his soul choose but be at rest?
Sorrow hath fled away, and pain

Dares not invade the guarded nest."

What must his keepers have thought, as they beheld his slumbers? Doubtless, he had told them of that Saviour in whom he put his trust, and had spoken to them of that heaven of which he had "a lively hope." (See 1 Peter i. 3.) And now the gloomy prison is suddenly filled with a blaze of light; for, in spite of gates, and bars, and bolts, a celestial one-a messenger from heaven-has entered it. He smites Peter on the side; dissolves his fetters, raises him up, and bids him bind on his sandals and follow him. The guards are paralyzed, and with all deliberation Peter does as the angel bids him. They pass the first and the second ward, and then come to the iron gate. This, however, is no obstacle to their egress; for it opens of its own accord, and the apostle and his guide go out. The angel conducts him through one of the streets of the city, and, now that he is safe, leaves him in a state of deep bewilderment, scarcely knowing whether the whole be not a dream.

What an amazing deliverance was this! And it was effected in answer to the intercessions of the church. Whilst they were pleading heaven was working, whilst they, in their extremity, committed their

cause into the hands of God, He regarded their prayers, and sent an angel to execute His will. "At the beginning of thy supplications," said Gabriel to the prophet Daniel, "the commandment came forth, and I am come to show thee," &c. (Dan. ix. 23.) And, perhaps, at the beginning of the supplication of the little company in Mary's house on that solemn and very anxious night, did this angel receive his instructions from the throne of God, and hasten on his errand to the apostle's prison. How consolatory is the doctrine of the ministry of angels! In everything connected with the Christian's welfare,-his redemption, his conversion, his preservation,—they take the deepest interest; and there is reason to believe that by their instrumentality many of the operations of Divine Providence are carried on. If not within the sphere of the supernatural, yet within the sphere of the spiritual, they are still "ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation;" and it may be that many blessings are conveyed to us by them, though we are altogether unconscious of their presence. The rationalism of the age would rob us of this doctrine; but it is asserted with such distinctness by the sacred writers, that we cannot doubt it whilst we hold the Bible as the book of God.

But to return to Peter. He has just come to himself, and finds that he is indeed free. "Now," he says, "I know of a surety, that the Lord hath sent His angel, and hath delivered me out of the hand of Herod, and from all the expectation of the people of the Jews." But whither shall he bend his steps? He is not far distant from the house of Mary, for in that direction the angel doubtless led him; and, knowing that there, even if the family were asleep, he will find admission, he proceeds thither, arrives at the door, and knocks. The little company within are at prayer, and, perhaps, at this moment one of them is pleading, and with tearful eyes, and in the most earnest tones, is saying, "Lord, spare to us Thy servant, Peter," when the knocking at the door is heard, and awakens, as we may suppose, no little anxiety and alarm. A damsel named Rhoda goes to the door, and asks who is there; but, instead of opening the door, runs back, for gladness, through the avenue that separates the door from the house, and tells the inmates that it is Peter who is knocking. "Peter!" they say; "it cannot be Peter. He is yonder in the prison: it is his angel!'' This remark was, no doubt, founded on the opinion, then generally entertained, that each one has his guardian angel, and that on his death this angel sometimes appeared to his friends with the voice and in the semblance of the person himself. The little church in Mary's house supposed, then, that Peter had already been put to death, and that his angel had come to intimate to them the fact. And yet, had they not been praying for his release? had they not been. pleading with God for several days, that he might be restored to their embrace? Why, then, should they wonder if their prayers were heard? So, however, it was. The Lord had done more for them than they expected, and the deliverance of His servant had been accomplished in such a way that they could scarcely believe it to be true. Peter continued knocking, and at length the door was opened. Their astonish

ment at seeing him was such that they were disposed to utter loud exclamations of surprise, when he beckoned to them to be silent, as there was no time to lose; and then he narrated to them how the Lord had brought him out of prison. What gladness filled their hearts! Their prayers were heard, their confidence was established, and their future course would be more plain than ever. But Peter could not remain with the little company. For the present his mission in Jerusalem was accomplished, and, knowing that with the morning light a most vigorous search would be made for him by Herod, he departed, under cover of the night, to another place. Ere he left them, however, he said, "Go show these things unto James, and to the brethren;" from which we infer that there were some disciples in Jeru salem that were not present that evening in Mary's house. To James, then, that James who was called the brother of our Lord, (Matt. xiii. 55; John vii. 5,) and whom some identify with James the son of Alphæus, one of the apostles, but others suppose to have been a uterine brother of the Lord's, and not one of the twelve,-did Peter commit the care of the little flock in Jerusalem; and, whilst James became the first bishop of the church in that city, (comp. Acts xxi. 18,) Peter himself went elsewhere; and we read of him no more in Jerusalem, until the first council was held there, to consider the great question whether Gentile Christians must submit to all the rites and ceremonies of the Jewish law. (Acts xv. 7.)

But what of Herod, the haughty persecutor? Seeing his plans thwarted, he was resolved, like his grandfather, to be avenged upon the innocent. "As soon as it was day, there was no small stir among the soldiers, what was become of Peter. And when Herod had sought for him, and found him not, he examined the keepers, and commanded that they should be put to death." (Acts xii. 18, 19.) But were the keepers to blame in this matter?-could they resist the power of the angel? That anything miraculous had occurred, however, Herod would not believe. There was evidence enough that God had interfered; and had Herod listened to the voice of conscience, he might have been convinced but convinced he would not be, and his ire fell on the innocent and unoffending keepers.

He then left Jerusalem and went to Cæsarea, a considerable city on the coast of Palestine, built by Herod the Great, and so named after Cæsar Augustus, whose colossal statue it contained. Here he continued to hold his court; and it appears that, for some cause or other, he entertained hostile sentiments towards the inhabitants of Tyre and Sidon, who, alarmed at the prospect of a war, sought to conciliate him, and to obtain his favour. Tyre was somewhat dependent on the territories of Herod for its supplies of food; (comp. 1 Kings v. 11; Ezek. xxvii. 17;) and no wonder, therefore, that the inhabitants should be anxious to live on friendly terms with him, and to avert the outbreak that seemed to threaten them. They sent ambassadors to his court desiring peace; "and having made Blastus, the king's chamberlain," and, from his name, evidently a Roman, " their friend," they succeeded in laying before him their suit. It is not always the man who occupies the

throne, absolute though his monarchy may be, that actually guides the helm and controls the affairs of the state. The key to the king's heart was, in this instance, kept by one of his ministers of state, and through the influence of Blastus Herod's will was swayed, and the object of the ambassadors from Tyre was gained. And now, to fill up the narrative of St. Luke, with the assistance of Josephus, Herod orders games and other festivals to be kept at Cæsarea in honour of the Roman emperor; and on a set day he goes, early in the morning, to the theatre, arrayed in royal apparel, and takes his seat upon an elevated dais, or throne. As the beams of the rising sun fall upon his silvery robes, they glitter with amazing splendour, and dazzle the eyes of the assembled multitude. He addresses them, and from all sides of the theatre a shout is heard: "It is the voice of a God, and not of a man ;" and the people add, "Be thou merciful to us; for, though we have hitherto reverenced thee only as a man, henceforth we shall acknowledge thee superior to man." The king neither rebukes their flattery nor rejects it; and now, as in a moment, he sees an owl perched upon a rope, which he takes to be an omen of approaching evil. And he is right: for, in the very midst of the assembly, he is smitten by an angel of the Lord with a terrible disease, is carried to his palace torn with pain, and, after suffering intolerable anguish for five days, being "eaten of worms," he dies.

Such was the fate of Herod Agrippa the First. Not, however, because he beheaded James, or because he imprisoned Peter; but because "he gave not God the glory," and arrogated to himself honours which belonged to God alone. "My glory will I not give to another," is the solemn declaration of the Most High; and though men may for awhile be permitted to lay claims to titles and distinctions to which they have no right, sooner or later will God lay their greatness in the dast, and teach them, as He taught Herod, that He alone is the supreme Ruler of the world. "It was the frequent affirmation of the late heroic and victorious King of Sweden," says a writer in 1642, "that he feared the people's ascribing to him too much of that glory which was due to God would remove him before the work was finished. And, for aught that any man knows, it was a speech too prophetical. Thus it is that there is not any way speedier to bring judgments upon rulers and nations than when the due honour shall be taken from God and ascribed to men, which are but secondary, subordinate instruments to convey them. It is the only way to forfeit all favour, when we ascribe too much to the second causes, and too little to the first, by looking more to them for safety than to Him from whom all deliverance cometh." Lincoln.

THE APPROACHING CONFERENCE.

T. S.

DURING the present month the Wesleyan Conference will commence its annual sittings; and many thousands of Methodists, in all parts of the world, will be anxiously looking towards Bradford, to learn the character

and results of its deliberations. It is only natural and right that a deep interest should be felt in the highest of our Connexional courts, by many not directly and personally concerned in its decisions. Methodism has gradually assumed a position in which its institutions command the attention, and often compel the admiration, of other branches of the Christian church. It would be surprising, therefore, if Wesleyans themselves manifested no solicitude about the legislative action of their own community. Happily, beyond the existence of such solicitude, a strong sympathy has grown up of late years between the people and the Conference, founded on a recognised identity of interest, which augurs well for the future peace, prosperity, and power of the Connexion, and which makes the approach of this annual assembly to be hailed with considerable pleasure.

It is nearly eleven years since the town of Bradford was last visited by the Conference. We gratefully remark, that the Rev. John Lomas, who was then President, still lives amongst us; and that hitherto a gracious Providence has preserved to our church all his successors in the chair of the Conference. Many important Connexional and financial changes have taken place in that time. Much has been done to strengthen and develop our institutions; and we may justly congratulate the friends of Methodism on the altered and more favourable circumstances under which the approaching Conference will meet, as compared with its last gathering at Bradford. Eleven years ago, a dark cloud hung gloomily over us, which exerted a depressing and paralyzing influence, more or less, on all departments of our work. When the Connexional records were collected and compared, it was found we had suffered a deplorable decrease of over ten thousand churchmembers; and that Methodism everywhere bore traces of the sad crisis through which it had so lately passed. No such tidings of disaster will sadden our hearts this year. We enjoy profound tranquillity. Our churches are at rest from strife, though not from aggressive labour. The murmurs of dissension and jealousy are hushed. Holy peace spreads her banner over us; and we are encouraged to believe we have seen the dawn of one of our brightest and most prosperous eras.

On looking over the records of the ten completed years since the Conference of 1853, we gather some suggestive facts, illustrative of the growth and activity of Methodism during this decade. Fifty-eight thousand seven hundred and thirty-nine members have been added to our Societies in that time, after filling up the vacancies occasioned by ordinary causes. This in itself is gratifying; but some of the financial results really amaze us. We call attention first to some facts culled from the published documents of the Chapel Committee. The Conference of 1854 decided upon the amalgamation into one united Committee of the several Committees previously intrusted with the oversight and management of various departments of chapel affairs. The reports for the nine years, since the important funetions of the Building, Relief, and Distribution Committees have been exercised by the Manchester Committee, record facts which are eloquent indeed. Five hundred and eighty-four new chapels, and two hundred and fifty-nine