MEEKNESS AND PEACE THE FOUNDATION OF HOLINESS AND HAPPINESS. BY THE REV. HENRY WOODWARD, A.M. Rector of Fethard, Diocese of Cashel. HUMAN happiness is a lofty structure; but it must have a proportionately deep foundation. The same I would say of Christian holiness. But can holiness and happiness be thus spoken of as two? Are they not rather both one pure effluence from God? Are they not, in character and essence, inseparably and unchangeably united? Are they not but different names for the same glorious image of God upon the soul? I answer, that whether in the reality of things they be distinct entities, or only one bright object under different aspects, it may be well for practical purposes to separate them in thought; and to consider them, the one as the combination of all gracious influences, and the other as the concentration of all the blessings that invariably attend them. In this separate view, each must be supposed to rest on its own foundation; nor can we be at a loss to find what those foundations are. The lofty pillars of holiness and happiness rest upon the bases, the former of meekness, and the latter of peace. And that the correspondence which I have noticed subsists between these two-namely, that the one is the grace, and the other its attendant blessing, we can assert upon the plainest warrant of Scripture. "The meek," says the Psalmist," shall inherit the earth; and shall delight themselves in the abundance of peace." "Take my yoke upon you," says the blessed Jesus," and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls."

VOL. V.-NO. CXXIX.

PRICE 1d.

That meekness is the foundation on which a holy frame of soul is built, is not a matter of idle speculation. It is a truth of deep and practical importance; a secret of inesti mable value to those who hunger and thirst after righteousness. Prayer, it will at once be granted, is the great instrument of holy living. God forbid that I should for a moment doubt it. But we must do more than pray. We must co-operate with him to whom we pray. We must labour together with God. We must set our own hands and hearts to the work; or our souls will not become the abode of God's most holy Spirit. Do we desire, then, in that secret region which lies within us, to "find out a place for the temple of the Lord: an habitation for the mighty God of Jacob?" On meekness we must build the structure. And here I would appeal for proof to those who alone are competent witnesses; to men of experience in the things of God. But, in order to come home to that experience, I would vary the similitude; and as I before resembled holiness to a temple ascending from the earth, I would now compare it to a chain let down from heaven; the lowest link of the latter corresponding with the foundationstone on which the former rests. I would ask the man who knows his own heart, and is no stranger to the fluctuations of the Christian life, whether, at least in its earlier stages, he has not at times felt his own bosom disordered and disturbed? Whether trials and temptations, crosses in business, domestic cares, family irritations, home vexations, and the strife of tongues; whether the sudden incursion and untoward combination of exciting causes and perplexing cir

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cumstances, have not sometimes rushed like a torrent upon his soul, borne down the barriers of its patience, and filled it with unhappy, and what he well knew to be unholy tempers? Yes, it is my firm persuasion, that many a child of God, who, out of these depths, can cry Abba, Father, has, in seasons of peculiar trial, been brought thus low, and been thus humbled in the dust. And, as if to debase him one step lower, it is a known fact, that when the angry passions are in motion, the sensual ones are, by a subtle association and evil sympathy, let loose, as if to shew what man is when he has grieved the Holy Spirit, and when the presence of God has left him. I would ask the unhappy sinner, when all the graces that adorned his soul are scattered in wild confusion around him, and not one stone of that which lately was a house of prayer is left upon another; and when, having like the prodigal come to himself, as the hart panteth after the waterbrook," so does his soul long for that treasure which it has lost, and for the restoration of that temple which it has defiled and levelled in the dust,—I would ask him what foundation he can lay, or, to employ the kindred illustration, what link of the celestial chain he can take hold of? In such extremity he must (need it be said?) fly for pardon to the blood of Jesus, and plead through his merits for " grace to help in time of need." But he must himself "arise and build" he must, as I have already said, act his own part, and be aiding and assisting in his own recovery. Let us suppose such a one thus saying within himself, "O my soul, how shall I ascend from these deep waters? Where shall I direct my faltering steps, and make my first essay? By what faint and feeble effort shall I begin? Which of those graces which I have abused and forfeited shall I endeavour, weak and wretched as I am, now to exercise?" At such a moment, meekness offers herself as the lowest link of the celestial chain, and invites the trembling penitent to lay hold on her. Like Him in whom all meekness dwelt, she seems to say, "Come unto me, thou that travailest and art heavy laden." All this is, I again repeat it, matter of experience; and none but those who have felt these things can know them. But I would ask, What other grace can the soul, brought to the last stage of spiritual impotence and disease, resolve, with any encouragement of hope, at once to practise? Shall it say, "I will be humble?" If this mean humility of heart, how can a man, in his utmost weakness, grapple with pride, the tyrant of the human breast? Or, if it be humility of conduct, no present call may demand its exercise, or

opportunity present itself of taking the lowest room. Shall the penitent resolve to make himself pure? Alas! who can cleanse the heart but God alone? Can the slave of fleshly desires evoke the spirit of liberty within him, and scatter the fogs and mists that lie upon his soul? Or shall we say, "I will henceforth dwell in love?" If he mean thereby that sweet affection which fills the heart with joy, as well might he say, I will "ascend into heaven, to bring Christ down from above;" or I will "descend into the deep, to bring up Christ again from the dead." But if it be love in outward exercise, and acts of kindness, it is perhaps the bitterest ingredient in that cup of misery which the sinner has mingled for himself, that his fretfulness and impatience have offended friends, have wounded the feelings and alienated the hearts of those around him; so that kindnesses would be now rejected as uncalled for, unwelcome, and ill-timed.

It is true, that " every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights;" but still, to all practical purposes, the soul, however weak, must feel meekness to be, as no other grace is, in its power. It requires no efforts of the mind; it implies no strong resistance of temptation; it waits for no marked occasions to call it forth. It can be employed in the smallest matters, and find abundant room for exercise in the bosom of domestic life, and in the details that fill up each successive day. For every hour affords us opportunities of restraining the over-eager movements of the mind-each hasty expression of the tongue, or manifestation, however trifling, of unkind and ungentle feeling. Such is meekness; and he that desires it cannot fail to make the treasure his. Let those whose breasts have been disturbed and agitated try this balm, and they will find it certain cure. It is by meekness that the mind recruits its powers and gathers strength for the exercise of the higher and more arduous graces. It is by meekness that offended and wounded friends are reconciled. It is by meekness that the distempered soul is healed, and its spiritual health regained. Hence it is that our Lord connects those two beatitudes together"Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled." When the soul is restored to health, the appetite for its connatural food returns. It is so with the body. But all earthly things are out of course. Instinctive tendencies may point, and only miss the mark, and find their calculations false; desires may be felt, only that they may recoil upon themselves; we may hun

There

treasures. Beyond it we do not look. Our highest aspirations rise not above the Psalmist's wish, "Oh! that I had wings like a dove for then would I flee away and be at rest."

:

Peace, I have already observed, stands in the same relation to happiness as the foundation grace of meekness does to sanctity. But between these two categories the correspondence is so fine, and the boundaries so evanescent, that (even though the distinction be not, as some may think, altogether artificial) it is impossible to preserve the lines of thought respecting them from so entangling, that, when we would confine ourselves to one, we have a double object before us. I shall therefore abstain from dwelling at large upon the latter consideration; because, whatever I have ascribed to meekness can, with scarce the change or modification of a single word or thought, be predicated of peace. Enough has been said, I trust, to prove that he that desireth to live, and would see good days, must "seek peace and ensue it." But few men will value things till they know them by their loss. And it is in this view principally that I consider affliction as the great instrument of bringing souls to happiness. In all the pride of life, and youth, and health, men aim above the mark of peace: joy, and brilliancy, and excitement these are the airy phantoms they pursue; these are the ideal forms of bliss which fleet before the unsanctified imagination and untutored fancy. Men would gladly light upon the flowery bank of pleasure, or take their stand upon the sunny hill of happiness, but utterly reject the sober calculation by what due steps they must ascend. All happiness which is not founded in peace is but a mockery. Nor is peace itself an empty name. It is a state of mind a state which we seldom covet till we have deeply felt its want- a level which we feel but little anxiety to reach till we have been brought below it. This affliction does. This the trials of the world, and all ills that flesh is heir to, are commissioned to effect. When the spirit is bowed down; when the heart is burdened; when the soul is vexed and disquieted within us, then we are in the school which teaches that humility of expectation on which so much depends. Under this discipline we learn to know the

We know not the kind or mode of happiness which fills the breasts of angels. And few of us, alas! can, by our own experience, tell how those who have grown in early sanctity run their race rejoicing. But sure I am, that the far greater part of Christians are utterly astray in their notions, no less than in their search of happiness, till they have learned to sigh, and pray, and labour for peace. This is the foundation; but let this be laid, and the superstructure will rise. Such is God's method. He giveth grace to the humble. "For thus saith the Lord" to the seeking soul, "Behold, I will extend peace to her like a river." But as that river flows, the tributary streams of joy and gladness lend their aid, and mingle with its flow, till all, uniting in one full tide of happiness, are lost in the parent ocean. These are the uses of affliction. They bring us low, that we may be exalted in due time. It is with the tossed and driven soul which longs for peace, as with the mariner in the storm. would but provoke the Providence on whom his life is cast, were he, amidst the horrors that surround him, to indulge in dreams of pleasure and visions of delight. No: deliverance is all he wants and all he asks for. But when the tempest ceases, and all is hushed but the breath of the light breeze that wafts him to the haven where he would be, at the still small voice of the calm all nature rejoices; the waves subside, the mists clear off the mountains, and returning sunshine, the image of God's blessing, creates a paradise around him. Thus does happiness follow in the train of peace. Thus is she, like "nature's kind restorer," found of them that seek her not.

MOHAMMEDISM.-No. III. Mohammed.

He

MOHAMMED was born at Mecca, about A.D. 572.* No small dispute has arisen as to his lineage; those among his followers who have adverted to the subject maintaining that he was of exalted birth; the contemporary Christian writers, on the other hand, endeavouring to degrade him to the lowest rank. Abdallah, his father, it would appear, however, was of the tribe of Koreish and family of Hashem-one, as we have seen, of the highest authority,-but was a person of small property; and dying while his son was an infant,

The authors who have written Lives of Mohammed, it would be tedious to enumerate. The best Arabic biography yet discovered is that by Abulfeda, which was translated into Latin in 1723, and illustrated with copious notes, by John Gagnier, professor of Arabic at Oxford.-Edinburgh Cabinet Library.

left him as a patrimony only five camels and one Ethiopian slave. While only six years of age, his mother, Almena or Amina, died. She is by some maintained to have been a Jewess, converted to Christianity by Sergius the Syrian monk; and by her instructions, though not of long continuance, it is assumed that her son was saved from the gross idolatry which prevailed on every side, and imbibed the doctrine of the Divine unity. Two years afterwards, his grandfather, Abdol Motalleb, died, by whom he was confided to the care of Abu Taleb, his uncle, from whom he received much kindness, which he is reported to have requited in the most disinterested

manner.

Of the early years of the impostor, we know scarcely any thing. Various prodigies are said to have presented themselves at his birth, and many remarkable stories are related concerning his youthful days; all of which, though firmly believed by his followers, are, of course, utterly without foundation, but serve to contrast strikingly with the beautiful simplicity of the Gospel, as it slightly touches on the growth in wisdom and stature of the child Christ Jesus.*

At the age of thirteen Mohammed is said to have gone to Syria with his uncle's caravan; and at fourteen to have served under his uncle, who commanded the troops of the tribe of Koreish in their wars against their rivals. How often he visited Syria is unknown. It has been mentioned, however, that he then became better acquainted with the tenets avowed by the Syrian Christians. By the interest of his uncle also he was appointed the factor of Kadijah, an opulent widow, whom he ultimately married, at the age of twenty-five, devoting, until that of forty, the whole of his time to commerce. This marriage, which was celebrated with the utmost pomp, raised him to independence, gave him an important influence, and doubtless paved the way to that ascendency which he gained over the minds of his countrymen.

Mohammed expressly declared that he was totally ignorant of all branches of learning and science, and was even unable to write or read; and his followers have drawn from this ignorance an argument in favour of the divinity of his mission and the religion of which he was the founder. It is, however, scarcely credible that his ignorance was such as it is described; and several of his followers have questioned the statement. If it is borne in mind, that he carried on for a considerable time a successful commerce in Arabia and the adjacent countries, it will be obvious that he must have been in some measure a person of education.†

For twelve or fifteen years after his marriage little is known of Mohammed. He retired yearly during the month Ramadan to meditate in the caverns of Mount Hira or Hara, near Mecca. It was at one of these seasons of retirement that he represented himself as having been visited by the angel Gabriel, and instructed by him as to the reformation of the religious errors so prevalent throughout the world, especially with the restoration of the great doctrine, the unity of God. It was when forty years of age that he took upon himself to publish his new religion, which is described by the single word ISLAM, signifying resignation. He had retired, as was his custom, to the caverns, accompanied by some servants; and on the 25th of the month Ramadan, the night styled in the Koran Al Kadr, or the Divine decree, Gabriel, as he affirmed, descended in a brilliant form too dazzling to behold, holding in his hand a book brought from the seventh heaven. "Read!" exclaimed Gabriel.

The two apocryphal gospels of the infancy of our Lord, in like manner, present a remarkable difference in this respect from the true. They were received as genuine only by the Marcosians, a branch of the sect of the Gnostics, in the beginning of the second century, and were known to Mohammed, or the compiler of the Koran, which took from them several idle traditions concerning Christ's infancy.-Rev. T. H. Horne. See note, Mosheim, cent. vii. part i.

"I cannot," replied the astonished Mohammed. "Read!" again cried the angel," in the name of God the Creator, who hath formed man, and taught him the use of the pen, and lighted up his soul with a ray of knowledge." The prophet obeyed, and instantly a voice was heard, "Mohammed! thou art the apostle of God, and I am the angel Gabriel."

His wife was the first to whom he communicated this circumstance; and she believed, or pretended to believe, the statements made by him. The second proselyte was his cousin Ali, a lad of only eleven years of age, whom he had brought up; the other, Zaid, a slave. "The next and most important of his conversions was that of Abdallah, surnamed Abu Bekr, an opulent citizen of Mecca- a man of great influence, who zealously embraced the new religion of Islam, and obtained from the prophet the surname of Al Seddik, the faithful witness; and who subsequently became the first of the caliphs."

For three years, during which period he affirmed that he was favoured with many Divine revelations, Mohammed instructed his converts in private, fearing the opposition of the tribe of Koreish, which was likely to lose influence, as well as money, if the temple, of which they were the guardians, fell into disrepute. At length, however, he resolved openly to promulgate his religion. He prepared a feast, to which he invited his relations, intending to declare to them his Divine mission; but the assembly was broken up before he could do so. At a second entertainment, however, he addressed the guests, about forty in number. He pointed out to them the iniquity and unreasonableness of idolatry; descanted on the nature of the Divine unity; and declared his own Divine commission, exclaiming, "Is there one among you who will be my lieutenant and coadjutor, as Aaron was to Moses?" Ali, seeing the others hesitate, immediately declared, "O prophet of God, I will be thy servant, and destroy those who dare to oppose thee." Mohammed immediately invested Ali with the office. Some of the guests were persuaded by the prophet's arguments; others of them, however, turned the whole into ridicule.

Mohammed now began publicly to preach his doctrines in Mecca, and his disciples increased. The tribe of Koreish, however, soon took the alarm. For a time he was enabled to proceed; but at length the persecution rose to such a height, that, according to their own traditions, many of his followers fled to Abyssinia, where they were protected by the king; which so exasperated the Koreish, that they resolved to extirpate the new religion. The prophet himself found refuge with his uncle at Mecca. It was resolved, however, that he should be put to death; and Omar, subsequently the second of the caliphs, agreed to perform the bloody deed; but either from the remonstrance of a friend, or from hearing some passages of the Koran, he was induced to lay aside his foul intention, and became a most devoted proselyte. The cause was also strengthened by Hamza, the uncle of the prophet, becoming his follower.

The Koreish, in the seventh year of the prophet's mission, alarmed at the progress of Islam, entered into a solemn league against the family of Hashem, engaging themselves not to intermarry or have any communication with them. This covenant, reduced to writing, was preserved in the Kaaba. The tribe consequently was divided into two factions.

In the tenth year of his mission the impostor told Abu Taleb, that God had shewn his displeasure at this covenant by causing a worm to eat out every word of it, save the name of God. Of this circumstance he had received some private information. Abu went immediately to the Koreish, stated that this was the case, and offered, if not so, to deliver up Mohammed to them; but should it be so, he bargained that they should lay aside their hostility. On

an examination of the writing it was proved to be true, which led many to adopt the new religion.

Soon after this, Abu Taleb died, at the age of eighty, and in a very short time, Kadijah. This year is consequently still called by Mohammedans the year of mourning. The Koreish began to renew their attacks, and Mohammed was compelled to seek shelter at Tayef, about three days' journey, or sixty miles, to the east of Mecca. Though at first well received in this place, he was ultimately compelled to leave it, and return to his native city.

His

The sacred month arriving, when caravans of pilgrims congregated at Mecca, to these he announced his divine mission, at the peril of his life. exhortations made a deep impression on the pilgrims from Yatreb, or Medina. This city and its neighbourhood was occupied by two distinct classes of persons-Jews and idolatrous Arabs. In a war the former had been reduced to slavery, and had often exclaimed, that when the Messiah came they should be free. To the pilgrims of Medina, therefore, he announced himself to be the Messiah; declaring, however, that the blessings he was to confer were to be extended to all who received him as their prophet. On their return these pilgrims became zealous propagators of the new faith, which began to take deep root at Medina.

Mohammed, thus finding his strength increased, went one step further in blasphemy in the twelfth year of his pretended mission, viz. that he had accompanied the angel Gabriel by night to heaven, where he had a personal interview with the Almighty. A declaration so monstrous had nearly proved fatal to his religion, had not Abu Bekr succeeded in inducing the people to believe the prophet's assertion. This nocturnal journey is termed the Mesra, and has been the subject of the most rapturous descriptions by the followers of the prophet; although it has also proved the source of a controversy, which long divided the professors of Islam, namely, whether this journey was visionary or actual; Ayesha his wife maintaining that the prophet never left his bed. Others maintained that the body of Mohammed was actually translated from Mecca to Jerusalem, but regarded the journey to heaven as visionary; while others as strenuously contend for the corporeal ascension - to disbelieve which is regarded as a damnable error. The twentieth night of Rajeb is commemorated by

the Turks in honour of this event.

It is impossible to exculpate the arch impostor of the grossest impiety and falsehood in pretending to have this special communication with heaven. "And yet," as Mosheim observes, "it is highly probable that he was so deeply affected with the odious and abominable superstition which dishonoured his country, that it threw him into a certain fanatical disorder of mind, and made him really imagine that he was supernaturally commissioned to reform the religion of the Arabians, and to restore among them the worship of one God. It is, however, at the same time undoubtedly evident, that when he saw his enterprise crowned with the desired success, he made use of impious frauds to establish the work he had so happily begun; deluded the giddy and credulous multitude by various artifices; and even forged celestial visions to confirm his authority and remove the difficulties that frequently arose in the course of his affairs."

The increase of Mohammed's followers excited no small jealousy at Mecca, the chief men of which resolved that he should be put to death. Aware of this, having previously despatched to Medina those who were most devoted to his cause, he fled to the same place, and arrived in safety, though closely pursued by the Koreish. This event, which took place A.D. 622, thirteen years after his first announcing himself as a prophet, is called the Hegira, or flight. It has been fixed on as a memorable era,

and still marks the lunar years of the Mohammedan nations. A traditionary record has been handed down respecting this flight, and the means of the prophet's preservation from the close pursuit of his enemies, and which is frequently adverted to by the Arabian writers. In company with the faithful Abu Bekr he took refuge in a cave; but a dove built her nest in the mouth of the cavern, and a spider wove its web over the entrance; by which his pursuers were led to suppose that the cave must be empty.

For a short period Mohammed remained in comparative secrecy in the outskirts of Medina, where he held conferences with his disciples, who solemnly bound themselves to defend him, and to disseminate his doctrines. Sixteen days after his departure from Mecca he arrived at Medina, and entered that city in a splendid procession. He was mounted on a camel, with an umbrella over his head, and a turban was unfurled before him as a banner. B.

Biography.

THE LIFE OF RICHARD HOOKER. [Concluded from Number CXXVIII.] THE dispute in which Hooker had been engaged with Travers was peculiarly painful to him, both in itself and its consequences. As respected himself, it was most distasteful to his mild and gentle spirit; and it occasioned him much grief, ending, as it did, in the deposition of his opponent from his ministerial office. But "God moves in a mysterious way" to accomplish his purposes; and as it was his design that the Church, in her successive generations, should be enlightened and fortified by that great production "The Ecclesiastical Polity," so he appointed that this should be the occasion of drawing it from the mind and pen of Hooker. Thus thousands of his own contemporaries, and of his successors, have been benefited, while his own graces were tried and strengthened, and his acute mind drawn to a deep and thorough investigation of the points in debate.

The benchers and chief men of the Temple highly praised the master, and treated him with great reverence; but yet there were so many members of Mr. Travers's sentiments and party, that the situation became very irksome to Hooker; and he solicited some other preferment from his friend the archbishop, in the following letter:

"My lord, when I lost the freedom of my cell, which was my college, yet I found some degree of it in my quiet country parsonage; but I am weary of the noise and oppositions of this place; and indeed God and nature did not intend me for contentions, but for study and quietness. My lord, my particular contests with Mr. Travers here have proved the more unpleasant to me, because I believe him to be a good man; and that belief hath occasioned me to examine mine own conscience concerning his opinions; and to satisfy that, I have consulted the Scripture, and other laws, both human and divine, whether the conscience of him, and others of his judgment, ought to be so far complied with as to alter our frame of Church government, our manner of God's worship, our praising and praying to him, and our established ceremonies, as often as his and others' tender consciences shall require us; and in this examination I have not only satisfied myself, but have begun a