5. When they fear not to commit great sins to avoid small troubles. 6. The pride and self-conceitedness of many thousands who profess Christianity, plainly show their minds to be blinded by the sophistry of Satan, and that they do not understand themselves, and the woful state of their own souls. CHRIST THE JUDGE OF ALL. THERE are five things in this Judge, which make his wrath more dreadful. 1. He is such a Judge, that the power of the most powerful cannot daunt. 2. He is such a Judge, that the wealth of the most wealthy cannot bribe. 3. He is such a Judge, that the wit and subtlety of the wisest and most subtle cannot delude. 4. He is such a Judge, that there is no appealing from his sentence. 5. He is such a Judge, that there is no repealing of his CARYL, Job xix. 25. sentence. PRIVILEGES PECULIAR TO THE CONVERTED. THEY are delivered from the power of Satan, and receive the pardon of all their sins. They are reconciled to God. They are the adopted sons of God. They have the Spirit of Christ in them. They are the children of the promise, and God has engaged his word for their security. All their duties are pleasing to God. The angels have a special order and commission to attend them. They have communion with the whole catholic church, and many spiritual advantages by that communion. Another excellent privilege they enjoy is the constant intercession of Christ. Again; God hath assured them, that all things are theirs, and shall work for their good. BAXTER. REBEKAH STEVENS. IN whatever way the grace of God is manifested, it cannot fail to interest a Christian mind. It is profitable and delightful to witness its operation, wherever it is seen, and on whomsoever it may exercise an influence. Few, however, of its Divine workings are so replete with interest, as its converting energy in preparing some ignorant self-willed sinner for the blessed mansions of eternity. This heavenly influence is generally very gradual, and thus, for the most part, escapes a stranger's observation; but sometimes it is sufficiently rapid and abundantly manifest, not only to cheer and comfort the candidate for heaven himself, but also to animate an observing Christian, and to excite his soul to more deep humility, and more earnest and heartfelt calling upon God. An instance of this kind was lately afforded to the writer, in witnessing the renewing power of the gospel upon the heart and life of Rebekah Stevens. A few years since, Rebekah Stevens followed her family from a midland county to a manufacturing district of Cheshire, for employment and better wages. Thus at an early age (for she died at eighteen) she was removed from a retired and quiet home, and a round of domestic labour, to mingle in the bustling scenes of a factory life, where much of parental influence is lost, and where gaiety and vanity are excited by independence, and sated by indulgence. She was called to witness that love of dress and thirst for vanity, that contempt of maternal admonition, and that baneful coveting of early independence, so conspicuous in factory girls. She however never felt her own importance in her weekly gains. She was never tempted to leave the maternal roof by a prospect of personal liberty and early competency. No; she mixed in the scene, but was not carried away by its peculiar vices. She heard the jocund laugh, but it was only to feel more keenly the wasting woes of sickness; she saw the sportive air and tripping gait of her neighbours and her equals, but this only damped her own hopes, and clad her soul with bit terness. On her arrival in Cheshire, she was weak and sickly. The seeds of consumption were early manifest in her constitution, and she soon found herself unequal to the labour of the place. This grieved and distressed her; and with increasing debility she became peevish, complaining, and fretful. This appeared to be her condition when first known to the writer. She was not ignorant of the truths of Divine revelation, but seemed totally unmoved by their power, when told of a Saviour's love and the mysterious dealings of God to bring about the conversion of a sinner. She appeared familiar with such truths, but her affections were not in any degree touched by them, other subjects lay nearer to her heart. The world, little as it flattered her, engaged her soul; she felt not the burden of sin; she saw not her spiritual malady. Future health and strength were ever present to her imagination, and the love of Christ was unappreciated, unknown, and unfelt. She sorrowed indeed, but not after a godly sort; her sorrow was that of the world. She knew no peace; she felt no joy. In her person she felt the wasting progress of disease, and in her clothing and provision, she had to lament the blighting of her prospects, and the fading of her hopes. Her parents were kind and attentive, but poor and unable to meet her wants. They knew her state; they cared for and loved her, but it was not in their power to afford her warm and adequate clothing, or such food as was suitable to her delicate and emaciated frame. Thus she found comfort in nothing. She was wasting away rapidly. The world to which she fondly clung was eluding her grasp, and her fondest hopes were failing her day by day. She became more and more dejected, complaining, and spiritless. She was wasting without hope, and pining without comfort. These days of sorrow were, however, to be succeeded by happier times; for the Lord had gracious designs of mercy in store for her soul. Truths which had laid dormant in her mind, gradually began to work upon her heart. She became attentive to the promises and blessings of the gospel, and much of her sorrow was removed from her heart. After a very earnest seeking for Divine teaching, the grace of God first appeared in her, in the most peaceful resignation to his will; and then in a very decided love to Christ, and a grateful reliance upon his sacrifice for sin. About three or four months before her death, she became deeply affected by the love of God to her soul. She saw and recognised his Divine hand in all her circumstances of sorrow and disappointment, and a very earnest desire was raised in her soul, to partake of her heavenly inheritance. Indeed, the happiness of heaven appeared to be present to her mind in such lively colours, that she seemed entirely to lose sight of her worldly grief. Her whole soul bacame absorbed in the thought of the life to come. But there was nothing wild or enthusiastic in any part of her behaviour; like a deep and mighty stream her thoughts flowed, for the most part, silently, but irresistibly, to her God and Saviour. About this time she became confined to her bed, and the writer recalls, with feelings of much gratitude to God, the minutes he occasionally spent with her. He then learned that she had declined seeing any persons who were not seriously and decidedly religious, and this report accorded well with what he witnessed in her. She seemed to care about nothing but salvation. She had many wants, but seemed not to feel them; she often stood in need of proper nourishment, and of something to soothe an incessant and irritating cough, but she could hardly bear allusion to such wants; she felt that there was but one thing needful to her soul, and this she earnestly sought and found in the precious blood of Christ. Oh, happy change! a little while before she could only murmur and complain, but now she felt peace and joy in believing; she found, indeed, that Christ was a very precious Saviour. The Holy Spirit's influence was especially manifested in her last moments, in her meekness, and in her cheerfulness under much acute suffering. All irritability had left her. From the time she was confined to her bed, no hasty expression ever escaped her. If what she wished was not done, she did not complain, and if anything annoying occurred she bore it patiently. She indeed possessed her spirit in patience. Perhaps no one ever more happily realized the truth, that "the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that shall be revealed in us.' In beholding, indeed, the joys and happiness of heaven, she appeared to overlook the sorrows of time. A quivering of the lip was often the only indication of a paroxysm of bodily pain. When a fond and anxious mother, in the sympathy of her afflicted soul, wept over the agonies of her dying child, she summoned all her strength to express the comfort of her heart, and exclaimed, "Oh! mother, when I think of what my Saviour suffered, I cannot, I dare not complain. He had done no sin, yet he was hated and persecuted, and put to a violent death; but I have a kind mother to take care of me, and a comfortable bed to lie upon." Thus did Rebekah think upon her Saviour with wonder and with love. Her words were one continuous aspiration after heaven. The Saviour of her soul was always in her heart, and his name ever on her lips. She delighted to tell of his love to her brothers and sisters. She called them to her bed-side, and intreated them to turn to the Lord. She laid before them the sad consequences of continuing to neglect his mercy, and warmly urged them to seek the enlightening and convincing influences of the Holy Ghost. She also endeavoured to impress upon them the happiness and peace which flow from an humble and confiding faith in the Saviour of sinners. They often had from her lips an assurance of her happiness. They however needed not this assurance. They saw her happiness in all she said and all she did. They had witnessed the change in her mind and heart, and now knew from the expression of her countenance, and the sweet words she always used to her sorrowing parents, that she was no stranger to peace and happiness. To a brother, in whom she saw symptoms of approaching dissolution, by the same malady as her own, she often spoke of the happiness she had found in the gospel, and with many tears she exhorted him to turn all the energy of his soul to the happy truths of salvation. Peace had reached her heart in her last and weakest moments, but yet she felt the danger of delay, and was urgent with him not to defer so important a matter to the last stage of a wasting and enfeebling disorder. Here we see the genuine operation of true faith. She had become sensible of the love of Christ on the near approach of death, and she feared her brother might presume upon this, and neglect the salvation of God as long as a measure of strength remained. She had entered late, very late, into the vineyard of our Lord, but her desire was, that her family might know the blessedness of being in Christ in the very morning of life-in the dangerous days of early youth and inexperience. It was her happiness to feel that death had lost its sting. The Lord, indeed, was very gracious to her. No cloud hung over her bright prospects of approaching glory; no doubts harassed her mind; no fears embittered her soul. When she saw her mother crying over her, she reminded her of her own approaching happiness; and that it was far better for her to depart, and be with Christ; in a little time she would be beyond the reach of temptation and danger, free from all pain and weakness, and eternally happy in the presence of God. On the sabbath afternoon before her death, the writer visited her for the last time. It was a peaceful sabbath. All was in unison with her calm and happy frame of mind. The sky was clear and cloudless; the sun was approaching the horizon, casting its long and beauteous rays, and the stillness of nature helped to produce in the heart the quiet and happy feelings of the day of God. She seemed as on the confines of heaven, peacefully meditating on her future glory. Her peace and her quiet heartfelt joy, cast over her family an air of solemnity and calm resignation. They appeared to imbibe a portion of her happiness, and though they saw her sinking to the grave, were cheered by the joy that reigned in her soul. Her voice had now almost left her, but a sweet smile played upon her features. Her eyes sparkling, not with health, but from the peculiar effects of her disease, and her cheeks slightly tinged with a hectic hue, gave to her countenance much animation, though it told that death was at hand. She feebly said that she was happy, and then in a stronger voice, |