"Seeing ye reject, &c. behold we turn to the Gentiles." Had the gospel been proclaimed, in like manner, to all other nations, the apostles would have felt it their duty to have labored assiduously among their brethren at home. But while there remained a single nation on the face of the earth, that had not received the knowledge of salvation, they felt that the parting commandment of their Master was not yet fully obeyed; and, while they lived, they made it their business, more and more fully to execute that command. But their missionary spirit died with them; and, at the present hour, that commandment remains still unobeyed. Is it difficult, in this case, to see the path of duty? Besides, I cannot see, that by preaching at home, we are hastening the coming glory of the church. God has promised, that all shall know him. He has not promised that all Ishall serve him. On the contrary, he has said, that He will gather his people out of every nation, kindred, and tongue, and people; which, evidently implies, that all shall not be his people. Far be it from me to depreciate the work of the ministry at home. It is a most important work. But still, while there are any sitting in darkness and the shadow of death, it must yield in importance to the missionary field. Besides, who can tell what an effect our neglect of God's commandment, to preach to all nations, may have, in causing him to withhold his Spirit from the exertions of Christians at home? I must abruptly conclude. I was struck with the variety of incident in your last. Let us contemplate much, my dear friend, the grand operations of God to our world; and, let us thus learn to feel our own insignificance, and to merge every selfish consideration in the great work to which we are called.

The progress of his religious sentiments and feelings, the following letters will show.

The first is the letter alluded to, in that to his friend C——, already inserted. It is too valuable to be omitted.

My very dear Friend;

sur

The receipt of your interesting communication, and of a note from my friend, Mr. Tait, accompanying a treatise on Confessions of Faith, have been among the most remarkable events in my history, since I wrote last;-they have, at least, been almost the only varieties that have broken the regularity and sameness of a ceaseless routine of occupations, repeated with little change or interruptions, day after day. Not that I am displeased, or wearied of my retirement, for I esteem it as a very great privilege. But I preface my letter thus, merely to remind you, that though you, who are a public character, and are rounded by all the bustle and variety of numerous avocations, have such a body of interesting matter to communicate, that you pant for utterance in the expression of it;-and one subject leading to another; the stream of information so enlarges as you go along that the very sheets of paper seem to have foreseen its rising magnitude: and, aware of what was coming, to have extended their dimensions, in proportion as the fund of your information increased. I say, though this be the case with you, you must remember that it is very different with a solitary recluse, who has no companions but his books, (with most of whom you are better acquainted than himself,) and scarcely any engagements but his private studies. But a truce to this trifling, I must proceed to answer your very

interesting letter. We may, sometimes, draw illustrations of spiritual things from the most ordinary occurrences in life; and they are not, on that account the less striking. Your feelings expressed in the beginning of your letter, with respect to your correspondence, struck me as a good illustration of the nature and operation of faith. You knew something of the character of a fellow creature, as much, you thought, as to entitle you to rely upon his veracity. You knew, however, that he was fallible, and subject to change; and yet, on this previous knowledge of his character, you confidently expected the fulfilment of a promise he had made to you. The time of its

fulfilment came, however, and it seemed to you to have been broken. You were "perplexed to account for his silence." You tried to account for it by some expressions of regret he had used, that he had made the engagement;-but you did not think this a sufficient explanation of his failing to perform it. Now, what was it that made you think, even in the face of existing circumstances, that your friend might have performed his promise? It was your faith in his veracity, founded on the previous manifestations of his character which you had observed. Now, let us compare this; or rather, let us contrast it with our faith in the promises of God. Instead of an imperfect guessing at his character, from displays of it, which might generally correspond with what we think its leading characteristics, but which sometimes speak in direct opposition to them; all the manifestations of the divine character we have ever beheld, have been in perfect harmony with each other, all going to establish the grand truths, that the "Lord is good;" that "the Judge of all the earth will do

rightly:" and, above all, to demonstrate almost from the very nature of the divine existence, that "with Him there is no variableness or shadow of turning;"-that He is a God who cannot lie. Now is it not very strange, that with these, so sure grounds for implicit confidence, our faith in the divine goodness and faithfulness is so weak, as to permit our being perplexed by any of the dispensations of his providence, however dark and discouraging?-You will remark, that this very perplexity is an indication of a certain degree of faith; it is a struggling between our confidence in the individual, and the circumstances around us which seem to impeach his character. If this circumstantial proof be very strong, then the perplexity indicates a very strong degree of confidence, to enable us to resist the conviction of this strong circumstantial proof. But though, in these circumstances, perplexity does indicate a very strong degree of faith; yet it, at the same time, indicates an imperfection of faith. It may require very strong faith to stand in the combat against a very strong enemy: but perfect confidence would do more, it would overthrow the enemy, it would gain the victory. But per

plexity implies, that this is not the case. It implies suspense. It implies that we have not come to a decision. It implies that the combat is yet doubtful; that the victory has not yet been gained. Now is it not strange that our faith in a creature, weak as are the grounds of it, should carry us so far? And, that, strong as are the foundations of our confidence in God, it does not carry us farther?-that the one should carry us so far as to land us in perplexity; that the other should not

O, my friend, were we but deeply impressed with a sense of God's all-sufficiency, how much of our unhappiness would be taken away! There would be no murmuring at the dispensations of Providence; there would be no regret on reflecting on the past, but the regret that we had ever departed from God;-there would be no fear, on looking forward to the future, but the fear lest we might again break his commandments. Sin itself, from which we can never be wholly freed in this world, would still remain to trouble us; but all those sources of misery which indirectly spring from it would be removed. And, by a continual dependence on God, and confidence in him, the power even of sin itself, would be continually weakening within us. The firm belief, that God was working in us both to will and to do of his good pleasure, would encourage us to work out with fear and trembling, that part of our salvation which yet remains, even our deliverance from the power of sin. Connected with this subject, that is a striking passage, "Walk thou before me, and be thou perfect."

But I am awakened from this long reverie, by perceiving that it is near our dinner hour. I sat down in despondency, thinking I should find nothing to say; and resolved, by way of making matter, to write a commentary on your epistle. I believe I shall make out pretty well in respect of quantity, if I paraphrase the whole of it at as great length as I have done these first few sentences.

My dear F

Perth,

; I take the liberty of writing these few lines, in answer to yours. We were glad to hear of your