God, and continually dependent on his pleasure, to stand forth in an attitude of lofty defiance, and to brave the threatened vengeance of that God, in all its most terrible emblazonry, is insanity, unmatched in its kind and degree. Who but a maniac would bare his bosom to the lightning? Who but a maniac would walk through the consuming fire? And shall that man remain unconvicted of madness who provokes all the pains that Omnipotence can inflict? should be relinquished without a sigh, and forfeited without a grudge. What wild infatuation, to court everlasting misery-to expose ourselves to the awful danger of the inextinguishable fire! Yet such is the infatuation the human heart often exhibits. Verily, "there is madness in the hearts of men while they live." We have now seen, that the "heart of the sons of men is full of evil," and that "madness is in their hearts while they live." III. The text says, "after that they go to the dead." After a brief existence of evil, of folly, of infatuation, they descend to the grave. This is the end of their days, the termination of their career. The vapour appeareth for a little, and then vanisheth away. The spark gleams for a moment, and then is extinguished amid surrounding ashes. So unsubstantial and fleeting is man's earthly existence. One might think, that all the ambition, and bustle, and activity, which are displayed on the theatre of the world, would have some more illus God's invitations to repentance, and his promises to the truly penitent, are abundant, and full of the tenderest mercy. In his marvellous love he reveals a scheme of recovery and salvation to his ruined creatures; he provides means of assistance and grace adapted to our wants and feebleness; he places before our minds powerful inducements, and stirs our hearts by earnest persuasions. How welcome to the ruined sinner, it might be thought, must be these invitations and schemes of grace. It might be thought that the heart of every fallen man would rejoice at the coming of a Saviour, and would gladly accept of these aids to its feeble-trious destiny. One might think, that the world, ness, provided by a gracious God. Nothing must appear so singularly absurd, as that man, in the indifference or carelessness of his heart, or in the pride of his self-confidence, should reject the wisdom and power of God for his salvation. Nothing can be greater infatuation, than that man should despise the treasures of heaven's benignity, and turn a deaf ear to affectionate counsels, and recklessly neglect all those means by which his spirit might be sanctified and adorned for the enjoyment of everlasting bliss; yet, of all this absurdity and infatuation the human heart is guilty. How coldly are the offers of salvation received-how frequently is the grace of God rejected-with what impenetrable resistance does the heart receive the calls and persuasions of the divine Word! All day long does God stretch forth his hands; but, ah! it is to a disobedient and gainsaying people. Is there not infatuation in the hearts of men? Verily there is madness in their hearts while they live." That the salvation of the soul is precious-that the attainment of everlasting life is desirable that our well-being through eternity is of supreme importance that the happiness of heaven infinitely transcends all the pleasures of this world, are propositions to which our reason instantaneously assents. That these things should have influence on our present lives is acknowledged to be wise and prudent. But, ah! how little do men occupy themselves with the care of their souls! How little do they think of their future well-being! How little do they prepare for that awful eternity, within whose unfathomed abyss they must soon be embosomed! Do not multitudes live as if there was no judgment to come-no land of glory to hope for-no souls to be saved or lost? This surely argues a frenzied state of mind. What! Is there no instinct of self-preservation, that the precious soul should thus be wantonly destroyed? Inconceivable madness! that the happiness of heaven which awakened such ardent devotion, would bestow some more splendid reward. But all that the world can at last give us is a grave. This is all the reward it will bestow on its most devoted servants. Man frets his brief hour on the stage of time, and then mingles with the dust. "Like sheep they are laid in the grave, death shall feed upon them, and their beauty shall consume in the grave from their dwelling." The grave is the house appointed for all living. We must soon be called to resign our souls to the God that gave them, and to commit our bodies to the earth. The living, active frame, must become a mass of loathsome putrefaction, food for revelling worms, and be resolved into its original dust. "Man that is born of a woman is of few days, and full of trouble. He cometh forth as a flower, and is cut down; he fleeth also as a shadow, and continueth not. There is hope of a tree, if it be cut down, that it will sprout again, and that the tender branch thereof will not cease. Though the root thereof wax old in the earth, and the stock thereof die in the ground; yet through the scent of water it will bud and bring forth boughs like a plant. But man dieth, and wasteth away; yea, man giveth up the ghost, and where is he? the waters fail from the sea, and the flood decayeth and drieth up, so man lieth down and riseth not; till the heavens be no more, they shall not awake, nor be raised out of their sleep." As Thus the dark night of death closes our earthly existence, and, as far as nature can certainly discern, our future prospects. Strain our natural vision to the utmost we cannot see beyond the grave. The bodily eye can discern no blissful isle of future repose beyond the ocean of death. The body possesses no innate power of revivifying itself-of gathering its scattered particles into a fairer and more glorious fabric. It lies "a kneaded clod in the valley," and "shall any following spring revive the ashes of the urn?” The imagination may dream of purer climes, of calm and verdant regions, to which the soul shall be transported after death; but man has no power in himself, either to prolong or renew his existence. He cannot wing his way to the seat of He bliss. He cannot make himself immortal. lives a life of vanity and wickedness, and then descends to the grave. This is all of his existence that appears to the eye of nature. Such, then, is man. "Evil is in his heart" continually. "Madness is in his heart while he lives," and after a short and feverish existence "he goes to the dead." How little is there, in this vain show, to fan our pride! Candid selfexamination must abase us, and dispel every selfflattering emotion, all self-confidence, and fancied excellence; it should lead us to go to something beyond ourselves, on which to build our hopes, and to dignify our existence. Ah! what can we expect from ourselves? What can we demand from God? What right can we have to the happiness of heaven, or how can we be prepared to enjoy it? What has there been in a life of evil, folly, and madness, to qualify for communion with God and everlasting blessedness? The withering curse of sin rests upon us. We lie under a sentence of condemnation, and we have no fitness for enjoying the holy beatitude of heaven. Such is our condition by nature. It is grace that opens up more goodly prospects. The door of mercy is open, and the tree of life expands and flourishes in glorious majesty. The arm of salvation has been revealed, and recovery has been proclaimed to the ruined. "The gift of God is everlasting life, through Jesus Christ." This everlasting life consists not altogether in an immortal existence after death. It is not entirely prospective. It is a spiritual vitality, which must be begun in the present world, and shall be perfected in the skies. It consists in the possession of remission of sins and newness of life, in the enjoyment of divine favour, and the expansion of spiritual graces. In order to possess the everlasting life that is in Christ Jesus, we must be redeemed from the evil, the madness, and the guilt of the heart, and also from the power of the grave. We must be raised now, from the death of sin to the life of righteousness, and hereafter we shall enjoy unfading happiness. Christ conquers all our spiritual enemies, he takes away our guilt, he bestows power to escape the corruption that is in the world, he raises us from the tomb, and brings us to his Father's throne, where is fulness of joy, and pleasures for evermore. Let it be our holy object to escape the evil and corruption of our hearts. Let us no longer madly oppose ourselves to the will, and threatenings, and invitations of God, and ruin our own souls. Let our conversation be in heaven, from whence we look for the appearance of the Lord Jesus, who shall change our vile bodies, and make them like unto his glorious body. Let us always pray for divine grace to sanctify us; and let us make a diligent use of the means whereby Christ communicates the benefits of redemption. ALL CHRISTIANS ARE NOT ALIKE. BY THE REV. DUNCAN MACFARLAN, Minister of Renfrew. SECTION VII. RELIGIOUS CHARACTER IN DIFFERENT STATES OF SOCIETY. THIS branch might be divided into many particulars. There is not a distinction in society which does not go to modify religious character. Some of these, however, stand out more prominently than others, and have, from their importance, special claims on our attention. Of these, the difference between religious character in large towns and retired country places, is observable. To persons living in the country, who know the rewhat they observe of many coming from such places, ligion of large towns chiefly through newspapers, and desecrating the Sabbath and despising every thing strictly religious, it seems to consist very much in bustle, speech-making, and money-gathering, and to be greatly wanting in practical godliness. On the other hand, the inhabitants of towns are very apt to imagine, that every thing in the country is in a very dead and unprosperous state. And should some of the more active among town Christians happen to sojourn for a time in the country, they are disappointed in not finding the same religious machinery at work, with which they were accustomed in towns. There is truth at the And bottom of both opinions. The besetting sin of Chrisinactivity. They want the sharpening of the iron, £o tians in the country is comparative deadness, or at least, much enjoyed in towns. And the besetting sin of townsmen is, the comparative neglect of what is personal and domestic, and the evaporation of religious principle in religious excitement. We will, moreover, admit that an infusion of the zeal of towns may be adthat some of the habits of the country might be navantageously applied to many parts in the country, and turalized in towns. But still, means suited to the one may be very unsuitable to the other; and while method is essential to success in both, it must, in both, be adapted to circumstances. In the country, families live apart from each other, or are, at least, less congregated than in towns. They generally know each other, and are often connected by ties of blood and affinity. even where this is not the case, neighbourhood supplies the place of friendship, or, like it, erects, perhaps, between them an inseparable barrier of distance and discord. Each pious family has about it much of the individuality of a little church, and may command within its own sphere a very decided religious influence. And where several of these live near each other, no formal association could be more efficient than the natural and spontaneous intercourse which springs up between them. In the field, by the way side, in markets, and in each other's houses, they frequently meet, and their intercourse may be perfectly free and unembarrassed. On lected from all quarters, live often together as the fitthe other hand, the inhabitants of large towns are colting tenants of some lodging-house or hotel; knowing little of each other, except when they meet in public. They are also accustomed to do every thing in public. Business, and politics, and economic arrangements are all discussed in public, and plans connected with thes also their attempts to do good. It is well that it is so. are often carried into effect by associations; and so must The thing is practicable. It is suited to their circumstances, it is so designed of God. In the country, the same means are neither necessary nor suitable. Let us, then, together admire the wisdom of God, in providing for the dissemination and cultivation of practical religion, both in town and country, and by means springing out of their respective circumstances. And while we admire, let us learn to judge charitably of each other. Moreover, it is well known to such as are acquainted with both, that the peculiarities on which a superficial observer is apt to fasten, are but as the shadings of what is complete and substantial underneath. There is much true devotion and deep Christian experience in towns, and there is much of the actual leavening process in the country, though the one be not regulated by the terms of a joint stock company, and the other be away from the retirements of the field and under other canopies than those of heaven. Considerable diversity of religious character may be also observed in different ranks of society. A well bred gentleman does not cease to be so, on his becoming a Christian. And yet the entire absence of certain forms and peculiarities may induce the belief that he is less serious than if he had conformed to these. Persons of different manners and habits very naturally associate religious principle with its ordinary modes of expression. And as the great bulk of society are accustomed to see but little of the religion of the great, it is not to be wondered at, that they should be mistaken with regard to their mode of expressing it. But this is an obstacle very easily removed. A gentleman of truly Christian occupied the chief attention of the clergy. And hence the general character of their writings, and with these of that generation of believers. The Bible and the doctrines of the cross were dear to them as religion itself. And yet in some of the subordinate departments of their belief, they were less perfect than after generations. Towards the end of Charles the first's reign, and onwards to the revolution, the special concerns of the Scottish Church were the perfecting of the Presbyterian system, and the maintenance of a covenanted work of reformation. And accordingly, it will be found that these gave a special character to the religious feelings and opinions of that period. These points were of sufficient importance to claim attention in any circumstances, but, as matters were, they were engraven on every pious heart as a necessary part of vital godliness. And accordingly, the prayers and holy exercises of private individuals were usually imbued with a covenanting spirit. Some, disapproving of these matters, deny them even the credit of personal religion, as if it had been merely zeal for the covenants, forgetting that in many cases it was zeal for God which made them zealous for these. Others will have them to be ignorant and superstitious, because, forsooth, they living in the seventeenth century were not imbued with the philosophy of the nineteenth. And others will have it, that they were either insane or gross deceivers, because of their apparent familiarity with God, and their extraordinary confidence in his providence, and in answers to their prayers; equally forgetting the promise," As thy day is, so shall thy strength be," and that their day was one of sore trial, great suffering, and great devotedness. character will not find it difficult to establish himself in the good opinion of his poorer brethren. A little friendly intercourse will remove every misapprehension, and procure for him a place in their affections, which gold and silver cannot purchase. But it is not so easy Similar changes will be observed in later times. for the great and the noble to become all at once recon- Our country has, more than almost any other, changed ciled to the Christianity of the poor. Looking down on during the last sixty or seventy years. The character the humbler ranks of society, the man of high breeding of the people has changed, their habits of living, of misses the usual elegancies and refinements which he speaking, and of worshipping God have all greatly has been accustomed to associate with the objects of his changed. And so it is that some of the practices, exregard, and in their room he meets with peculiarities pressive of true godliness, seventy years ago, are now that are, perhaps, positively offensive, and he is accord-made subjects of ridicule, and those who observed them ingly apt to impute to principle what is due only to circumstances. But to a mind truly enlightened, there is in all this nothing but what is natural. Religion does not change men's places in society, and as little does it destroy such peculiarities of character. Two circumstances, however, show how parties so dissimilar may be brought together. The one is the sanctifying effect of the Gospel. Sin and sinful habits naturally degrade and brutalize man, and a deliverance from sin, and with it progressive sanctification, do as naturally elevate and refine the whole moral constitution of man. On the other hand, it is sin which makes a man proud of his rank or wealth, and haughty to his inferiors, and, therefore, if he also become the subject of divine grace, he will find a way of expressing himself in a less offensive, if not more kind and winning, even to the poorest of those who are his brethren in Christ. It is thus that, when men's moral distance from Christ has been removed, they become near even to each other. The other circumstance is the sympathy of a believer's heart. We cleave to those whom we love, be their circumstances what they may, and they who truly love Christ, will also love the brethren. In the meantime, we ought all to be on our guard against undervaluing the Christianity of others, because of their different circum stances. There is yet one other form of diversity to which we are desirous of adverting. Different periods of the same country often differ more from each other than different ranks or even different countries of the same age. During the reformation, for example, the teaching of the Bible, as opposed to will worship, the doctrine of justification by faith, as opposed to human merits, and morality, as opposed to ritual observances, are spoken of as rude and bigoted. Moreover, there is with this, a disposition to treat every thing which may be of old standing, whether it be itself of permanent obligation or not, as obsolete and intolerable. It is here as in many other things: those who most loudly talk of the refinements of philosophy, are generally ignorant of its spirit. If they were true philosophers, they would distinguish between what is merely manner, and therefore ephemeral, and what is substantial, and which ought to be common to every age. And they would be equally disposed to recognise true religion, whether spoken in the language and expressed in the habits of the eighteenth or nineteenth century. The peculiarities which we have tous been reviewing ought to put us all on our guard against being guilty of reproaching others; and ought, further, to enable us to understand and judge of religious character, in the diversified forms which it assumes among men. "For as the body is one, and hath many members, and all the members of that one body being many, are one body; so also is Christ. Now ye are the body of Christ, and members in particular." THE PILGRIM FATHERS AND THEIR BY AN AMERICAN. I COME now to the consideration of the measures which were, in the course of time, the means of introducing | believers. This doctrine was openly and strongly much error in doctrine. I. The first cause of the corruption of religion in the New England colonies was the half-way covenant plan. Amidst the zeal of the Pilgrim Fathers for Church order and government, the necessity of the outpourings of the Spirit, and genuine and extensive revivals of religion was too much overlooked. The consequence was, that many of their children, who had been devoted to the Lord in baptism by their pious parents, grew up unconverted, and were not only destitute of civil privileges, but, what was more grievous, were out of the Church, and could not have their children baptized. This was felt to be a great evil. They were generally persons of quiet and moral behaviour, but still not pious. What was to be done for them? and for their children, who were likely to grow up heathen, unbaptized, and without the pale of the influence of the Church? These were perplexing questions. They were first agitated in Connecticut, and gave rise to much anxious feeling in the hearts of pious fathers and grandfathers, as may be readily supposed. They were discussed and decided at a meeting of ministers in Boston in 1657, and in a General Synod in 1662. In these decisions, which were substantially the same, it was not determined that those who gave no credible evidence of piety should be admitted to the communion of the Church, nor was it determined that they could have no sort of connection with the Church, or that their children must necessarily remain unbaptized. A middle course was suggested and adopted, viz., " that it is the duty of those who were baptized in infancy, when grown up to years of discretion, though not fit for receiving the Lord's Supper, to own the covenant made in their behalf by their parents, by entering thereinto in their own persons. And it is the duty of the Church to call upon them for the performance thereof; and if, being called upon, they shall refuse the performance of this great duty, or otherwise continue scandalous, they are liable to be censured for the same by the Church. And in case they understand the grounds of religion, and are not scandalous, and solemnly own the covenant in their own persons, wherein they give up both themselves and their children unto the Lord, and desire baptism for them, we see not sufficient cause to deny baptism unto their children." The effect of this measure was just what might have been foreseen. It quieted the consciences of many who enjoyed, in this way, a connection with the Church, without piety. Most persons of sober life, when they came to have families, owned the covenant, and presented their children for baptism. But the number of Church members in full communion was comparatively small, and continually diminishing. It is proper to say that the decision of the General Synod, recommended also by the General Court or Legislature, was much opposed, and perhaps never became universal in its practical operation. President Chauncey, Mr Davenport, Dr Increase Mather, and others strongly opposed it. It did not go into effect in Connecticut until 1696. The measure which I have just stated exerted a most withering influence on the piety of the Churches in the colonies of New England. But that influence was exceeded in injurious effect by that of another measure or practice which gained a footing in the Churches at a subsequent day, and which accelerated the sad declension of religion which had long before commenced. I now proceed to give you some notice of that practice. II. It was the prevalence, towards the close of the first eighty years after the planting of the first colonies in New England, (about the year 1700,) of the doctrine of the Lord's Supper being a means of grace in the sense of a means of conviction and conversion or regeneration to the unregenerate, as well as a means of edification to * Cotton Mather's History, book V, maintained by the Rev. Solomon Stoddard, of Northampton, the maternal grandfather of the celebrated Jonathan Edwards, as early as 1675 or 1680. It is true that great opposition was made to this dangerous but plausible error, by the Rev. Dr Increase Mather, who had a public discussion with Mr Stoddard on this subject, and by other ministers, and eventually, and perhaps most ably of all, by his grandson Mr Edwards, who was (during the latter portion of Mr Stoddard's | life) his colleague, in the church at Northampton. The dreadful consequences of this doctrine are too obvious to need many remarks. It did not, indeed, gam a universal, but rather a very wide extended prevalence in New England; and, it is to be feared, in other parts of the whole country also, especially in the Presbyterian churches, thousands of unconverted persons, whose lives were externally moral, entered the Church; and whilst they increased its numbers, diminished its strength and defaced its beauty. From the year 1680 to 1740, very many persons of this description were admitted to a participation in the privileges of the Church. There was but little strictness in examining those who applied for the privileges of the Church. If they said that they had arrived at what they believed to be the period of life at which they ought to make a profession, and felt that it was their duty to attach themselves to the Church, they were allowed to do so. Let any one only read "An Account of the Revival of Religion in Boston, in the years 1740-43, by the Rev. Thomas Prince, one of the Pastors of the Old South Church," in that city; a small and most interesting work of fifty or sixty pages, published, at first, in 1744, and republished in 1823, and he will see what had become the effects of this pernicious doctrine at that period, although it had been opposed, in some measure, by several of the ministers who preached in that city, at that day. I confess that I have never read that pamphlet without feeling a disposition to lift my voice, and if possible, sound a note of alarm throughout all the Churches, and conjure them to beware of acting upon the principles of this doctrine. Few churches in the United States, would now act avowedly upon this principle; for I believe that almost all require those who would join the Church, to give such evidence of conversion as can be obtained by examination of their doctrines and experience of the power of religion in the heart. But it is much to be feared that these examinations are not so thorough and faithful as they ought to be, and the consequence is that too many are adinitted to the privileges of the holy Sacrament of the communion, who give no satisfactory proof that they have been regenerated by the Holy Spirit. Such a course will, any where, fill the Church with those who have no real love of the truth, but who will remain worldly, and, in most cases, hopeless professors of a religion of which they are almost wholly ignorant. So it was in the churches in Boston, and many other places in New England, one hundred years ago. They became filled with unconverted persons. The next step, or rather an accompanying one, was the introduction of unholy men into the ministry. Superficial examinations of the candidates became almost universal. And when, as was the case for a long time after this declension had become somewhat extensive, the pulpits were very generally occupied with moral, amiable, pleasant, and, in the main, serious men, but such as appeared to know little of heart-religion, then the way was effectually prepared for the introduction of almost any error. It is very difficult for an unconverted minister to be truly orthodox. He may in theory, but not in heart. And it will be very difficult for him to preach the truth faithfully to the hearts and consciences of men. It may be possible to get into the Church, and even into the ministry; but it is another thing to be a truly converted and devoted Christian. O what desolations were brought over the churches in New England, by acting on the principle, not indeed latent and deceptious, as, it is to be feared, it exists still in too many other parts of Christendom, but openly avowed, and carried out into effect, that unconverted persons of moral life have the liberty of coming forward to the communion of the Church. In my next, I shall take notice of other causes which contributed to lower the standard of religion, and so prepare the way for the springing up and the development of heresy, in New England. CHRISTIAN TREASURY. God as a Father and a Judge.-Take the case of an earthly parent suppose him to be endowed with all the tenderest sensibilities of nature, conceive of him as delighting in the health and welfare of his children, and, in the exercise of every benevolent affection, lavishing on them all the riches of a father's kindness and a father's care. You say, on looking at his benignant countenance and his smiling family, this is an affectionate father. But a secret canker of ingratitude seizes one or more of his children,-they shun his presence, or dislike his society, and at length venture on acts of positive disobedience; he warns them, he expostulates with them, but in vain, they revolt more and more; and at length, in the exercise of deliberate thought, he lifts the rod and chastens them; and he who once was the author of all their happiness, has become also their calm but firm reprover. And who that knows the tenderness of a father's love, will not acknowledge, that, severe as may be the suffering inflicted, such a man doth not afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of his love? Again, conceive of a man of benevolent feelings in vested with the office of magistrate or judge,-conceive that Howard, the unwearied friend of his race, who visited the prisons of Europe to alleviate the miseries of the worst and most destitute of men,-conceive of such a man sitting in judgment over the life or liberty of another, and can you not suppose, that while every feeling within him inclined him to the side of mercy, and his every sensibility would be gratified, were it possible to make the felon virtuous and happy, he might, notwithstanding, have such a deep moral persuasion of the importance of virtue and order to the well-being of the state, that he could consign the prisoner to a dungeon or the gallows, and that, too, with the perfect conviction that it was right and good to do so; while, still, every sentiment of the heart within him, if it could be disclosed, would bear witness, that he afflicted not willingly, and that he had no pleasure in the death of the criminal? Such a father and such a judge is God; and the sufferings which he inflicts, whether they be viewed as corrective or penal, are compatible with the loftiest benevolence in the divine mind. And, unquestionably, the fact, that "God doth not afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of men," may, in one light, be regarded as a ground of consolation, inasmuch as it assures us that the Almighty Being, in whose hands our destinies are placed, has no pleasure in the mere infliction of suffering,-that in His holy mind not one passion exists which can be gratified by it, and that, even "as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him."-REV. JAMES BUCHANAN. (Comfort in Affliction.) Divine Mercy. And whereas thou thinkest that God is more merciful, why, surely, he knows best his own mercifulness. His mercy will not cross his truth. Cannot God be infinite in mercy, except he save the wilful and rebellious? Is a judge unmerciful for condemning malefactors? Mercy and justice have their several objects. Thousands of humble, believing, obedient souls, shall know, to their eternal comfort, that God is merciful, though the refusers of his grace shall lie under justice. God will then force thy conscience to confess it in hell, that God who condemned thee was yet merciful to thee. Was it not mercy to be made a reasonable creature, and to have patience to endure thy many years, provocations, and waiting upon thee from sermon to sermon, desiring and entreating thy repentance and return? Was it not mercy to have the Son of God, with all his blood and merits, freely offered thee, if thou wouldst but have accepted him to govern and to save thee? Nay, when thou hadst neglected and refused Christ once, or twice, yea, a hundred times, that God should yet follow thee with invitations from day to day? And shalt thou wilfully refuse mercy to the last hour, and then cry out that God will not be so unmerciful as to condemn thee? Thy conscience will smite thee for thy madness, and tell thee, that God was merciful in all this, though such as thou do perish for thy wilfulness. Yea, the sense of the greatness of his mercy, will then he a great part of thy torment.BAXTER. The Agency of the Holy Spirit necessary to produce the Benevolence of the Gospel.-The world could not be surprised out of its selfishness, and charmed into benevolence by the mere spectacle, even of divine love. That love can only be understood by sympathy, but for this sin had disqualified us. According to the economy of grace, therefore, the exhibition of that love in God, is to be the means of producing love in us; the glorious spectacle of God, is to be turned into a living principle in us. For this end, the holy, unHis emblem contined, and infinite Spirit came down. is the wind; he came like a rushing mighty wind, came with a fulness and a power as if he sought to fill every heart, to replenish the Church,-to be the soul of the world, to encircle the earth with an atmosphere of grace, as real and universal as the elemental air that whoever inhaled it might have eternal life.encompasses and circulates around the globe itself, HARRIS. (Mammon.) "The righteousness of God, which is by faith of Jesus Christ unto all and upon all them that believe."-The rising sun in summer is not so charming to an eye of sense, as the life of Christ is to a mind which can admire spiritual excellency. So complete an union of every quality, without one single flaw, has compelled his blasphemers to do him honour. And it is common to expatiate on the perfection of his character as a copy for imitation. But here many stop. This indeed gives him pre-eminence above the most admired of men, yet is not half his due. For the Scripture places the sinless life of Christ in an infinitely higher light--not only as a perfect pattern, found in no other man, or as a necessary qualification to make atonement, but as a work of most efficacious beneficence of a kind absolutely singular, surpassing, beyond all comparison, every other service the Almighty ever received, and reaching in its saving virtue, through all eternity. For no creature can transfer the benefit of his own performances, since perfect obedience is due, from every creature, on his own account, to God, by an indefeasible right: but the unrivalled glory of the life of Christ consists in this peculiarity, that it is the righteousness of God, by which myriads of sinners, to the ends of the earth, and the end of time, are made righteous. To them his righte ousness is imputed, because performed by compact on their account, and for their salvation; accepted as such by the Father, and deemed so really theirs, that the righteousness of the law is said to be fulfilled in them, because fulfilled by Christ, who is their surety, and with whom they are one.-VENN., |