come to send you to the bar of God with a lie in your right-hand. But neither am I come to mortify you, to put you to unnecessary pain, to imbitter you, or to exasperate you." There is a kindness, affection, tenderness, meekness, and patience, which a man's feelings and conscience will condemn him while he opposes! I have found it a very effectual method to begin with myself it awakens attention, conciliates the mind, and insinuates conviction :-" Whatever others think of themselves, I stand condemned before God: my heart is so desperately wicked, that, if God had not showed me in his word a remedy in Jesus Christ, I should be in despair: I can only tell you what I am, and what I have found. If you believe yourselves to be what God has told me I am and all men are, then I can tell you where and how to find mercy and eternal life: if you will not believe you are this sort of man, I have nothing to offer you. I know of nothing else for man beside that which God has showed me." My descriptions of my own fallen nature have excited perfect astonishment: sometimes my patients have seemed scarcely able to credit me, but I have found that God has fastened, by this means, conviction on the conscience. In some cases, an indirect method of addressing the conscience may apparently be, in truth, the most direct; but we are to use this method wisely and sparingly. It seems to me to be one of the characteristics of the day, in the religious world, to err on this subject. We have found out a CIRCUITOUS way of exhibiting truth. The plain, direct, simple exhibition of it is often abandoned, even where no circumstances justify and require a more insinuating manner. There is dexterity indeed,

and address in this; but too little of the simple declaration of the testimony of God, which St. Paul opposes to excellency of speech or of wisdom, and to enticing words of man's wisdom. We have done very little when we have merely persuaded men to think as we do.

But we have to deal with a worse death-bed character, than with the man who opposes the truth. Some men assent to every thing, which we propose. They will even anticipate us. And yet we see that they mean nothing. I have often felt when with such persons: "I would they could be brought to contradict and oppose! That would lead to discussion. God might, peradventure, dash the stony heart in pieces. But this heart is like water. The impressions dies as fast as it is made." I have sought for such views as might rouse and stir up opposition. I have tried to irritate the torpid mind. But all in vain. I once visited a young clergyman of this character, who was seized with a dangerous illness at a coffee-house in town, whither some business had brought him: the first time I saw him, we conversed very closely together; and, in the prospect of death, he seemed solicitous to prepare for it. But I could make no sort of impression upon him: all I could possibly say met his entire approbation, though I saw his heart felt no interest in it. When I visited him a second time, the fear of death was gone: and, with it, all solicitude about religion. He was still civil and grateful, but he tried to parry off the business on which he knew I came. "I will show you, Sir, some little things with which I have worn away the hours of my confinement and solitude." He brought

out a quantity of pretty and tasty drawings. I was at loss how to express, with suitable force and delicacy, the high sense I felt of his indecorum and insipidity, and to leave a deep impression on his conscience-I rose, however, instantly—said my time was expired— wished him well, and withdrew.

Sometimes we have a painful part to act with sincere men, who would have been carried too much into the world. I was called in to visit such a man. "I find no comfort," he said. "God veils his face from me. Every thing round me is dark and uncertain." I did not dare to act the flatterer. I said--" Let us look faithfully into the state of things. I should have been surprised if you had not felt thus. I believe you to be sincere. Your state of feelings evinces your sincerity. Had I found you exulting in God, I should have concluded that you were either deceived or a deceiver: for, while God acts in his usual order, how could you expect to feel otherwise on the approach of death, than you do feel? You have driven hard after the world. Your spirit has been absorbed in its cares. Your sentiment-your conversation have been in the spirit of the world. And have you any reason to expect the response of conscience, and the clear evidence which await the man who has walked and lived in the close friendship with God! You know that what I say is true." His wife interrupted me, by assuring me that he had been an excellent man. "Silence!" said the dying

penitent, "it is all true !"

Soon after I came to St. John's I was called on to visit a dying lady, whom I saw many times before her death. I found that she had taken God for her portion

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and rest. She approached him with the penitence of a sinner grateful for his provision of mercy in Christ. She told me she had found religion in her Common Prayer Book. She blessed God that she had "always been kept steady to her church; and that she had never followed the people called Methodists, who were seducing so many on all sides." I thought it would be unadviseable to attempt the removal of prejudices, which, in her dying case, were harmless, and which would soon be removed by the light which would beam in on her glorified soul. We had more interesting subjects of conversation, from which this would have led us away. Some persons may tax her with a want of charity: but, alas! I fear they are persons, who knowing more than she did of the doctrines of the gospel, have so little of its divine charity in their hearts, that, as they cannot allow for her prejudices, neither would they have been the last to stigmatize her as a dead formalist and a pharisee. God knoweth them that are his; and they are often seen by him, where we see them not. Were a benighted inhabitant of Otaheite to feel the wretchedness of his present life, and lift up his soul to the God he worshipped as a Supreme Being for happiness, no doubt God would hear such a prayer.

MISCELLANEOUS REMARKS ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY.

EVERY book really worth a minister's studying he ought, if possible, to have in his own library. I have used large libraries, but I soon left then. Time was frittered away: my mind was unconcentrated. Bc

sides, the habit which it begets of turning over a multitude of books is a pernicious habit. And the usual contents of such libraries are injurious to a spiritual man, whose business it is to transact with men's minds. They have a dry, cold, deadening effect. It may suit dead men to walk among the dead; but send not a living man to be chilled among the ruins of Tadmor in the wilderness!

CHRISTIANITY is so great and surprising in its nature, that, in preaching it to others, I have no encouragement but the belief of a continued divine operation. It is no difficult thing to change a man's opinions. It is no difficult thing to attach a man to my person and notions. It is no difficult thing to convert a proud man to spiritual pride, or a passionate man to passionate zeal for some religious party. But, to bring a man to love God -to love the law of God, while it condemns him—to loath himself before God-to tread the earth under his feet to hunger and thirst after God in Christ, and after the mind that was in Christ-with man this is impossible! But God has said it shall be done and bids me go forth and preach, that by me as his instrument, he may effect these great ends; and therefore I go. Yet I am obliged continually to call my mind back to my principles. I feel angry, perhaps, with a man, because he will not let me convert him: in spite of all 1 can say, he will still love the world.

ST. PAUL admonishes Timothy to endure hardness as a good soldier of Jesus Christ. It sometimes falls to the lot of a minister to endure the hard labor of a nurse, in a greater measure than that of a soldier. He