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His constitutional reserve, confirmed as it was by ill health, and some circumstances attending his situation, was calculated, perhaps, to render his manners somewhat forbidding. He seems to have been aware of this, as appears from passages in his journal, like the following: "Whenever I speak to others on religion, I am resolved to speak with a loving voice, and with a heart in unison, just like—” "This day I have possessed a cheerful temper, and exercised an amiable disposition more than usual."

to them the Christian name, he sought seem to have been, to take away sin. to drink deep of the spirit of the gos-Perhaps," says he, after enumerating pel. Aware, however, that those who some of his trials, "perhaps the Lord enter on the Christian life, in times of suffers these things to take place, that general religious excitement, too often I may hate sin more." lose sight of the great objects which first engrossed their view, he strove to impress himself with a sense of the unchangeable excellence of religion. Frequently did he say to his friends, at this period, "I hope, if I should ever become less influenced by the subjects which now occupy my mind, I may feel that there is no change in their importance, but that the change is wholly in myself." A few months after this hopeful change in his character, and when he had attained his seventeenth year, he made a profession of his faith in Christ. In the course of the same year, he commenced his studies under a private instructor, and entered Yale College in the autumn of 1816. Here, though prevented by frequent indisposition, from giving that attention to his studies which he desired, yet, by his conscientious diligence, he made respectable progress.

But it is rather as a Christian, than as a scholar, that we are called to contemplate his character. Few, it is believed, during their collegiate years, have better exemplified that part of pure and undefiled religion, which consists in "keeping unspotted from the world." His Christian brethren, and fellow students, all are witnesses how holily and unblamably he walked before them.

In one particular, his conduct deserves especial notice and imitation, his strict observance of the Sabbath. Amidst all the advances which are made in Christian zeal and activity at the present day, there is a lamentable departure from that strict observance of holy time, which the most eminent saints, in every age, have found greatly conducive to their progress in the divine life. From this prevailing evil, the subject of this memoir stood aloof. He carefully abstained from worldly conversation and business, and from evening to evening did he celebrate his Sabbaths.

From the commencement of his application to study, his health was so much impaired, that he sometimes feared he must abandon literary pursuits. Other discouragements, also, operated, at times, to weigh down his spirits; but the fruit of all these

But, whatever opinion those who were unacquainted with him may have formed from his appearance, those who knew him, can testify, that he shared largely of "the milk of human kindness. For the poor and afflicted, he felt a very tender concern. "Have pity upon the poor," he writes, on a certain occasion, "this shall be my motto." "Oh that I had the means in my power of contributing to the comfort of the poor and wretched!" At another time, he says, "Let me love every human being, at all times, and on all occasions. Whatever may be their conduct towards me, let me never be angry with any one. If any one injures, let me indulge a mild grief, but nothing

more.

Towards his only surviving parent, he cherished feelings of the utmost tenderness and respect. "Let me possess," says he, "for my mother, sentiments of very high esteem, respect and gratitude, and let me express them in my actions." "I am resolved, that, hereafter, as long as I live, I will esteem and treat my mother as I would, if I were on my death bed, or as I should, if she were fast aporoaching dissolution. Our stay together in this world cannot be long.'

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As he drew near to the close of his college life, he seems to have increased in heavenly mindedness. "I am resolved," he writes, "that, henceforth, I will view all things on earth, through the medium of the death-bed, and in the light of eternity." The following extract will show the state of his mind on the completion of his studies. "Our examination is now past, and with it, end the duties and studies of college;

the labours of four long years. This last examination I have been expecting for some time, and, as my health was feeble, with some solicitude. But I commended my case to God, and he has helped me; he has given me increasing strength since the time my examination began. I will be for ever his, and bless his holy name. Now I have done with the business of college, and what to do, I know not. I wish for direction from on high." At another time, he expresses a similar anxiety, with a desire of devoting himself to the missionary cause.

Little reason, however, was there, as since appears, for this anxiety respecting his future employment. Af ter he graduated, in Sept. 1820, his health continued to decline, until near the close of the winter, when his disease assumed a more alarming appearance, and he was confined to his room. During the former part of his confinement, prevented as he was from enjoying the privileges of social worship, he was left, for a season, to walk in darkness. He often expressed fears, that he might be deceiving himself; and longed for a week of firm health, that he might devote it to self-examination and prayer. But He who, "hav ing loved his own, loveth them unto the end," did not long leave him without the enjoyment of his presence.

A

Christian friend, who visited him constantly during the latter part of his sickness, found, on every succeeding visit, his hopes continually increasing in brightness.

At no period of his sickness did he manifest much desire to recover; he rather felt disposed to say, "the will of the Lord be done." He was, indeed, desirous to do something on earth for the glory of God, and to aid in the advancement of that day of millennial glory, which he believed had already dawned upon the world. It was, however, to him a consoling thought, that a more active part in this service might be assigned him in the glorified state. In the good work of grace, which has, for most of the year past, been going on in this city, he took a very lively interest, and expressed himself highly gratified by a visit, a

few days before his death, from one of its hopeful subjects.

When asked what his views were of the character of God, he replied, that it appeared to him lovely and glori ous. The plan of salvation by Jesus Christ, was to him, likewise, a subject of delightful contemplation.

On one of his friends observing to him, that she believed he bad maintained a close walk with God, he replied, "Oh no! I have been a great transgressor, especially since I have professed to hope in the mercy of God." At another time, when the observation of a friend, that he had been a very consistent Christian, was repeated to him, and the question put, whether he regretted the strictness of his life; he answered, with much feeling, “A strict life! I have lived a very sinful life. If I had nothing to depend upon but the strictness of my life, and the rectitude of my conduct, I should never hope for mercy: the merits of Christ are all my dependence; his blood is my only hope for acceptance."

No signs of immediate dissolution were observed, until about one hour before his death. It was then evident, that the silver cord of life was soon to be loosed. Although, for two days previous to this, he had been unable to speak, except in a whisper, he now spoke loud and freely, with short intervals, for nearly half an hour. He seemed to have summoned all his energies, both of body and of mind, to pay this last tribute to his Saviour's faithfulness. He addressed himself to each of those around him, in words of consolation or admonition, according as he supposed their case required. He often repeated, "Jesus is my friend, and Christ is my righteousness!" "I am not afraid." On being asked if he had the presence of God to cheer him in the dark valley, "O yes," he said, "my Saviour is with me, he is precious."

In this manner he continued, until his speech failed him; then, with a countenance which spoke unutterable things, he looked around on his friends for some minutes, and, at length, as the day began to dkwn upon the busy tribes of men, he sweetly fell asleep in Jesus.

Answers to Correspondents.

J.

P.; two communications from A. Z.; EMMA; JUVENIS, have been received.

THE

CHRISTIAN SPECTATOR.

No. V.]

MAY, 1821.

Religious Communications.

For the Christian Spectator.

On Purity of Heart.

RELIGION is designed to operate powerfully on our whole moral constitution. While it fills the heart with the love of God, it should also exalt and purify our motives of action. While it calls forth the tear of penitence, and lifts the soul in fervent prayer, it should also soften the moral sensibility, sweeten the temper, and sanctify our most secret thoughts and purposes. Too many persons are prone to take narrow and partial views of this subject. How seldom do we hear the sentiment expressed, for example, that a pious man should also be an amiable man, and yet who will deny that religion should add a new loveliness to the character? Who will deny that it should soften the heart, and sweeten the temper? That religion should be held in low estimation, which does not only make one a better, but also a lovelier man than his neighbour. I would not imply by this remark however, that there is any thing of piety or of real moral excellence in our amiable constitutional feelings, for such feelings form a part of our nature, and are born with us. But wherever religion has wrought powerfully on the whole character, it will inevitably subdue the roughness of our dispositions. And when you tell us that a person has a deep sense of divine things, a strong and abiding faith, an ardor of hope and of joy, and a strength of charity which will triumph over all obstacles, we must also ask for something of a lovely and heavenly temper-someVol. 3.-No. V.

29

[VOL. III.

thing of meekness, of tenderness, of humility, of gentleness, of placability. Labour may prepare the soil, but it must be followed by the gentle dews of heaven, before the plant will take root, and flourish, and bear fruit. The Christian character should present an assemblage of moral beauties, and while we yield the good man our respect, he should also command our affections. Our Redeemer was the perfection of what is amiable, as well as of all that is great and good. The moral beauty of his character throws the loveliest charms of nature into the shade, and he who has not a heart to relish it, gives evidence of a deplorable state of moral and religious feelings.

No one will deny that religion should purify our most secret thoughts and feelings. No one will deny that our most secluded meditations should flow in a purified channel, should be unstained with improper desires, and aversions, and that our inmost feelings should be hallowed by an abiding sense of our responsibility, and of our constant exposure to the inspection of an omniscient God. The same is true of what should be the cast of our familiar conversation, for this is a sure index of our prevailing dispositions. Like the countenance, it will speak the language of the heart. When, for example, I meet with a person who is forever complaining of the troubles and vexations of life, I am apt to suspect that he has not yet learned to be habitually resigned to the allotments of Providence. Or if he is incessantly talking of the trivial occurrences of the day, and that with the gid.

dy spirit of a mere man of the world, or if he makes it the great employment of his social hours to exhibit the foibles and faults of his friends, or if he is constantly dropping his cold, unfeeling sarcasms, and giving a sombre tinge to every object which falls in his way, or if he enjoys nothing but the keen spirit of disputation, I am apt to suspect that religion has not wrought powerfully on his heart. The beauty of the consistent christian character is not marred by such blemishes. I would not imply by such remarks however, that our conversa tion is always to turn on religious topics. There are certain persons, who seem to think that almost every thing short of revivals of religion, of convictions and conversions, of missionary societies and good preachers, is a sort of profanation. One would eonclude from the tone of their remarks, that religion, in their estimation, is but little more than a kind of process for making a christian, and not a permanent conformity of the heart and life to the will of God. We hear enough of his awful despairings of salvation, of his burning zeal for the conversion of sinners, and of his willingness even to die in the cause of his master,—and all this is commend able; but how seldom do we hear that he bears around with him a softened heart, a heavenly frame of mind, a lovely exemplification of the christian character. How seldom do such persons speak of that deep and almost overwhelming sense of a present God-how seldom of that perfect singleness of mind, that all pervading influence which exalts and purifies and sweetens the affections-how seldom of a high and holy elevation of purpose, that living daily and hourly with an eye fixed on duty-how seldom of meekness and gentleness of demeanour, and of a diffusive good will--how seldom of contentment and satisfaction amid all the disadvantages of our individual condition, and of that gratitude, which, is contiually sending up a holy incense to Heaven for the daily and hourly enjoyments

of life-how seldom of that benevolence, which shines as steadily as the sun in the firmament, and warms and enlivens every object which falls under its influence-how seldom of a disposition to put a favourable construction on the motives and character of our fellow beings-how seldom of that setting a pure example, which draws within its influence those who have hearts to be touched with the love of moral beauty, and which repels the abandoned sinner from its presence, and fills him with shame and anguish in view of his own character-how seldom in fine, do we hear of aspirations after high attainments in holiness, triumph over the most powerful temptations, and labour after conformity to the holy image of his master and his God.

It is not enough that we occasionally form a magnanimous resolution, and under the cover of this mantle of charity, pursue our daily employment without any further trouble about the motives of our conduct. Many seem to suppose there is a sort of sanctifying influence surrounding every good motive, and spreading over a wide extent of moral conduct. Thus if I reresolve at the beginning of the week, to pursue a course of conduct to the end of it, which will best promote the good of those with whom I am connected, and redound the most to the glory of God, and if my conduct actually corresponds to the resolution; it would be supposed, let the daily and hourly intervening motives be what they may, that my life is adorning my christian profession.

But this wide spreading, sanctifying influence of occasional resolutions is difficult of comprehension. Put them down for what they are worth, but give them credit for no more. For my part, I know of nothing satisfactory to a conscience enlightened by revelation, in our daily, nay in our hourly conduct, which does not spring immediately from a holy motive. The christian is not to be borne along in his course through life, by a gale which now blows and now dies away,

nor is he to float indolently along on the tide of habit, nor yield to the impression of every surrounding object. He is to be under the constant guidance of a holy sense of duty. This should operate as steady and as uniformly as an unchanging law of nature. It is this which should give life and energy to his whole moral constitution, which should vivify every portion of his soul, and convert the slightest act of his life into holiness. It should bend to its plastic influence the strength of his animal feelings; it should subdue and chasten his rebellious passion; it should open a never failing fountain in his soul, of streams which will gladden the surrounding community, and spread a moral verdure over the whole sphere of his action. Nay it should send life into the intellect, and bend its sturdiest powers to the accomplishment of good purposes. The imagination too, should stoop to this controlling influence, and every other power, speculative as well as active, should submit to its sovereign sway. A mind thus regulated—a heart thus exalted and thus purified, will move in an elevated sphere, and in its pilgrimage on earth, drink in largely of the spirit of heaven.

This is not morality, it is religion. The difference between morality and religion is this-the former dispenses with motives, the latter assigns to motives their essential importance. Two persons may perform precisely the same external acts, and continue to do it for a great length of time, and yet the one may be a cold hearted sinner and the other an excellent christian, and the reason is, that what the former does from a regard to his own interest, the latter does because his duty and the will of God require it. You may display before us a long life of common honesty, of common decency, and of common humanity, and yet if religious motives be wanting, it is but dross in the sight of God. Purity of motive would convert it into gold. It would breath life into mere morality, and turn what had else been a rou

tine of worthless performances, into the beauty of holiness. How sad the reflection that a life actually spent in doing good, but from wrong motives, should thus be thrown away, while a heart filled with the love of God and of man, would have saved every portion of it and given it an immense moral value.

Would we be blessed with a purity of heart, we must pray to God for the purifying and sanctifying influence of his spirit. We must pray for strength to withstand temptation, for a blessing on our afflictions, and every trial; we must pray for grace to quicken and animate us in our aspirings after higher attainments in christian excellence. In all our prayers however, it should be remembered, that unless we have shewn ourselves disposed to use the grace already imparted to us, aud unless we ask for more because what has already been granted, if we may so speak, has been applied to good purposes, we shall in vain hope to receive. A soul which neglects the gifts of God, which have flowed in upon it, cannot feel the want of more, and without this sense of want no prayer was ever made with sincerity and earnestness. Let the christian then look back on his past life and ask himself, have I availed myself as I ought of the means of grace? have I struggled with temptation and mortified my lusts? have I subjected my mind to the influence of truth, and found by experience that it is the power of God to salvation? have I aimed at high attainments in holiness, and pressed towards the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus? have I habitually retired from the glare aud bustle of the world,to commune with my own heart; to fix a steady eye on my sins; and have I felt, habitually felt, an ingeuuous sorrow; and when I have prayed for forgiveness, have I sincerely and deeply felt my need of it? Has the burden of my transgression come over my soul with an almost overwhelming weight, and has it called forth the secret tear, and shed a sadness over

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