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alone that his excellencies were felt and acknowledged: I do not know that Lionel, while in college, ever had an enemy. Though he surpassed most of his class-mates in collegiate honors, yet as he was evidently not ambitious or vain, he was never envied. Though he had a very satirical turn of mind, yet it was tempered with so much good nature and benevolence, as never to offend. Couceive of one who added to a fine form and most winning countenance, a modest and unassuming demeanor; to talents higher than ordinary, a humble and unambitious temper; to wealth which few others could command, a plainness of dress that merely made his appearance respectable among his classmates, and so generous and charitable a spirit that several indigent students were nearly supported out of the fund which his father annually allowed him; I say conceive of one who exhibited this bright assemblage of good qualities, and you will have an exact picture of what Lionel was at College.

Not long after he had completed his education, his father was suddenly removed by death, leaving a very large estate to my friend, who was his only child. The care of so much property conspired with his natural inclination, to deter him from study ing a profession; and he relinquished without regret every prospect of literary or political distinction, for that quiet seclusion, which he was both by nature and education eminently fitted to adorn and enjoy. The loss of his father had indeed deeply affected his tender heart, and for a time clouded him in melancholy; but the numerous cares which now devolved upon him, and especially his union with one who had long engrossed his affections, at length restored his mind to its accustomed serenity.

Being myself at this time transferred by professional duties to a neighbouring town, my opportunities of seeing him have since been only occasional: yet they have been such as to afford ample means for marking the tenor of

his life. Indeed for many years afterwards, our families interchanged long and frequent visits. His companion was in every respect fitted to render him happy, and made him the father of two amiable and lovely children, a son and a daughter. When she was removed, (for she died in early life,) these two babes were all that saved Lionel from sinking under the pressure of grief. These two children from that time, constituted the principal solace of their father, and their education and future happiness became the darling object of his mind. Repeated solicitations were made to him by his fellow citizens, to become a candidate for political appointments, but his love of retirement, and his unwillingness to be separated from his children, in conjunction with his unambitious temper, induced him to decline every public honour. Yet his life was not idle nor useless. Besides the numerous cares arising from the concerns of his own ample estates, he was the guardian of many orphans, and was employed more than any man I have ever known, in adjusting the concerns of the widow and fatherless.

In this quiet and honourable career, Lionel had attained his full meridian, before I had suspected that any cloud was rising to darken his declining day. I cannot describe what were my feelings, when I first saw a demon of subtle and cruel aspect, collecting his thunders over the peaceful abode of my friend. It was Intemperance! I wept in secret, I debated with myself what I should do for his rescue, and more than once resolved to direct his eye to the awful clouds that were impending. Would to heaven that my resolution had then been stronger! but how could I so late begin to disturb the joyous emotions, which each others presence had always mutually inspired? how could I wound a spirit so gentle as his? Unhappily I yielded to my feelings; and after a day or two more spent at his house, took my departure for a distant country,

where important avocations detained me for three years.

On my return 1 hastened to the house of my friend. As I drew near, my apprehensions were excited by the universal aspect of decay, that was exhibited by a place formerly distinguished by its neatness and affluence. What were my emotions, when I met my friend and saw his eyes inflamed and watery, his cheeks flushed and bloated, and his limbs trembling, as with the palsy. I cannot express with what surprise and grief, I heard from his faltering tongue sure signals that the cancer was preying within. My apparent fatigue was the excuse for mixing at once the fatal potion, which, on my declining to receive it, he drank off himself. It was late in the day and the state of my health furnished me with an apology for retiring very early to my chamber. I sat down by my bed-side and gave vent to my feelings in a flood of tears. Why (said I to myself) did I shrink from the kindest office of friend three years ago, when my admonitions tenderly and affectionately offered, might have baffled the destroyer. Falling on my knees, I asked the forgiveness of God for neglecting the opportunity which he then put into my hands, and resolved by his grace to attempt the recovery of my friend even at this late hour. I passed a sleepless night in devising the best means for effecting my object, and felt cheered by the belief, that he whose assistance I had implored, had heard my prayer, and pointed me to the path which seemed to lie open before me.

After breakfast the next morning, when all the other members of the family had retired, and Lionel and myself were left alone without any danger of interruption, I waited for the favourable moment to begin. This was partly furnished by my friend himself."Blendon (said he) I am glad that you have not forgotten me— most of my old friends have been very cold of late." I replied; "My dear sir, I am sure I can never forget you,

and why should they?" "I don't know (added he) perhaps the fault is my own." I inquired what he had done to provoke neglect. "Nothing purposely; but we never kept any thing from each other, and I will tell you what I suppose has given them offence. Perhaps you remarked last night a failing to which I am subject.” "I did indeed, my friend, and I am going with your leave to persuade you to renounce it." "O that is impos sible: I have made a number of attempts but it is all in vain-I cannot live without it.” “You can, dear Lionel, I know you can, there is power in heaven to enable you to do it if your own strength is insufficient ;— and forgive me while I set before you the motives which urge you to renew the attempt." "Forgive you :" he exclaimed "I would hear any thing from you." I began with distant objects. I remarked on the decaying aspect of his buildings so inconsistent with his former taste; upon the loss of his authority over his domestics; upon the decline of his reputation, and the neglect which he was beginning to feel. All this time Lionel paid strict attention, and the tears had begun, one by one, to steal down his cheeks. I next mentioned the grief which those very friends, so long tried and beloved, must feel to be obliged for their own credit to avoid his society. At last I came to his children-the scene was too much -I could not proceed-such floods of tears, such heart-rending sobs broke forth, as I never witnessed before. We sat without exchanging a word for half an hour. At length his feelings had become calm and he broke silence. "My dear Blendon, said he, these are the wounds of a friend. I am resolved never again to taste the fatal draught: do you offer our united supplications to God, that he will enable me to persevere in this resolution." We knelt together, and my lips, animated by these symptoms of returning life, glowed with a fervor seldom known to me before. When we rose, joy and hope beamed from

the countenance of Lionel as he bade me direct such measures to his family as prudence should dictate, and tendered to me his keys. I directed every drop of spirits to be carried to a distance, and prescribed such alterations in his diet as I deemed necessary. We passed most of the day in walking over his lands, and enlivened the hours with those sweet recollections of our earlier days upon which we both loved to dwell. As evening approached, Lionel complained of severe pain and grew melancholy. I consoled him under his sufferings by

his resolution was so apparent in the natural hue that was restored to his features-in his regular attention to business, in his exemplary life and ardent piety, that, no one any longer doubted the reality of the change. The church welcomed him to her communion, and afterwards made him one of her elders; and his fellow citizens shewed by various marks of respect, that their confidence was fully resto red. BLENDON.

For the Christian Spectator.

persuading him that they would not Remarks on a passage in the Chris

be of long duration, and by holding up to his view the prize he would win. We had made arrangements to lodge in the same room, and by his consent I took the keys. At short intervals I heard him utter such groans as evinced great suffering. The morning came but brought no relief. A spasmodic affection, attended with excruciating pain, a universal trembling and an uneasiness that threatened to make him frantic, were the symptoms that commenced with that memorable day. Had he requested I do not know but I should have readily consented to abandon the trial. I even hinted that his sufferings were alarming; but he took no advantage of the opportunity then given him. At his request we united in prayer, and spent most of the day in the exercises of devotion. Towards evening his distress was somewhat mitigated, and he slept quietly during the night ensuing. Sufferings similar to the former returned the next day, but evidently in a milder form. It was a week before he was entirely free from pain, a great part of which time he had passed in reading the scriptures and in religious exercises.

He now felt an ineffable degree of joy and triumph. The grace of God, which had enabled him to gain the victory, was his constant and darling theme. The tidings of his reformation were soon spread abroad: many feared it was only temporary, but after a year had elapsed, the strength of

tian Observer.

Taking up a volume of the Christian Observer this morning, I opened accidentally at a review of "Simeon on the Liturgy," in which the following was the first passage that met my eye. "For the use of this prayer (the Lords prayer) Mr. Simeon refers to the authority of Tertullian, Cyprian, Cyril, Jerome, Augustine,Chrys ostom, Gregory. For an injunction to use it, he properly refers to the expression of our Lord in St. Matthew vi: "After this manner, ourws, pray;" which adverb he follows the argument of Wheatly in explaining to mean so or thus, binding it to the very words; though if otherwise, they both very properly refer to St. Luke, who writes "when ye pray, say," chap. xi." This passage naturally suggested a very serious enquiry: "Is it true that Christ has given such an injunction, binding us to the very words of this prayer in our devotions?" If so I live in the constant violation of his command; for though I frequently adopt this excellent form both in public and private worship, I still more frequently offer up, in my own language, the petitions contained in this prayer, with others which are dictated by my wants and sins.

I took down my Bible therefore to examine three questions which are suggested by this statement.

1. When a passage is introduced by the expression "he said” or the

imperative "say," are the words that follow, always the indentical words which the speaker used or enjoined ?

2. If so, does the injunction in the present case apply to public worship? 3. Did Christians in the apostolic age use this form of prayer, in their devotions?

The result of my first enquiry is this. In a multitude of passages in which the Evangelists introduce our Lord as conversing with others and proceed to relate what he "said," the words put into his mouth, are not the exact expressions which he used. This is the case in many instances where no one would have the slightest suspicion that any but the identical words of Christ were given. Who for example, that reads the sermon on the mount, commencing with the fifth of Matthew, would not conclude that this address of Christ, which is maintained throughout in the first person ("I say unto you") was delivered in the very terms in which it is recorded? And yet if we turn to the sixth of Luke where part of the same discourse is given, we shall find that more than half of the verses differ materially in their phraseology. Now in one or the other of these two cases (perhaps in both,) the Evangelist while he appears to record the very language of Christ, and declares expressly that thus he said, is in reality giving only the substance of his discourse, rendered more lively by assuming the form of conversation. Hundreds of similar instances will occur to any one who examines a Harmony of the Gospels. Nor is our contidence in the veracity of the Evangelists weakened but rather confirmed by this difference of phraseology; since it proves, that while their statements exactly coincide, they had no previous concert as to the manner of making them.

But granting this as to the style of narration, can the injunction to" say" certain words, be complied with by expressing the substance of those words in other language? Certainly.

Do we not every day direct our children and servants to say certain things to others, without binding them to the indentical terms employed? When we are directed in Proverbs, "say not to thy brother, go and come again and to-morrow I will give thee," will it be contended that the use of these identical words only is prohibited? The fact is that in almost every instance where the imperative form of this word occurs in the scriptures, the command may be obeyed by the use of any language which expresses the idea with correctness. As to the argument from the adverb ours, it is virtually abandoned by the Reviewer in the act of stating it; and is clearly of much less weight than the one already examined.

II. In answer to my second enquiry," was this example of prayer given for our direction in public worship?" I find so far from this being the fact, that in Matthew, it is proposed with express reference to secret devotion. Mat. vi. 6. But thou when thou prayest enter thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father in secret, &c. In the two next verses our Saviour censures the vain repetitions of the heathen, and then proceeds to give this example of prayer, distinguished for its simplicity aud conciseness. That this was not then received by the disciples as an established form of prayer, is evident from the fact of their asking Christ at a subsequent period (Luke xi.) to teach them how to pray. On this occasion Christ repeated to them the substance of his former prayer, omitting the doxology at the conclusion; but in language materially differing from the former in more than half the forms of expression. This furnishes an undeniable proof that our Saviour laid no stress on any form of words. Besides, he had just been praying with his disciples when they made this request; and surely if he had used or enjoined a form of prayer, this was the last occasion on which they would have asked his directions how to pray. The slightest reflection must show,

that they were deeply impressed with this solemn duty as performed by Christ, and desirous to know what topics were most proper for their devotions when conducted by themselves.

At this time the Church was not organized; its ordinances were not established, its public worship had not commenced. How groundless then is the pretence that our Saviour, in suggesting these topics of prayer, for the direction of his followers in their private devotions, authoritatively enjoined a form of prayer, for a system of public worship which at that time had no existence!

III. "Did Christians in the apostolic age use this form of prayer in their public devotions?" We have not one particle of proof that they ever did. The united prayer of the ehurch is frequently spoken of, on common and on extraordinary occasions; the substance if not the exact words of these prayers is given in many instances; and not an intimation can be found that this or any other form of prayer was ever used. On the contrary, it is certain that in most of these instances the prayers must have been extemporaneous, for they are expressly stated to have arisen from circumstances, which could not be foreseen or embraced in any general petitions. The early ChrisThe early Christians prayed as every christian ought to pray, under the pressure of present sins and wants, in language dictated by the existing state of their feelings. Is it to be believed that scrupulous as Paul was to instruct his converts in the most minute duties of religion, he would leave in his writings not one hint, not one example of any form of prayer, if he actually used a form in his public or private devotions? Is it to be believed that he would enjoin new and specific topics of prayer, without subjoining a form, but leaving each Minister or Christian to use his own expressions?

Where then is the authority from scripture for arraigning me or any other man who pours forth his reVol. 3.-No. VI.

38

quests to God in the warm language of his heart? If other christians are more edified by a form of prayer, I rejoice to see them use it. But is it not presumptuous to intrude on the spontaneous fervor of my devotions, and deny me "that liberty wherewith God hath made me free?" EUBULUS.

June 15, 1821.

To the Rainbow.
By T. CAMPBell.
Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky
When storms prepare to part,
I ask not proud philosophy
To teach me what thou art.

Still seem as to my childhood's sight,
A midway station given
For happy spirits to alight,
Betwixt the earth and heaven.

Can all that optics teach, unfold
Thy form to please me so,
As when I dreamt of gems and gold
Hid in thy radiant bow?

When science from creation's face
Enchantment's veil withdraws,
What lovely visions yield their place
To cold material laws.

And yet, fair bow, no fabling dreams
But words of the Most High,
Have told why first thy robe of beams
Was woven in the sky.

When o'er the green undeluged earth
Heaven's covenant thou didst shine,
How came the world's grey fathers

forth

To watch thy sacred sign.

And when its yellow lustre smiled
O'er mountains yet untrod,
Each mother held aloft her child
To bless the bow of God.
Methinks thy jubilee to keep,
The first made anthem rang,
On earth deliver'd from the deep,
And the first poet sang.

Nor ever shall the Muse's eye
Unraptured greet thy beam:
Theme of primeval prophecy,
Be still the poet's theme.

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