their making for eternity; and by looking at the truth and glory of this, his hearers and himself were soon dissolved into tears; which was usually the case in the last years of his ministry, before they separated. During the last few months that preceded his death, his mind was peculiarly intent on examining how far he was the subject of that work by which the Spirit of Christ fits his people for glory. When told by one that he had little cause to be afraid, after so long an experience of the power of the Word and Spirit of God in his soul,— he replied, I hope so; and yet seeing myself verging on a vast eternity, and just ready to enter it, I require all the certainty attainable in this life respecting my faith and hope, therefore let me examine. I know that man is inclined to take all on trust; which I fear will bring a woful disappointment upon most of those who do so.' He could take very little comfort in any period of his life from past experience, without the present vigorous exercise of grace. This occasioned much pain to him, now that the weakness in his nervous system unfitted him for that intense application of his mind to divine things, which, in the time of his health, he was habituated to, and which, by the condescension of his Lord, enabled him daily to draw water out of the wells of salvation. This weakness greatly distressed him. Once a friend asked him, Whether he could really think that the Lord would forsake him after all he had done for him in time past? He instantly replied,' If that thought were allowed to enter my mind, I should soon become a terror to myself and to all around me; yet how can I but mourn, when the promises of the gospel are not accomplishing in me, as Psalm i. 3, and xcii. 12; John iv. 14.'

He had very awful views of the state of formal professors, especially among his own people and former connection. A few weeks before his death, while conversing in his own house, he spoke of their fearful situation in such a manner, as obliged Mrs. Cowie to retire to her closet with anxiety and alarm; whilst a serious minister present, sat with silent awe and trembling, convinced of his statement of their case, and the truth of his conclusions, from the scriptural and rational arguments by which he supported them.

It pleased his gracious and sovereign Lord, five weeks before his death, to grant full relief to his heart from all his conflicts and distress relating to his own soul; after which no more complaints were heard from him. His constant reply to all enquiries was, I am well, all is now settled; my only remaining wish is to be relieved from this prison, this state of inactivity, and to be present with the Lord.'

A week before his death, he was seized with another fit of apoplexy, which terminated in an inflammatory asthma, which released him from all the evils he ever saw cause t

pray against, or to mourn over, on the 4th day of April, 1806, being the 57th year of his age, and the 37th of his ministry. This solemn event was a severe shock to the minds of pious people of all denominations in the north of Scotland; for as Mr. Cowie was for some years freed from the restrictions to which the Seceders submit, while his health permitted, he occasionally itinerated through the country; by this means he acquired a general acquaintance, and had sweet fellowship with the people of God, who had now to deplore the awful breach made in the church by his death.

It is well known that the district in which he lived, was among the last in Britain into which the light of the Reformation penetrated. It is not pretended to say how far Mr. Cowie was instrumental in the great change which has taken place in the sentiments of that populous country; but this is a known fact, that the grand and distinguishing doctrines of the gospel, which subjected Mr. Cowie to scorn forty years ago, are become the foundation of the hope and the joy of the hearts of many; whilst they are allowed by all to be the doctrines of the Bible. He, indeed, learned them more upon his knees, and in the exercise of his soul, than by human teaching. He felt their truth, and wished others to feel it. Nothing disgusted him more than to observe men amusing themselves with speculations on truths involving their eternal fate; — but, as I understand a fuller account is collecting from his own Diary, in which the situation of his soul is distinctly described, the public may yet see him again.

Mr. Cowie is succeeded in the pastoral office over the -church at Huntly, by the Rev. John Thomas, late of Founders' Hall, Lothbury, London.

ON FRIENDSHIP TO CHRIST.

If there is a period of life when the mutual kindness of friends rises to its highest pitch, it is at the moment of separation, or on the near prospect of it. When those who have been dear to one another in life, apprehend that death will soon cut asunder those ties by which their kindred souls have been united, their affections glow with more lively ardour, and they meet the moment of separation with the greatest reluctance, that moment which will close the scene of their earthly fellowship for ever. In such circumstances, words are often wanting to give expression to their love; and no service. that friendship claims, however painful, is withheld. Every thing is said and done that love can dictate, or friendship can demand, to fulfil the last duties of an intercourse that is soon to subsist no more. We have a lively picture of this in the

history of our Lord and his disciples, who, though their friendship had subsisted but a few years, looked forward to the moment of separation with the most sorrowful concern. These disciples needed consolation from his lips, who was himself left to complain of the want of comforters in the awful crisis. of his departure. They needed consolation to support them under those evils to which his absence would necessarily expose them. Their Master, alive to a sense of their infirmity, and sympathizing with them under those afflicting circumstances in which they should be left, administered to them such instructions as the love of his own heart dictated, and their peculiar circumstances required. The discourse which he addressed to them, as recorded by the evangelist John, must have relieved their minds under that extreme sorrow which the near prospect of his death had occasioned. In a particuJar manner the endearing title under which he then addressed them was calculated to soothe their minds, and reconcile them to the sufferings they were called to endure for his sake. Henceforth I cail you not servants, but friends.'

What is included in this title may prove a useful enquiry, and assist the people of God in forming a just view of their own character.

This title, under which Christ addressed his disciples, supposes love to him. There is no truth more obvious than this, That friendship cannot subsist without mutual love. What is necessary to friendship among men, cannot be dispensed with in that which subsists betwixt Christ and his people. They love him who first loved them; and, in the exercise of this love, friendship between them is maintained. As his friends, it is an essential part of their character that they love him, that they love him above all others, and that they love him to the end.

This title Friend supposes confidence in Christ;-that friendship cannot be sincere where there is not mutual confidence. If you find a friend who has shewn himself friendly, you confide in him as a friend,-you unbosoin yourselves to him without reserve, you can ask his counsel and advice, — you can tell him all your cares, you can throw yourselves on his assistance and protection,-you can look to him without distrust for renewed acts of kindness, without thinking that you presume on any thing but what his friendship for you warrants you to expect. If all this is true with respect to those friendly connections that are formed among men, much more will it be realized in that friendship which subsists betwixt Christ and his people. As the friends of Christ, you can never doubt his love, but pour out your hearts before him, in perfect confidence that he takes an interest in your welfare, that he cannot betray you, and will never cast you off. You can reveal to him all your thoughts and cares, supplicate his counsel and

instruction, without entertaining any fear of his unwillingness to hear you, or to bestow the benefit you desire of him.

Further, the title Friend supposes delight in his presence and friendship. There is nothing more desireable to the friends of Christ, and nothing affords them higher satisfaction, than the pleasure they derive from fellowship with Christ. When others say, Who will show us any good? Lord, lift thou upon us the light of thy countenance. In proportion as a friend is beloved, his presence and fellowship will be desired; and there. are few enjoyments that tend more to sweeten human life than the presence and fellowship of an highly esteemed friend. Nay, friendship cannot properly be said to subsist, without a prevailing desire to enjoy familiar conversation, and to impart those expressions of love, or perform those acts of kindness, to which mutual affection will naturally prompt. As no earthly friendship can impart such delight as that which arises from fellowship with Christ, his friends have the greater reason to desire his presence. Whom have I in heaven but thee? and there is none upon the earth whom I desire besides thee. One thing have I desired of the Lord; that will I seek after, that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to see the beauty of the Lord, and to enquire in his temple.'

This title Friend supposes a desire to honour Christ, and to do his will. Where friendship is sincere, the parties will find themselves actuated by a strong desire to please and to honour one another. Each studies his friend's pleasure as much as his own; and not a few cases have occurred, in which great sacrifices have been made for the sake of a friend dearly beloved. The friends of Christ would prove themselves unworthy of the title, and justly forfeit all the pleasure and advantage that arises ftom his friendship, if they felt no desire to please him, or were not engaged by his love to interest themselves in promoting his honour. Ye are my friends, if ye do whatsoever I command you.'

This title Friend, given to the disciples of Christ, supposes that they take an interest in all his concerns. He who is a friend indeed, and whose practice is regulated by the spirit of friendship, cannot fail to take such a deep interest in the welfare of him whom he loves, as to make all his concerns his own. Such an interest does he take in his prosperity, and so much does he share with him his sorrows in his adversity, that there is nothing that contributes to his friend's comfort, or ministers to his pain, but produces like sensations in himself; and they are the friends of Christ indeed, who take an interest in his cause, and feel corresponding emotions as it prospers, or as it is opposed among men. They are not indifferent to the success of religion, but contemplate the progress of the gospel with heartfelt delight, while they bewail the evils that prevail, and the dishonour or the injury which religion may

sustain by the apostacy of unfaithful men. As the true friends of Christ, they take a deep interest in all his concerns,-in his honours they rejoice, in his sufferings they are afflicted; his cause is dear to them, and they rejoice when it is prosperous

among men.

In fine, this title supposes a willingness to submit to suffer ings for his sake. The people of Christ will not be backward to endure sufferings for his sake, should it be his pleasure to require of them such an expression of their regard. For him gladly,' said one of his apostles,' I suffer the loss of all things; and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ. I rejoice in necessities, in distresses, in persecutions, in reproaches for his sake.' That friendship must hang together by a very slender tie, for preserving which, neither of the parties are willing to make any sacrifice; and the sincerity of that friendship to Christ is much to be suspected, that will not admit of suffering for him, that is shaken by reproach, or gives way to the slightest opposition. The weak, indeed, among his people are easily discouraged; but Death itself cannot destroy that principle of love that reigns in the bosom of every true friend of Christ. Actuated by this love that never faileth,' they can brave dangers, encounter difficulties, endure sufferings, and submit to death for his sake. It is but seldom indeed that Christ requires his friends to bring their love to him to such a severe trial; but should he do so, they have every reason to expect that he will minister to them such encouragement and support as shall enable them to act a part worthy of the character they sustain.

It must be remembered, however, that obedience to him is the true test of friendship. Mere professions of regard do not suffice. If ye love me, keep my commandments. This obedience must be universal. Of this the Psalmist was an eminent example: 'He had a respect to all God's commandments; and esteemed the words of God's mouth concerning all things to be right;' and this obedience, to prove its sincerity, must be constant. He that endureth to the end, the same shall be saved. If any man draw back, my soul shall have no pleasure in him. Ye have not chosen me; but I have chosen you, and ordained you, that you should bear much fruit.'

ADJUTOR.

Sir,

DR. CLARKE ON CALVIN.

To the Editor.

DR. ADAM CLARKE in the general Preface to his Comamentary on the Bible, now publishing, has inserted a short account of various Expositions of the Sacred Scriptures, which have appeared in the successive ages of the church. Among