attend my death-bed, and to close my eyes? or shall I see him wither away in his bloom, and lay him in a premature grave?" Cease, weak nature, from wading in this dark and deep stream of perplexity, and keep on the solid ground of fact and of duty. Cease, fond parents, from inquiries so profitless, that they cannot, of themselves, benefit either you, or your children, even the worth of the dust beneath your feet; and neglect not that which is of more value than much fine gold. The important fact is this, that, as yet, they are with you. Teach them now to fear the Lord; for thus shall you certainly attend to what belongs to yourselves; and, if the blessing of God be superadded, you shall be the instruments of preparing them for a lengthened life of usefulness, or for an early death of peace. Nor is it easy for us to keep within proper limits, when we begin, as is very common, to meditate on what may be the state of individuals who have left this world. When the tie that united one of our acquaintances to this lower world is loosed, and he leaves his lifeless body behind him, we are ready, as it were, to follow his disencumbered spirit in its light,-ready to ask, Whither has it gone? Has it soared to endless happiness, or sunk where hope never enters? It is true that there are cases in which we cannot avoid having our fears; for "some men's sins are open beforehand, going before to judgment." And it is true that there are cases in which we are authorised to entertain the most delightful hopes; for when men during their life have given every evidence of grace, what is left for us but to believe that at their death they have gone to glory? But it is obvious that we may be mistaken on both hands; and that we ought to hold it as a general rule that it is neither our province, nor our interest, to form or to pronounce any positive opinion. When it is considered that the state of the dead, be it what it may, is a fixed state, and, of course, that no opinion or exertion of ours can make the slightest alteration on it, it concerns us to draw instruction from their death to ourselves, to remember, for example, that we must soon follow them to the grave, to avoid whatever may have been faulty, and to imitate whatever may have been praiseworthy in their conduct, and to feel reminded to attend to the interests of those who remain with us, while yet our attention can be of any avail.

64

CHRISTIAN TREASURY. Preparation for Death.-The season of sickness or of a death-bed is surely very unsuitable for preparation for eternity, when the body is frequently racked by pain, when the intellectual faculties are often impaired; and even when they are preserved in a perfectly sound state, are, from the general suffering to which the frame is subjected, totally disqualified for the collection of the thoughts. While health and strength are continued with us, while the mind is in full vigour, let us therefore be warned to seek an interest in salvation, so, that, being reconciled to God through Jesus Christ, we may be assured, that living or dying we shall be the Lord's," that, when the "Son of Man cometh as a thief in the night," he may find us those profitable servants, whom he will invite to " enter into the joy of their Lord,' that the grave may become to our bodies the bed of rest, while our spirits join the assembly of just men made perfect, that death may prove to us the introduction to eternal glory and immortal felicity; and that at the last we may be able to take up the language of the apostle, "O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law; but thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." (1 Cor. xv. 55-57.) The reflection, that death, which was originally a curse, has been converted into a bless

ing to the believer, and has been rendered a passage to immortality, ought to inspire our breasts with feelings of the warmest gratitude to him, through whose instrumentality this happy change has been effected. When we consider the intrinsic value of the benefit, and the great cost at which it was purchased, even by the sufferings and death of the Redeemer, it is impossible for us to estimate what ought to be the intensity of our feelings of the deepest obligation. The Saviour has not indeed delivered his followers from temporal death, “for he himself tasted death for every man," but he has deprived it of all its destructive influence, and has rendered it an introduction into his own presence. In order to kindle in the liveliest manner grateful feelings in our hearts, let us remember the price by which he purchased such a boon; let us consider the contradiction of sinners, which, on our account, he underwent; let us call to mind his agony and bloody sweat in the garden; the hidings of his Father's countenance, which he endured for a season for our sakes; his crucifixion, death, and burial. Let us consider what he has achieved; let us remember, that by his glorious resurrection, he became the "first fruits of them that slept," and has enabled all his believing followers to cherish the certain hope of a similar deliverance from the grave; that he has assured them, that "concerning them which are asleep," they need sorrow not even as others which have no hope;" for if they "believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him;" and that he is (John xi. 25)" the resurrection and the life;" that he that believeth in "bim, "though he were dead, yet shall he live; and whosoever liveth and believeth in him shall never die." Besides the assurance given to all his followers of a glorious immortality, by his own resurrection, he has, by his ascension into heaven at the Father's right hand, gone to prepare numerous mansions, and, by his continual intercession, he sends supplies of grace and comfort, which cheer the hearts of believers in their most trying circumstances, and diffuse a peace over their departing moments. He is truly said to have "brought life and immortality to light by the Gospel," for what the speculations of Socrates, Plato, Aristotle and Cicero, did but imperfectly explore, and what Moses, in his preparatory dispensation, but dimly shadowed forth, He has fully revealed.-T. RUSSELL.

66

Nature and Grace.-Nature teaches us to quarrel with our neighbours, but grace teaches us to quarrel with ourselves.-BERRIDGE.

An old Apologue. A man going out of his beaten and directed way to gather unlawful fruits, fell into a deep pit. In his fall, he caught hold on the arm of a tree growing in it. Thus he hung in the midway, betwixt the upper light from which he fell, and the lower darkness to which he was falling. He looks downward, and sees two worms gnawing at the root of this tree. He looks upward, and spies on a branch a hive of honey. He climbs up to it and feedeth on it. But, in the meantime, the worms did bite in sunder the root, and down falls man, and tree and all, into the bottom of the dark pit. Man himself is this wretch, who, straying from the way of God's commandments, fell to eat of the forbidden fruit,-instantly be fell. The pit over which he hangeth is the grave; the tree whereby he holdeth is this mortal life; the two worms are day and night; the hive of honey is the pleasures and lusts of this world. Thereupon he greedily feeds, until the two consumers, day and night, in their vicissitudes, have eaten asunder the root of life. Then down drops earth to earth, there it must lodge in the silent grave, neither seeing nor seen, blended in the forgotten dust and undistinguished mould, till it be awakened by the archangel's trump in the great day of Christ. Writer.

Old

SACRED POETRY.

HEAVEN.

BY MRS J. B. PATTERSON.

It is a land

Bright, spotless, as the fair, unclouded arch
Of yon pure firmament, a land of love
And bliss ineffable; there, spirits high
And glorious, angel and archangel dwell;
Stately their glittering forms, to mortal eye
Invisible, they sweep their goiden harps,
And ever as seraphic strains ascend
And fill that dome majestic, lowly bend
In adoration deep before the throne,
Where, veiled in light intense, the Father sits,
And at his blest right hand the Eternal Son,
Clothed, wonder infinite! in human form,
But nobler far than earth's most noble sons;
His countenance divine, as when the sun
Shines in his strength, his glistering raiment white,
Bound with a golden girdle, and his head
White as pure wool, as white as fleecy snow.
Lowly they bend, behind their folding wings
Their faces veil, and with deep awe and love,
"Hail! holy, holy, holy, Lord!" they cry.

And who are these, that multitude who stand
With them around the throne? no tongue can tell
Their numbers; not angelic spirits they,
But bright and pure as angels; fired they seem
With more than angel's love, what songs they pour!
They tell of perils past, of sins forgiven,
Of tears all wiped away, of robes impure
Washed in the blood of Him before whose feet
They cast their golden crowns, and to his power
And love ineffable they joy ascribe!
These are the ransomed from yon land of sin,
The pardoned rebels, for whose bliss the Son
His glory laid aside, and for a space

Sojourned in their dim world, bare all their woe,
Sustained their punishment, and with his blood
This glory purchased for them; these are they
For whom the Spirit infinite, of light,
Wrought miracles stupendous, changing them
From vile and wretched outcasts into pure
And blissful souls; within their new-born souls
Dwelling as in a temple, till the shrine,
Defaced and ruined, is raised up anew,
An altar where eternal incense burns.
Well may ye strike your harps, and as on wings
Of fire send forth your songs of victory,
Of victory gained for you by the Lamb!
Well may ye hasten on your shining way
To do his bidding through the wondrous paths
Of his creation, when he sends you forth,-
Not from his presence, for his presence fills
All space, and ever as ye go ye bask
In its full sunshine, but to other worlds,-
Charged with high errands, reaping thence the fruit
Of such bless'd toil in knowledge reaching far,
And farther still, amidst the glorious depths
That finite mind can never fully sound!
Well may ye speed your blissful way, and then
Returning, fill heaven's crystal dome again
With raptured adoration! Mortal eye
Hath not beheld your glories, mortal ear
Hath never heard your songs, nor mortal heart
Conceived your blessedness; it could not bear
For one brief moment your exceeding great
Eternal weight of glory!"

66

MISCELLANEOUS.

He that giveth to the Poor lendeth to the Lord. Edward Colston, a merchant of Bristol, who lived in the seventeenth and the beginning of the eighteenth

centuries, will be ever memorable for his extensive charities. It has been justly observed concerning him, that "to do justice to his character, would oblige one to enumerate almost every kind of charity which can promote the glory of God, or relieve the necessities of man." Scarcely any description of temporal calamity escaped his assistance; and with difficulty can one spiritual want be named, towards the removal of which he did not piously and freely afford his contributions. The charities which have derived either their foundation or improvement from his hand, are so numerous, that their variety becomes surprising. From his bountiful benefactions, the ignorance of the young, the iniseries of the inferior, and the helpless necessities of the aged, are to this day removed and relieved. The pro vidence of God seemed to bless this extraordinary person, in a most remarkable manner. It is affirmed of him, that he never insured, and that he never lost a ship, notwithstanding the vast extent of his commercial transactions. On one occasion, indeed, one of his vessels, homeward bound, struck upon a rock, immediately sprung a leak, and the water rushed in so rapidly, that the crew were induced to believe that they were in the most imminent danger. In a little time, however, the leak stopped without any apparent cause, and the ship arrived in the port of Bristol in perfect safety. When the vessel was examined, it was found, that a fish, said to be a dolphin, was so fast wedged into the fracture made in the timbers, that the ingress of the water was prevented, and the crew were saved. In memory of this very extraordinary dispensation of Providence, the figure of a dolphin is carved upon the staves, which are carried in procession by the persons who are educated at the schools which he founded.

Man's Extremity is often God's Opportunity.—The life of John Fox, so celebrated for his Martyrology, was chequered with extraordinary vicissitudes, which involved as extraordinary manifestations of providential bounty and care. On one occasion, towards the conclusion of the reign of Henry VIII., he went up to London. Having no great resources, and meeting with few friends, he was soon reduced to abject poverty, the produce of his own industry and the gifts of kindness being equally exhausted. St. Paul's Church was then the principal place of resort both for company and for business. To this place Mr Fox one day repaired, and sat down in the utmost dejection. His eyes were hollow, his countenance was wan, and his whole appearance betokened such squalid poverty, that the passengers shrunk from a person whose extreme emaciation resembled the ghastliness of death. But at length a person he had never seen before addressed him, presented him with a sum of money, encouraged him by kind expressions of solicitude and regard, and told him to hope for the termination of his wretchedness. Mr Fox retired, penetrated with a sense of the compassion of God, and animated with confidence in his promises and grace. Three days afterwards, the Duchess of Richmond made him tutor to the children of the Earl of Surry, then under her care.

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type Plates of Thomas Allan & Co. Printed at the Steam-Press of Ballantyne & Co., from the Stereo

VOL. I.

No. 40.

HINTS ON SPIRITUAL DEPRESSION.

No. VI.

BY THE REV. WILLIAM MUIR, D.D., Minister of St. Stephen's Parish, Edinburgh. How ought affliction to be met by us? is a question at all times interesting. Even in our times of greatest prosperity, we cannot conceal from ourselves how uncertain is the hold we have of earthly good. To think of our passing along a course which neither difficulty shall interrupt, nor sorrow embitter, is the dream of ignorance, or the foolish claim of presumption. We soon learn that "men are born to trouble;" that the very persons who remain long, as if they were exceptions from the common lot, are still brought to feel its saddening influence; that the most prosperous, in the height of their successes, experience many things that detract from their immediate enjoyments, and that calamity at last strikes the more deeply, in proportion to the length of the season during which the blow has been suspended. How ought affliction to be met by us, then? is always an interesting question. But this question, both in speculation and in practice, has been differently settled. Two schemes of conduct have been proposed as an answer, that are decidedly opposite. On the one hand, a stern philosophy has laboured to produce contempt of suffering, and to neutralize the sharpness of calamity, by blunting the sensibility that renders us alive to it. On the other hand, the boasted skill of the gay world has prepared and commended the varieties of social pleasures, as what shall yield the quickest and best antidote to mortal griefs. The latter prescription is, of course, the more acceptable of the two. An attempt to reason down the consciousness of pain is not likely to meet anywhere with a cordial reception, and the scheme that proposes it, therefore, has been advocated only by some visionaries, who, in their pride of singularity, have rather affected to follow it, than actually reduced it to practice. But the plan of counteracting evils by worldly pleasures, and of quenching the sense of wretchedness in the gaieties of life, is more plausibie, has found multitudes of admirers, has been defended in theory, and been oftener embraced with a momentary but delusive experience of success.

PRICE 1d.

No state of mind is more to be lamented than that in which the visitation of calamity is met by sentiments and conduct such as have now been described, whether proud reasoning would resist, or false pleasure would bribe away the sense of affliction. Yet this state of mind is exemplified. Indeed, it is exemplified as one of the most frequently recurring proofs of human corruption. How often, instead of the humble and contrite bending of our wills to the chastening rod, is there "the turning aside from it, as with necks unaccustomed to the yoke!" How often do symptoms appear of that secret atheism of our fallen nature, which would incite us to cast off restraint, and to hasten, if possible, whither the dominion that controuls us might never reach! How often is an endeavour made to procure help and consolation from any quarter but from the divine hand! How often is the urgent endeavour made not only to get rid of the poignancy of affliction, but to obliterate from the mind all impressions equally of the chastisement, and of him who dispenses it, and the purpose for which it is administered! Alas! suffering, though designed to promote our return to God, is often utterly fruitless of all its blessed effect. The way of our return, as opened up by the Gospel-the way of salvation through free and sovereign grace, is what "mars the pride of man," and is, therefore, intolerable to the proud heart, while fellowship with the High and Holy One is shunned, because it would bring us under a sense of the very controul, which, by our selfindulgence, is felt as most irksome and oppressive. Rather than return to God, we accordingly desire, as our first parents did, to "flee his presence, to hide ourselves from him," and to lose the dread, and even the thought of him, in the coverts of this earth's blighted paradise; or, if compelled to think on him, we think on him as our enemy. O! most falsely accused! not our enemy, even amid the sorest of the chastisements which thou inflictest. Thou bringest us to feel the power of thy arm to smite and wound, but it is that we may seek thy mercy, which is able and ready to bind up and heal.

In answer to the question, then, How ought affliction to be met? the wisdom of the Bible teaches what is infinitely separated both from the

With a reference to the subject of this section,

COMPLAINT.

With us, Thou art contending,

We faint beneath Thy rod:
Our hearts each blow is rending,-,
O art Thou still our God?
Ills following ills depress us;
Guilt has a poison'd sting;
Reverses, fears distress us

What can solacement bring?
How dark! No streak of bright'ning
Betokens coming day;

We watch, but see the lightning
That tracks th' Avenger's way.
Nature is plung'd in sadness;
Faith welters in the deep;
Hope tries to promise gladness,
But leaves us still to weep.
O, why art Thou contending?
We faint beneath Thy rod;
Our hearts each blow is rending,-
Spare and restore, O God.

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF

THE REV. FRANCIS SHERIFF, Late Minister of Lady Glenorchy's Chapel, Edinburgh. THIS interesting young man was born in the year 1750, of respectable parents, in the neighbourhood of Haddington. At eight years of age he was sent to school at Musselburgh, and, as his parents were anxious that he should study for the Church, he entered the University

of Edinburgh at the age of fourteen.

Mr Sheriff's mind was early impressed with the importance and value of religion, and at college he associated chiefly with some young men of decided piety. Along with them he attended regularly a prayer meeting* which was held in the apartment of the late worthy and much esteemed Mr W. Peebles, who was for upwards of fifty years master of the Orphan Hospital. In the course of his studies he began to keep a diary, with the view of noticing his progress in religious feeling and conduct. The following are his reflections on entering the divinity hall :

"This day I entered the divinity-hall. O what serious considerations ought this to impress upon my mind, and with how much assiduity and care ought I how to be living, as I have enlisted myself to be one of God's pastors to feed his flock! God forbid that I enrol my name upon any other end or footing, but to the glory of God, and the good of his people's souls. I now vow before God, that, by his assistance, I shall devote my time and talents to his glory; and that for the future I will not trifle away my time, with any one thing that is not profitable to myself or others. I shall spend all of it (through grace) in reading the languages, divinity, or devotion, or some other thing that may be

The records of this prayer meeting, which contained a minute account of the proceedings of each meeting, would be very interesting, if they could be obtained. It is a curious circumstance that the original projectors, one of whom was the late Dr Balfour of Glasgow, held their first meeting on the branches of a tree in the Meadows; such was their modesty and their anxiety to escape notice.

haps, to present shortly, and, it may be, a little more impressively, some of the sentiments which have been brought forward, both on spiritual depression and the grounds of scriptural comfort:

ANSWER.

I smite, but 'tis to cure you;
Yea, life is in my rod;
My chast'nings all assure you
That I am still your God.
Tho' thoughts of guilt depress you,
My cross will heal despair;
In griefs that now distress you,
I future joys prepare.
Darken'd with clouds of sorrow,
You dread an endless night;
But soon revolves the morrow,
And God shall be your light.
Your faith, as ocean rages,

May shriek, may sink in fear;
My voice the floods assuages,
And I myself am near.

The tenderest love is ever

The language of my rod;

Your hearts no stroke would sever,

But bind them all to God.

--

of advantage to myself, or for God's glory.-O Lord, send a blessing upon my undertakings!"

In little more than a year after these resolutions were formed, Mr Sheriff began gradually to throw aside the vices of the world. He became acquainted with some restraints of religion, and to mingle in the follies and thoughtless young men among his fellow-students, and yielding to the force of evil example, he walked in the way of the wicked, and, at length, even sat down in the

seat of the scorner. Religion and religious men he him, he succeeded, in process of time, in obliterating alike despised, and though his conscience often reproved his former serious impressions, so effectually, that they seldom occurred to his remembrance. For nine years he continued to evince the utmost indifference and even hostility to divine truth.

tion of Mr John Home, the author of the tragedy of In the year 1769, he went to London at the invitaDouglas, and was recommended by him to the Earl of Dunmore, then governor of Virginia, as a proper person to go abroad with his eldest son. Mr Sheriff, however, did not accede to the proposal, but preferred accepting a clerkship in the War Office, which he held for a short time. Anxious, at length, to quit this situation, he embraced an offer, which was made to him, of going out with a family to Jamaica, where he remained a year, in an incessant whirl of riot and dissipation. His amiable dispositions and fascinating manners gained him admittance to the fashionable circles of the island. But amid all the gaiety and giddiness which prevailed around him, his mind was ill at ease. indescribable feeling of dissatisfaction which harassed and annoyed him, leading him to long for an opportunity of returning to his native land.

There was an

In the spring of 1772 he embarked for New York, where he arrived after a very dangerous voyage. There he met with his cousin, Major Sheriff, who in