flection the future condition of the church, and a prophetic view of that corruption of doctrine to which he foresaw his beloved converts would be soon exposed.

liatory preliminaries to the counsels or the cen- | sures he is about to communicate. He tells them that in every thing they are enriched,''that they come behind in no gift,' before he reprehends them for their contentious spirit, for their divisions, for their strifes. Thus, though the reproof would be keenly felt, it would not be met with a spirit previously exasperated-a spirit which those reprovers infallibly excite, who by indiscriminate upbraiding stir up the irascible passions at the outset, shut up every avenue to the kind affections, and thus deprive the offender of that patient calmness with which he might otherwise have profited by the re-him to withhold any important truth, any saluproof.

This intimate feeling of his own imperfection is every where visible. It makes him more than once press on his friends, the Christian duty of bearing one another's burdens, intimating how necessary this common principle of mutual kindness was, as they themselves had so much to call forth the forbearance of others. In his usual strain of referring to first motives, he does not forget to remind them, that it was fulfilling the law of Christ.

As the ardent zeal of Saint Paul led him into no enthusiasm, so the warmth of his affections never blinded his judgment. Religion did not dry up, as it is sometimes accused of doing, the spring of his natural feeling; his sensibility was exquisite; but the heart which felt all, was quickened by an activity which did all, and regulated by a faith which conquered all.

His sorrows and his joys, both of which were intense, never seem to have arisen from any thing which related merely to himself. His own happiness or distress were little influenced by personal considerations; the varying condition, the alternate improvement or declension of his converts alone, could sensibly raise or depress his feelings. With what anguish of spirit does he mourn over some, of whom I have told you often, and now tell you weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ.' Mark again his self-renouncing joy—'We are glad when we are weak and ye are strong.' Again, 'Let me rejoice in the day of Christ, that I have not run in vain, neither laboured in vain.'

There is something singularly beautiful in the dignity, simplicity, and godly sincerity of this apostolic charge, to which we allude.-With humble confidence, he refers his audience to their own knowledge of his whole conduct. He assures them, that neither any fears of the insidious Jews, always on the watch to circumvent him, nor the hostility of the idolatrous Gentiles, always ready to oppose him, had ever driven

tary admonition. He slightly touches on the two fundamental truths on which all his instructions had been built, faith and repentance: then he reminds them, that not satisfied with the public exercise of his function, he had practised that subsidiary and valuable method of instruction-private visits at the houses of individuals a method equally practicable in all ages of the church; equally desirable to all who wish to gain a real acquaintance, in the intervals of pub. lic service with the necessities, the infirmities, and the sins of their respective hearers. This would enable him to perform his stated ministrations with ten-fold effect. It would initiate him into the endless variety of characters of which every audience is composed; it would enable the teacher to be more personal in his exhortations, more pointed in his reproofs, more specific in his instruction, than he could be when he addressed them in the great assembly. It would also qualify him for more extensive usefulness in those public addresses by the materials which he was thus collecting. It would be among the means also to win their affection and increase their attachment, when they saw that his zeal for their spiritual advancement was large and cordial; that he did not content himself with the stipulated scantling of bare weight duty; that he did not deal out his instruction with a legal scrupulosity, but was willing to spend, and desirous to be spent, for them.

With what a holy satisfaction did the conscience of the apostle further testify that no desire of pleasing, no fear of offending, had preWhen he expressed such a feeling sense of vented him from delivering wholesome truths, distress, upon the interesting occasion of taking because they might be unpalatable! What an his departure for Jerusalem, the Holy Ghost awful intimation to every ambassador of Christ, witnessing in every city that bonds and impri- that this indefatigable apostle, at the moment of sonment awaited him,'" still he felt no concern final separation, could call on all present to tesfor his own safoty. No: he anticipated without tify that whatever might have been the negli terror his probable reception there. With a no-gence of the hearer, the preacher was pure ble disregard of all personal considerations, he exclaims, but none of these things move me, neither count I my life dear, so that I may finish my course with joy, and the ministry which I have received of the Lord Jesus, to testify the Gospel of the grace of God.' t

from the blood of all men; that he had never been guilty of that false tenderness, of not declaring to them the whole counsel of God! He appeals to his disinterestedness, that, so far from being influenced by any lucrative motive, he had laboured with his own hands, not only to sup port himself, but to assist the poor. How touchIting, no doubt to his hearers, was the intimation, that the same hands which had been raised for them in prayer, had been employed for their support!

If none of these things moved him, then whence arose the sorrow he so keenly felt? arose from no selfish cause; it was from a consideration far superior to that tender feeling, that they should meet no more, though that too he would deeply regret; it was occasioned by re

This modest allusion to his own liberality, and to the personal labour which had enabled him to exercise it, was a proper parting lesson. It reminded his auditors, that no part of his re

whole communities, did not swallow up his ar- | to his eloquent pen, between the adventurous dent attachment to individuals; nor did his re-expeditions of the conqueror, the circumnavi. gard to their higher interest lead him to over-gator, the discoveror, the naturalist, with those look their personal sufferings. He descends to of Paul, the martyr of the gospel? Paul, who, give particular advice to one friend* respecting renouncing ease and security, sacrificing fame the management of his health. In his grief for and glory, encountering 'weariness and painfulthe sickness of another,† and his joy at his re-ness, watching, hunger and thirst, cold and nacovery, he does not pretend to a feeling purely kedness; was beaten with rods, frequent in pridisinterested, but gratefully acknowledges that sons, in deaths oft, was once stoned, thrice sufhis joy was partly for his own sake,' lest he fered shipwreck, was a day and a night in the should have sorrow upon sorrow.' These soft deep, went from shore to shore, and from city touches of sympathy for individuals particularly to city, knowing that bonds and imprisonment dear to him, in a man so like-minded with awaited him; and for what purpose? He, too, Christ, in the instances of Lazarus and John, was a discoverer, and in one sense a naturalist. are a sufficient refutation of the whimsical as. He explored not indeed the treasures of the sertion of a lively genius; that particular friend-mineral, nor the varieties of the vegetable world. ships are hostile to the spirit of Christianity. His business was with man; his object the discovery of man's moral wants; his study, to apply a proportionate remedy; his work, to break up the barren ground of the human soil; his aim, to promote the culture of the undisciplined heart; his end, the salvation of those for whom Christ died. He did not bring away one poor

The capacious heart of this blessed apostle was so large as to receive into it all who loved his Lord. The salutations with which most of his Epistles close, and the affectionate remembrances which they convey, include perhaps the names of a greater number of friends, than any dozen of Greek or Roman heroes, in the pleni-native to graft the vices of a polished country tude of success and power, ever attracted; if we may judge in the one case by the same rule as in the other, the narrative of history, or the writings of biographical memoirs.

But his benevolence was not confined to the narrow bounds of friends or country.-He was a man, and nothing that involved the best interests of man was indifferent to him. A most beautiful comparison has been drawn by as fine a genius as has adorned this or any age, between the learned and not illaudable curiosity which has led so many ingenious travellers to visit distant and dangerous climes, in order to contemplate mutilated statues and defaced coins; to collate manuscripts, and take the height of pyramids,' with the zeal which carried the late martyr of humanity on a more noble pilgrimage, 'to search out infected hospitals, to explore the depth of dungeons, and to take the guage of human misery' in order to relieve it.

Without the unworthy desire to rob this eminent philanthropist of his well earned palm, may we not be allowed to wish, that the exquisite eulogist of Howard had also instituted a comparison which would have opened so vast a field † Epaphroditus.

Timothy.

It is however a debt of justice due to a departed friend to observe, that no suspicion could be more unfounded than that Mr. Soame Jenyns was not sincere

on the savage ignorance of his own; but he carried to the natives themselves the news, and the means of eternal life.

He was also a conqueror, but he visited new regions, not to depopulate, but to enlighten them. He sought triumphs, but they were over sin and ignorance. He achieved conquests; but it was over the prince of darkness. He gained trophies, but they were not military banners, but rescued souls. He erected monuments, but they were to the glory of God. He did not carve his own name on the rocky shore, but he engraved that of his Lord on the hearts of the people. While conflicting with want, and struggling with misery, he planted churches; while sinking under reproach and obloquy, he erected the standard of the Cross among barbarians, and (far more hopeless enterprize!) among philoso phers; and having escaped with life from the most uncivilized nations, was reserved for martyrdom in the imperial queen of cities!

CHAP. XII.

Saint Paul's Heavenly Mindedness. TRUE religion consists in the subjugation of the body to the soul, and of the soul to God. in his professsion of Christianity. The author lived much in his very pleasant society, and is persuaded that The apostle every where shows, that by our he died a sincere Christian. He had a peculiar turn of apostacy this order is destroyed, or rather inhumour; he delighted in novelty and paradox, and perverted. haps brought too much of both into his religion. IngeAt the same time he teaches, that nious men will sometimes be ingenious in the wrong though brought into this degraded state by our place. If he lays too much stress on some things, and own perverseness, we are not hopelessly abanunderrates others; if he mistakes or overlooks even fun-doned to it. He not only shows the possibility, damental points, so that some of his opinions must appear defective to the experienced Christian; yet the general turn of his work on the Internal Evidence of Christianity may render it useful to others, by inviting them by the very novelty of his manner to consult a

species of evidence to which they have not been accustomed. A sceptical friend of the writer of these pages, who had stood out against the argument of some of the ablest divines, was led by this little work to examine more deeply into Internal Evidence; it sent him to read his Bible in a new spirit. He followed up his inquiries, consulted authors whose views were more matured, and died a sound believer.

but the mode of our restoration, and describes the happy condition of the restored, even in this world, by declaring, that to be spiritually mind. ed is life and peace.

He knew that our faculties are neither good nor evil in themselves, but powerful instruments for the promotion of both; active capa. cities for either, just as the bent of our character

* 2 Corinthians, ch. xi.

is determined by the predominance of religion [not stay from redeeming;' nor could Paul stay or of sin, of the sensual or the spiritual mind. from proclaiming that we are redeemed. The Saint Paul eminently exhibited, both in his apostle, like his Creator, loses not a moment to example and in his writings, the spiritual mind. comfort the soul which he has been afflicting. He was not only equal in correctness of senti- In this divine effusion we at once discern the ment and purity of practice with those who are difference between natural weakness and superdrily orthodox, and superior to those who are added strength; between the infirmities which coldly practical; but he perfects holiness in are fortified by the assistance of the Spirit, and the fear of God.' He abounds in the heavenly the sensual mind, which not only is not, but mindedness which is the uniting link between cannot be subject to the law of God; between doctrinal and practical piety, which, by the unc-him who not having the Spirit of Christ, is tion it infuses into both, proves that both are the result of Divine grace; and which consists in an entire consecration of the affections, a voluntary surrender of the whole man to God.

This disposition the apostle makes the preliminary to all performance, as well as the condition of all acceptance. This it is which constitutes the charm of his writings. There is a spirit of sanctity which pervades them, and which, whilst it affords the best evidence of the love of God shed abroad in his own heart, infuses it also into the heart of his readers. While he is musing, the fire burns, and communicates its pure flame to every breast susceptible of genuine Christian feeling. Under its influence his arguments become persuasions, his exhortations entreaties. A sentiment so tender, and earnest. ness so imploring, breathes throughout them, that it might seem that all regard for himself, all care for his own interests, is swallowed up in his ardent and affectionate concern for the spiritual interest of others.

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none of his,' and him in whom Christ, the spirit of life, dwells;' between him, who, if he yield to the pleasures of sense, shall die, and him who, through the Spirit mortifying the deeds of the body shall live.

It is worth observing, that he does not make the line of demarcation between the two classes of characters, to consist merely in the actual crimes and grosser vices of the one class, and the better actions of the other. It is to the sensual and spiritual mind, the fountain of good and evil deeds, to which he refers as the decisive test. This radical distinction he further conceives to be a more obvious line of separation than even any difference of religious opinions, any distinction arising from the mere adoption of peculiar dogmas.

That the reviving assurance may appear to belong exclusively to real Christians, he marks the change of character by the definite tense now, implying their recent victory over their old corruptions, which he had been deploring. The exuberance of his love and gratitude, the This precaution would prevent those, who refruits of his abundant faith, break out almost in mained in their former state from taking to spite of himself. His zeal reproves our timidity, themselves the comfort of a promise in which his energy our indifference. He dwells,' as an they have no part. He guards it still more exeloquent writer has remarked, with almost un-plicitly, by declaring, that the true evidence timely descant,' on the name of Him who had of this renovation of heart, was their walking called him out of darkness into his marvellous after the Spirit; a term which describes habitual light. That name which we are so reluctant to progress in the new way, to which we are conpronounce, not through reverence to its posses- ducted by the new nature, and which, if it do sor, but fear of each other, ever sounds with not always preserve us from deviating from it, holy boldness from the lips of Paul. His bursts recalls us back to it. of sacred joy, his triumphant appeals to the truth of the promises, his unbounded confidence in the hope set before him, carry an air not only of patience, but of victory, not only of faith, but of fruition.

Whoever desires more particularly to compare this spirit of Divine power manifested by the apostle, with the opposite spirit of the world, let him carefully peruse the eighth chapter of his Epistle to the Romans. After describing the strong and painful conflict with the malig. nant power of sin in the seventh chapter, with what a holy exultation does he, in the opening of the eighth, hurry in, as it were, the assurance that there is now no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus.' It somewhat resembles that instant, I had almost said, that impatient, mercy of God in the third of Genesis, which seems eager to make the promise follow close upon the fall, the forgiveness upon the sin; to cut off the distressing space between terror and joy, to leave no interval for despair. God, who is so patient when he is to punish, is not so patient when he is to save. He delays to strike, but he hastes to pardon. After the first of fence,' says Bishop Jeremy Taylor, God could

The power Paul felt; and on this principle ho wrote; and he never wrote on any principle on which he did not act. After he had carried piety to the most heroic elevation; after he had pressed the most fervent exertions on others, and gained the splendid conquests over himself, still he considered himself only in the road to salvation; still he never thought of slackening his course; he thought not of resting; he had not reached his end. He was not intimidated from pursuing it by new difficulties; his resolution rose with his trials; all he feared for himself, all against which he cautioned others, was declension; his grand solicitude for them and for himself was, that they might not lose the ground they had gained. He well knew, that even the present position could not be long maintained without the pursuit of farther conquests. He walked after the Spirit.

The terrible forms of distress which he summons to view in this, as well as in other parts of his Epistles, always remind him of the principle which makes them supportable. He enume rates human miseries in all their variety of shapes,-tribulation, distress, persecution, fa mine, nakedness, peril, sword. But to what end

We have not, it is true, these manifestations, of which the apostle was favoured with a tem. porary enjoyment. But we have his testimony, added to the testimony, the evidences, the proofs, the promises, the demonstrations of the whole New Testament. Why, then, are we not sup ported, encouraged, animated by them? It is because we do not examine these evidences, because we do not consult these testimonies, because we neglect these proofs: therefore it is, that we are not nurtured by these promises. We entertain them as speculations, rather than as convictions, we receive them as notions, rather than as facts.

does he muster this confederate band of woes? | import, and it involved indefinite consequences. He calls on them not to avert the sufferings Having cordially confided in him for salvation they inflict; no, he challenges them to separate through the blood of Christ, he found, as is althe Christian sufferer from the love of Christ. ways the case, the greater involving the less: He presents himself to us as an instance of he found that he had little difficulty in trusting the supreme triumph of this love over all earthly Him with his inferior concerns. To Him to calamity. The man whose distresses abounded, whom he had committed his eternal happiness, who was pressed above measure, comes out of to Him he could not scruple to confide his for the conflict, not only a conqueror,-that to one tune, his health, his reputation, his life. of his ardent spirit seemed too poor a triumph, he is more than a conqueror. But how is this victory achieved? Through him who loved us. That lowliness which made him say just before, that which I do I allow not, but what I hate that I do,' must have been lifted by a mighty faith when he exclaimed, 'I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor life, nor death, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.' In speaking, in this chapter, of the glories of the eternal world, his rapture does not escape him as the sally of the imagination, as a thought awakened by a sudden glance of the object; he does not express himself at random from the im. pulse of the moment; his is not the conjectural language of ignorant desire, of uncertain hope; it is an assumption of the sober tone of calcula-served for the final portion of the humble Christion. I reckon,' says he, like a man skilled in this spiritual arithmetic,-'I reckon,' after a due estimate of their comparative value, that the sufferings of the present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed.'

If ever a cordial desire of these devout as surances is conferred, it is in fervent prayer. What an encouragement to this holy exercise, is the hope of being raised by it, to the heart-felt belief that such felicity is real, and that it is re

tian? Too humble, perhaps, to give full credit that such great things can be in store for him. For a moment he is staggered, till faith, the parent of that humility which trembles while it believes, enables him to apply to himself the promises of Him to whom nothing is impossible, the merits of Him for whom nothing is too great, the death of Him who died that we might live forever.

No man was ever so well qualified to make this estimate. Of the sufferings of the present world he had shared more largely than any man. Of the glory that shall be revealed, he had a In whatever part of his writings the Apostle glimpse granted to no other man. He had been speaks of the efficacy of the death of Christ, and caught up into Paradise. He had heard the of the constraining' power of his love, there is words of God, and seen the visions of the Al-a vehemence in his desire, a vivacity in his senmighty,' and the result of his privileged experi-timents, an energy in his language, an intensity ence, was, that he desired to depart, and to be in his feelings, which strongly indicate a mind with Christ;' that he desired to escape from penetrated with the depth of his own views. He this valley of tears; that he was impatient to paints the love of his Lord as a grace, of which, recover the celestial vision, eager to perpetuate though his soul was deeply sensible as to its nathe momentary foretaste of the glories of im. ture, yet as to the degree, it is exceeding abunmortality. dantly above' not only all that he could ask,' but all that he could think.' His boldest conceptions sink under the impression which no language could convey.

We perceive, then, how this hope of future felicity sustained him under conflicts, of which we, in an established state of Christianity, and suffering only under the common trials of mortality can have no adequate conception. His courageous faith was kept alive and fortified by fervently practising the duty he so unwea. riedly urges upon others; continuing instant in

prayer.

.

To encourage this practice in his readers, and at the same time to point out the source of his own heavenly hope, and continual intercourse with the Divine presence, he adds, the Spirit helpeth our infirmities, for we know not what we should pray for as we ought, but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us.' Nor does his high trust and confidence in God, thus gendered, easily find its limit. On the contrary, he adds, 'we know that all things work together for good to them that love God.'

This trust was an assurance of the largest

Yet these sublime portions of his writings, which bear the more special stamp and impress of the gospel, which afford the nearest view of realities as yet unapproachable, are set aside by many, as things in which they have no personal concern. They have, indeed, a sort of blind reverence for them, as for something which they conceive to be at once sacred and unintelligible, such a kind of respect as a man would naturally entertain at the sight of a copy of the Scriptures in a language which he did not understand.

Eloquent as he was, we often find him labour. ing under his intense conception of ideas too vast for utterance. In describing the extent of the love of God, its height and depth, its length and breadth, his soul seems to expand with the dimensions he is unfolding. His expressions seem to acquire all that force with which he in