mourned to them, and they complain that they also refused to join in their lamentations. To such, according to this similitude, to such were the men like in the days of our Lord. They were like to those peevish children who were determined, at all hazards, to be pleased with none of the conciliatory efforts of their associates, for they were satisfied neither with a deportment of austerity on the one hand, nor of freedom and open-heartedness on the other. And as this allegation, which he here made against the most respected classes of the day, was of a very serious nature, so he proceeded to show upon what it was that he founded it, and to make them feel and acknowledge its truth and application, Which leads us to remark, the description which he here gives both of the Baptist and himself. Observe, First of all, the representation which is here given of John. "For John," he says, at the eighteenth verse," For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, he hath a devil." vied security of a sequestered station, to the glare and temptations of public life; because, in short, he took no freedoms with the people, but kept himself reserved and aloof from their intercourse, and exhibited, in his conduct, a most devoted zeal for the advancement of His cause whose forerunner he was, and whose kingdom was not of this world, they said that he had a devil,—that he acted like one under the influence of a diseased imagination, and to whose teaching no credit ought to be attached. Imputing his strictness to the influence of Satan, they looked upon him as one whose judgment had been outrun and led captive by his fancy, who indulged in specu lations above the level of human life, and who seemed desirous to darken by superstition, if not altogether to overturn by an overstrained severity of conduct, the rational faith and the sound practice of their forefathers. In such a manner came John. Let us now observe what is said at the nineteenth verse, as to the manner in which Christ did come. "The Son of man came," we read, " eating and drinking." He rendered himself accessible to all sorts of people, and ever met them with the open looks of kindness and regard. He stooped to the common duties, and, by his example, did animate the virtues of social life, and did not decline the opportunities which naturally presented themselves of the intercourse of society, and of beholding and conversing with human beings in all the va rieties of their circumstances. Though he knew that, in the invitations which they gave, they wished merely to ensnare him, yet he refused not to dine with the Pharisees, to manifest the ut most complacency and accommodation of beha He had come amongst them as one who mourned, "neither eating bread nor drinking wine." He had appeared at first with more than an ordinary degree of austerity, living at a distance from the tumults of public life, mingling but little with the world, familiar with all the forms of self-denial, and preserving, in his daily deportment, somewhat of the air, at least, of a misanthropic man, who had been galled by the injustice, or stung by the ingratitude, of human beings. He conducted himself as one who had no other object than to fulfil the commission which he had received, as the herald and harbinger of the Messiah, and who thought that it was best to be fulfilled through the medium of mortification and retire-viour, to show toward them the full confidence ment. He courted not the society of the people, he went not to their feasts, he partook not of their luxuries, but he dwelt chiefly in the wilderness, clothed, not with a golden, but with a leathern girdle, living on locusts and wild honey. Such an one was the Baptist; and what, in the circumstances in which he was placed, was his praise, was yet, by his enemies, made a handle against him; for to him who preached the remission of sin, who administered the ordinance of baptism to the people, upon the confession of their sins, who exhorted all men to repent, and who enforced the exhortation by the motive, that the kingdom of heaven was at hand, to a man of this character, this abstemious line of conduct was most in unison with the doctrine which he preached; and considering that, in a great measure, this doctrine was new, the course which in his conduct he pursued, of grave, sedate, and abstracted severity, was well fitted to recommend it to their acceptance: and yet is it true, however strange it may appear, that he was rejected on this very account. Because his deportment was at variance with the licentiousness of the world; because, instead of joining in the guilty pleasures of life, he dwelt in the wilderness of Judea, and preferred the peace of retirement, and the unen that is due to an unsuspected hospitality, and to give them an opportunity of exercising toward himself the warm and the unchilled regards of private life, and he was not ashamed to be seen sitting at meat with the publicans and sinners, though that circumstance only made the shades of suspicion to darken deeper around his name. Yet, with the view, if possible, of doing good both to the one class and to the other, he scrupled not to associate and to converse with them all. So far from shunning the company of men, we find, in the course of the Gospel history, that he went often to the feasts and entertainments which were given to him; that at these he displayed, without measure, the attractive attachments of domestic life, and afforded to them an opportunity of warming and of cherishing these into tenderness, that he conducted himself so as that every one who chose might enjoy the benefit of conversing with him; and that all those who had taken offence at the austerity exhibited by the Baptist, might be gained and won upon by the affability and condescension which were exhibited by him. But, alas! observe the inconsistency and the guilt of that conduct which the Scribes and Pha risees pursued. As they had said of John, that he had a devil, because he "came neither eating nor drinking," so, because Christ was the reverse | of this, because he exhibited all the affable compliances of an obliging character, and had none of the reserved temper of John,-did these very people cry out, Behold a gluttonous man and a wine-bibber, the friend of publicans and sinners." That openness of his mind, which no degree of levity did ever tincture, they were heartless enough to misinterpret. His humanity and condescension they looked upon as symptoms of the grossest licentiousness; and because of his anxiety to promote the amendment of publicans and sinners,because of his desire to make them the objects of his recovering grace, and because, in order to this end, he received them into his company, condescended to eat with them, and to exhibit towards them the social wants and common charities of ordinary life, they said that he was one like unto themselves, disposed, from a sympathy of habits and dispositions, to take such men under his protection. The people who complained that John was too rigid, that very people complained that Jesus was too free. They who found fault with the forbidding solemnity and gloomy moroseness of the one, found equal fault with the frank and affable deportment of the other. They who represented the Baptist as deranged in his understanding, because he was abstemious,-even they affirmed of our Lord, that he was depraved in his morals, because he was social and condescending. The truth was, that they were determined, at all events, to find fault, and to be pleased with the ministry and instructions neither of the Baptist nor of Christ, in whatever circumstances they might have appeared, and by whatever features their characters might have been marked; and therefore did they set themselves to embitter the lives of both, by all that the littleness of malignant envy could possibly suggest. My brethren, the narrative of a deportment, characterized by such prejudice and inconsistency as this was, is here specially written for our admonition; for the conduct of those men in the generation of our Lord is no unapt representation of the conduct of many even now. The conduct of those who rejected the instructions of the Baptist because he was too strict, and yet scoffed at those of the Saviour because he was too free, who blamed the one for his private retirement, and blamed also the other for his frank conversation, is in the highest degree descriptive of those who are resolved to be displeased with the truth, as that truth is in Jesus, under whatever aspect it may be presented,-who presume even to quarrel with, and to sit in judgment upon, the mode of the divine procedure, who laugh at all the threatenings denounced against sin as a mere instrument of police to keep the world in awe, and treat, with a contemptuous superiority all the proposals of grace in every variety of form in which they can possibly be made. The representation which is set before us in the passage, is a representation of the conduct of men in all ages, no less than of those who were cotemporaries with the Evange list; and in our own days, just as well as in his, there are multitudes of whom it is seen, and may he said, that they show an equal disregard, whether they have set forth before them the mercy of God for their hope, or his justice for their fear. As the ambassadors for God, to whom has been committed the ministry of reconciliation, who are appointed and set apart to watch for their souls as those who must give an account, and to teach lessons both of doctrine and of duty, to which every ear should be open, and by which every heart should be impressed, we may use with such every argument, we may employ every mean, we may exhibit every promise, we may hold forth every threatening, and yet, in all ways may speak without purpose and without effect. In the language of the passage, If we pipe to them they will not dance. If we speak to them in the persuasive accents of affection, and seek to gain them over by the sweet agency of love; if we hold out to them the precious promises of the Gospel, and show them what an application they may make of them to themselves, and how comfortably they may live upon their faith; if we address to them the encouragements which are given, the helps, the remedies, the assistances that are provided, and tell them how these are all pressed upon their acceptance by a gracious God, who is willing, desirous, ever ready to do them good; if we set before them the invitations of a Saviour, who was affected toward them with all the tenderness of a divine compassion,-who stooped so low, and suffered so much, on their account, as to evince the charity which he bore for them by his crucifixion upon a tree; if we paint in glowing colours the immortal prospects that lie before the disciples of the Saviour,-the crown, and the kingdom, and the endless satisfaction which God hath covenanted, and hath promised to bestow upon those who believe, the bliss which they are hereafter to enjoy for ever, incorporated with the views and the happiness of superior beings; though we should set forth one or all of these allurements, they will either hear of them with the most wanton indifference, or resist them with the most determined resolution, or perhaps turn them all into a subject of their unhallowed derision. On the other hand, if we mourn to them they will not lament; if we show them the truth in a more awful, but in an equally correct, light; if, instead of trying to constrain them by the ties of love, we attempt to move them by the agency of terror; if we hold forth the threatenings which are denounced upon those who are obstinately impenitent, and speak to them of that throne before which they must be gathered, or of that law of righteousness by which they are to be tried, or of those books of the divine remembrance out of which the doom of every one of them shall be read; if we plainly remind them of those fearful images under which the future punishments of the wicked are set before us, of that worm that never dies, of that fire that never goes out, of that lake which burns for ever; should we warn them of that period when grossed by the subject of their own and others salva. tion! Instead of "What must I do to be saved?" most men seem to inquire, What must I do to be rich, the secrets of every heart shall be laid open, and draw a true picture of that searching and that suffering day, they will give to such truths neither the assent of their understandings nor the sub-great, gay, or comfortable? What must I do to obtain mission of their hearts, will act as if there were no danger in neglecting, no harm in doubting them, nay, will perhaps not merely presume to dispute, but will even boldly deny their truth, and exhibit an obduracy of feeling upon which no voice could take effect, unless the Almighty should himself address them as he addressed the Israelites at Sinai with lightning in his eye, and thunder upon his lips, and produce, by the wonder-working energies of his Spirit, an impression which no hardness could resist. It is to such unsusceptible characters as these that the prophet alludes when he says, "Therefore hath God poured upon them the fury of his anger, and the strength of battle; and it hath set him on fire round about, yet he knew not, and it burned him, yet he laid it not to heart." Isaiah xlii. 25. GOD IS LOVE. WITH doubts, and cares, and fears opprest, O fly to God, for God is love. Thy frequent wanderings to reprove, With tears and prayers God's mercy prove, the largest portion of present enjoyment by the smallest risk or trouble? How shall I best insure ease and comfort to myself and my family, during our stay in this world? Now, it is not that the generality of men in a Christian land are wholly forgetful that they have souls to be saved: the dreadful mistake is, that they take for granted they are saved. They have been baptized, they attend Christian ordinances, they have no doubt but they "believe in the Lord Jesus Christ," which is the only requisite for salvation; and why should any one doubt the sincerity of their faith? Ah! brethren, we cannot, it is true, see your hearts; we dare not pronounce you insincere. But there are tokens in your outward conduct which alarm our fears for you! and we pray you to examine if these fears be not well grounded. Could you set so much value on the riches of this world, which our Saviour pronounced so unfavourable to the state of the soul? Could you seek so eagerly the places of honour and preferment in this passing scene, or relish so highly the pleasures and amusements, which, to say the least of them, have a tendency to weaken the power of religion within you? Could you pay such minute attention to the little refinements and luxuries of life,-if you had ever seriously reflected on the alternative of your soul being lost or saved? No: if you had ever truly considered this alternative, at least, if you lived under the permsnent influence of it, it would impart a dignity to your whole mind and character; raising you above all the petty objects of earthly desire, and making you willing rather to lose the whole world, than run any risk of los ing your own soul. You would feel, Is my soul safe? Then I need little more. Is it not yet saved? Then I can enjoy nothing till I have a good hope that it is So. You may indeed argue, that attention to the duties of the present life forms one principal evidence of salvation and to this we quite agree. But unless "the one thing needful" be kept decidedly uppermost, if it form but one of the many things that engross your thoughts, instead of the one that regulates all the rest, be sure it will obtain but a scanty share of time and consideration; whereas, if you assign to it its proper place, all other important things will be done far better than if they were your chief study. Oh! we entreat you, consider in time. Delay not to flee from the wrath to come, lest you should, one day, have to make the doleful lamentation, "the harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved!" But if you assure us that you have good grounds for satisfaction concerning your own state; then, the first great question set at rest, you have more leisure to entertain the second,What are your feelings respecting the salvation of others? Is it your heart's desire and prayer for all in whom you are interested, Can you reckon lightly of any ills that may befall them, "that they may be saved?" provided you have a good hope that they are saved? Or, though you see them surrounded with every outward blessing, are you uneasy and anxious lest they should not be saved? Again, what interest do you feel in the salvation of men in general? And what efforts are you making to forward this great object? Is it possible, that they who are assured of their own What is your great object in life?-So precious, so salvation, can feel indifferent as to the salvation of inestimable, being the salvation offered in the Gospel; their fellow-sinners, and even encourage them in occu so free on the part of God, and yet requiring such unre-pations, which, if not altogether incompatible with mitting exertion on the part of man; two questions surely ought to engross the serious attention of every one within reach of the joyful sound. These questions are, "What must I do to be saved?" and "What can I do in order that others may be saved?" And yet, when we look around, how few seem really en In Jesus, hear his mercy speak; Hear him who reigns in heaven above; Trust, trust in him-for you he died; So shall thy soul in peace abide, And know, and feel that God is love. Thus may I live, thus let me die, That when the summons calls-" Remove," CHRISTIAN TREASURY. Self-Examination. All moral agents must eventually examine themselves. Hell itself is a place of selfexamination; sin is there its own biographer: this is an awful thought; may God wing its flight into the hearts of all who are dead in trespasses and sin. Begin this self-examination, then, immediately; begin it with this impression on your minds-that God is a God of mercy.-HOWELS. morality, can hardly consist with a right state of the soul? This single test might, we think, convince many, how little they regard the salvation of their fellow-sinners. It is feared that many call Christ their Saviour, who have very indistinct notions what he saves them from, what he saves them to, and the immense price at which their salvation was procured. I when a subaltern in the Royal Marine Corps, I was Many would gladly "look to him and be saved," if ordered, with two other officers to embark, one of us they need not, at the same time, "wash their hearts in each of the three guard ships then stationed in the from wickedness, that they might be saved."-ISABELLA Medway; two of them lay close to the dock-yard, GRAY MYLNE. ("Titles and Offices of our Lord Jesus Christ.") affording at all times, easy access to the shore, the other, the Resolution, of seventy-four, was moored half-way Indwelling Sin.—I would not desire a believer to be in a better posture here than this,-to be looking upon sin indwelling as his bondage, and redemption from it as freedom; to account himself so far free as the free Spirit of Christ enters and writes that free law of love and obedience in his heart, and blots out these base characters of the law of sin. It were a good temper to be groaning for the redemption of the soul; and why does a believer groan for the redemption of the body, but because he shall then be freed wholly from the law of sin? I know not a greater argument to a gracious heart, to subdue his corruption and strive for freedom from the law of sin, than the freedom obtained from the law of death; nor is there any clearer argument and evidence of a soul delivered from death, than to strive for the freedom of the Spirit from the law of sin. These jointly help one another. Freedom from death will raise up a Christian's heart to aspire to a freedom and liberty from sin; and again, freedom from sin will witness and evidence that such a one is delivered from death.-BINNING. Evangelical Religion. It is the religion of the Gospel which strikes at the heart, and comes like fire into the soul, burning and consuming its secret iniquities; purges all the venom of the old serpent out of our natures, and lays the foundation of all blessedness in us by faith in the blood shed for us and given unto us as the principle of a new and heavenly life.-ADAM. Preserve my soul for I am holy.-If thou shalt say thou art holy of thyself, thou art proud; again, being a believer in Christ, and a member of Christ, if thou shall not acknowledge thyself to be holy, thou art ungrateful. Say unto God I am holy, for thou hast sanctified me.-TERTULLIAN. PRAYER APPARENTLY REJECTED YET COMPLETELY ANSWERED. THE following narrative is from the pen of the late Major-General Burn, Commander of the Royal Marines at Woolwich, and the author of The Christian Officer's Panoply,' &c. 46 True Christian experience is a paradox to the carnal mind, and the Scripture abounds in apparent contradictions, which the soul enlightened by divine grace can only clearly comprehend. "When I am weak," says Paul, then am I strong;" "though poor, yet possessing all things." Among a number of these enigmatical truths, I have frequently observed the following: "When sincere and fervent prayer has been apparently rejected, then it has been most completely answered." In explanation of this I will relate an anecdote in my own history, premising, that when the Lord was pleased to give me clear views of divine truth, I frequently prayed that, whenever he called me to embark in a man-of-war-that dreadful abode for a Christian, which I had long inhabited-I might, even there, find some serious person to converse with, who, by good advice, and a pious example, might be the means of preventing me from falling. But this prayer I had for some time neglected to offer up, and indeed had entirely forgot. But the Lord had not forgot it, as will be seen by the sequel. About forty years ago, down the river towards Sheerness, from whence, in winter and bad weather, it was tedious and troublesome to land, and sometimes impracticable. For this obvious reason, it was natural for each of us to wish for one of the Chatham ships, and strong interest was accordingly made by us with the commanding officer for this purpose, but he, finding he must necessarily disoblige one of the three, very properly ordered us to attend the parade next morning, and draw lots for our ships. This, of course, drove me to my stronghold, and if ever I prayed with fervency in my life, it was now; I pleaded hard with the Searcher of hearts that he knew my chief motive for desiring one of the Chatham ships was, that I might constantly attend the means of grace and the ordinances of his house, resting confident, that if I really was a child of God, he would grant my request, since the lot thus cast into the lap was wholly at his disposal. The important morning came, and I drew the dreaded ship down the river. Had I drawn my death warrant I hardly think it would have affected me more. My prayer was now evidently rejected, and the enemy of souls, taking advantage of the yet agitated state of my depraved heart, easily made me draw the conclusion, that either I was no Christian, or else that God paid no attention to those who pretended to be such. In this gloomy desponding state, like a criminal going to execution, I embarked the saine forenoon in his majesty's ship, Resolution, lying in a dreary part of the Medway about two or three miles from Sheerness. I had just time to be introduced to the officers in the ward room, when dinner came in. The third lieutenant happening to be caterer that week, of course stood up at the head of the table, and asked a blessing with so much seriousness as quite astonished me; for being well acquainted with the customs in the ward room of a king's ship, I had never heard any thing of the kind so solemnly done there before, and determined in myself to mark every word that proceeded from that gentleman's lips, in the hope of hearing something that might determine his character; however nothing decisive occurred during dinner, but no sooner was the wine upon the table than he was personally attacked by several of his messmates upon his religious sentiments, and soon discovered that he bore the genuine marks of a true Christian, by his judicious reproofs, and the very able manner in which he confuted all their infidel arguments. They wishing to know, I suppose, what spirit I was of, frequently appealed to me for the truth of what they advanced, but having always decided against them, I was imperceptibly drawn into the vortex of warm disputation on the side of the caterer. When the allowance of wine was drank-for it was a sober well regulated mess-the purser rose and broke up the company, exclaiming, with an oath, 66 our new messmate is as great a methodist as Tomlinson." I smiled, well Lieutenant Tomlinson was a pious, sensible, and well informed man, well known in the then Christian world. He was long a commander in the navy, and would have risen high among the admirals, had he not disobliged the Admiralty by publishing a plan to man the navy without pressing, which that Board would not countenance, pleased to be associated with such a pious man. As two needles touched with the loadstone, although they fall among chaff, will soon come together, so this methodist lieutenant and I speedily came into contact; after exchanging a few questions, we went down to his cabin in the gun-room, had an hour's comfortable conversation, and concluded with prayer, although only four hours ago we had never seen one another's faces. This singular circumstance could not fail to bring to my recollection the prayer I had so culpably forgot, now completely answered, and I began to be reconciled to the ship which Providence had assigned me. But that God who abounds in goodness and delighteth in mercy, never confers his favours by halves. A few days had hardly elapsed, when an order came from the Admiralty to send the Resolution up to Chatham, and one of the ships there to come down and take her place. This was such welcome news to all on board that, lest the order should be countermanded we obeyed it the same day, for the wind and tide favouring, we weighed and came to an anchor off the dockyard before two o'clock. Thus my prayer, at first evidently rejected, was now completely answered, but it was in the Lord's way; had mine been attended to I had drawn the ship that afterwards went down the river, and I should have been truly miserable; so true it is we know not what to pray for as we ought. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH, BY THE LATE REV. J. MITCHELL, HUGH ROSS, the subject of this memoir, was born in finances. The first period of his life he had the happiness to spend under the ministry of Mr James Calder, a man very eminent for his piety, and for his uncommon industry, and success in the clerical office. Hugh Ross, after his conversion, spoke of this worthy servant of Christ in terms of the highest commendation: but it appears that he derived no greater advantage from his pious labours, than a considerable stock of speculative knowledge, which was entirely lost afterwards, during a long course of thoughtlessness and folly. The eloquence of the preacher reaches only to the ear. His most zealous and well-directed efforts, will, without divine grace, be utterly ineffectual. This the life of Hugh Ross may strikingly illustrate. The great change upon his mind, the decrees of Heaven had reserved for a more distant period, and fixed its accomplishment to be in a more uncommon way than attendance upon the ordinary means of grace. As the parish of Croy is extensive, and part of it lies at a considerable distance from the parochial school, Hugh Ross was for some time employed in this district as a teacher; and was paid for his trouble by the neighbouring farmers. While here, the pious Mr Calder occasionally visited his school, causing him to pray in it, and encouraging him in this laudable exercise, by sometimes praying with him and his scholars.. How deserving this conduct of the imitation of other pastors and schoolmasters! And indeed were the latter always to begin and end the labours of the day with prayer, this would be of the most beneficial tendency; not only as it might be the mean of drawing down the divine blessing upon their pupils, but excit ing ideas of religion never afterwards to be effaced. Many, I doubt not, who have been educated in schools where this excellent practice was observed, can yet recollect, with heart-felt satisfaction, the pleasure they have enjoyed, while listening to a respected master, sending up his fervent prayers to heaven, to bless and protect his tender charge. About his 25th year, Hugh Ross left the place of his nativity, and came to A From this period till the time of his conversion, the history of his life tends but little to his honour. Here we are to behold him a wanderer from his earthly, but a still greater wanderer from his heavenly home; unsettled in his pursuits and occupations; the restlessness of his mind, through ignorance of the chief good, driving him from one worldly object to another, in search of happiness, which, however, still fled before him, and. like the airy phantom, always eluded his eager embrace. On leaving the place of his nativity, his design was to have engaged as partner in a considerable undertaking at F, with a cousin of his own; but this was soon given up. As his genius was strongly bent to literature, it is probable, this determined him to embrace an invitation from a gentleman who lived near his friend, to reside for some time in his house, as teacher to his children. This was a respectable situa tion, in which he might have lived comfortably, had he trusted in God, and done his duty. But it is not in man that walketh to direct his steps aright. While in this family, he unhappily contracted a taste for low company and dissipation which, as might have been expected, soon lost him the esteem of the family, and compelled him with disgrace to leave this favourable situation. After quitting the family, his condition was dreary and forlorn, With the corrupt heart, and abandoned life of the prodigal, it was his lot, in the just judgment of Heaven, to experience his misfor tunes. For a subsistence he was obliged to betake himself to the humble, but honest employment of a day-labourer; and at F. he might have been seen digging marl, in company with many whose education and ideas were very different from his own. How low does vice sink the sinner! Even in this life it is its own punishment. While in the neighbourhood of F, he received a commission from some gentlemen belonging, I suppose, to the army, to raise men for his Majesty's service, during the last American war. This was an employ ment entirely congenial with his present views; but it was ill adapted to reclaim him to a proper sense of virtue and religion. During this employment, his corrupt nature seems to have exerted itself with uncom mon violence. Many were the temptations to which it exposed him, and often did it hurry him into horrid scenes of inebriety and quarrelling. He himself, indeed, considered this as the very worst period of his life, and as the lowest point of his religious degeneracy. Nor could he ever think or speak of it to his friends in his better days, without bitter regret and strong indignation. Fifteen years before his death, he came to the neigh |