And what is it that is to be done with the talents that we are intrusted with? To be wrapt up in a napkin, or buried under ground? No. They are to be put out to use, to be turned to a right and adequate improvement, and to produce not more a grateful sense of them in our hearts, than real endeavours of thankful obedience in our lives. though not, perhaps, permitted to riot and revel | passions,-that he has given us all things richly to in its superfluities? Or if the bounties of God's enjoy,-that he is not more great in himself than providence, however largely distributed to you, good unto us, and that, satisfying the desires of do, notwithstanding, make no impression, yet can each of us, and supplying the wants of us all, he you remain insensible to the means of grace which leaves upon every day's experience the most eviyou enjoy, and those high and holy hopes he hath dent and the most diversified traces of his lovinggiven to you of glory, the pardon of sin, the kindness and tender mercy. prospect of a resurrection, the promise of everlasting life, all procured by virtue of the gift of his Son, and purchased by the price of his blood? Do you count on nothing being born in that part of the world that has been enlightened with the beams of revelation, and where the ordinances of the Gospel have been discovered and are dispensed to you? And do you reckon of no consequence, not only the mercy which appears in making to you a revelation, but also the mercy which the revelation itself contains; God's providing you, when you were enemies, with the means of being reconciled; his so compassionating your weakness as to offer his Spirit to strengthen you, and his so compassionating your guilt as to spare not his own Son, that you may be saved from the wrath to come? Perhaps, however, you allege that these are all mercies of a general nature; that they have been communicated with a liberal hand to the human race; and that, being in no degree peculiar to you, there is the less cause for great gratitude on account of them. The allegation, however, is unfounded, and, even though well-founded, it is unjust. Some of them are indeed of a more promiscuous nature, and enjoyed more or less by the whole race of man, but others of them are of a more particular character. A few have been more lavishly bestowed upon you than upon the greater proportion of your fellow-creatures. Several are perhaps distinctive, and confined almost exclusively to yourselves, and such of them as are spiritual and Christian in their nature have never yet been communicated in those many quarters of the globe which, for want of your privileges, to this day are the habitations of cruelty, and where the people are perishing for lack of knowledge. But, even admitting the allegation to be true, still that would never diminish either the degree of your obligation, or the measure of your responsibility. Current and common though all these mercies were, they are yet such as no human power could command, nor the wealth of the whole world ever purchase, and mercies which all of us might have been without; and I know of nothing that the circumstance of their being so universal does show except the extent of God's goodness, and that, instead of confining them to a few, he has been pleased promiscuously and freely to confer them upon us all. There is not one of us, my brethren, whatever may be the circumstances in which he may be placed, but what, on due reflection, must be sensible of many privileges that he enjoys, and will find, notwithstanding of all his hardships, many things to be grateful for. Our hearts do know, and our lips will scarcely fail to acknowledge, that the Lord hath visited us with his com And this leads me to remark, II. That for all the privileges God bestows upon his people, he looks for a suitable return. The proprietor of the fig-tree is set before us at the sixth verse, as coming and seeking fruit on it, and as thinking, from the care and cost he had expended on it, that he had every reason to expect it. And this is by no means a doubtful indication of that account which the Almighty is to demand of every one of us for the use of those talents with which we have been intrusted. As he looked to the Jews so he looks to us, for the improvement of all the blessings he hath conferred, and if we manage them as foolishly as they did, beyond all controversy we shall perish as wretchedly. Having bestowed upon us a variety of talents, with which we are to trade in this school where we are training for immortality, it is with justice that he looks for evidence that we have put them out to usury, and if, instead of receiving them as the Jews did, instead of receiving them with thoughtless insensibility, or treating them with scornful neglect, they do call forth the efforts of a laborious industry, and are turned by us into opportunities of acquiring the virtues of the private life, the graces of the Christian character, and of our abounding in those practical habits of holiness and activity which will qualify us for the service of God here, and for the enjoyment of his presence in another and a better state, this conduct, in regard of them, will turn to the best account, and we shall reap the result and the reward of it for ever. It is far from being enough, my brethren, that these advantages should be put by God into our hands. A supposition like this would betoken a most fatal ignorance of the propensities of nature, and of the whole state and circumstances of man. It is one thing to have the use of them, and it is quite another thing to make the use of them; and if our great Master is to come at last, and to reckon with us for them all, most certain it is that there is nothing more necessary in itself, or that will be more advantageous to us, than the improvement to which our diligence doth turn them. We must not be so foolish or so vain as to suppose that, because we have been favoured with talents, therefore we will trade profitably with our talents,-that, out of the mere circumstances of their bestowment, upon God's part, there will emanate strict application and vigorous efforts, in the right employment of | be demanded of us, we are not perhaps just comthem upon ours. As well might we suppose that the mere implements of war, because they happen to be possessed by us, should in battle subdue our foes, and spread our fame, and combat and conquer for us while we lie dissolved in luxury and ease. No, beloved brethren, unless we seek to use our talents well, it only but aggravates our guilt that we have talents to use well. We must add the contribution of our endeavours for their proper employment to the privileges which God has given us to employ. There is no way of securing a good account of them in the next world but by striving to do all the good of which they are appointed to be the instruments in this; and when I consider the many, and the very great gifts, which our indulgent Master has conferred upon each of us, the talents, in regard both of kind, and degree, and multitude, and variety, which he has withheld from none, I am aware of no motive that ought to have such an effect in exciting us to their most industrious improvement, as the motive that there is a day approaching on which we shall be summoned to account for them; that they are bestowed upon us in the character of stewards who are to remember what they have received, and who are forewarned what is to be demanded of them. petent to tell; but such notices and declarations have been given of it, as may well awaken our diligence, and stir up the gifts which are in us. We are told, that for every one of the talents committed to our keeping we must ultimately account; that we are to be reckoned with, not only for those that we have employed, but also for those that we have abused; and not only for those that we have abused, but also for those that we have not used at all; that it is not enough that we do not make them less, but that we are highly culpable if we do not make them more; and that for those who have been accustomed to apply them to an improper use, or to no use at all; for those who have either mispent or squandered them away, or, like the individual in the parable, though they may have neither lost nor embezzled their Lord's money, have yet kept it useless under ground, there is reserved the blackness of darkness for ever; a fire is prepared to receive them that never goes out, a worm ready to torment them that never dies. We are, therefore, sufficiently forewarned of this event, in order to our being sufficiently forearmed for it. A sense of God's goodness in bestowing gifts on us at all, a feeling of obligation, a principle of mere gratitude for the many he has conferred, ought to make us Nor is it a mere matter of conjecture, that ac- anxious not only to improve, but also to adorn tivity in their improvement is our duty, and that them; but if we are dead to sentiments and to successful will be the results of it. It is true, feelings so gentle and so generous as those, yet that we are altogether dependent upon God; but the discoveries which have been given of a retriit is also true, that God chooses to make himself, bution to come, and of the solemn and suffering as it were, in some measure, dependent upon us; process of a judgment-seat, ought to induce us to that though we can do nothing without him, yet take heed to the answer which we are at last to he will do nothing without us; and if, under the give of them, and to evince, by their right appliimpression of our great weakness, we feel con- cation, the grateful sense we have of his kindness scious that even our best efforts are but feeble who conferred the benefits, and the just estimate when compared with those that are required of us, which we do form of the benefits themselves. If vet it should ever minister to our consolation we cannot be persuaded by a sense of duty, by that we have the promise of Him who cannot lie, all means let us hearken to our interest; and well that he will never be wanting to us if we are not it is that such inquiries are seconded and supportwanting to ourselves; and that if we will but co-ed by so powerful an advocate. O let each of us operate with him, "and join our forces to those anticipate the solemn day of account, so that that which he affords," he will make perfect his strength day may not come upon us unawares! One day in our weakness, and put us under the guidance we must know what improvement we have made; of that invincible Spirit, who, knowing our frame, let that day therefore be this; let us judge at and remembering that we are dust, is ever able, present, seeing we must judge at last; and knowever willing, to hear our prayers, and to help our ing that we can never expect either the approbainfirmities. tion of God, or the forgiveness of our own minds, if such inquiries were never followed out by us, let us resolve that we shall carefully make them, that we shall live amid all the privileges that are conferred on us under the control of a judgmentseat at which they are to be accounted for, and that we shall ever act upon the principle and under the remembrance that we have received them upon trust, not to use them according to our pleasure, but to employ them to the uttermost for the service of God; and that if we do embezzle or pervert them, or even if we keep them useless under ground, that miserable will be our condition at that tribunal, the inflexible rule of whose Judge is this, that "to whomsoever much And, my brethren, it is in every view a just arrangement, that for the talents with which God doth intrust us, he should expect a right return. Disturbed as men are by the thought of it, though it be an object of fear unto many, and of anxiety unto all, yet it accords not more with the precepts of revelation than with the previous conclusions from our reason, that if God graciously bestow, we should correspondingly improve the gifts; that he should have the glory of them, while we have their use; and that wherever they are given, there should also be given along with them a commission and a command for their improvement. What that account is which we are assured will is given, from him much will be required; and that | tering on an untried state of being, when we consider from him which hath not shall be taken away even that which he hath." RESTITUTION OF HUMAN NATURE. BY THE REV. JAMES ESDAILe, D.D., Minister of the East Church, Perth. (Continued from page 23.) Let us remember that this world was created by Christ, as a theatre for the display of his glorious attributes of justice, mercy, benevolence, and love. Are not these the highest qualities that can adorn the nature of men or of angels? And they were called into exercise by the wretchedness and degradation of human nature by sin. Let us not puzzle ourselves by attempting to solve the question why sin was permitted; the subject is painful and perplexing, as well as unsatisfactory, from any light that the reason of man has been able to cast upon it. The Scripture tells us all that is necessary, when it informs us that man fell, by violating a very simple and very reasonable law, which God proposed to him, not as a hardship, but as affording an opportunity of manifesting cheerful and willing obedience, which he never could have yielded had he not had it in his power to sin; the lower animals are in this condition; and they are irresponsible, incapable alike of rendering a rational service, or of deserving blame for obeying the infallible instincts of their nature. Men and angels alone are capable of sinning; each of them have had their probation; and each of them have witnessed the terrible punishment of defection: the apostate angels were cast out of heaven; they left no impure leaven behind them; and those who resisted the seduction of their example, were established for ever in their principles of love and obedience; thus terminated the probation of the angels. Man was differently circumstanced; the earth was to be peopled by successive generations of mortals; and the first pair having sinned, the fountain of human life was polluted, and every succeeding generation has borne the taint of sin. Man found mercy, because he was seduced, and because the adversary was not to be permitted to defeat the work of God; we are encouraged to hope for mercy, because we were made “subject to vanity not willingly," but came into the possession of it, as a hereditary incumbrance on the estate of man. The rebel angels were cast out of heaven, and are reserved in chains and darkness till judgment; man found grace, and is the living monument of the divine mercy; and so completely has the evil of sin been counteracted by Him who was sent to "destroy the works of the devil," that "where sin has abounded, grace has much more abounded," which, I think, may be considered as implying, that redeemed man is raised to higher happiness, and to more exalted privileges, than could have ever fallen to the lot of man, had he never sinned, and never felt the misery arising from sinning. This is the honour which God has bestowed on his Son, that all men "should honour the Son, even as they honour the Father." On the same principle, we may understand the words of the apostle, when he says, "Death is swallowed up of victory;" that is, we lose sight of all the terrors of death, and of all the alarm arising from the idea of en the victory which Christ has achieved, and in which he has assured us that his faithful followers shall participate. But this is not all; death, instead of being the destroyer, as the devil intended, has been made the multiplier of the human race; had the earth been filled with a definite number of immortal beings, limits would have been fixed, in so far as this world is concerned, to the exercise of the divine benevolence; the same set of beings would have continued to serve and praise him; race unto race would not have showed forth his mighty deeds, had not death made room for new actors on the stage of life; there would have been none of those delightful feelings and associations arising from the relations of parent and child, or from the sympathies which we feel with the inexperience of youth, and the helplessness of declining years. How different is the state of things which God has appointed! We see the death and entombment of nature every year; and, every year, we see the face of nature renewed, giving a fresh impulse to our feelings, cheering us with the anticipations of hope, and with pleasing recollections of endless variety, combined with undeviating uniformity, in all the works of God. Thus we pluck with delight the ripe and wholesome fruit; and we view, with all the pleasure of hope, the buds and blossoms of the opening year; in the same manner, we derive benefit from the ripened wisdom of the old, and pleasure and delight from the anticipations and hopes arising from the early prognostics manifested by the youthful mind, Death, then, viewed as a measure of the divine govern ment, is a wise dispensation; it multiplies indefinitely the participants of the divine bounty; and we view it with the full approbation of our reason, as applied to all the varied races of animals, and to all the natural productions of the earth. Why should we view the subject differently when taken in connection with ourselves? In a short time we see all that is to be seen of life; and any sensible man might say with Job, "I would not live always;" for he who lives longest, only lives to see the greatest number of human miseries and human crimes; death is the vent by which the earth is cleansed of its impurities, and cleared of its incumbrances; and this event, so formidable to the cowardliness of the sinful heart, bears, nevertheless, the decided impress, not only of wisdom, but of absolute necessity. But the contemplation of death is interesting in a still more important point of view; for by it the earth is converted into a nursery for heaven; and after the number, that God has chosen, is completed, "the earth and the works that are therein shall be burnt up." Had man retained his innocence, we are entitled to conclude that he would have been immortal; for death is the wages of sin: on the supposition, then, that man had not fallen, and that death had been unknown, it is quite clear that this earth could only have contained a definite number: we can measure its surface; after allowing to each individual what may be necessary for his subsistence, we can calculate, very nearly, to a certainty, the number of human beings it is capable of maintaining: it is supposed, at present, to contain about a thousand millions; but I do not think that any dependence can be placed on this calculation: but whatever the amount may be, let us suppose the earth to be completely filled with human beings; all 66 work might not be mistaken as one of those contrivances which had been so frequently resorted to, in order to quiet the remonstrances of conscience, and to fill the mind with deceitful hope. happy, and all immortal; yet, however much philan- | work of God alone were to be recognized, that the thropy may rejoice to contemplate such a consummation, what is all this to the "numbers numberless," to the multitudes which no man can number," which we are assured shall "circle the throne rejoicing," and celebrating the praises of the Lamb that was slain! It is thus that death is swallowed up of victory. Death, which threatened the extermination of the human race, and which could not have failed to accomplish the object, with the assistance which it receives from the evil propensities and destructive passions of men, is made the means of purifying the earth from the pollution of sin; of constantly bringing new actors on the scene; till, by the purifying process of moral discipline, and spiritual improvement, the knowledge of the Lord shall cover the earth" as the waters cover the seas." I am aware that many divines have attempted to set aside this argument by supposing, that if men had not sinned, they would, after a certain time, have been translated into heaven, like Enoch and Elias. There is not the slightest authority for this hypothesis in Scripture or in reason. What would have been the use of removing from the earth beings perfectly happy, and perfectly holy? But speculation is useless, when we know that the plan, developed in the fulness of time, was laid in the counsels of God, from eternity. Let not the observations which have been made be misconstrued or mistaken; let no one presume to say that they have a tendency to explain away the curse which sin has brought upon this world: no; the correctives of sin are positive inflictions. Shall we approve of the visitations of disease, because God has provided remedies in the natural world? Any one who should maintain such a proposition, would not be considered as a fit subject for reasoning: as little can we approve of the presence of sin in the human heart, because it has been the means of displaying the marvellous grace of God; it is an evil of such excessive enormity, that no remedy can be found in the stores of nature, nor in the faculties or resources of the human mind. Most bodily diseases and injuries are healed by the curative process of nature; and the art of the physician consists chiefly in removing the obstructions which oppose the influence of this sanative process : but sin will never heal of itself. I do not mean to say that the sinner may not leave off many sinful practices, to which he has been addicted; but he does so, merely, because he has lost his taste for them, or because they injure his temporal interest; and not because his conscience condemns them, or because he regards them as sinful in the sight of God. No man will ever slide by any natural process into the habits of a religious life; he must feel that his disease is incurable by the art of man: I say, this must be a matter of conviction and feeling, rather than of reasoning; the reason of mankind never brought them to any salutary conclusions on this subject. They saw all the world anxiously inquiring what they should do to inherit eternal life; and all the steps which they had taken were of a retrograde character, and carried them farther from the object of their research. Here, then, it is obvious, that no ordinary remedy would do: the wisdom of the learned had been exhausted in vain; its only result was to "darken counsel by words without knowledge; " an extraordinary measure was necessary, in which the hand and This scheme is so wonderful, so unlike any thing that had ever been devised by men, that it proclaims itself not to be of their invention. The heathen had peopled the world with gods to whom they ascribed all the feelings and failings which belong to sinful mortals. In confirmation of this, we have only to look to the gods of Greece, Italy, and Egypt, in ancient times; in which countries all the knowledge and science of antiquity were centred; or to the gods of India, China, Africa, and Polynesia, in modern times; and there we read the degradation of the human mind, in the worship of all the qualities discreditable to human nature, which were and are assigned as the characteristic attributes of these gods. We may felicitate ourselves in being beyond the range of such abominations as these; and we may think ourselves fortunate when we can view with compassion such degradation of human nature. In truth, if the mere absence of superstition were sufficient to constitute religion, we should be a very exemplary nation. But it is a question, which I shall leave every man to settle with his own conscience, whether they who know God, as revealed in Scripture, but do not worship him in the spirit and with the service which he requires; or they who, in the ignorance of their hearts, ascribe to him false attributes, and worship him with inconsistent rites,-it is a question, I say, which of these parties is farthest from God: there is no question at all, that both of them are in a state of utter estrangement; therefore, there is no necessity for attempting to strike the balance between the parties; yet it is proper to avail ourselves of every facility for arriving at a right conclusion; and therefore I conclude, with a decision which cannot be questioned, "He that knoweth his master's will, and doeth it not, shall be beaten with many stripes." BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. BY THE EDITOR. ON her return to London, Mrs Hawkes was cordially welcomed to the house of her affectionate niece, Mrs Collyer, until suitable apartments were provided for her in Penton Place, a more airy part of the town. In this new residence she endeavoured, though reduced to a state of extreme debility, and suffering much from the weakness of her eyes, to promote the spiritual improvement of those who came to visit her. The old and the young, the rich and the poor, repaired to her as to a mother in Israel, and none came into her society without being benefited by the seasonable and judicious remarks which fell from her lips. Her correspondence, besides, with Christian friends, was extensive; and though it was often interrupted by attacks of illness, she was unwilling to lay aside her pen, but persevered, in spite of every difficulty, in her epistolary exertions. The thought was apt to force itself upon the mind of so ardent a believer as Mrs Hawkes, that she was shut out from being useful in the cause of Christ, and it was truly refreshing to her spirit, therefore, to find that she was made the instrument of converting Mr Vaughan, a gentleman in whose house she had been for several years residing. His death is thus noticed in a letter to one of his relatives : : “Our friend Vaughan 'liveth.' He ceased to breathe yesterday about five o'clock. I saw him depart as peacefully as a sleeping infant. I must not stay to tell you his sweet sayings, save one. About half an hour before his death, he said, I am dying,'-and soon after added, I am in the high road to heaven.' Ah! thither he is gone, having washed his robes in the blood of the Lamb! Glory and praise to his holy name who, even at the eleventh hour, snatched him as a brand from the burning.' So rare an instance of sovereign mercy, will, I dare say, be drawn up in a little memorial, by his kind and unwearied instructor, Mr Hodson. About nine in the morning, when he was struck with death, he said, Call for Mrs Hawkes-she will help me.' Dear creature, he had a better helper, even one who is Almighty! May this Helper be yours, and mine, in the same trying hour! for, oh! how awful is the seizure of that invisible, last enemy, sitting in triumph over the body, which is all over which he can have power!" In the early part of the summer of 1817, Mrs Hawkes was seized with an attack of nervous and bilious fever, which was followed by an increase of her former debility. For the sake of change of air she spent two or three months at Clapham, in the house of a widow lady; and in the month of October she went to reside at Queen's Row, Pentonville. The long continuance of her sufferings had been working in her soul the peaceable fruits of righteousness, and it was obvious to all around her that she was enjoying a rich measure of that peace which passeth all understanding. Severe as her own personal sufferings were, however, she was called to endure a most painful aggravation to her trials in the death of her beloved sister Mrs Jones. Though, in the course of nature, the interval of separation could not be long, her sensitive heart felt deeply wounded. She thus refers to the subject, in a letter to her nephew, Mr Jones: Ah! your dear sainted mother used to animate us all by her sweet letters, and help us by her prayers! and we should remember that this office of love now devolves upon such as are left behind. Love one another, and help one another, are divine injunctions. I trust, my dear nephew, that you feel an increasing love and gratitude to the God of all grace, that he hath 'called you out of darkness into his marvellous light.' It is indeed marvellous light! which shineth more and more unto the perfect day:' and what that perfect day is, it hath not entered into the heart of man to conceive.' I long that the veil which obscures it from shining on my soul, should be taken away. I long to widen the poor narrow crevices of my heart, which admit only a glimmering ray, that it may be filled with light. I long to be with her who now rejoices in the full blaze of day. Let us not seek her among the dead, but among the living; and trim our lamps afresh, and listen for the bridegroom's coming; for He will come, and how soon we know not. To me, a weary pilgrim, Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly.' In the summer of 1823 she was called to part with another sister, whose death she thus feelingly notices in a letter to a very old friend : "As long as my lingering troubled life is spared, I hope I shall be able to communicate, at least occasionally, with my beloved and old friend. Many years have we communed together concerning our trials-our hopes and fears-our prospects both as to this world and the next; and I trust that till we are separated by death, we shall continue so to do. Ah, my dear friend, our time is shortening every day! and as death is now laying its awful grasp on many around us, so it will asBy this time you have suredly soon lay hold on us. no doubt heard that, with almost a sudden stroke, it has taken away my dear sister Mynors! I will not attempt to delineate my feelings on this most affecting occasion. The shock it has given me has shaken my tottering tabernacle to the very centre, so that I think it will much hasten its entire downfal. I cannot dwell on the subject. Righteous art thou, O Lord, in all that thou doest! I will lay my hand upon my mouth, and pray for resignation, and increasing trust in the name of the Lord, as a strong tower into which alone we can run and be safe." Old age was now rapidly advancing, and the death of two sisters within the short space of two years, proMrs Hawkes. After having resided for twelve years in duced a most debilitating effect upon the constitution of Queen's Row, circumstances occurred which compelled her to remove, and by the kindness of her friends, comfortable lodgings were procured for her at Highgate, where she remained nearly five months, at the end of which time she settled in Cross Street, Islington. Her various ailments now increased both in frequency and severity, and she often longed to depart and to be with Christ, which is far better. At midsummer she removed with great difficulty from Cross Street to Park Street, Islington, and she seemed to revive a little with the change. To others, it might appear as if death were not far distant; such was not her own impression, as appears from occasional remarks. "A friend having congratulated her, about this time, on her nearness to glory, she replied, 'Not very near; He is not ready, and I am not ready.' At another time she remarked, I feel stripped of every shred, and reduced to faith alone; but that is enough.' To a friend who called upon her in the hope of profiting by her conversation, she said, I am too weak to converse; I am too weak to pray; I am too weak even to think: but I am in the ark, and all is safe.' Writing to her nephew, Mr E. T. Jones, she says:— 66 Again the desired haven is not quite so near; yet it is within my constant view, and I have only to stand ready for the solemn signal to cross the unknown Jordan of death; which faith in Christ, our blessed deliverer from all its horrors, can alone enable us to look upon without trembling. After many years of expectation, and, I trust, preparation for this solemn event, I sincerely feel that when death has really fixed its grasp, it opens to the recollected mind, about to enter the eternal world, views and impressions which it is not easy to imagine beforehand. Therefore, we have need, my dearest Eden, to look again and again, that our house is indeed firmly built on that solid and blessed Rock, which will save us from being shaken when the storm ariseth. Through infinite mercy, I am favoured with much peace in my nearer approaches to the grave. But my times are in His hand,' and I trust for dying grace in dying times. My iron constitution, as I may call it, seems now to say,-It is enough,—and yields pretty fast to the long and large demands of disease, though it still shows signs of resistance. I am indeed a monument of mercy! Abundant in loving-kindness, both as concerns my temporal and spiritual life, do I daily experience that adorable, covenant-keeping God, whose name is Emmanuel, God with us!' Oh! that we may live in him daily and hourly." 6 Death, however, was nearer than she suspected, and the closing scene, though painful to flesh and blood, was marked by Christian composure and resignation on the part of the sufferer. |