One of the two inscriptions cannot be mistaken nor even disputed: "The Lord knoweth them that are his." Possibly, this may refer to the "lively stones," all true believers in Christ, who have reached their appointed niche in the spiritual temple of God's grace upon earth; only built here to be, like the tabernacle of Israel in the wilderness, taken down and set up again as the temple of grace, for ever to appear in heaven, as the great exhibition of the wonders of redeeming love. knowledge of the truth of God's holy word, by the Spirit of God. Amidst all their many wanderings he remembereth them still. Amidst all their weakness, all their sorrows, all their infirmities, he neither fails nor forsakes them. "He knoweth them that trust in him." "He knoweth how to deliver the godly out of temptation." For "he keepeth the feet of his saints." Therefore it is a fundamental truth in religion that, while man may be mistaken as to the character of the Christian, there can be no mistake with God. "They shall be mine," testified the prophet Malachi, "in that day, saith the Lord, when I make up my jewels." They are therefore too precious to be lost. Thus God is mercifully pleased to preserve the souls of all his people in the world, but not of the world, from the great danger of making shipwreck of faith and of a good conscience. The God's perfect knowledge of his people marks the character of this building. It always remains the same, though many of his professing people may "go back, and walk no more with Christ." It is, moreover, a true and fearful motto, teaching that no one can deceive the heart-searching God-that he knows well all who form a part of that building; for he can distinguish between his The other inscription will be found akin to enemies and his friends. He can separate his the one we have now dwelt upon. own people even now, as he will by-and-bye, motto of the seal is bold and impressive: as he will at the last great day of account di-"Let every man that nameth the name of vide the sheep from the goats, placing the Christ depart from iniquity." This is to be former on his right hand, but the latter on his understood as a standing test of the genuine left. Beloved, he who knows his own chosen character of the Christian life. The prosheep "calleth them by name, and leadeth fession of the name of Christ is the sign that them out." Hence it is his constant care that man is one who is in all things acto keep all who belong his fold of grace tuated by the Spirit of God. Holiness is the from falling away, from falling into hurtful high standard of the Christian faith. This lasts, from falling into the snare of the devil. may not be reached; but the endeavour to How remarkable are the words, "the Lord attain to it will cause the Christian to press knoweth them that are his "! Are we known forwards in his heaven-bound race until the to him as his children by adopting love? death-blow which shall be struck at the Do we know him as our Father in heaven monster sin shall be the signal given and upon earth? For the spiritual relation- for an endless triumph over every spiship is indeed mutual. He discovers him- ritual enemy. Then will the words of self to his people, as when he spake to Moses St. Paul be verified in the experience of out of the burning bush. He saw and knew God's children. They will, as he exhorted Zaccheus, though he had run before and the Christians at Corinth, "cleanse themclimbed up into a sycamore-tree, to see Jesus selves from all filthiness of the flesh and as he passed by. He assured him that "this spirit, perfecting holiness in the fear of God." day is salvation come to this house; for that Are we called by the name of Christ, as baphe also is a son of Abraham." The eye of tized members of the visible church? This the Lord beholds his children. He recognizes them, even when dead in trespasses and sins. He knows them as his own gift to his dear Son. Unspeakable privilege thus to be owned of God, amidst all our sinfulness, all our unworthiness, all our poverty, all our wretchedness. "He is not ashamed to call his people brethren. He knoweth them by many signs, as when he sees the blood of Christ sprinkled upon the heart and the conscience, after the manner of the Israelite dwelling, when the door of his house, while a sojourner in Egypt, was stained with the blood of the paschal lamb. He knoweth them as his redeemed, justified, sanctified, and accepted people, effectually called to the is a peculiar honour; but the soul must be brought under the influence of divine teaching. There must be a spiritual claim put in to the possession of so exalted a title. The true brethren of Christ are joint-heirs with him of all that heaven contains. And nothing that defileth can possibly enter there. Show the clear evidence, then, that we belong to Christ, as his people. There must be a holy fear planted in the heart. There must be a holy desire communicated to the soul, to live, to act, to walk, in all things, as becometh the gospel of Christ, thereby to "adorn the doctrine of God our Saviour in all things." This is the sterling worth of the Christian character. This is the germ hidden in the soul, which shines the brighter as trials, afflictions, sufferings, rub off the encircling crust of earth, in which it is too deeply buried. our love upon him? He is the Pillar set up from everlasting, to perpetuate the riches of God's mercy to a lost world. He is the ground of the truth, revealed in holy scripture, for the salvation of all who from the heart believe in him as their present Saviour, their future Deliverer. This foundation will never give way. No appalling storm, no howling wind will avail ought against it. It ousness of Jesus Christ. Is our spiritual strength the great result of being built upon Christ as "lively stones" of the temple of God, not made with hands? Behold our security in Christ, and the stedfastness of our faith in him. Sin is incompatible with the ways of godliness. It should never be permitted to cross our path; for each darling lust, each besetting sin, though like the gourd of Jonah, will be found to have the worm of an accusing conscience secretly undermining its very root." standeth sure" in the blood and righte My brethren, the name of Christ is the distinguished ornament of all who tread in his steps; and "he did no sin, neither was guile found in his mouth." O that we may, by his grace assisting, copy the pattern of his holy life, and also follow the blessed example of his steps, being conformed to his On this stone will be found a seal, with these divine image, and transformed by the renew-two inscriptions: "The Lord knoweth them ing of our minds. We are prepared, there- that are his;" and, "Let every one that nameth fore, to show that the strength of the Chris- the name of Christ depart from iniquity." The tian character is the principle of holiness. first inscription shows that his children are Any departure from this rallying point of the called by his grace, adopted into his family, soldiers of the cross will only lead to a fear- redeemed by Christ's precious blood, justified ful separation between Christ and the Chris- by faith in him, and sanctified by his Spirit. tian. We have to cleave unto the Lord with He knew his people from everlasting. He full purpose of heart, and according to the brings them to the knowledge of himself in inscription on the seal, to "depart from ini- this world; and they shall know him, even quity." Beware, then, of giving heed for a as they shall be known of him, when mormoment to the alluring voice of the tempter. tality shall be swallowed up of life. Are we Pray not to be led into temptation. Turn not thus favoured? Are we taught to know him aside into any path which is forbidden by as the sheep of his pasture? He has said, scripture. "Abhor that which is evil, cleave "I know my sheep, and am known of to that which is good." Much, humanly mine." speaking, depends upon our Christian vigi- The second inscription marks the true lance, lest one step taken in the path of evil character of God's peculiar people. They should be followed by another to our endless"depart from iniquity." Holiness is the ruin. There is need in this particular of increased "watchfulness unto prayer," that he may hold us up, and never suffer our feet to slip; that he may keep us from falling away from the true faith, and preserve us unto his everlasting kingdom. For, in every age of the world, agreeable with this second motto on the seal, "Every one, that nameth the name of Christ in sincerity and truth, does depart from iniquity." And, amidst all the many attempts to draw others away from the true faith and hope of the gospel, the true FLOWERS FROM THE GARDEN OF THE people of God are known, who did and do avoid all manner of evil. But, to conclude: our subject has been considered, according to its legitimate meaning, under two general heads; the first describing the foundation of God, as to its nature, and also as to its stability. This Foundation, we have shown, is Christ himself, the chief corner-stone of his elect church built upon him, the Rock of ages. Therefore God has laid him in Zion for a foundation. Are we resting all our spiritual hopes, grounding our faith, and supporting atmosphere they breathe: sin is the evil they avoid. Pray, my Christian brethren, that God would be pleased to "keep us from the evil of the world, that it may never grieve us," that he would "present us faultless before the presence of his glory with exceeding joy," as those "who are kept by the power of God through faith unto salvation, ready to be revealed in the last time." SAINTS. THE REV. THOMAS BYRTH, D.D. "THOUGH great as a theologian and a scholar," * Born at Plymouth, 1793, incumbent of Latchford 1827, .... Conversation was like a school of thought. He was full of all social and domestic affections; fearless, consistent, quick to feel, quick to forgive, constant in friendship, overflowing with love" (Remains; by the rev. G. R. Moncreiff, rector of Tattenhall, and many years curate of the deceased. 1851). COUNSEL TO AN EVANGELIST VISITING. "We learn from the conduct of the apostle, that among the sacrifices to be made by one who would faithfully do the work of an evangelist, must be numbered every feeling, however remotely allied to a lofty opinion of himself. To the weak he became as weak, that he might gain the weak.' Of all the obstacles which impede the process of pastoral labours, few are more effectual than a haughty, contemptuous, and disdainful carriage. .... He, then, who makes himself all things to all men, will cherish a spirit of humility, that he may be able to condescend to men of low estate; and that the poor, the ignorant, and the weak may not fear to come unto him in all their difficulties, nor be unwilling to receive him when he enters their dwellings. He will endeavour not only not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think,' but not to think of himself at all, in order that he may make the spiritual interests of his flock his own, and induce them to believe that he is identified with them. If there be any pursuit, or any association, however innocent in itself, nay, however exalted and refined, which imparts a tone of fastidiousness to his habits of feeling and of thought, he will renounce that pursuit, he will break that association; for he will remember that it is his business not to improve his own mind, but to save the souls of others. On the other hand, he will not suffer his intellectual powers to be idle. He will be a laborious student; bat he will bring all his studies to bear on the peculiar circumstances of the situation in which he has been placed by the great Head of the church." Dr. B. had previously remarked: "When we approach the habitation of a poor man, prudence will whisper to us that his lowly cottage is to him what our own comfortable dwelling-places are to us, his house, his home, the scene, if not of many enjoyments, perhaps of many sorrows still more sacred-that we have no right to invade its privacy, and therefore it is as a favour that we desire to be admitted. And this consideration will restrain all temptation to gratify what, in other cases, would be justly styled impertinent curiosity. One object alone brings us here: we have no concern with any other, except in so far as we can subordinate it to that. Except in exempt, that is, in extraordinary cases, which will themselves indicate the mode of their own treatment, let it be seen, while you assume no distant authoritative deportment, that you come to teach and not to learn, and occupy as much of your allotted time as possible in reading or praying with the persons visited." .... ROME. (Written on the spot). "From Rome, as the prostitute mistress of the world, or the usurping queen of Christendom, that is, from Rome weeping over the ruins of her past greatness, or decked in all the brilliant ornaments of the bride of heaven, I cannot but turn to Rome as the habitation of living men, and view her for a moment before I leave her perhaps for ever, as she exhibits peculiar exemplification of the effects of despotism upon the social system. And here all, even to the minutest details, is, as far as I have observed, unfavourable and gloomy. The people are unintelligent and idle: the city is thronged with beggars: the streets are narrow and dirty: the shops are mean and ill-stocked. The houses, even the best, are ill-built and inconvenient. The filth is almost intolerable. The want of a police to remove living nuisances is constantly felt by an Englishman. The barking of dogs, the braying of asses, the vociferations of men hawking their wares, are enough to drive one mad; much of this music prevailing throughout the night, as well as the day. Modern Rome is a mournful spectacle" (May, 1844). TO A FRIEND ON THE LOSS OF HIS WIFE. "Under this, the heaviest affliction that can befal us here, you are evidently supported by the arm which has in mercy, as you will ere long know as well as believe, dealt the blow; and you hear, from the same voice that has commanded you to give back your dearest earthly treasure, the assu rance that all is well,' and that you shall meet again with that holy, happy spirit, with which it is your high privilege to be indissolubly united. You say, and the words as I write them fill my eyes with tears again, 'How dearly did we love each other!' My dear friend, permit me to make a slight alteration in this language: let it be, How dearly do we love each other! She loves you now with an affection at least as intense as ever; and to her the change that has taken place has indeed made the time of separation appear but a moment. .... You will say, 'We shall know each other again.' There is, in my opinion, incontrovertible scripture authority for this sentiment. The apostle says, 'You sorrow not as men without hope." Now, my dear friend, yours would be a sorrow without hope, in the proper sense of that word, if you did not believe that you shall again see, hold intercourse with, and reciprocate the expressions of affection from her, who, admirable as she was on earth, will then be indeed clothed all the beauty of a righteous spirit made perfect." with the garments of salvation, and shine forth in SKETCHES. BY THE REV. DENIS KELLY, M.A., Minister of Trinity Church, Gough-square, Fleet-street, London. No. LIV. SELF-REPROACH. "How gladly would the man recal to life COWPER, THE common infidel objection against a divinė over-ruling Providence is, the apparent inequalities in God's moral administration of the world. Here we often see the poor and virtuous depressed and afflicted, while the wicked triumph and prosper. more than the sternest rebukes and reproaches of his fellow (what an indication of the high origin and the destiny of man is it that such a power should be given to the inward monitor!) and should make the lot of the injurer and oppressor a hundred fold worse than that of the injured and oppressed. With what penetrating accents may one This objection is usually met by the reply that a day of final retribution, "when God shall render to all according to their works," will adjust those seeming inequalities, will vindicate the ways of God to man, and proclaim in the face of an assembled universe that, "though clouds and darkness are round about him, yet righte-"though dead and departed, yet speak." ousness and judgment are the habitation of his What would not some give that the past could throne." But I think that they who have replied be recalled? What would not some give that to this cavil have commonly omitted one very im- words, which were like barbed arrows to the portant consideration, which certainly weakens bosoms which now lie mouldering in the grave, had the force of the objection very much, and shows never been uttered? What would not some give the apparent triumph as well as the supposed im- that acts which were done-unkind, unduteous, punity of the wicked to be far less than they and cruel acts-could be undone? With what might, at the first sight, be supposed to be. That bitterness of anguish are the wounds remembered consideration is, that God has so ordained it that which we inflicted on them who loved us, loved one of the sorest punishments undergone in this us best-by the child upon the departed parent, life is the self-inflicted punishment, the misery by the husband upon the departed wife, by the occasioned by self-reproach. (That is, where a friend upon the departed friend! Alas! could remnant of conscience, of good feeling, of sensi- some foresee the anguish they are laying up for bility is left; because, when these are gone-when themselves by the unkindnesses, the wrongs, the conscience, the moral sense, is dead-then God's injuries they are doing to them who are their best method is to cut off: sudden destruction. "Cut and their truest, perhaps their only friends, they it down, why should it any longer encumber would pause and tremble. For these are wrong; the ground?"). But, where a spark of genuine which recoil on him that inflicts them. They are feeling survives, the sorest punishment undergone like the cutting of a ligature, which is torture and in this world is that occasioned by self-reproach. death to both alike. And, alas! if any man is more to be pitied than another in this life, it is he who sits lonely and desolate amidst the wreck and and ruins of his happiness, which he has occa sioned by his own rashness and impetuosity, and who is tortured with those self-upbraidings which are as the mournful sighings of the winds heard in desolate halls, as he reflects what a different spot that scene of desolation might have been, what a sanctuary of peace and comfort and joy God intended it to be, instead of the desolation it now is. Alas! for him who wakes too late to discover that he has destroyed his own happiness, that he has cast away the precious jewel of it, that he wronged and broken the heart of the best, the most devoted friend and guide and guardian and adviser. With him the bloom of life is gone, the withered stem of it only remains: the wine of life is racked off, it is the lees only that are left. Outward splendour and success and wealth may await him; but the inward calm and quietude are gone; the full content, the flush of joy, the gay hope, the sweet sleep, the bright and fond anticipations, the warm welcomes, the sweet converse, the "opening of the heart," which is so healing and refreshing to it-these are his no more; the heart beats no more; and life is, after this, a sort of living death. Could we know what many have suffered from the aching void thus occasioned, we should learn how groundless, was the cavil against the equity of God's moral administration of the world from the supposed impunity enjoyed by the wrong-doer. Then we should rather be tempted to exclaim, "O spare your rebuke, spare your condemnation: the heart is already enduring a punishment worse than all that man could inflict. The tempest within makes him deaf to the tempest that beats without. The inward worm is preying on the heart, the worm of remorse which slowly consumes it". O there are recollections connected with the departed, with them that loved us best, The earth has no suffering to equal that which the self-reproachful mind, that still retains a vestige of high and honourable feeling, or a spark of sensibility, inflicts upon itself. They, who have escaped every other punishment, have endured from themselves far worse than prisons, or than all the chains forged by human tyranny could inflict. Nay, minds of the sternest mould, which no threats of man could intimidate, have been worn down and withered by the inward vulture-gnawings of self-reproach. Men, who never feared the face of their fellow-man, or the threats of man, or the oppressions of man, men who dared all that man may dare, have withered under the bitter and agonizing memory of wrongs that were done by them to the weak, the helpless, the unprotected. Ah! strange and mysterious dispensation of Providence, that it should be so arranged that the self-inflicted misery and torment endured by the oppressor and wrong-doer should be in proportion to the very weakness and defencelessness of the being to whom the wrong has been done; so that, while the memory of the conflict with the clever, the subtle, the artful, with them that were competent to take their own part, leaves no sting of self-reproach, the remembrance of the wrongs, on the contrary, which have been done to the guileless and simple who had no resources in themselves, no influence, power, craft, or subtlety, and who fell an easy prey to injustice and oppression, has often left a bleeding wound which no time could heal. Men have only pined and withered under the agonizing remembrance of wrongs done by them to the innocent, to the orphan, to the widow, to the helpless, the confiding, like these. Their hearts have been a desolation, though they were surrounded with the honours and applauses of the world. O mysterious arrangement of Providence, that remembered unkindness to them who are now gone and passed away from the scene should thus wring and break the heart of man and took deepest interest in our welfare-the father or the wife, or the brother or the friend-that are worse than scorpion stings to survivors; which poison their joy; which murder sleep; which make those who suffer from them pray for oblivion as the greatest boon that could be granted them; which make them often secretly exclaim, with an inward agony which no words could convey, "Would that I had never done so; would that I bad never wronged or injured those that are now past recall. In destroying their peace, I lost my own for ever." Thus do those providential retaliations witnessed in this life vindicate the ways of God to man. Thus has he ordained that the injury done to the weak and helpless and innocent should recoil upon the oppressor, and be the destruction of his own peace and happiness for ever-that it should leave behind it a wound which no hand except his own can ever heal. Earthly physicians have no balm for it; for God alone can kill the slow censuring worm of remorse; he alone can rase out the written troubles of the brain. There is no hope in a case like this, except from the affliction bringing the sufferer to him who alone can bind up the broker. heart. He must be propitiated; for against him the offence was. The wrong must be confessed and deplored to him with heart-felt contrition, and the justice of the punishment owned. The wild passions must be hated and mortified which caused such havoc of the peace. The injuries done must be confessed with deep humiliation and sorrow unfeigned." This is the only way of restoration to that peace which else is lost for ever. He against whom the sin was committed may forgive; his glorious attribute is that "he retaineth not his anger for ever." Then will the unsupportable wound be healed. "O Israel, thou hast destroyed thyself; but in him is thy help." He, for inward anguish and desolation, will give peace once more. He will fulfil his promise: "Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed upon thee :" "Peace I leave with you, his peace I give unto you." Then thy most consoling thought will be, that in another and a better, a sinless world, thou shalt meet the being whom thy unkindness or ingratitude or undutifulness wore out; and that there are no mistakes, no misunderstandings there; no groundless suspicions, no jealousies, no dislikes, no blinding passions; for all there is as clear as the day. It is a world of light. The unions formed there are ever during. There is nothing to interrupt them; for sin, the great disturber and destroyer of peace, is cast out; and all hearts there are cemented by one bond of holy love. For love is the great indissoluble bond of union in that holy, heavenly, happy family. "That they all may be one as thou, Father, art in me and I in thee; that they all may be perfect in one." ADDRESS, PROM THE SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING THE DUE OBSERVANCE OF THE LORD'S DAY, IN BEHALF OF THE OMNIBUS SERVANTS OF LONDON. To Ministers of Religion in the Metropolis. THE Committee would earnestly and respectfully call the attention of ministers of religion in the metropolis to the condition of the omnibus servants of London, as having a strong claim on their sympathy and assistance. The omnibus servants of London are a numerous class. In the month of October, 1851, there were 4,044 licensed drivers and conductors; to which if we add supernumeraries, horse-keepers, washers, and time-keepers, the whole number will not fall far short of 9,000 men, most of them married, and with families. Their average time of labour is from fifteen to sixteen hours daily-the Lord's day included : such extensive desecration of the Lord's day, and such prolonged toil continued through seven days successively, for weeks, precluding spiritual instruction for the soul, as well as needful rest for the body, the committee would submit is mani-. festly opposed to the plainest principles of religion and dictates of humanity. The utter neglect of public worship on the part of omnibus servants, necessitated by such systematic and prolonged labour on the Lord's day, tends to demoralize and degrade the class generally, and prematurely to destroy their bodily health and strength. In a social point of view, in addition to the evils consequent on absence of paternal control and domestic supervision, the example of habitual disregard of the divine command, and the neglect of public and family worship, must be highly injurious to their children. It is deeply to be regretted that many of those who use the labour of omnibus servants on the Lord's day do so for the purpose of attending places of worship; a fact which is frequently testified to by drivers and conductors, with a keen sense of the inconsistency of those who thus seek to serve God at the sacrifice of their plain duties, "to remember the sabbath day to keep it holy," and "to love their neighbour as themselves." In conclusion, the committee would most respectfully urge upon ministers of religion in the metropolis to exert themselves in behalf of a body of men who have so many claims on their sympathy and assistance as immortal souls, and whose services conduce so materially to the convenience and comfort of the inhabitants of this great metropolis. The committee are convinced that any efforts on the part of ministers of religion would meet with a ready response from all right-minded persons; that the condition of the omnibus servants of London only requires to be known to be ameliorated; and that few indeed would be found to be so regardless of the well-being of their fellow-creatures as to demand the sacrifice of the highest interests -spiritual, physical, and social-of so many men, for considerations for which no absolute necessity can be pleaded. Poetry. CONSCIENCE; OR, THE GOLDEN TREE. (A TALE OF CEYLON). BY COLONEL BLACKER. (For the Church of England Magazine.) Upon his judgment-seat: |