course is, setting aside books in which we take no interest, and ceasing to trouble ourselves about the conduct of those whom we regard as hypocrites, to bring our minds to the consideration of this one question-What is truth? It is well worth the inquiry. This is what I did, when I asked myself, Is religion this truth?

I began the inquiry thus. I endeavoured to forget the various books I had read, and the conversations I had held with my fellow men, on the subject of religion, and to set aside all my previously acquired ideas on this matter; and, seating myself with closed eyes, I began seriously to ask myself the following questions: What am I? What is this world, and what the nature of a future existence? From whence do we come, and whither are we going? But let me proceed in order. I, my fellow men, and the world, exist; there is, then, a first cause of our existence. I and my fellow men are intelligent beings; it must be this first cause which created us such. I and my fellow men feel affection towards our families; then that Creator must have for us, his creatures, that same affection which he has implanted in our hearts. Besides which, we can all distinguish between right and wrong, good and evil; our Creator must be equally capable of distinguishing. All this appeared to me as clear as the day.

But another question arose in my mind, one that I felt less able to answer-What is my destiny? To vegetate on the earth? No, that would be too paltry an object of my existence; it is the design for which the brutes are created; I know that the object and end of my being is far superior to that.

Am I, then, born to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh? No; though sweet to the taste, they are bitter to the heart; they gratify for a moment, but leave a sting and weariness long after they have passed away. If I plunge into them, they sicken me; and oftentimes the moral suffering which follows their indulgence, causes me to pay dearly for their transitory enjoyment.

Has life, then, been given me for the cultivation of my intellect? I have been studying for thirty years, but I am not happier. Science amuses, but it does not satisfy me; it is the fruit which tantalizes my thirst, not the full draught which quenches it. No, I need something else; I know not what; but, after all, something which I do not find in this world. Perhaps life is only commenced here below? Perhaps? But let us not hasten on so fast; the conclusion is a grave

one.

I meditated, reflected, and endeavoured to mature my ideas, but without being able to arrive at any satisfactory conclusion. I still paused on the word perhaps. Not wishing to give it up, I looked at the question in another form.

Of what use, I asked myself, is this notion of right and wrong which I find implanted within me, and which is called conscience? Is it intended to render me happy? No, for that end is not attained; indeed, so far from affording me happiness, my conscience causes me pain, for it reproves me much oftener than it approves. If it is to be believed, I more frequently do evil than good. Oh, the tempests of an unquiet conscience! How it accuses men of lies, vices, and crimes! If the rule of conscience is the design of man's existence, will he not have been born to suffer? No! The end for which this principle has been implanted in man must have reference to another state of being, where good and evil will meet their due reward, and where everything will be reestablished in its proper order. Yes, that is possible; at least, it is another grain in the balance ir favour of the reality of a future state.

I must say, however, that this conscience, which so often reproves me, is far from exciting within me an ardent desire for another state of existence, in which an account of the past will be demanded. Nevertheless, I cannot give up altogether a certain feeling of pleasure at the prospect of a happy life; so that between my fear and desire,-between my conscience, which demands my punishment, and my heart, which seeks for happiness, there is an incessant and painful contest. Oh, my God! I ask, canst thou have given me so earnest a desire after happiness to disappoint me at last, and yet have given me a deceiving conscience? Will God, then, punish me? Oh, no! I cannot bear such a thought. The God who created me, the God who loves me, that God is all-powerful. Oh, it is absolutely necessary that I should find some way of escape from such a painful idea.

You see, then, the great difficulty which beset my path. Years passed away without my being able to solve it. At one time I pictured to myself an indulgent God, who took no account of little sins; but this obstinate conscience immediately said to me that thus I made God a liar, since he had declared to me by it that he will punish all sin: then I sank down in despair at the thought of condemnation; but again the fear of suffering, the thirst after happiness, quickly awoke within me, and repelled the idea of punishment. Reader, do you understand, do you comprehend, this torture? Perhaps not. But

THE ENGLISH MONTHLY TRACT SOCIETY, 27, RED LION SQUARE, LONDON.

then ask yourself, if you have not been inattentive to the voice of conscience, as I remember to have been.

I was in this state of mind when, one day, as I was taking a solitary walk, with a book in my hand, a man suddenly accosted me, and asked me if I knew an ancient book that was always new? I at once suspected that he was one of those religious professors, whom I looked upon as hypocrites, who wished to speak to me of the New Testament. Curious to know what arguments he would use to convince me, I feigned ignorance, and left him to speak. He first said that there was a Saviour, and that that Saviour was Jesus Christ. At the sound of that name I drew back. Jesus Christ! The name awakened my former ideas of bigotry, superstition, and hypocrisy, and it seemed to me as if this man wished to make me his dupe. He repeated several times, during a long conversation, "There is but one Saviour, Jesus Christ-Jesus Christ crucified." After he had spoken for about an hour, I frankly told him that I believed he was a bypocrite; not dreaming that the hypocrisy was on my side, for I had pretended to listen to him, while I derided him in my heart; and not considering that it was I who was a hypocrite, to pretend, from a few expressions, to judge of a man, a book, or a doctrine.

was the

All this did not tend to clear up my religious belief. I soon after went to hear a celebrated preacher. I heard him continually repeat that faith-faith in Jesus Christ only way of salvation. This did not appear to me more satisfactory. I thought that, in requiring of me faith, the advocates of religion admitted that they could not satisfy my reason; so that I became somewhat proud of my reason. I repelled the idea of a weak and blind faith, and resolved to examine this Christianity by the aid of my own understanding. I took my Bible, and read in the New Testament such declarations as these-Jesus Christ, "who his own self bare our sins in his own body on the tree," 1 Pet. ii. 24. "That whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have eternal life," John iii. 15. "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved," Acts xvi. 31. "Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world," John i. 29. All this, just as my ancient-new book, or the preacher whom I had heard, appeared to me out of date and unintelligible, good enough for the Jews of past times, but not for me, a philosopher of the nineteenth century, a reader of so many eminent philosophical writers. I read and read again, without making any advance in my belief.

The inutility of these efforts gave rise to the following

thoughts. If human understanding (and consequently mine) is powerless to arrive at the truth, external assistance must be sought for, coming from a higher intelligence; that is to say, I began to suspect that prayer was good for something. I prayed. This may appear inconsistent with my first resolution to discover the truth by my own effort. Be it so, if you will; but these are plain facts, I prayed. At the same time, I read the Bible, and studied those books which sought to establish its divinity. These books convinced my understanding, but did not affect my heart. I was satisfied that Christianity is divine; but, notwithstanding this conviction, I did not feel more disposed to become a Christian. I could say with sincerity, "Christianity is true, the Bible is the word of God; but this persuasion adds nothing to my happiness, and does not lessen my anxiety or my sadness. This Bible, the word of God, has not any influence on my life; and, more than that, it appears to me as unintelligible as in the days of my unbelief:" that is to say, I perfectly understood its historical narratives, and its moral precepts; but when it says to me, "being justified freely by his grace," &c. (Rom. iii. 24), I could not comprehend it; and yet it was only by the proper understanding of these declarations and promises that I could find rest -that peace which I sought after; for the history of the Bible was merely head-knowledge to me, and its morals only another of many systems. However, I continued to pray with fervour. I remember to have said, with the utmost sincerity, My God! my God! require of me what sacrifice thou wilt, even if it be a member of my body, but show me the truth!"

66

I had prayed for a long time, when, one day, seated before my open Bible, I read the word "grace." Grace! that word fell with light upon my heart. Grace! I comprehended it for the first time; and how grand and noble it appeared to me! I am saved by grace; that is, God gives me heaven as he has given me this world-given me life-given me all things. Grace! that is, that he does all for me and demands nothing from me. Grace and should I not love the Author of grace, and, loving him, should I not obey him? What a distance between the grace of God and the reward I pretend to merit. Grace awakens love; reward excites interest and which produces the greatest good,-which is the most powerful, interest or love? Grace gives birth to noble and elevated feelings; reward calculates. Which is the noblest motive, the feeling of gratitude or the hope of reward? Oh yes; grace ! grace! I comprehended it, I believed it; this idea is divine, and therefore it is that, until that moment, my own unaided intelligence

was unable to comprehend it. God opened my eyes, and I knew, yes, I felt, that I should never forget that day, and tears of joy fell on my book.

Since that time my mental anguish, and those fears and apprehensions of my conscience, have ceased, because I know that God has given me grace. I am now assured of a future, because I no longer feel astonished that He who has hitherto given me all things is able still to supply me, and because now my comprehension of the word "grace" enables me to measure the gifts of God by the greatness of the giver, and not by the littleness of him who receives them. I say to myself,-The sun is very great, and yet it has been created for man, so little. So, also, eternal life is very long, but it is not the less given to man, who has done nothing to gain it. The more highly I appreciate His gifts, so much the greater does my God appear to me. Now I am happy, because I know that nothing can deprive me of that which I have obtained by grace; grace has given it me, grace will preserve it to me. And thus, assured of my eternal happiness, I walk joyfully on earth, even amidst its thorns, my eyes fixed on heaven, soon to become my country-my delightful and happy country for ever.

Reader, this is my history. I earnestly desire that it may become yours. Think, I beseech you, of the meaning of the expression "grace." The great reformer, Melancthon, says, "Grace doeth signifie the fre acceptation and mercy of God, promysed to us for Christ's sake, wherewith is joyned the gift of the Holie Ghost, as witnesseth Paul, Rom. v.* Howe muche more the grace of God and the gyfte in grace; by the which grace is understanded the fre reconciliation, and by the gyfte in grace is mente the gyfte of the Holie Ghost, with the renewynge and begynnyng of a newe and eternal lyfe. For in the forgiueness of sinne is conteyned the gyfte of the Holie Ghost." The unregenerate man thinks he can do something to pacify God's wrath and conciliate his love; but this notion keeps the soul always in suspense: it does not quiet the conscience; it cannot bring peace to the immortal spirit. The proclamation of pardon and acceptance through faith in the blood of the Redeemer, is the remedy for the distempered soul. May you be made deeply sensible of the insufficiency of anything you can say or do to remove the burden of sin, and to silence the accusations of conscience. Remember, it is not your morality, nor your righteousness, but "the grace of God, that bringeth salvation," Titus ii. 11.

* Rom. v., a beautiful description of divine grace.