it; and thus exclude ourselves from its benefits, when the necessity of them is most sensibly felt. Our souls fix and centre on God so seldom, that they become inapt for the exercise. Yes, and the people of God, sometimes look so much to the creature for their rest, that they feel afraid and ashamed to look to God for it, when the creature fails; and they have to pass through a deeply humbling process, before they can get back to their rest. Let us see the importance, then, of being familiar with this blessed rest, that we may be able to resort to it with ease, when pressed by necessity. Let us earnestly endeavour to keep our title to it clear and free from doubt. Let us, so to speak, often travel the path which leads to it. Let it be the daily employment of our souls to commune with God. Thus shall we be able speedily and easily to fly to him as our rest on every emergency; and at all times shall be entitled and enabled to appropriate and apply to ourselves the language of the text, with humble holy confidence. For the improvement of the subject, we may learn from it 1. What is the precise difference between the righteous and the wicked in this life, in point of enjoyment-The good man has a resting place for his soul, and the bad man has not. This is the line which divides, and will forever divide, their portions, even in this world. Nor is this an inconsiderable difference. It is, on the contrary, inconceivably great. A sense of unconditional safety; a refuge in all seasons of distress; a subject of high, delightful, and satisfactory contemplation; and a well-founded expectation of an eternal weight of glory-This is now the portion of the sanctified man, and it is the portion of no unsanctified man. It is true, indeed, that pious men may have their glooms, their doubts, and their fears; but these ultimately bring them more fully to their rest, and even heighten by contrast the delights it affords. Their seasons of darkness, therefore, are only like shades in a picture, which increase on the whole the beauty of the piece. It is also true, we admit, that wicked men may, at present, sometimes forget their situation, be ignorant of their danger, enjoy the world, and indulge in its pleasures. But this forgetfulness, it must also be remembered, only enhances their misery, when a sense of their danger is forced upon them. Then their pleasures are often converted into pains; and at the best they can never satisfy the mind. They forever leave in it a dreadful, craving void. That great, permanent, soul-filling portion, which confidence in the divine favour bestows, they never do or can possess. Most pitiably, therefore, do impenitent sinners mistake, when they suppose that to become religious would diminish their pleasure, and destroy their happiness. Alas! without religion, they can never know what true pleasure, what solid happiness is. Therefore, 2. Let me from this subject exhort those present who have hitherto been looking to the world as the only source of their enjoyment, now to seek it in a reconciliation with God through Jesus Christ. "Come unto me, said the blessed Saviour, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God-why will you not listen to this invitation of the Saviour? In your present pursuits, believe me, you are like the dove that was sent forth by Noah. Direct your course as you may, there is nothing but troubled waters beneath you. Above the threatening billows, you may indeed be borne for a short space, on the wings of excited fancy and passion. But these deceptive pinions will not long sustain you, they will soon droop and fail; and then, if you are excluded from the ark of safety, you plunge and are lost forever in the bottomless abyss. Listen, therefore, to the voice of the Saviour, now inviting you to quit your wanderings, and to take refuge, and find rest in him. Now, if you will be obedient to his call-If abasing yourselves in the dust of humility for your sins; if imploring and receiving the aid of his good Spirit, you truly renounce every false way, and rely on his merits, righteousness, and intercession alone, for salvation, he will not reject you; he will receive you into his favour, and will assuredly give you rest-Rest from the torments of a guilty conscience; rest from the tyranny of your lusts; and at last, an eternal rest from all sin and all sorrow, in the abodes of heavenly peace. Finally-Although the rest which the people of God enjoy in him at present, is derived, in great part, from the assurance of better things to come, and although to this I have already made frequent references, yet I cannot conclude this discourse without calling your undivided attention, for a moment, to the apostolic declaration, that "there remaineth a rest for the people of God"-What they have at present, is only an earnest, a foretaste, of what awaits them in a future state. In the present life, their sanctification is imperfect; and hence their rest in God, although it seems at times to antedate heaven, is, as we have seen, often interrupted-The remainders of corruption operate to interrupt it; and not only this, but the connexion of the soul with the body, will not admit of high and unbroken spiritual enjoyment. If the necessary concerns of life did not, as they certainly do, prevent such enjoyment, the human mind cannot at present endure a long continuance of that holy excitement which is its inseparable attendant. In view of these causes of the interruption and imperfection to which the spiritual repose and felicity of the believer is subject, while he dwells in the body, the apostle, in the words I have quoted, speaks of a rest which remainethspeaks as if what is enjoyed here, is so inferior to that which is to be possessed hereafter, that the present is hardly worthy of the name; it is a rest, but it is not the rest, which shall be known in the mansions above. Yes, beloved brethren in the Lord, such is unquestionably the fact. The grace of God has opened in your souls "a well of living water;" the water is "springing up," but it has not yet reached, to "life everlasting." You have at present only a prelibation-comparatively only a drop, and that not an unmingled drop-of " the rivers of pleasure" which flow at God's right hand "There you shall bathe your weary soul In seas of heavenly rest; And not a wave of sorrow roll Across your peaceful breast." Let this glorious prospect soothe every sorrow; dry every weeping eye; put the world under your feet; animate you in the cause of God; and fill you with a holy, but well-regulated desire, to depart, and to be with Christ. There you will know that "far better" rest, and those celestial joys, which eye hath not seen; of which no mortal ear hath heard, and of which an adequate conception hath never entered an unglorified spirit. Amen. From Searle's Christian Remembrancer. Prayer is the very breath of faith, and the first evidence of new and spiritual life in the soul. The Lord said of Paul, behold he prayeth: because the Lord had then given him a heart to pray. Doubtless, he had often fasted and prayed before, as far as the lips were concerned. But the spirit, not words; life, not expression only, constitute prayer with God. Language may give it a form: but language alone is like mere body without a soul; and he that so offers it, renders to God a dead, unclean carcase for a living sacrifice, which is an abomination in his sight. Whatever hath life, must breathe; and if the life be sound and strong, it will breathe freely. Short, irregular, disordered breath, discovers either great exercise or ill health. It is the same in the life of faith. If the soul be quickened by Christ, it will breathe out its desires after him, perhaps like a child at first, mingled with strong, crying, bitter sobs, and many tears; but still it breathes on, and prays on; its breath of prayer is not stopped, but struggles for life and increase. If the prayer be faint and weak, disordered and low, the person is not in full life and health, or else some great temptation oppresses him heavily. The Physician of souls must be looked to for medicine and for deliverance. Certainly all is not right, and a speedy help should be sought for and applied. pray When the mind is truly touched by grace, it will and must pray. If the heart cannot find words to carry up its request, it will send them forth in earnest groans. Prayer can no more be kept from ascending, than flame from the fire. The Spirit (said one who understood this matter well) helpeth our infirmities; for we know not what we should for as we ought; but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us, with groanings which cannot be uttered. The cries of a drowning man are above the formality of words, and forcibly pierce the ear for help; so the deep-felt anguish of a convinced heart is inexpressibly eager for mercy, and with moans and groans sues it out from God in right earnest. It does not seek a florid oration, or theatrical starts, but pours forth aspirations, at times too ardent and mighty for words. O how God loveth such addresses as these! One Abba, Father; one tearful sigh; one inward groan; are beyond and far better than all the fine speeches in the world. Let not the broken-hearted sinner grieve then too much that he cannot find language to express the fulness of his desires. His desires are the better for being found in his bosom too large and too strong for utterance. There is more of heaven in them, and they will break out at last the swifter towards heaven. If he can find fit words let him use them: if he cannot, let not their absence increase his concern. God knows and loves the language of the heart, and in due time will answer the prayer.-See 1 Sam. i. 13-15. MATERNAL INSTRUCTION. A chaplain to seamen, in one of our southern ports, was one day called to the sick bed of a sailor, apparently at the gate of death, from the effects of licentiousness. The chaplain addressed him affectionately upon the state of his soul. With a curse, the sick man bid him begone, and not harass his dying bed. The chaplain, however, told him plainly he would speak, and he must hear, for his soul was in jeopardy of eternal death. The man remained sullen and silent, and even pretended to sleep, during his faithful address and prayer. Again and again the visit was repeated, and with similar ill success. One day, however, the sick man made use of an expression, by which the Ch. Adv.-VOL. XII. chaplain suspected he was a Scotchman. To make sure of the fact, the chaplain repeated a verse of that version of the Psalms, still in use among the churches of Scotland, Like pity as a father hath Unto his children dear; Such pity hath the Lord for those Who worship him with fear. The chords of his heart vibrated to the well-known language. His eyes glistened with unusual moisture. The chaplain knowing the universality of religious instruction among the Scotch, ventured an allusion to his mother. The poor prodigal burst into tears. He admitted himself to be the child of a praying mother, who had often commended him to God. He had left her long before, to become a wanderer on the face of the great deep. No longer he repelled the kind attentions of the chaplain; and his monitor had the satisfaction of seeing him arise from his bed, he verily believes, a child of God. It may be, the glorified spirit of his mother was one of the angels, before the throne of God, who rejoiced over his repentance; or, if living, subsequently rejoiced over him that was dead, but was alive again—was lost, but found.-Mother's Mag. For the Christian Advocate. WRITTEN DURING A SEASON OF SPIRITUAL DARKNESS. Once, thou dear, deserted Saviour- O'er the sacred record turning, Hark, a still small voice is stealing J. L. G.* Two months since, the writer of these lines favoured us with some excellent ones, going to show that "The triumphant death of a Christian is not wonderful;" and in making our acknowledgment, we said, speaking of the writer, "We feared he had forgotten us." We are now informed that we are indebted to a lady, and not to a gen tleman, for both the former and the present favour. Alas! what wretchedly proud lord Rev. Sir,-If you think the following thoughts on a much litigated point of theology worthy of being communicated to your readers, please to give them publication in the Christian Advocate. COGITANS. Is not the disposition to perform a moral duty an essential element of the ability to perform that duty? Was any moral duty ever performed, or can it be performed, without a disposition to perform it? Certainly not. An act done contrary to the disposition or inclination of the performer, has no inoral character, or if any, a bad one. In civil society such an act is regarded as forced, or constrained, and therefore as utterly invalid. In courts of law, the quo animo, as the jurists call it, the state of the mind, (as to design, intention, or disposition) with which an action is performed, is always considered as rendering the doer of the act innocent or guilty, deserving of praise or blame, reward or punishment. If, then, according to the nature which man possesses, disposition is a constituent part of his ability to do a moral act, how can he be truly said to have a natural ability to perform such an act, when he has not the disposition to perform it; and especially, if in place of such disposition, he has an utter aversion to the performance? Surely it will not be said that the causa sine qua non of a thing, is not essential to the existence of that thing. That thing, then, which is called natural ability, does not and cannot exist, with reference to moral acts, without the disposition to perform them, which is a causa sine qua non, an indispensable pre-requisite to their performance. Again. Is not disposition-good or bad-a natural attribute, or faculty, of every human mind-something that belongs to its very na lings we men are-to suppose whatever is excellent must belong to our sex. The error here, too, is the more inexcusable, because the muses are all of the feminine gender; and really, in the United States, at least, and especially in all that relates to religion, they appear to afford their inspiration to their own sex, more frequently and purely than to ours. We can only cry peccavimus-and promise hereafter that when we get some beautiful poetic lines, we will not take it for granted, that he, and not she, wrote them. |