tihrary of Che theological ^tmiXKXvy PRINCETON • NEW JERSEY John M. Krebs donation BR A5 .CA4 V.8 The Christian library THE CHRISTIAN LIBRARY A REPRINT OF POPULAR RELIGIOUS WORKS. HNDER THE SUPERVISION OF THE FOLLOWING CLERGYMEN: Rev. Jonathan Goino, of the Baptist Church, Rev. J. F. Schroeder, of the Protestant Episcopal Church Rev. J. M. Krebs, of the Presbyterian Church. VOL. vin. NEW-YORK. THOMAS GEORGE, JR., SPRUCE STREET 1836. CONTENTS OF THE VOLUME THE MARTHAS ; OK, THE VARIETIES OF FEMALE PIETY. BY REV. ROBERT PHILIP. THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT TEACED IN HIS WORK. BY REV. ROBERT PHILIP. THE REASONABLENESS OF CHRISTIANITY AS DELIVERED IN THE SCRIPTURES. BY JOHN LOCKE. LIVES UP THE APOSTLES. BY WILLIAM CAVE, D. D REMAINS OF REV. RICHARD CECIL, BY JOSIAH PRATT, B. D. THE MARTHAS; CB, THE VARIETIES OF FEMALE PIETY BY ROBERT PHILIP, OF MABERLY CHAPEL. 'Jesus loved Martha — and her sister," — Joh% " Martha, Martha!"— I/wi'^. ' As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten."— Jesus. NEW-YORK : THOMAS GEORGE, JR. SPRUCE STREET. No. 60. 183 6. PREFACE. The auhor did hope, that this volume would have embraced the Varieties of Female Character, as well as of Female Piety, because character and piety are so identical. He has, however, found it impossible to trace the developement of both, under the name of Martha. " The Lydias, or the Developement of Female Character," will, therefore, follow this volume, and complete the first section of the Closet Library. The author gratefully acknowledges, that he has not appealed in vain to the Mothers or the Daughters in British "Israel." Newington Green, 1836. CONTENTS No. Page Martha and the IV^arthas, . - _ - . 3 I. Varieties, from Tmidity, ..... 5 Allegory, No. 1— Rachel's Leprosy, ... - 8 IL Varieties, from Oversight, - . . • - H Allegory, No. U— :iachel's E.\ile, - . - 18 III. Varieties, from Mistikes, ----- 20 Allegory, No. 3— Rachel's Cure, ... - 07 IV, Varieties, from Inattention, . - - - 28 V. Varieties, from Mistrust, .... - 34 VI. Varieties, from Modtsiy, - - - . . 36 VII. Varieties, from Fretfiiness, ..... 40 INTRODUCTION MARTHA AND THE MARTHAS. The key to the second volume of the Lady's Clo- set Library, must be taken from the fact, that pious females, who have not exactly the spirit of Mary, are usually ranked w^ith Martha. Indeed, they regard themselves as Marthas, and are some- what doubtful whether they have really " chosen the good part, which shall not be taken from" them. It is, therefore, because these who are not very like Mary, class themselves, and are classed, with Martha, that I bring under her name, " The Varieties of Female Piety." Many of its varie- ties are almost as unlike her, as she was unlike her sister : but all of them, so far as they are oc- casioned by faults or defects of character and temper, require the same treatment which Martha received from Christ ; — tenderness enough to pre- vent despair, and reproof enough to check pre- sumption. Martha's faults are not the only faults, which the Saviour rebukes and chastises, in all whom He loves. His object is, to have aU his real disci- ples conformed to His own image ; and, therefore he contends against whatever, in each of them, is most unlike himself. Whatever had been the be- setting sin of Martha's character or spirit, his re- buke, — " Martha, Martha .'" would have been equally pointed and unequivocal. It applies, there- fore, to all those varieties of piety which, like hers, leave some doubt upon all minds (the pos- sessors not e.\cepted) of its present reality, or of its future issue. The rebuke bears directly, not indeed upon all imperfection, but upon all impru- dence and oversight, negligence and self-will. Accordingly, it is applied to themselves, by many pious females, who never went Martha's lengths in ill-temper. There are meek and amiable women, who feel instinctively that they have more of Mar- tha, than of Mary, in their character. Some of them, although not " cumbered about much serv- ing," are yet so cumbered about somethi/ig, that their liearts are almost divided between God and the world. Others, again, although not " careful and troubled about many tilings," are yet so ab- sorbed with some earthly good or evil in their lot that it is very doubtful to themselves, whether heavenly thmgs have any real place in their affec- tions. Others, again, have so much to contend with, either from temperament or condition, from trials or temptations, that they are almost the crea- tures of cfrcumstances, and vary in their feelings with all the variations of their health or prosperi- ty. They are "Every thing by turns, And nothing long." It would be easy (and as useless as easy) to de- pict these faults and defects. It would be still easier, and more useless, to condenm them. They can only be reproved with effect, by what can cure them effectually. Nothing but the remedy provided for them in the gospel, can bring home their sin or folly to the heart. It is only when we see, from the designs of grace, and from the cha- racter of glory, what we ought to be, and what we may be, that we acknowledge, even to ourselves, what we really are. It is when confronted with the image of Christ and the image of the Hea- venly, that we become alarmed at the " earthy" features of our own image. No light, but the light of eternity, can expose our faults fully, and yet set us to con-ect them willingly, at the same time. We may yield partly to human influence ; but nothing less than Divine authority, and that only in its paternal spirit and eternal sanctions, can sway our inclinations. Convinced of all tliis by my own experience, and from the contact or correspondence into whicli my " Guides" have brought me with so many of the varieties of male and female piety, at home and abroad, I have not confronted the peculiari- ties of men and women " professing godliness ;" nor contrasted the Marthas with the Marys ; nor even compared the sexes: but have brought all the varieties of piety, to the one standard by which they will all be tried at last, — the image of Clirist ! And where there is not conscience enough to take lessons there — I certainly do not include such characters amongst the varieties of Christians. They vary too little from tlie world, to have any identity with the Church. In a word, I have nothing to say, in this volume, to any female INTRODUCTION. who is quite satisfied with her own piety, either as to its kind or degree. It is intended to encourage those who " stand in doubt" of themselves, and to "stir up, by way of remembrance," the "pure minds" of those who are doubted by others. Such being my design, I have said Uttle about Martha. I entertain no doubt of her piety. She presents, in her honest, although bustling, regard to the Saviour, a noble contrast to her nation, and to the mass of her sex. She was even more prompt than Mary, to meet Christ, when he came to Bethany on the death of Lazarus; and she was the first to whisper cautiously to her, (whom she had once, perhaps often, scolded,) "The Master is come, and caUeth for thee." He had called for Mary; but he had not sent Martha with his message. She, however, would not trust the tenderness or the prudence of any one, to break the good news to her weeping sister ; but, the moment she saw that they were good news, away she ran, to prepare Mary for them, and to bring her to Jesus without fear or surprise. Thus Martha was as much delighted, on this occasion, to take her sister to the feet of Jesus, to hear his "gracious words," as she was once offended with her for sitting at his feet. All this is highly creditable to her ; and it ex- plains, in some degree, why " Jesus loved Martha," as well as Mary. Still, I dare not take her piety out of the cloud, which the Saviour's rebuke, — " Martha, Martha !" — left upon it. That rebuke was as much intended for warning, as His con- tinued love was for encouragement. It would, therefore, be as unwise to make the star of His love disperse the cloud of His reproof entirely, as it would be unfair to make the cloud eclipse the star, at all. They are equally over Martha's head, in her history ; and, therefore, I dare not separate nor soften them : but must leave the star in all its brightness, and the cloud in all its darkness, to make their own impression upon every female, who is conscious of any thing which deserves the "Martha, Martha !" of the Saviour she loves and desires to be loved by. 5 G-5!roi7 THE MARTHAS. No. I. VARIETraS, FROM TIMIDITY. You are familiar with the question — " Who hath despised the day of small things?" It has been transferred, not unfairly nor unaptly, from the foundation-stone of the second temple in Je- rusalem, to the first symptoms and marks of that "good work" of grace in the heart, by which we become living Temples, or " an habitation of God through the Spirit." Now, whoever else may despise these incipient signs of conversion, God does not. Even when there is nothing but a pe- nitent spirit, and whilst both joy and peace are unknown, we are warranted to say with David, "A broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise." This is pleasing ! But the Spirit of inspiration led Isaiah beyond David, in thus condescending to the " low estate" of commencing piety. Isaiah was warranted to class the irem- hling amongst the "contrite ones," even when God, as the High and Lofty one, who inhabiteth Eternity, was describing the hearts to which He would look with compassion, and in which He would dwell with complacency. Isaiah Ivii. 15. Neither the temple on earth, nor even the temple of heaven, — although the former resounded with Hosannas, and the latter with Hallelujahs, could so engross the attention of Jehovah, as to divert it from true penitents, even whilst their prayers were only as the sighing of prisoners, or but groan- ings which cannot be uttered. " Thus saith the Lord, the heaven is my throne, and the earth is my footstool ; v/here is the house ye build unto Me ] and where is the place of My rest ] But to this man will I look, even to him that is poor, and of a contrite spirit, and trembleth at my word." This is condescension ! Who would despise the day of small things, after thus seemg how God de- lights to honor it ? In the presence of this fact, you can see, at a glance, wliy there is joy amongst the angels of God in heaven, over one sinner that repenteth. God himself rejoiceth over them " with singing." It is not in this connection, that even a stern theorist, who calls nothing faith, but assu- rance ; and nothing conversion, but the witness of the Spirit, would dare to say, — " the devils believe, and tremble." They do tremble at the word of God ; but not in a broken or contrite spirit. It is not a sense of tiieir own guilt or viJeness, which iwes them. They do not despair because they 'eel unworthy of hope. There is no humility in heir horror, and no contrition in their terror : .vhereas, when you tremble most at the word of jod, it is because you feel yourself worthy of its hreatenings, and unworthy of its great and pre- tious promises. And it would not be even a " day if small things" in your experience, if you had never trembled at the word of God ! There is no " good thing in the heart toward the Lord," until there is some serious fear of his anger, and a real sense of being utterly unworthy of his mercy. It is, indeed, a great thing, to get rid of the " fear which hath torment." Nothing is more de- sirable than that it should be " cast out." It is never cast out, however, by casting away a sense of unvvorthiness, nor by trying to think lightly of the Divine anger. It is " perfect love" that cast- eth out tormenting fear, 1 John iv. 14 ; and love never can be perfected or improved, if you despise the day of small things. Your love to the Saviour is not insincere, because you have many fears. It would, indeed, be very questionable, and equivo- cal too, if you had no fears. " No strange thing hath befallen you," if, as yet, you have more fears than hopes. This is, however, a critical state to be in. It is not uncommon, certainly ; but still, it is danger- ous. Some have " done despite to the Spirit of grace," by despismg the day of small things, as too small to be worth much immediate notice ; and others, by despairing, because it was so un- hkely to lead on to a day oi great things. Agahist both these e.\tremes, I would put you upon your guard. They are equally perilous, and have proved fatal to many. Perhaps, you know some one in your own circle, — a sister, or brother, or friend, who is in danger of quenching the Spirit, because not aware of the varieties of manner and degi-ee, in which the Spirit begins the good work of grace. You may have been at a loss, how to answer the objections of some one, whose occa- sional feelings seem to you, "tokens for good," whilst to him, or her, they appear too slight and evanescent to deserve attention. Would it not be botii wise and kind, to brmg the following ap- peal under the notice of such a one ? It is so- lemn and pointed ; but not too much so, when there is a disposition to despise the day of small things. — Now, no "good thing" toward God, and the Lamb, m the heart, can be so small, as to be unworthy of your watchful and prayerful notice. Passing thoughts and momentary impressions, may be unworthy of being called " a saving work of grace upon your soul." Conviction is not con- version, nor is feeling faith. It might, therefore, be very \vrong to conclude that you have " passed fi-om death to life," or been " translated from dark- ness unto light," merely because you have some sense of your need of this divine change, and some hope or wish to experience it. You do, however, know something of its nature, and feel occasion- ally its necessity. You may regret, but you do not " marvel," that you must be born again of the Spirit, before you can enter the kingdom of hea- ven. You know too much both of heaven and of your own heart, to be surprised (however you THE MARTHAS. may be offended) when you are told that you are unfit for heaven. And is this conviction nothing ? It may be— it is — a day of small things, compared with the great searchings of heart, and with the strong cries and tears, which the necessity of be- ing born again is producing in some of your fami- ly or friends. There may be no comparison be- tween the strength of your convictions, and the cry of the Pentecostal converts. Any fear or hope you feel, may be but as the mere shadow of their impressions. What then? So much the more need you have to take care that you do not despise the approaches of the- Holy Spirit to your own heart. Do not say in answer to this appeal, "I am not at all sure that the Spirit is striving with me, or doing any thing for me." It is easy to utter these words, when an excuse is wanted on the spur of the moment, for delay or indecision in rehgion : but you durst not utter them deliberately, after looking fairly at their meaning. Your tongue would cleave to the roof of your mouth, were you to try to say, — "I am one, whom the Spirit of God never once influenced to think or pray. He has been moving upon the face of the waters of the Sanctuary where I worship, converting sin- ners, and consoling penitents, and sanctifying be- lievers ; but he never suggested one good thought in my mind, nor awakened one holy desire, nor shed one ray of light upon my path of duty or in- terest. However He moved in power or glory, and wherever He wrought, He passed me by — let rhe alone !" This would be " lying against the Holy Ghost !" Had even your occasional impressions been fewer, and your past resolutions feebler than you know them to have been, you would not dare to speak thus, lest you should provoke the Spirit of God to let you alone for ever. Why, it is one great rea- son for any hope you have of ever being called by grace, that you have felt, and do feel, that the Spirit has not let you alone. It is because you are not given up to a seared conscience, nor to a reprobate mind, that you venture to calculate upon some future "day of power," coming in time enough to prepare you for eternity. According- ly, were you quite sure that such a day of power would not come, unless, from this moment, you set yourself to act upon your present convictions, you would be very glad to admit that what you have already felt, was, althougli not the first fruit of the Spirit, the breaking up of " the fallow ground" of the heart, for the good seed of the Word. Well ; the Holy Ghost does say, " To-day, if ye will hear my voice, harden not your heart." Do not evade this warning by saying, "that you would follow the leadings of the Spirit, if He would only lead you, as powerfully and sensibly, as he does some whom you know." You have no more right to dictate to the Holy Spirit the manner in which he shall deal with you, than to dictate to Providence the way in which it shall treat you. Now, you would not presume to lay it down as an indispensable condition of your giving yourself to the Lord and to the Church, that he should give you whatever temporal bless- ings you may think best for you. You know that you cannot stipulate with God, to have all your own will, in "the things which pertain to life." Why, then, in the things which " pertain to god- liness ?" Ponder Paul's solemn question: "Who hath known the mind of the Lord, (the Spirit,) that he may instruct Him"!" 1 Cor. ii. 16. Can you, in the face of this caution, say that you will not honor nor own the Holy Ghost, unless He act with you, just as He has done with others'? Surely not! It may not, indeed, be altogether wrong to wish for such an awakening as the jailor's ; or for such a flower-like opening of the heart as Lydia's ; or for sucli a rejoicing discovery of the glory of Christ as the eunuch's ; or even for such a con- straining impulse from the love of Christ, as that wliich carried the Corinthians before it, hke ves- sels with a fair wind, upon a mighty spring-tide : but it is wrong, to insist upon one or other of these modes of conversion, as the condition of your turn- ing to the Lord. You may, like Ephraim, pray, "Turn thou me, and I shall be turned :" and like David, " Draw me, and I will run after Thee ;" but you must not prescribe to God either the pre- cise weapon of power by which He shall turn you, or the precise cord of love by which he shall draw you. Leave the selection of means a.nd modes of Divine operation in the hands of Divine wisdom ; and, in the mean time cherish the sacred impressions which have already been made upon your heart and conscience. They are more va- luable to you, and involve your eternal welfare more deeply, than the mantle of Prophecy, or the gift of Miracles, were even both to descend upon you. Prophets have perished, and workers of mighty miracles have become apostates ; but no one ever drew back to perdition, who honestly and humbly sought for the renewing of the Holy Ghost. O, then, quench not, grieve not, vex not, limit not, the Spirit of God ! This appeal may not be altogether useless to yourself: for although, in general, you do not de- spise the day of small things, there may be some of "the things of the Spirit," which you too light- ly esteem. His "shadows, as well as His lights," (as Shcshbazzar would have said,) are instruc- tive. He can lead by the Pillar, as a cloud; as well as by the Pillar, as a flame of ^re. I mean, that the Spirit is often present, and working mightily too, when we imagine that he is with- drawn entirely. This is no paradox. We are so much in the habit of confounding the work and witness of the Spirit, with comfort, that we are for ever ready, when we are uncomfortable, to think Him "afar off." But this is quite a mistake! lie is not standing afar off, much less forgetting us, when we are left to feel that our strength is weakness: and our ability to hope, dependent; and our inclination to persevere, precarious. He is, indeed, working deep in our hearts, when we are afraid to look at them. Humility, and self- abasement, and self-distrust, are as much fruits of the Spirit, as love, joy, or peace. And, accord- ingly, by both His lights and shadows, we are sent to the Cross and the"l\lercy-seat ; to the Bible and the Sanctuary, praying with equal fervency, " Lord, save, or I perish." This is not, however, all that I mean. I am THE MARTHAS. quite persuaded that some of the most direct in- fluences of the Holy Spirit, or those which come from the throne, as Jeremy Taylor says ejacula- tory prayer goes to it, " in a straiglit line," are least attended to by us. For, have you not often felt upon your spirit the impulse, as it were, of an invisible hand, gently pushing you off your chair, that you might go into your closet ; or rise to take up your Bible, as more wanted than the book you were reading? Have you not occasionally felt, as if you were haunted by the presence of a dying neighbor, or by the urgency of his watching an- gels, to go out and speak a word in season, or, at least, to show that you had Christian sympathy '! Have not many things occurred to you as hints, wanted at home ; and as plans, likely to do good at home, which, if you had communicated or acted upon whUst they were fresh in your mind, might have been very useful to others, and saved you from the self-upbraiding which follows the neglect of relative duty ] In thus recalling such angel-visits of Divine in- fluence, by which new duties are suggested, or improvements in old duties enforced, nothing is farther from my design than to make any duty dependent upon impulse. The Spirit will not su- persede the law of duty, by the grace of help. He does, however, help us in obeying that law, by throwing new and impressive lights upon its bearings, and upon the best way of following them out. Whilst, therefore, I would solemnly warn you against following any impulse, however plau- sible, which is not founded upon express rule, I would most afferctionately urge you not to quench or resist the Holy Ghost, when he makes the let- ter or the spirit of any scriptural duty " arise in your hearts like a day-star," and shine as a light in a dark place. Unto such illuminations, you "do well to take heed." It will never be a day of great things in your devotional experience, if you let such direct rays from heaven pass urmo- ticed. Do not wonder that the Comforter wUl not always come into your closet, nor meet you regularly at the sacrament, when you wish him to do so — if you often refuse to go alone with him, or out for hira, when he is whispering to you what he would have you to do. This "still small voice" is one of the small things which you must not despise. "If you do," (Sheshbazzar would have said,) " God may reverse the Horeb vision of Elijah ; and make the stormy wind, the earth- I quake and the fire, follow the still small voice." I These, however, are but passing hints. I want, in order to encourage you to prize and cherish the beginnings of the good work of grace in your own 1 soul, to mark most attentively, how the Saviour I estimated and treated even " the blade" of true piety, before " the full corn," or " the ear" had shot forth. He did not despise the day of small things! He often treated as "great things," prayers and faith which others would have de- spised, and which the offerers themselves were afraid or ashamed of, as too weak and imperfect tx) be accepted. Both the proofs and promises of this delightful fact are, of course, rising in your memory like stars, in light and loveliness. You could repeat them, without my quoting them 'at all. So far well. But let us just look over some of them for once, as illustrations of the Oracle on which this essay is founded, that we may see and feel how transportingly true it is. I know not which of them is your favorite.— Mine is, that sweet assurance to voung and weak disciples, " He shall feed his flock as a Shepherd ; He shall gather the lambs in his arms, and carry them in his bosom." You cannot be weaker than a lamb is, when it requires such care from the shepherd. And remember ; it is the weakness, and not the innocence of the lamb, which engages thus the shepherd's sympathies. The allusion is from tlie East. Often, on go- ing out amongst the folds in the morning, after having kept watch all night, against the wolves, the shepherd finds a young lamb, chilled with the dew or the frost of the night, and unable to follow the flock to green pastures or still waters. He raises it gently from the ground, and wraps it to his bosom under his own warm cloak, and carries it forward, thus, until it revive. Now " the Great Shepherd," is just such a "good shepherd !" Afl the sheep, and even some under-shepherds, may not have tenderness nor patience, to watch over such a lamb as you, nor to wait until you are able to follow them on hill and through valley : but the Shepherd of souls, is the Bishop of souls ; and he v;ill neither leave nor forsake you. He can be "touched with a feeling of your infirmities," and thus can bear with them, until you can bear to move and rest with all his flock. He will even gather you in his arms, until you can walk in his footsteps ; and carry you in his bosom, until you can follow him whithersoever he goeth. Thus, He does not despise the day of small things : but according to their smallness, makes his care and tenderness great. And, will you despair of weak- ness, which He pities ! Will you give up hope, whilst He gives this heed, and hand, and heart, to the weak in faith, and to the fainting in hope ' Take another view of your case. " A bruised reed shall he not break." No ; the mus:t it makes at first, may be neither harmony nor melo- dy ; may be rather sad than sweet ; but He will not break it, nor cast it away, because of its broken notes. He wdl mend and moisten it, until its tones are clear and melodious. "Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings," He perfects praise. Many a bruised reed, which was once almost as dumb or dull as the harps upon the willows of Ba- bylon, is now sounding out the New Song, with not a little of both the spirit and compass of the golden harps before the throne of God. And, however bruised, you are not a broken reed. A broken reed is cast away from all the means of mending. But you are not only in the land ot the living, and thus in the place of hope ; but you are also under the care of a minister, or under the guidance of a friend, or have access to some book, whose chief object is to tune and strengthen bruised reeds, until they can " Join their cheerful scrags, With angels round the throne." Remember ; Jesus says, (and you can surely take his word !) " Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted." The night of peni- tential weeping, will be followed by the mornmg 8 THE MARTHAS. " ' loncrer able to go up to Jerusalem, " tluree times a Tr-" and, therefore, he preferred to be there on of believmg joy r <• »u «.,,. vour leisure, the other proofs of the ba\ considerate and compassionate regard to the day of smaU things. In the meantime, whilst these two arc before you, and vou are admiring them, I must remind vou, that none of them are mtend- ed to reconcile 'you to the contimtance of a day of small things, in either your faith or hohness. It is, that small things may become great thmgs, that they are thus watched by Heaven, and thus commended to the watchfulness and tenderness of the church on earth. " The blade" of piety has the promise of » the early rain," just that the car and the full com in the ear may come on to meet " the latter rain." But wliilst the first appearances of heartfelt piety are thus not overlooked by the Saviour, neilJicr are they overrated by him. The reed, though bruised, is called a reed ; but it is not com- yUmcni'd as sweet enough in its sound. So also, tlie smoking flax is not threatened with quench- in!^ ; but neither is its i^moUe. commended. In connection with both emblems it is added, " He shall bring forth judgment unto truth." In pro- phetic language, this amounts to the same thing as the apostolic promise, " He who began the good work, will carry it on." Thus, we are as much bound to grow in grace, as we are encouraged to trust in grace, by both the condescension of the Father, and the tenderness of the Son, towards our day of small things. In a word, it must not be always a day of small things with us; for we may soon have great trials, or great temptations; and small faith or patience will not sustain them well. " What will you do in the day of visitation'?" is, therefore, a que.s- tion which ought not to be lost sight of entirely, even at this stage of your e.xperience. Do not, indeed, forbode evil ; but do not forget that it will come, sooner or later, in some form. It may come very hwjh, and severely too, if you sit down con- tented with tliis day of small things. Let the fol- lowmg allegory of Rachel's Leprosy, teach you wisdom. And be not discouraged, because you cannot see how there can come a day of great things in your experience. You may acquire great peace, great comfort, and great influence. In every thing gfwd, you may be much greater than you arc ; and although you will never call nor think your holiness great, even when others fed it to be great both in its beauty and strength, rettolvc that it shall not be less in either than care can make it. ALLEGORY, No. 1. KACHEL 8 LEPROSY. The Iom Hacchipurim, or the great day of atone- ment, drew nigh again ; and Shcshbazzar, although " old and gray-headed," prepared to appear before (Jim! in Zion. For the Bocrshebean eagle (as Ra- rhe! railed him) seemed to "renew his youth," annually, from the very moment the expiation tnimprt.s hummoncd the tribes to Jerusalem. Their nound fell on his ear, like a voice from the excellent glory ; and their signal for pilgrimage the DAY OF DAYS, that he might learn, as he said, from the High Priest, to enter within the veil of eternity, bearing only the blood and mcense of propitiation, as all his introduction and plea. Thus his spirit passed into the Holy of Hohes even be- fore the High Priest ; and often Imgered at the mercy-seat, or bathed in the Sheckinah of glory, lontr after He had come out to bless the people. That benediction, Sheshbazzar welcomed as his own warrant to kneel in spirit, where the priest had ministered ; and thus to realize his own en- trance into heaven. „ j .• This was his meaning when he called his piVrimacre, his translation ; and his staff and scrip, his° chariot and horses of fire ; for _ Beersheba, compared with Jerusalem, was to him, on that solemn feast day, as the earth compared with heaven. And yet Beersheba was dear to the good old man : for Abraham's well w^as still there ; and, although the trees of Abraham's grove had passed away, like the Angels who once rested under their shadow, " the place thereof " was not unknown. Oaks of Manire, and palm trees of Lahairoi, had replaced them. Sheshbazzar often drank at that well, and mused in that spot, in the very spirit of its Patriarchal owner, and of its An- gelic visiters. Still it was not Zion ! It was the sepulchre of his fathers and of his children, but it was not the sanctuary of his God. His Fig Tree was there ; but his Tree of Life was upon Mount Zion. The prospect of his translation did not, how- ever, so absorb his spirit, as to divert his sympa- thies from those who had to stay at home. Hav- ing, like Elijah, thrown his mantle over Esrora and Rachel, he continued to commune with them, until the moment of his departure ; and to pray that a double portion of his spirit might rest upon them. And never did they stand in more need of counsel or prayer. They had been betrothed in the month Nisan ; but when the Tisri trumpets were blown, Esrom showed no inclination to go up to Jerusalem. He was not " glad" when Sheshbazzar said unto him, " Let us go up to the house of the Lord." He had tried to persuade himself, that it was not his duiy this year ! Rachel was drooping m both health and spirits : and surely it could not bo duty to leave her alone ! She her- self tried to tiiink that, for once, Esrom might be excused ; for she felt, at times, as low as if the Angel of Death was not far off. Even Sheshbaz- zar was uneasy on her account. He feared some- thing xvorse than death : for Rachel's mind was one, which might be thrown ofT its balance by excess of either grief or joy. Its very strength was more perilous than weakness ; because she put it all forth upon whatever interested her feel- ings deeply. She threw her whole soul, equally, into human and Divine things, by turns. On the day of her betrothment, she thought of nothing; else ; and on the day after, which was the Sab- bath, she was so absorbed by Sheshbazzar's expo-i sition of the L»w and the Prophets, in the syna-' gogue, that she forgot it entirely. | Even next morning, she met Esrora without THE MARTHAS, alluding to their plighted vows. She was still in ecstacy with a Sabbath which, she said, had been to her a fragment of the first Sabbatli of Time, and a foretaste of the first Sabbath of Eternity. Esrom felt piqued, and asked, sarcastically, " Did Adam pray like the Elders, or will Angels sing like the choirs of Beersheba 7" This association of ideas was ludicrous. It threw her off her guard : and, for the first tunc, Rachel criticised the tones and terms of public worship. Until that moment, she had thought of nothing, but their spirit and design : but, from that moment, she began to weigh them, not only in the balance of the sanctuary, but also in the scales of taste. They were "found wanting" in both; and she wondered that she had overlooked their defects so long. It was an unhappy discovery ! She re- solved to improve the form of her own devotions : for, hitherto, she had adopted whatever petition came tvarm from the Hps of the Elders ; and had thought only of what she wanted. Now, she be- gan to think more about her words than her wants ; and tried oftener to adore like a seraph, than to pray like a penitent. Sublimity became her study. Humihty was left to accident. Siie could trust her heart, (she said to herself,) that it would never relapse into hardness or coldness. It had been melted and warmed by the holy fire of heaven ; and she took for granted, that the glow would never decay. Surely the principle of grace might be as safely trusted to its own vitality, upon the altar of the soul, as the sacred fire upon the altar of the temple ! She, at least, was sure that, after what she had seen and felt herself to be as a sin- ner, nothing could inflate or deaden her spirit as a penitent. She thus trusted her own heart ; and it betrayed lier ! It soon took more interest in her nuptial preparations, than in her closet, or in her copy of the Law. She was no longer humble before God. She never forgot " the Grapes of Gomorrah ;" but she no longer loept when she remembered them. Her old ambition to dazzle or puzzle others in company, returned on her. She was upon the watch for opportunities to shine in con- versation, whenever Sheshbazzar was not present. She almost claimed credit for her piety from the Elders ; for having lost much of the witness of her own spirit, she sought relief in the good opi- nion of others. But she oftener startled the El- ders, than conciliated them, by her professions. Some doubted her sincerity, and others her ortho- doxy; and she felt equally mortified by both. There was bitterness as well as truth ; sarcasm as well as sorrow, in her lips, when she said of them, "that Angels were better judges of repent- ance." Sheshbazzar had thrown out the same hint to the Elders, but in another spirit. He smil- ed complacently, whilst he said to them, "You will soon be as glad as Gabriel was, when he put Rachel's tears into the urn of heaven ; he had seen none purer, since Hannah wept before the Lord in Shiloh." The Elders had said to him, " Her tears may be in your book, but they are not in his bottle yet." It was a harsh speech ; and yet, they meant no harm. Rachel had long been a mystery to them ; for although she never spoke " as one of the foohsh women," neither did she speak like the generality of the wise women. 61 (14) She was often more mystical than the woman ot Tekoah, and more poetical than Deborah, the wife of Lapidoth. When she called tjie stars, shecki- nahs in miniature, the old men thought her pro- fane; when she said, the sun was an emblem and a pledge, that the glory between the Cherubim would, one day, fill the whole earth, they deemed her insane, or too partial to the Gentiles ; and when she doubted their interpretation, of botli the hardening of Pharaoh's heart, and the hatred of Esau, by God, they almost charged her with blas- phemy. Thus it was not wonderful, that they were but slow of heart to believe her to be a daughter of the Covenant. Her speech, they said truly, " was hardly the language of Canaan ;" for it was never much according to the sJdbboleih of the wise, nor the sibboleth of the weak ; and now it was less so than ever. " Out of the abundance of the heart, tlie mouth speaketh ;" and Racliel's heart abounded now with tastes, emotion?, and aspirations, which sober truth could not satisfy, nor ordinary teachers please. When Sheshbazzar was not in the synagogue, she often stayed at home on the Sabbath. She could get " no good," she said, " from the common-place of the dry El- ders, nor from the whining of the irep/)?>?^'- Eiders, nor from tlie thundering of the fiery Elders. Me- rab was too controversial ; Jeduthun, too legal ; Jubal, too declamatory ; and Hamath, too hasty. Except, therefore, when Sheshbazzar spoke, Ra- chel hardly listened. She preferred her own " worldless thoughts," she said, " to their un- thouglitful and low words." Esrom ministered to this fastidious taste. She herself had never thought of bringing the prayers of the Elders to its bar, until he obtruded them upon her notice. Her own spirit had long been too devotional, to weigh the words or notice the tones of those who led tlie synagogue of the peo- ple to the Throne of Jehovali. Even when the Elders who had wounded her, lifted up their hands in prayer, her heart, whilst simple, forgot all their faults and defects, and felt only that God was lis- tening ! Sheshbazzar had often said to her, " Remem- ber ; God only is addressed in prayer. You are no longer a hearer, when His worship begins. You are then speaking unto the Lord ; and what you have to say to Him, is too solemn to depend upon words or tones. Let your heart pray for mercy and grace : and it will ascend to heaven like Manoah's angel in the flame of the sacrifice, even if the altar be an nnhewn rock." In the sun of such sentiments Rachel's devo- tional spirit had ripened ; and, until Esrom blight- ed it, by criticising the prayers of the Elders, no- thing that they were as men, or had said as judges had even tarnished the bloom of her devotional simpHcity. Or as Sheshbazzar had often e.xprcssed it, place her only before the Throne, and her heart is a harp which will yield melody unto the Lord, at the touch of any "holy hands," whether laic or levitical. Such it had been, whilst Sheshbazzar was the depositary of all its secrets. Such he himself often found it, when he led the devotions of the synagogue. But ever since her betrothment, it had oft'en been untuned. Her plans— her proa- pects— her arrangements, for the day when ehe THE MARTHAS. lU ^_____-_— ^— «houl7bT'b.^^ht to the house of Esrom, "in i righteous," whenever she entered upon its ma- raiment of neeXwork -L virgins, her compa- nagement. In i^s closet, she was sure to renew ^rrfolb^nrwh gladness and rejoicing," had lier communion vvith God !-at t^s family altar, more than Sed hfr heart, even m the closet : sure to pray m the spirit? by Us hearth m the ri in the svnago..ue, they often diverted it from evening, and under its fig-tree in the mornmg, both the wo d and^v;rsh.p of Jehovah. Shesh- I sure to shake off from Esrom and herse f, all the bazzar did not suspect this': He saw,mdeed, that mUdew of backsliding! Nothing of this however, Rachel's preparations were upon a scale worthy 1 was attempted m the mean time. All iniprove- of her tribe and her parentage ; and that lier own j mcnt, and penitence too, was postponed until taste would preside over evorj- thing-from her Sheshbazzar should "sanctify the household of own robes, to the veils of horinaidens, and even the betrothed, upon his return from Jerusalem down to tlie lamps and torches of the procession. But, before he returned, Rachel was become "A But why not ] Who had such exquisite taste?— Leper, white as snow! , ^ , , , " Rachel is, mdeed, troubled about many things," No symptoms of this avvful malady had shown said the old man ; "but her good sense is a pledge j itself, vyhen Sheshbazzar left Beersheba. He had tliat nothing will be extravagant or vain. She is sure to adorn herself and otiiers, only according to the manner of holy women of old. There may be "nets of checker-work and wreatlis of chain- work" here and tliere in h'^r arrangements, as around the pillars of the temple ; but tlie crown of the whole, like tlie capitals of Jachin and Boaz, and the borders of the molten Sea, will be ' lily icurk ;' tlie still grandeur of gracefulness, the calm majesty of meekness ; as from the chisel of Hiram of TvTe." Shesiibazzar did not know that Rachel had plunged into the bustle of preparation, in order to forget her penitential vows, and to hide from her- self the backslidings of her own heart. And, had her heart still been what he supposed, he would have been more than justified in taking for grant- ed, that she would plan and execute all things as marked the throb of her veins, and felt her hand burn, and seen the hectic flush and the pallid hue succeed each other on her cheek, without increas- ing or diminishing the strange glaze of her eyes : but he dreamt not of leprosy. There was no "bright spot in the skin," and no "whiteness in the hair ;" and thus, although he parted from her with a heavy heart, it was mental, not bodily, dis- ease he foreboded ; and that fear, he was too wise to utter or betray. He blessed Rachel, in the name of the Lord, and placed himself as usual at the head of his brethren, to conduct them to Zion. Sheshbazzar exemplified at Jerusalem, the spirit of his favorite maxim : he shook tJie mulberry- trees of every typical ordinance, and prophetic promise. He was the first, daily, at the morning sacrifice, and the last to retire fi-om the evening sacrifice: the first at the altar of burnt-ofFering, in thp sight of God. For, until Esrom's critical and tlie last at the altar of incense. When the levity betrayed iier devotional spirit, she could turn any series of domestic duties into a Bethel Ladiler between earth and heaven. But, when she became a critic in the house of prayer, she soon lost her simplicity in the closet. At first, she was shocked on discovering, that unhallowed xs^ociations of the ludicrous or frivolous, were blending themselves with phrases which once Levites walked in procession around the altars, waving the palms of Judah, and .mounding the sil- ver trumpets of the Great Hosanna, no vocal hosanna, amongst the thousands of Israel, swelled above Sheshbazzar's. Like the eagle mounting upon the summits of Gerrizzim, the old man seem- ed to renew his youth, whilst thus waiting upon the God of his fathers in Zion. When his fellow- breathed her holiest feelings. Then, she could ! pilgrims could distinguish him in the great congre- not use, in the closet, expressions she had blamed, | gation, or at the waters of Siloa. they saw, from or sniiled at, in the synagogue. Then, she sat i his looks, that he was shaking the mulberry-trees, musing in silence about prayer, instead of kneeling { and like the fleece of Gideon, was saturated with before the Lord with supplication. At length, she the dew of heaven. became equally ashamed and afraid to be alone } When the lom Hacchipurim ended, they pre- witii God ! pared to return to Beersheba ; and Sheshbazzar Thus Rachel's heart condemned her, and to es- cape from its censures, she filled her hands, to overflowing, with the duties of her betrothment ; leaving neither time nor thought for any thing be- yond the ceremonials of religion. She fasted without humility, and worshipped without love, except when Sheshbazzar presided. And even then, he wa.s often to her, only " as one that play- eth well upon an instrument." .Mi thin process and result of spiritual defection she concealed from him. She tried to persuade horsclf lliat, like the cloud which had occasionally come over hr-r spirit, before she knew the Lord ; and which, when it pap.sed off, left her more cheer- ful than It had found her ; so this hiding of the Divine presence would onlv be temporary, and enh inre the brightness of the Candle of the Lord, when a Hhould shine upon her oi/-;j tabernacle : for 8he had vowed, that the iiouae of Esrom and Ra- chel should be in all thmgs "the tabernacle of the was, as usual, their guiding pillar in the wilderness. " We have been, my children, like the spies," he said, " searching the land of promise ; what have we to show at home as the fruit of it? Grapes, or wild gourds ? Not the latter, I am quite sure ! But, have we cut such a cluster of the grapes of Eschol, as to require ' two men to carry it between them on a staflf?' Or have we merely an untimely fig, and an imripe pomegranate, hanging at our girdle? We ought not to carry home a bad re- port of the goodly land. There were large and ripe clusters on Mount Zion : what can we show as the fruit of it? A spirit, meek as the lily of the valley, fragrant as the rose of Sharon, and" pure as the waters of Siloa ? It ought to be so. Those who tarried at home will expect to divide the spoil with us. Esrom and Rachel, especially, will look tome for the first ripe fruits. Gleanings will not satisfy them." Thus he talked by the way. " B'lt who is this— that cometh up from the wil- THE MARTHAS. 11 derness, leaning on her beloved 1" It was Rachel We are not so susceptible or watchful in all things now a leper, white as snow, leaning on Esrom. \ now, as when we first said to ourselves, whilst The pilgrims shrunk back, and stood afar off. weeping at the foot of the Cross, "Without holi- They were ready to exclaim, " God has rejected ness I shall not see the Lord." Then, all our old her, although you vouched for her." Sheshbazzar regrets, and all our new desires, and all our hopes turned to them with tlie majesty of an angel, say- and fears for eternity, threw light upon the mean- ing, " There is hope in Israel concerning this ing of holiness, and warmth into the resolution to thing. It is of the Lord ; but it is for good, as in follow it, through good report and bad report, the case of Miriam." Turning to Rachel, with } Thus the maxim was mighty, whilst we were the mildness of an angel, he said, " Though you j melted with the wonders of redeeming love, and have lain among the pots, yet shall you be as the I awed by the solemnities of etcrnitv. wings of a dove, covered with silver, and her fea- thers with yellow gold." No. II. VARIETIES FROM OVERSIGHT. It is quite possible to have a sincere desire to be holy, and even to have some real love to holi- ness, and yet to overlook, not only some of the virtues or graces of a holy character, but also some of the most effectual means of becoming holy. A very great point is gained, however, when even one evangehcal motive to holiness ac- quires, either as a check or as a cliarm, sanctify- ing influence over our cliaracter. And, happily, the motive or consideration which first lays hold upon the conscience is, usually, the solemn fact, that " without Holiness no one shall see the Lord." This is a consideration which may well awe and influence both our habits and spirit : and there- fore, it is well that it is, in general, the first to ri- vet our attention. Perhaps no other motive is so well suited, at first, to our condition, when we are just setting out in the Divine life. It is rea- dily understood, and easily remembered. And as it is the /car of not seeing God in heaven at last, quite as much as the desire of seeing Him, that influences our choice, we really need a motive which can work, at once upon both our hopes and fears ; for one that appealed to either exclusively, would defeat itself then. An increase of fear without hope, or of hope without any fear, would do us no real good. I do, therefore, congratulate you upon the hold which this familiar, but powerful motive, has ob- tained upon your understanding and conscience. Its authority over you is a good sign. It is, in- deed, no small proof of being "led by the Spirit :" for as many as have been led by Him, began to follow holiness, because, "without" it, "no man shall see the Lord." It is, however, worthy of special attention, that all who have ever made any great progress in following hohness, have had to try the force of other motives. Indeed, they have found it necessary to do so ; on finding that this one did not carry them far enough, or not so far as it did at first. This is only what might be expected. No si?i- gle motive, however sweet or solemn, can be equally imluential at all times, or in all duties. Our circumstances change ; and we change with them, not a little. Our best frames of mind too, are not permanent. Even our " first love," al- though it has not " waxed cold" exactly, has lost much of its original simplicity and tenderness. Now, we recollect this well. We cannot for- get it. Accordingly, whenever we so fall off from the rule or the spirit of holiness, as t.« be startled at the declension, or to become afraid of conse- quences, we naturally say to ourselves, " Ah, this is the sad effect of losing my first love. Could 1 j only recall the days of old, when my heart was all tenderness, and my conscience all timidity, I should find my old maxim as powerful and sutR- cient as ever." We have not a doubt of this. We are quite sure, that we should soon act as well as ever, if we could only feel again as we did at first. And there can be no doubt, that a re- newed sense of redeeming love and of eternal things, would give great practical power to the command, " Follow holiness ; without which no one shall see the Lord." The real question is, however, how to get back that state of mind 1 It does not return of itself, nor is it always found even when sought for with tears. Something good is, indeed, always found in answer to fervent prayer : but it is not often that even such prayer brirgs back all the light and love of the days of old. Even when it does, they are not such long days as they were at first, nor do they follow each other in such close succession. You have observed and deplored aU this. Did it ever occur to you, that there is no small danger of grieving the 'Holy Spirit, by thus making "the days of old," the standard for our present piety ? The "good work" in the heart, of which He is the author and finisher, he " carries on" in its goodness, as well as keeps up in its being. Its mere preservation from utter extinetion is not his great object. His care over " the root of the matter," is for the sake of the fruit it is capable of bearing. Accordingly, whenever we become less fruitful, or even cense trying to bring forth more fruit than we began with. He soon makes us to feel somewhat doubtful as to the very life of the root itself Indeed, we are any thing but sure that the root of the matter is in us at all, when the branches of our profession become very barren. They will not, and cannot, he very fruit- ful, however, if we grieve the Holy Spirit, by ne- glecting or overlooking any of the great motives which he employs for sanctification. Now, although the solemn consideration which I have been commending so strongly, is one of them, and a motive never to be laid aside or lost sight of, it is not the chief motive by which the Spirit works. He generally begins with it ; but He never ends with it. And this is only what mio-ht be expected : for His special office is to glorify Christ. He will not, therefore, keep up the sanctifying power of anv motive, however good, which is allowed to take that place mour attention, which belongs to the Saviour. Now THE MARTHAS. it is br thr clory of Chri«t, as that shines in the | ran. even whilst you "did run well, looking to • ■■ . iat.on, that the Holy Spirit changes him for righteousness, far more than for sanctifi- !hc miatfe of Chris'i. Thev are all cation. You did not, mdeed, orerZooA. citlier his •„ hecmifonnedtotheima^eofthe image or his example; but they had obtamed ah tlie Spirit will not depart from from you nothing like the same degree ot atten- .•Jrt will lie deviate from this 7node , tion, which vou gave to his atonement and inter- . ...D Itwillbe just as true until the ce.«sion. For once that you have tried to cast cmi ^; i-iuc ^ a waj. at the beginning of Clu-is- yourself into "the mould" of his image, you have li-julv. that it Id by - boholding with open face, as cast yourself a thousand times upon his merits and u. > 'bIajm, iJiC glory of the l>ord," that we are i grace. Not, however, that you have done the cbAi)«fd into Uic same image, bv the Lord the I latter too often. No, mdeed ! Nor can you ever Sjunr Ho will, indeed, give law' its place, and | do it too often. But you have done the former ■ iljj place, and both promises and i too seldom, or too slightly. So, alas, have I ! .r place, m making us partakers of | Here, then, is the real cause of declension in . .luie*s : but ho wiil not allow one of j piety ; our leading fault and our chief defect are :... I .. :..r ivcn the whole of them, to displace the i not confronted with the image of Christ from day Sa\ iour. He w ill make him all in all, in the midst to day, but left to the mere restraint of ordinary of all the means by which he sanctities our heart motives ; and, as these are hardly sufficient to and character. i sustain even what is best and strongest in our Now, e\eu jf we meant well in trying to be [ character, it is no wonder that what is worst and holy, on the strength of the one motive which first i weakest grows upon us, and thus brings the very •truck ns, it w no wonder tliat its original influ- ' spirit of piety to a low ebb. In a word ; our be- cncu has not kept us as it began. The holy { setting sin cannot be overcome, nor our weak Spint will not permit even the holy fear of not j side cured, by leaving them to take their chance, ' tveing tJie Lord" at last, to e.vempt us from the i in common with those points of our character which are easily kept right. What is bad cannot be remedied, by the force of the general consi- derations which support what is good about us ; any more than food can heal a wound, or clothing cure a fever. It is medicine, not food, that cures bodily disease : and it is the special, not the ge- neral motives to holiness, that can alone remove moral defects. It is, I am aware, much more common, in speak- ing on this subject, to hear it said of our chief faults and defects, "This kind goeth not out but by prayer and fasting." And this is perfectly true, if the maxim be taken (as the Saviour in- tended it to be) always in connection with learn- ing of Him, and setting His image and example before us. Apart from doing that, however, even special prayer, and literal fasting, will not "cast out" a wrong habit nor a rash spirit, effectually. Accordingly, we have prayed, at times, very fer- vently, against the tendencies and temptations which betray us oftenest ; and yet we have been soon betrayed by them again. Indeed, it has not always been from the want of trying to stand, that duty of contemplating " the glory of the Lord" ituw. It may suit our sloth, or our convenience, or CT.- «cI.'-< rimplacencv, to take for granted that we • ry well in following holiness, by re- - necessity as meetness for heaven : ■ ■• not suit the glory of Christ; and, L.trixrc. tljc Spirit will not work long, nor wit- I.CM much, with this single fact, solemn as it is. By »ome priKcss of conviction or chastisement, Ik: w ill compol us to lfx)k sharply and seriously aUiut UK, for something more than a vague fear of hcU, or a faint hope of heaven, as the means of wijcuficauon. In a word, Chklst must be " made uoto ua sanclification," as well as " wisdom, nghtcouniiiiMs and redemption." 1 Cor. i. 30. ^ Dooii thw ilirow any light upon your case? Y -I h <•.<■ both wondcn-d and wept, because you iind yourself going AacA-, rather than 'y ; altliouph you were not consci- ,' xivrn up or lost sight of any of the Kcj.y ij«oUvu« you U-gaii with. You have never changed your opinion of the beauty of holiness, nor l<^t your conviction of ,t^ necessity; and yet we l";ave To ofte oeiUicr your opinion nor your iH.T«ui.8ion has kent I even think «» „ 70U up ,t,o mark of jour tirst ellorts. in run- ! some duty, or faUing into some wron| spirit : but we knew the contrary. We have not, alae. • net before you. You " did run •u began to follow holiness ; but ■ II hlackened your pace, and even h<- way. " \\ hat did hinder you .'" • intend to .stop, nor expect to tire, '•n iinagin.; tliat you could " weary uprjn com Ihvr ">c can toll you, or you can easily I explanation of this falling oil', that ■T> wrong habit or temper to grow done all to stand," which we might have done . but we have done more than others give us cre- dit for at times, and suffered more too than they imagine. Any one can see our faults : but God w 11""^'^ ""'' ^^"'f^g'^s against them. NVcll ; the great reason why these struggles are so unsuccessful often, is, that we pray and plan without having the image of Christ distinctly be- n you. or i.K.k up unduly with 'somo\";.HWv I '""f^r""' °' '^''''?"V''"''"^^ chiefly to that feature .fort, and ihuK grly.l tK. Viy s^r V Kv u^^^ " most imperfectly reflected e « but t.M miK^h truth in li.iJL..,'!. ..V i."'^ 7 "," ', '^^ ^« ^=1" >'o more steer a right course through the sea of hte by any star of the Saviour's cnaracter, than the mariner can steer through the ocean by any star of the skies. We must look oftenest to that part of the image of Christ, which we are most unlike. And this must bo done " with open face ;" or with an honest desire and express '""ch truth in this account. It is r«. hownvnr. the true oxpanation of your declen- •JOM. h us ,n fact. ,i,.clf. a ,:«rt of your falling o« ami not ,hc r.-al cau-so of /t. That lay, in o^ - Jookmjr unto J.,«u« a- the Author and rfnisher" of your holinw.., as well as of your faitl You THE MARTHAS. 13 determination, to be "changed into the same image." Here, now, comes on the trial of our spirit, and of our integrity too. Are we willing to learn a neiv lesson ; willing to try a neiv experiment ; will- ing to make a neiv elTort, in order to be more holy? Nothing else or less than this, can cure the faults and imperfections we confess and deplore. Well ; Christ, if we do not follow the leadings of His Spirit to the glass of Revelation; just as He drives us back to the Cross of Christ, when we forsake, or stand too far off from it. How, then, do you feel inclined towards the duty and habit of » beliolding with open face the glory of the Lord, that you may be changed into , , - .„ , . - ^^^ image 7" You have contemplated his glory, whether wdl you go on confessing and deploring that you might be pardoned and accepted You them, or set yourself to contemplate the glory of i cannot afford, and you do not wish, to take vour Christ in the glass of Revelation, that that part of ^ r ^. .-, , . , • ... J His glory which reproves them, may disperse them also J Would you rather succumb to them, than conquer them at this e.xpense of time and thought ] Would you rather give the time thus called for, to prayer for the forgiveness of them, than to meditation for their removal ? Would you rather throw them on the blood of Christ for pardon, than upon the image of Christ for sancti- fication ? The questions are bringing out the secrets of your heart, upon the very surface of your con- science ! Take great care, however, that the dis- coveries you are now making of "what is in" you, neitlier discourage you too much, nor irritate you at all : for it is as possible to dispute as to de- spond, when the une.xpected discovery of some great oversight in religion, forces home upon us the conviction, that we have ahnost to begin anew, or, at least, to take new lessons on sancti- fication. We do not hke to see the necessity of thus going to school again as meekly and humbly, as when we first sat down at the feet of Christ, saying with child-like simplicity, "Lord, what wouldst thou liave me to do?" Some, when they find that it must come to this, begin to doubt whe- ther all their past experience has not been a delu- sion : and others allow themselves to be chafed into an impatient or speculative spirit, which tries to rid itself of the conviction, tliat new lessons and measures are thus indispensable. Thus, just ac- cording to the frame of our mind at the moment of this humiliating discovery, is the effect of the dis- covery itself. If we happen to be rather well pleased with the state of our piety upon the whole, we are in great danger of straining our ingenuity, to prove that we are doing pretty well, without studying tlie image of Christ more than usual. If, again, we happen to be in Doubting Castle, when this great oversight flashes upon our spirit, we are but too ready to put our " feet into the stocks" of utter despondency, or to conclude tJiat we were never converted nor sincere. And, if we happen to bo in a slothful or worldly temper, when we are brouglit to a dead stand by the startling fact, that we have never been so intent on having the image of Christ upon our soul, as the righteousness of Christ upon our sins ; then Satan is sure to set our wits to work, to find out some way of evading the new duty, without e.x- actly denying the necessity of more holiness. I need not tell you that, in this case, the cnm- prnmising spirit is the most dangerous. The ', into some fatal error or apostacy, if we were not, fainting spirit, though painful, is not perilous. God from henceforth, to follow holiness, looking to the will take care to revive it, and to enable it to look i image of Christ, as our chief model and motive, again towards His holy temple : but, "with the [ Our Bible, remember, brings this view of holi- froward, He wdl show himself froward," and by | ness before us, in a very peculiar and solemn con- some means take " vengeance on their inven- j nection ; and we have no right, wliatever be our tions." He will drive us by rods to the image of views or feelings towards the word, " Predcstina- eye off from the glory of his power, wliich" save to the uttermost ; nor from tb.e glory of his blood, which can cleanse from all sin ; nor from the glory of his righteousness, which can justify even the ungodly when they believe ; nor from the glory of his grace, wliich is sufficient for all emergencies ; nor from the glory of his interces- sion, which the Father heareth always with com- placency ; nor from the glory of his providence, which maketh all things work together for good to them who love him. In reference to all these features of the Saviour's personal and official glo- ry, you desire "to see Jesus," and neither dread nor deprecate any evil so much as that of any "veil upon your heart," which would hide this bright- ness of his glory from your eye, or hide your need of it from your conscience. Thus, Creation would be a blank to you, if you were to lose sight of the glory of Christ. Your brightest hope, yea, your fondest desire, even in regard to heaven itself, is, "to see him as he is." You expect far more happiness from "beholding the glory of the Lamb in the midst of the throne," than from all the un- veiled scenes and secrets of the natural and moral universe. You can easily conceive how you will never weary through eternity in looking up to him, saying, " I beseech thee show me thy glory :" for you know that it is infinite ; and, therefore, that every new form of it can only be the harbm- ger of still newer and nobler manifestations "whUst immortality endures." There! I knew how you would feel upon this point. The " melo- dy of your heart" is now quivering upon your Hps, and smdes of complacency playing amidst the sweet words, " There shall we see his face, And never, never sin: And from the rivers of his grace, Drink endless pleasures in !" O, you are not the woman, who should be afraid that the image of Christ cannot be impressed upon your heart and character ! You have no occa- sion to despond or dispute, in the presence of a new lesson. You cannot do well without it, now that both the providence and the spirit of God have thus forced it upon your notice. Any at- tempt to do without it now, would be such a sin against light ; and, in your case and mine, such an outrage upon conscience and reason, that wo could look for nothing else than to be left to fall THE MARTHAS. ,.on." to Boparatc it from that word ; for God has "u.-d ttwnTtoeether thus: "for wliom he did he al^o did predestinate to be conform- rt kno«'. you weary of your closet at times, and are often reluctant togo to it, as well as lifeless in it Thu. it is not from tiie want of knowing better, that ,..: .., tiir iinaeeof his Son." Rom. vm. 29. The , ,' . .«tv of thus conformiiv, or likeness, to the ',1 nwral character of the Saviour, is not a ■ , be I'vadt'd, bv proving or disproving the -•ic nvHtein. The Arminian and the Cal- ;;,u«t equally admit Uiat whatever prcdesti- . • -I moan, no one is " predestinated," but f )r a ,y.. . ..uriKj^o. Both tlie calling and election taught lii il.e Hiblc, is " unto holines.s." I have, pcrhaiw. less patience with the ^"'^«'" notions of prcdesiinalion than many. Indeed, 1 ao not bt-lieve one word of any theory of sove- ^.^,v. the letter and spirit of which is not m pcr- .-. ■ , with that sacred oracle. "Elect, ac- [ lort'knowiedge of God the Father, ■ iiration of the Spirit, unto obedience, ju _:•..■ -iTiiikhngof the blood of Christ." 1 Pet. I. i. \\ heUier, therefore, I take " predestinate" ID the sense of purixwc, decree, determination, or ieaign, I cannot help seeing the sober fact, that G<)d never could "predestinate" one class of his cliJdren to be very like Chri.st, and another to be very unlike CUrvl. (.'omnion sense revolts from the' gn«i absurdity, that some are chosen to bo holy, and others to'be nearly unholy ; that one is predctitinated to be active, and another to be idle ; IJiat a few arc elected to be amiable, and many to Le waspish or peevish. No meaning of the word " predestinate," will agree with such ano- molies. .Now, allhough I certainly do not see any ihini: in the Bible, which conveys the shadow of an idea, that we are ciiosen or called bccaiisp of any ptwe' to persuade yourself at times, Ihal Ui) firayrr will answer tho purpose of keep- injf up Uith your hDjK- and consistency; but you tvsoT imagin • that thny can be maintained with- out any prayr. < >r, if at any time there be m> prayer, it m because, for the moment, you have " n«) hop*." Here, then, in an informed judgment— a persuad- cd coniicience— a feeling heart, upon the indispen- "' " '^y of a devotional spirit : and yet, vou either weary or decline m secret prayer. Your convictions of the sm and danger of ne- crjectintr vour closet, are often strongest when you are most estranged from it. I mean, you are sometimes obliged to shut your eyes when pass- ing it, or hurrying out of it; the glare of tiia Tuiltiness is so blinding and painful ! You cannot bear to iMvK at that moment. And yet, even then, vou intend, yea, vow to yourself, to shako oft- this lethargy ; to break through this reluc^tance ; and to return soon to your "quiet rest" under tlie mercy-scat ; for you never depart from it in dis- gust, nor allow yourself to be drawn away from it, without leaving at it the promise of a speedy re- turn. Thus, even when farthest off from the throne of grace, you are rather a ivanderer than a deserter. Has there been mtich of this wandering back- ward and forward between God and the world, in your past history ! Do you still find it very diilicult to continue "instant (perserving) in prayer?" Is the disposition to wander rather on the"7?;r/rrt.v, than the decrease ?" Do you " quit the horns of the altar" oftener, or longer at one time, than formerly ? If so, see the need you have to get hold of some new motive, which rnay both rally the relaxed power of your old motives, and render it impossible for you to fail or faint sro much in prayer. Why; without this, you may come to " restrain prayer before God" altogether ; and then, what can restrain you from utter apos- tacy ? You feel this. Well; there is a glory in the Intercession of Christ in heaven, which cannot fail, if duly contemplated, to transform you into the image of his devotional spirit on earth. Its sweet influence cannot be resisted nor defeated, n any heart that has ever found relief in prayer, or that yet feels the necessity of prayer. The glory of the Saviour's intercession Jinll chaiigo that heart into more of the image of his heart, than any other motive which can be employed tor the revival, or the confirmation, of a devotional spirit. In asserting this, thus strongly, nothing i.s farther from iny design than to convey any idt a of a charm, an impulse, or an influence, which would make devotion as natural and easy, as if i.- essential. I know oi x\o spell on earth, or fnnii heaven, which could keep up the spirit of pravor, apart from " watching unto prayer." Whoever will not take time, and heed, and care, in order to maintain devotional habits, will find no substitnlr for them, in sentimental impulses, or in ecstaii ■ reveries. Prayer is a sober and solemn dulij. a^ a sublime privilege; and, therefore, the duty inir ^ be nerformed, if the privilege would be enjoyeil. The glory of the Saviour's intercession in hea- ven, can, however, confirm the habit, and prolong the spirit of prayer. You may have said to youi^- self, without much effect, ible " Cold mountains and the midnight air, Witness'd the fervor of His prayer." You may only have been afraid or ashamed when THE MARTHAS. you thought of him, as "nsing a great wliile be- | you cannot be "saved from wrath" but by the tore day, or as " contmuing all night alone," in i interceding Life of Christ, as that you cannot be prayer. \ou may only have felt reproved when "justified," but by the atoning death of Christ, you remembered how he "prayed more earnestly," | It is because lie over liveth to make intercession, ^l-i f u''l°']^- '" ^^^^/^^'"^"t increased. Thus, j that "he is able to save to the uttermost (or whilst beholding all this m the glass of the Sa- 1 completely) them that come unto God by him " viour s history, your heart may have only shrunk j Heb. vii. 25. Thus, his continuing to inlercede, back from the sight, alarmed or humbled : not | and our continuing to come unto God by him are unwillmgto pray; but unable to see how such l inseparably connected whh the perfection or corn- prayer could be imitated, the time of it was so | pletion of our salvation. long, and the intensity so great, and the solitude This deserves special attention Some speak BO awful ! And his special prayers are only ex- as if they thought, that justification from the con- amples for special emergencies : not specimais of daily or ordinary devotion. Accordingly, such long and lonely seasons of prayer, were not fre- quent even in his close walk and communion with God. It was only in Ids agony, that he kneeled demning sentence of the law completed, or at least made sure, their salvation. Paul, however, speaks very differently on this point. He avows the need, as well as triumphs m the prospect, of being « saved fi-om wrath," through the life of Christ, down "three times" in one night. It was only even after having been justified by the death of |ust before or after taking great steps in his public Christ. Hear the apostle ; and shut your ears mission and mmistry, that he spent ivlwle nights to "the instruction which causeth to err '" "God alone in prayer. The tenor of his devotional j commendeth his love toward us. in that while we habits, from day to day, presented nothing to as- tonish or discourage his disciples. Accordingl}', the evangelists relate only his extraordinary sup- plications, and never intimate that there was any thing inimitable or impracticable in his daily devo- tions. These distinctions are too seldom drawn, wlien the Saviour is held up as an example of prayer : and thus both the charm and the check of his ex- ample are sadly defeated ; for we see, although we do not like to say it, that the remarkable spe- cimens of his devotion are impracticable rules, under ordinary circumstances. Accordingly, they are only compHmented or admired : that is all, — except when we can do nothing but pray. You have not less need to contemplate the glory of the Saviour's intercession in heaven, be- cause you have now clearer ideas of his example on earth. Indeed, if the latter commend itself to your understanding and heart more than you ex- pected it ever could do ; and if you now see more in it than you did before, you may well conclude tJiat the latter is worth studying, and likely to be still more useful. Do not withdraw your attention, nor doubt this, because you remember all the texts which prove and illustrate the Intercession of Christ. I have, of course, nothing to tell you, but just what they contain : or rather, only what I see in them ; which is far less than their full import. It will, however, be their true import, so far as it goes; were yet sinners, Christ died for us. Much more then, being now justified by his blood, we shall be saved f-om wkath by him." Why? How] "For if, when we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of liis Son, much more, being reconciled, we shall be saved by his life:' Rom. v. 8—10. Thus, the "reconciled," yea, the "justified," need to be "saved from wrath," by the Life of Christ, even after his death has fully and for ever delivered them from the curse of the law. And for an obvious reason : the law is not the only thing we have broken and violated. Our sins against the gospel, in trifling with it so long : and against the Holy Spirit, in grieving him so much ; and against Providence, in improving it so little; and against the Saviour himself, in loving him and glorifying him so partially : these sins deserve " sorer punishment " than even our transgressions against the moral law ! Accord- ingly, Paul never represents the wrath of God as confined to sins against the Law. He says expli- citly, " the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all imgodliness and unrighteousness of men." Rom. i. 18. And your own experience agrees with, and thus confirms, the apostle's doc- trine, on this subject. Your sins against Grace, alarmed and humbled you more than your sins against the law. You may be able, by setting yourself to reason on general principles, to resolve all your sins into breaches of the Divine Law, as that is the general rule of the Divine government : if an "unveiled face" be any security against | but you /ee/, whenever your heart and error or fancy. I have bared my face to ^he ut- i follow the convicting leadings of the conscience spirit, that most, as weU as bowed my knees, before « the past neglect of salvation, and present misimprove- litz::s^ ' God ; estate. their lowest and worst iT^.m all wn. Hence John says expressly I. Ij^hi, and ui Juni is no darkness at all. 1. Mv t1iat we have fellowship with him. and walk u.d..kne«.," (per..t >n known ^d aUowed ^ ) , ^^ ^^^^^^ ^^^ ^ we l!a4 fellowship \ jrlory, before you had torn off, from your_fece,aj._ ,6 sion, than when they are m estate. It would have been of no permanent use, to „^ toh^r, vnii to the 2-lass of Christ's mtercedmg wr lie, and do not the trutii. .l:,4>Nashe.smthel.ght,wenav^..j»^^^^^ ^.^^^ ^^.j^.^j^ ,-.^ ^^^^ another," (w..h '^^^'^^ other,) and (thus throv^n^^^^^ ^^^ ^^^^ ^^ your W of his ,^\..k.^lJr consit^ti'ntlv and prayerfully) "the ^ trtith with the Intercfssioi), as well as w Atoncii»<'nt of Christ, ii. 1. Knowing but too well from hw own »'Xi>enence, that walking in the liffiit ■ not perferl, even when \ory conscientious upon ihe whole ; and llial bins do occur even with the devotjunal. the apostle adds, "If any man sin, \ye b«ve an Ai>vo. ate with the Fatlier ; Jesus Christ ihe nghteou* ; and he is the propitiation for our fflDj", and not for ours only, but also for the sins of the wboie world." Thus John connects " cleans- mg from all Bin," juFt as Paul connects "deliver- ance from all wrath," with the Life of Christ as our advocate, a.s well as with the death of Christ u our propitiation. "Of the things which we have spoken, This is THE nvn ; we have hucIi an high priest, set on the rifrhthand of the throne of the majesty in the hea\en»:" an i«rf>rrerft;iij-, as well as an atoninr, as the old divines express if, "whilst tlio imprfralioH of all llio blessings of the cove- nant M by the dnath of Christ, the application of them is by the life of Christ." I havp, I frnr, tried your patience, and even •eomed tantalizing your exppctalions, by leading jou thus round and round "the golden altar" of mterreiWKin, which is before the throne, without havinjf once attempted to unveil its glories. I feel th«, in common with you. It is not, however, lost time; for,— (tec how much better we understand and anpreci.-it*. the work of Christ in heaven !— The tdoa of his anpraring for us there, and pray- ing for ij« there, if always pleasing, is now as mo- ni'iiiouii m irniKirlance.'aR it jr ploasing in fact. NN '■ I'-fl now, that ih- intercession of Christ is a pr .Md,.,,, f„r more tlirtn our support and consola- t -n, 10 iho .lay of trouble ; for more than our es- rape, m the hour of temptation ; for more than ptinfym^ our pravers. by its "much incense." It innUonn.i efiually the provision of God, for the c"f./mMflf,cr„f,„orry to pardon sins against grace, and for the continuance of il„. Spirit to sanctify lis, a« well as to h.-lp our infirmities. Thus, wo c»ni.ot regard it now. as merdy a pleasing fact, which may b<» ver>- usefnl in seasons of trial and temptai.on. Jesus "nrr lir^th to make inferces- The glory of his Censek, like the glory ilh the need of them be deeply felt. But now, it is easy for you to behold it, as for me to show it. Indeed, you want no assistance from me, now that you stand " with open face," before the mirror of revelation. You cannot but see in that glass, the glory of the Saviour's condescension, in thus re- membering you for ever : the glory of his sympa- thy, in thus pitying you for ever : the glory of his patience, in thus bearing with you for ever : the glory of his love, in thus praying for you for ever : the glory of his holiness, in thus suing out for you and carrying on in you, conformity to his own image ! This, all this glory shines in his interces- sion. And, that it is transforming glory, I appeal to your own heart at this moment ; you are not unwilling to pray now. Your heart i.s praying ! You will not shun the mercy-seat to-night, nor hurry away from it. Well ; why not look at this glory of Christ, every morning and evening 1 Consider, you must think of something, if you would keep up the habit of coming to the throne of grace. You never do approach it without some motive or reason. Now the question is, what is the best motive ? Happily this is not a matter of opinion or conjecture. God has .'settled and set forth the grand influential mo- five to regular prayer thus : — "Seeing then that we liave a great Higli Priest, who is passed into the heavens, Jesus the Son of God — let us, there- fore, come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need." — Heb. iv. 14. "Having, there- fore, boldness to enter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus ; and having an High Priest over the house of God, let us draw near with a true heart, in full assurance of faith." — Heb. x. 19. The intercession of the Lamb slain is, you see, the chief magnet of the mercy-seat. It is all very well, and even necessary, to remember from day to day, the duty of praying, and the danger of not praying, and the profit of prayer, and the example of the prayerful. You cannot have too many links between your heart and the throne of grace ; but still, the link you need most, and which strengthens all the rest, is, the consideration, that the intercessor as much expects you to bow regu- larly and reverentially at the throne of grace, as you exjicct and need him to stand on your behalf before the throne of glory. Your attention must not be confined, however, even to the devotional image of the Saviour. In- deed, that cannot be copied successfully, if the soft and social features of his character are not imitated, and its pervading spirit studied. Now, those who have minutely studied the THE MARTHAS. 17 character of the Saviour, (as the grand and lovely features of it were called forth during his abode in our world,) will find it difficult to determme \vhe- ther there is most to admire, or to imitate in it — there is so much of both. Many features of his character are, indeed, inimitable in any degree. We can neither copy the authority of hi.s omnipo- tence, nor imbibe the spirit of his omniscience : — He must stand alone on the sea of Tiberias calm- ing the tempest, and at the sepulchre of Bethany raising the dead, and thus tread all the field of miracles, as he trod tlie wine-press of the wrath of God; for, "of the people there can be none with him." The Nathaniels must be content to pray under their fig-trees undiscovered by human eyes, and many may be devils at the sacramental table without being detected by the officiating minister ; for the gift of "discerning spirits," and tlie power of working miracles, died with the apostles, and resides now only in the person of Christ. In the /litr^r walks of his hfe, it is therefore equally useless and unnecessary to propose the example of the Saviour as a model for imitation, or as furnishing maxims for our conduct in life — there, we can only admire and adore, without the least hope of acquiring any resemblance to his miraculous excellencies. But far different is the state of the case, in regard to tlie virtues of his character, and tlie spirit of liis miracles ; for our ordinary actions may be done in the temper of his mignty works, and the every-day duties of life and godliness may be discharged in the same disposi- tion which led him to heal the sick and raise the dead. If, therefore, we cannot say to our buried Lazaruses, "Come forth," we can cherish the tenderness which "wept" at the tomb. If we cannot rebuke fever in a house, we can soothe the family by sympathizing attentions. If we can- not turn water into wine, we can be thankful for a cup of cold water, and administer it in love, when we have nothing better to take or give ; and thus have the spirit, although not the splendor of the Saviour's actions, running through and irradiating our own doings. In regard to our relative duties, nothing extraor- dinary is expected from us. No bereaved mother looks to us for the restoration of her only son from the bier ; nor any suffering friend for health ; all that they calculate upon or expect is cordial sym- pathy and fervent prayer ; so that the spirit of Christ's miracles wUl fully meet aU relative de- sires. Now, what was the spirit that distmguished the benevolent actions of the Saviour ! Not ostenta- tion — for he wished to hide some of his mightiest works ; not partiaUty — for his kindness was as general as it was generous ; not caprice — for he was uniformly accessible to all ranks, and, like the sun, rose every day of his ministry upon the dark world, in light and warmth. His temper could be calculated upon to a certainty, at all times and imdcr all circumstances ; and those who had been charmed by his gracious words and gentle man- ners on the Mount of Olives, were sure, when they left his feet, to find on their return the same looks of love on his face, and the same law of kindness on his lips. So uniform was he in his whole cha- racter while on earth, that the apostolic boast was 6« (14^ — "Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, to-day and for ever!" Now the mQd and lovely character of the Sa- viour may be, and ought to be, employed, both as an encouragement to come unto him for salvation, and as an example to be copied by all who have committed their souls into his hands. It is an encouragement to apply to him for salva- tion. For it is not by the death of Christ only that we learn his willingness to save unto the utter- most : that, indeed, places his good will towards man beyond all reasonable doubt, because no greater proof of it could be given than dying that we might hve. Demonstration can go no farther; but the same conclusion may be fairly drawn from the uniform meekness and gentleness of his cha- racter ; these form the steady day-light of his love to man, as his sufferings and death are that love " shining in the greatness of its strength." Indeed, he intended the sweetness of his temper, and the suavity of his manners, to illustrate and exemplify both the genius of his gospel, and the loving kind- ness of God. Hence the explicit assurance, " He that hath seen me, hath seen the Father also." We are therefore warranted to apply unto God and the Lamb, as ft-eely as the mothers of Israel brought their infants to be blessed — as freely as the friends of the sick brouglit them to be healed — as freely as the publicans and sinners came to sit at Jesus' feet. And if we would not hesitate, were he on earth, to present our infants to him for his blessing, we need not hesitate to venture our souls upon his atoning blood. His heart is as open to welcome now, as his arms were then. "Give him, my soul, thy cause to plead, Nor doubt the Father's grace." But his character is mtended also, and should be employed, as an example to copy. The meek- ness and gentleness of Christ are as binding in then- practical authority, as they are encouraging in their benevolent aspect. They are not, how- ever, so much imitated as they are admired ; but rather complimented than copied. Indeed, there are heavy complaints and charges current against many of the avowed followers of Christ. It is thought and said, that in the present day they are not characterised by meekness nor gentleness. They ought to be like the cherubim upon the an- cient mercy-seat ; of the same metal and polish as the propitiatory which they stand upon ; and, it in general they are not so, it is imperative on your sex, as well as the pulpit, both to expose and improve the wrong spirit and the wrong manners of the age — that all who have been "cast in the mould of the gospel" may be polished, as well as moulded. 1 Peter iii. 1, 6. Thus, as women were the first at the sepulchre of Christ to see him alive, so they are chiefly charged to copy his meek ness and gentleness, both for their own sake, and to win others. Now (without joining issue with the sweeping charges just referred to) it must be acknowledged that some of the avowed followers of Christ are unamiable both in their spirit and deportment. Some of them are consequential, and others ca- pricious ; some reserved, and others morose ; some 18 THE MARTHAS irritable and others peevish ; some rash, and others captious. These things ought not to be. But stOl, whilst we deplore and condemn them as unchristian, we ought to bear in mind how much worse the persons chargeable with them must have been if they had had no religion ; for if they are disagreeable notwithstanding all the restraints of conscience, they must have been intolerable without them. As a good man once said of his wife, when a neighbor wondered how he could bear her unhappy temper, "I keep thinking how much worse it would be if she had no grace." — And the fact is, it is with some minds as with some fields — there are thorns and briers in them even after much pains has been taken to cultivate the sod ; and, altliough this cannot be too deeply la- mented, we must not forget what the soil would have been without cultivation. It is not intended by these remarks, to palliate, or apologise for wrong tempers, but simply to pre- sent the case in all its bearings and aspects. It ought, therefore, to be stated explicitly that it is the difficulty of conquering them, rather than re- luctance to relinquish them which keeps so many serious persons in bondage to bad tempers. They have tried to overcome them, and failed; and, therefore, they are tempted to invent, or avail themselves of excuses for what seems, in their case, unconquerable. But the fallacy of these ex- cuses is demonstrable, and ought to be demon- strated to all professed Christians, that they may not have recourse to them, either openly or se- cretly. Some excuse their bad tempers upon the plea that they are constitutional or natural. But, if this were a valid excuse for any wrong temper, it would be so for any vice, and might be employed to palliate lust, intemperance, and revenge; for the slaves of these vile passions find them equally constitutional, — if that could justify them. We ought, therefore, to be exceedingly cautious how we sanction a maxim which may be interpreted in behalf of ariij sin ; for although we may want it only to excuse a failing, others may employ it to excuse a gross fault. It is certain, however, that some temperaments are naturally sweeter than others, and that some persons, without any effort, can be both meeker and gentler than others who make great efforts to "rule their spirit." Immense differences, in this respect, are discernible in the same family, and show themselves in children, before temper can be an acquired iiabit of the mind. Now this ob- vious truth may be allowed to have all the weight, both as fact and argument, which any one, who has not a selfish purpose to answer, can desire ; but what then ] If the natural temper of my mind be irritable, or peevish, or capricious, the gospel is able, and intended to subdue it, — demands its subjugation to "the mind of Christ ;" insists upon it as an essential part of Christian character. — Unless, therefore, I watch and pray against the besetting sin of my spirit, either my professed al- legiance to Clirist is mere jiretence, whatever re- liance upon him I may avow ; or if it be not, I am preparing for myself, like Rachel, some "ven- geance on my inventions," which may be as try- ing, if not so startling, as her leprosy. ALLEGORY. No. 2. RACHEL'S EXILE. From the moment that the leprosy fell upon Ra- chel like snow on Lebanon, the moral leprosy of her spirit began to melt and pass away, like snow from the golden pinnacles of the Temple. Like Miriam, the sister of Moses, she understood and bowed to the rebuke of Jehovah at once. Whilst Esrom only exclaimed with Job, " Show me wherefore Thou contendest with me," Rachel meekly said, "I will bear the indignation of the Lord, for I have sinned against him. There is no need, Esrom, that God should speak from the whirlwind, in order to explain this visitation. It explains itself in a loud voice ; and that, not from the ^secret place of thunder.' It is vengeance on our inventions!" Esrom then felt tliat he had been the leader in these inventions ; and thus, that he was the chief cause, although not the chief victim, of the vengeance. He, therefore, resolved at once to brave all the consequences of watch- ing over Rachel, during her banishment into the Beershebean wilderness. He would have borne her leprosy itself, could he have removed it from her to himself. He did what he could. He pitched her tent in the wilderness, with his own hands, under the shadow of a great rock, and close to a well of living water. He strewed it with the myrrh of Carmel, and the camphire of Engedi. He placed in it the vessel with which he had drawn water from the fountain of Siloam, when he first appeared before God in Zion. Skins, also, of the wild goats of Bether, and of the rams of Nebai- oth, were in it for a couch ; parched corn and grapes for food. And in its recess, under a vase of lilies of the valley, he placed her little ark of gopher-wood, in which her ancestral copy of the law was deposited. He had saved that treasure, on the day when the elders pronounced the house of her fathers imclean, and whilst the people were razing it to the ground. Nothing gratified Rachel so much, as this at- tention. That ark contained the covenant of her God, and her own covenant with Esrom ; for the deed of her betrothment lay beneath her penta- teuch and psalter. She did not forget her ark on the day of her exile from her father's house ; but she was afraid to bring it away under the veil of her leprosy. She felt, as if its sacred contents would be less dishonored by perishing in the ruins of her habitation, than by escaping in the shadow of her shame. She was even afraid to name it to Esrom ; and he was too considerate to name it to her. Rachel had never wept during her cala- mity. Her eyes burned hke coals of juniper in a furnace of brass ; not like dew-stars in the firma- ment. Esrom hoped that nature, as well as grace, would find relief, by the surprise he had prepared for them, in the little sanctuary in the wilderness. He judged aright. She entered the tent leaning upon his arm. Its coolness did not revive her, nor its fragrance soothe her : but when her eye fell upon her ark, her spirit melted. Rachel \vept. Esrom blessed the God of his fathers, in silence. It was a holy hour ! Angels heard each of them say unto God, "I have gone astray hke a lost sheep ; seek thy servant, for I do not forget THE MARTHAS. 19 thy commandments." The angel of the cove- nant heard each of them cry, "Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me. Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow." It was evening: and this was their evening sa- crifice. When it closed, Esrom said, " 'The sa- crifices of God are a broken spirit : a broken and a contrite heart, he will not despise,' whoever else may do so." With this salutation, Esrom left the tent ; and, having wrapped himself in the skin of a young lion, which had perished in the swell- ings of Jordan, he ascended the great rock above the tent, to keep watch during the night. He watched " unto prayer," also. So did Rachel. — Neither slumbered nor slept. Both prayed as in the days of old. Neither remembered the elders, except to ponder, how men of oiie idea may have much devotion. When Esrom entered the tent in the morning, he found Rachel still a leper ; but the unnatural brightness of her eyes had been softened by her tears, and the dry and deathly coldness of her liand was moderated. She had just deposited the covenant in her ark, and replaced the vase of lilies upon it, — so arranged, that their broad leaves, like wings, overshadowed it. " The emblem is but too true, Esrom," she said : " the leaves of the frailest of the flowers of the field, not the wings of the Cherubim have overshadowed my ark. I rather garlanded than guarded it; and, -'lerefore, the glory departed. — Will that glory ever return] I have read the co- venant of promise this morning, with relish : shall I ever read it again with hope? Will my present penitence be as fading as the lilies of the valley?" Esrom had not anticipated this application of his device. He had placed the flower she loved most, upon the ark she deemed lost ; that plea- sure might soften her surprise, when she found it again. "I meant no moral, Rachel," he said, " when I set the vase of lilies upon the lid of the ark." But Sheshbazzar would say, — "The root of them will not die, when their leaves wither, and their fragrance passes away. Their root is still in the valley, and will continue to yield flow- ers in its season, whilst it continues in its native soil. Let us keep our spirit in the valley ; and we shall not only grow as the lily, but cast forth our roots as Lebanon." Rachel had never named Sheshbazzar, from the moment she v/as pronounc- ed to be a leper. She saw how his high charac- ter was staked upon her integrity ; and felt that slie was not likely to redeem, by her own future character, the pledges he had given to the elders. He often vouched for her sincerity to them ; and now, they said, " God had branded her a hypo- crite." And, what answer could Sheshbazzar give to this charge against his judgment? She could think of none — if she were to be a leper un- til the day of her death : and she had no hope of recovering. " We owe it, Esrom. to Sheshbazzar," said Ra- chel, " to see him no more. He is too deeply com- mitted by me, to reinstate his authority in the synagogue, without disowning me. I am expelled from the synagogue already, and I will not expose him to the painful necessity of confirming the sen- tence of the elders. It is well that he had not 'to cast me out !' He must have done it, had he been at home : but, although he would have done it gently as the angel of the Lord drove out our first parents from Paradise, I am glad, for his sake and my own, that it is not to do ! And, as he can never own me again, I wiU never render it neces- sary for him to disown me." " It never will be necessary to disown you, Ra- chel !" Esrom replied. " Sheshbazzar wiU soon have the pleasure to write your name anew, amongst the daughters of the covenant in Beer- sheba, and even to enroll it amongst the living in Jerusalem ; for already the plague has ceased to spread on you, and I have caught no infection. It is no longer ' a fretting leprosy.' He who wound- ed you, has begun to heal you ; and, as in the case of Miriam, God will perfect that which con- cerneth you, and restore to you the timbrel of his praise, at the tabernacle of his presence. Be of good cheer : he is healing our blackslidings, and he will blot out our iniquities, for his own name's sake. I feel warranted, already, by his faithful- ness as the hearer of prayer, to provide the ' two living birds, the cedar wood, and scarlet, and hys- sop,' for the day of your purification in the tem- ple." Having said this, Esrom led her to the door of the tent, and left her for the day without fear ; being well aware that neither the shepherds nor the hunters in the wilderness, would venture near the tent of leprosy. He returned to Beer- sheeba to guide his affairs with discretion ; and, that his kinsmen, and neighbors, and his men ser- vants and maid servants, might seo that he had not tempted the Holy One of Israel, by waiting on Rachel. He calculated the effect of appearing on his farm, and in the streets, humbled, but unhurt. The bloom of health was on his cheek, and the sim.ple majesty of the palm-tree in his form. He was grave, but not sad ; perfectly composed, but perfectly natural. No one could suspect him of acting a part. His object was to moderate the clamor of the rash, and to enable tlie prudent to suspend their judgment : but he employed no stra- tagem. He left his appearance and spirit to make their own impression. And many were silenced, and not a few softened. Some indeed said, that "the thin yellow hair" (Lev. 13) of a fretting le- prosy would soon be visible on his brow or his beard. Others affirmed that the rose on his cheek, was ' a whitish red," already. But all wondered after him; and some prayed for him, that "the desire of his eyes" might not be "taken away" by the stroke of judgment. During seven days Esrom went and returned thus, between Beershcba, and the tent in the wilderness; his step stUl firm, and his counte- nance unchanged. Every evening he reported to Rachel, the progress of public opinion in Beer- sheba : and every morning he gave directions to his ploughmen and vine-dressers, to his masons and carpenters, to his hewers of wood and draw- ers of water, just as he was wont to do when he began to manage his farm, and to rebuild the house of his fathers. All his conduct and spirit indicated an humble, but lively hope of Rachel's recovery. Thus, although he said nothing to the people, he compelled them to think much. This course, Esrom pursued for Sheshbazzar'fl sake ; that no burst of mockery or upbraiding JL n.iu ivi.n.ivAxi/\o. might meet him, on his return from Jerusalem. He had planned, also, to meet the good old man by the way ; deeming that the sight of Rachel would shock him less, than the clamors of t!ie people. He intended also to detain him a day and a night in the wilderness, that by special and united prayer, the eagle and the eaglets of Beer- sheba might fully renew their youth, before re- suming the nest of their youth.' It was, there- fore, with joy unspeakable he heard Sheshbazzar say at once, on seeing Rachel, " There is hope in Israel concerning this leprosy :" for any salutation less cordial or prompt, would not have silenced the clamor of the pilgrims, nor revived her spirit. Her heart was too "sick" with suspense to en- dure " hope deferred." Had Sheshbazzar been silent at first, or but slow to speak, or had he spo- ken with less confidence or tenderness than Es- rom, her heart would have broke. He knew this ; and like Noah, took his weary and weak dove into the ark at once. It had been with great difficulty, Esrom had persuaded her to meet "the guide of her youth" m the wilderness. Even when she consented to go forth, she said, "Jephthah's daughter knew not the pang, which her sudden appearance would inflict upon her fatlier. Her timbrels and dances brought him • very low :' but she was the uncon- scious cause of his anguish. Sheshbazzar will be equally shocked and what can I say when he rends his clothes, exclaiming, ' Alas, my daughter, thou hast brought me very low ; thou art one of them that trouble me.' " " Nay," said Esrom, " such lamentation will not rush to his lips ; like Moses with Miriam, he will intercede for thee at once, and be the first to welcome thee unto his camp and counsel again ; for, like Moses, he is as meek as he is wise." Tiie case of Miriam was so often quoted and referred to by Esrom, as a parallel to her own case, that Rachel could not forget it altogether. Again and again she proved to herself, that she was not a Miriam, but in her sin and punishment : for she had never been as a sister to the elders she had spoken against ; nor had her timbrel ever led the song of the Red Sea, when the people ce- lebrated the Exodus. But still the parallel haunted her. It was a case in point, so far as their sin and sentence were alike : — and, miglit not their pardon be alike too ] This question, if it did not create hope, maintained prayer. And when Sheshbazzar identified her case with Miri- am's at once, her prayer, which had only risen upon the one wing of submissive desire, rose on the twin wings of meek solicitude and humble hope. " Shesiibazzar as well as Esrom," she said to herself, " takes the same view of my case." Whilst Rachel was rofiecting thus, Sheshbazzar dismissed the pilgrims of Beersheba. " I tarry in the wilderness," he said, "to lead on this lamb of the flock as she can bear : return ye to the fold in peace ; and sc'c that ye limit not the Holy One of Israel by interpreting her calamity, as Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar did the trials of Job. Leave it to them, to mistake providence ; and to Satan to impugn motives. Lot us who are aged, especially, judge ourselves, that we may not be judged : for if these things be done in t!ie green trfe,.,>v]i^af;,^hg.ll Ue^dp^.^nia^the dry tt:ee».if it ber, I come fruitless ?" The pilgrims departed in si- 1 lence ; but not in sympathy with their leader, or i with his lamb. They were afraid to speak ; but I they were not afraid to suspect the prudence of ; Sheshbazzar, or the sincerity of Rachel. He un- j derstood their looks ; but said nothing more. He j turned from them; and, "leaning on the top of his staff, worshipped," until they were out of sight. Whilst thus musing, the fire burned : then, spake he with his tongue. " I am too much humbled by the leprosy of the spirits of all flesh, to be shocked or surprised at bodily leprosy. Not that I think lightly of it. It is the strangest of all God's ' strange works ;' his rod of rods, and cup of trembling, when he visits our sins with stripes, and our iniquities with chastisements ; but lo, all these things worketh God, (and many such things are with him,) that " he may save souls alive." Some souls can only be saved from unhallowed curiosity and vain imaginations, by startling judg- ments which, like the sword of the Destroying Angel, so weaken their hearts in " one night," that they dare not turn again to foUy : and others require a flaming sword perpetually before their eyes, or a clearing cross upon tlieir shoulder, in order to keep them from folly ; because, hke Eve, they are least suspicious of themselves when most happy, and like Lucifer, most aspiring when brightest. The Son of the Morning speculated in heaven, and the Daughter of the Morning, in paradise ; and both fell. " Rachel, thou hast fallen too : but not like Lu- cifer, to rise no more ; but like Eve, to be raised up again. I meet thee in the wilderness ; but not hke Cain, fleeing from the presence of Jeho- vah ; but like Abel, worshipping before the Slieckinah. God will not despise the sacrifice of a broken spirit, in the desert ; and he will accept thy burnt offering, in the sanctuary. Mercy will yet rejoice over judgment, and over thee, with singing." " Sheshbazzar, I was the tempter," said Esrom ; " and first in tiie transgression. But for me, — Rachel had not fallen." " And, but for you Ra- chel had not been restored," said Sheshbazzar. It was "a dark saying :" neither Esrom nor Ra- chel understood it ; but neither could forget it. " Is there any thing before me," said Esrom, " which, without her, I could not go through.'" "Does this leprosy bear upon my betrothed, as well as upon myself?" said Rachel. "I will e.\- plain in the tent," said the old man. No. HI. VARIETIES, FROM MISTAKES. Whatever may be the faults or the defects of our character and spirit, there is not one of them so peculiar, but that some ancient proverb might be found to reprove it, or some e.vperimental ma.xim to condenm it. Indeed, if either exposures or reproofs could cure faults, the conscientious would soon be faultless : for, what sin, of heart or life, has not been found and declared, by many, to be " an evil and a bitter thing 1" Experience, as, ,\veU as Revelation, has planted a " flaming THE MARTHAS, 21 sword" upon the gate of all wrong habits and tempers ; and, although the sword of the former does not, like that of tue latter, " turn every way," nor turn at all in the hands of "Cherubim," it turns and flames too, enough to render us without excuse when we yield to temptation. For, who, of all the hosts of the peevish, the impatient, the irritable, or the rash, ever left a dying testimony in favor of their besetting sin ? Many a tomb- stone in the church-yards of our cities and vil- lages, records the domestic happiness and the pub- lic esteem, which the virtues and graces of Chris- tian character gained for their possessors; but not one tells of a vice that did no harm, nor of an imperfection that did any good. Gravestones often flatter the dead ; but they never say that a passionate or peevish woman was happy, in heart or at home, notwithstanding her ill temper. They never ascribe conjugal love nor maternal influ- ence, to fashionable follies, or to frivolous accom- plishments. Neither the toilette nor the piano, the pencil nor the harp, is ever engraven on the Urn, as the explanatory emblem of the character of the deceased ; except, indeed, she has been an actress ! But not only do proverbs and experience con- demn our faults : we ourselves condemn the same faults in others, whenever they aflect our own interest or convenience. Then we are quite sure, that one might be more courteous, and another more reasonable, and a third more amiable, and a fourth far less talkative, if they would only try ! Thus we see no difficuky to prevent them from being to us, all they ought to be ; and no excuse for them, when they otfend us. "Is it not very easy to be polite to one ? What good do they get to themselves, from their high airs, or from their snappish humors, or from their capricious conduct? I have no patience with such insolence, nor with such impertinencies." There it is ! We can chafe ourselves into a bad spirit, by chiding, even in thought, the faults and follies of otiiers. Let them only interfere with our comfort, or be somewhat more and greater than our own, and we can be lawgivers and judges against both. Even this is not the weakest nor the worst side of our hearts, in regard to our faults. We can condemn them in ourselves, and yet continue them. We can lament them, and yet allow them to go on. We can even give up excusing them, and yet expect others to forgive and forget them : or rather to overlook them entirely ; for we do not like the idea of he'mg forgii-en by any one but God. Would that this were all ! But it is not. We are quite capable, even after having found our besetting sin of habit or temper, a hinderance to prayer, and a dead weight on hope, to give way to it still. Who has not resolved, at a sacrament it embittered, or under a chastisement it had pro- voked, or at the breaking up of a backsliding it had brought on, that it should be cut off and cast away? But the casting away, has not followed the cutting off. The hand has held it, after the heart condemned it. It has got back to its old place again, either by some ligament which was left uncut, or under the promise that it would no bnn-cr betrav us. ...n->;i hf.,,- i,{. , . j Why is it, that neither the experience of ages, j even when its warnings become proverbs ; nor I our own experience, even when it is bitter, has \ power enough to correct what they thus condemn ? I Why are we so slow to do and become, all that I we feel we ought to do and be ? This is not ex- plained by saying, that nothing but the sanctifying I grace of the Holy Spirit can subdue our faults. j That is very true : but it was equally true years ! ago ; and yet, in some things, we are as faulty as I ever. Thus the Spirit does not touch tliera, when we let them alone : except, indeed, when he strikes at them by the sharp rods of providence, or frowns upon them by dark clouds of desertion ; and neither of these modes of communicating sancti- fying grace is "joyous, but grievous," however it may yield the peaceable fruits of righteousness afterwards. It is very easy to talk fine things about sancti- fying grace : but the sober truth is, that that grace is just Divine power giving effect to the gospel it- self^ or to providence along with the gospel, or to eternal things along witli both. The Spirit works by them all in turn, and by them all together ; but never without any of them. He may begin sanc- tification by affliction, whilst the gospel is not much known : or he may begin it by the gospel, whilst affliction is quite unknown : but he will not carry it on long in either way. He will lead out the afflicted to the Cross of Christ more fully ; or he will lay some cross upon the believing, when their faith itself becomes less purifying. This is the general rule of both the work and the witness of the Holy Spirit. Whilst his right hand is for ever glorifying Christ by the gospel, his left is often doing the same by the furnace. He thus sancti- fies by the truth, and by providence. There is, however, a way of carrying on sar.c- tification, without much affliction. There is a "needs be " for some, in the case of all Christians ; and, accordingly, all are chastised more or less. " For, what son is he" (or what daughter is she) "whom the Father chasteneth not?" Still, as the whole and sole object of chastisement is, the taking away of sin, or the promotion of holine.-s ; that object may be secured in some degree by other means. Indeed, God prefers other means to tlie rod, when they answer the purpose. Judg- ment is always his " strange work," even in sanc- tification. I mean, he does not " afflict willingly." Let any sin be really given up, or any neglected duty taken up, on the ground of any holy motive whatever, and he can dispense with the rod. Yea, he will be delighted to have, thus, no occasion to use it. Well; thecontemplation of" ETERNAL things" can supersede the necessity of temporal affliction, and especially of spiritual calamity, in many cases. Did you ever observe this fact in your Bible ? If not, you have a new and a noble lesson to learn. I say "noble," because if the sight of the words ETERNAL THINGS, suggcst to your mind only dis- mal, or dark, or even awful ideas, you have yet to study the subject. All eternal things are, indeed, I solemn : so are all the perfections of God; so are I all the glories of the Lamb : so are all the sweet j influences of the Holy Spirit : but their solemnity does not detract from their sweetness. It height- ens their beauty by hallowing it. And had you I contemplated eternity, as you have the Divine 22 THE MARTHAS. character, " in the fece of Jesus," the light of its Hon-, instead of intimidatinlvfs after tiie model of the Saviour's pureness. What this hopo does in sanctifying our character .^nd Ppirit, neither the furnace nor the rod will be i-mployed to do. The Holy Spirit will work with- out rhc fire of Providence, in changing us into the I'nagc of Clirisf, just in proportion as wo look with iMMi fjco to the Glory of Christ, for the e.vpross pur[)ose of imitating 'him. Yes ; let his glory ilianire us " from glory to glory," or from one l-avenly virtue on to another ; and whatever coii- I'lrmity to the divine image we gain by this puri- ttng process of holy contemplation will lessen the i.iTCHHity for severe purifying discipline. How do you like this plan of following holiness, liy looking to the character and coming of Christ, ■ * you t'o forward on your pilffrimage ? Will you .'licr take your chance of being jturitled by "the :rnar.? and the rod, than take iho trouble of puri- ivin? yoiir-*flf by a studied imitation of the Sa- •• ioiir ' Will you rather leave vour " dross" to be [.iirg.-d l,y ihf refining fire o'f providence, than plaro ,t tluiH. from day to dav, under the beat of the Sun ,.i Righteousness, and beneath the liHit of a hope full of immortality? True ; if m not easy to maintain such a good l.oiK. r, en through prace ! That is not, however, a valid excuse for not forming this habit of" look- ing untoJcBHH, for sanctification. For, we do InjH,, to be with him and l.kn him, at his cominjr. 1 V^r^M^ ^'' wif' ";!' ^"P*^ 'iltogether, for any 1' njrth of lime. We often forget it, but we cannot I fore — all the prophets of God liad foretold him — all the oracles of God had described him — all the covenants of God had guarantied him — all the providences of God had accredited him as the hope t)( the world ; and, to crown this attestation of his character and errand, all the armies of God sang at hi.s advent, " Peace on earth, and good- will towards men !" Thus the hope of eternal life is set before us in the person and sacrifice of liim, upon whom God has visibly .set all the seals and tokens of the cter- nal power and (Jodhead : and by the ministry and nuraries of men who could not be deceived, and of aiig(,-|H who could not mistake. Nor is the hnufii of hoping in Christ set before us less clearly or less impr.-ssively, than the fact that he is the "nly hope set before us. The concurrent testimo- ny of nil ages, w, that "hope in him makcth not ashameri." Tin character not rise at all in strength and beauty. This is no paradox, whatever it may seem at first sight. There is sure to be much depression, or but little diligence, wherever there is " no guile," and but little hope. And for this obvious reason. A gudcless mind deals so honestly with itself, that nothing can counterbalance its self-condemnation and fear, but a full apprehension of the sufficiency and freeness of the Saviour's grace ; and, there- fore, the very fidelity of the conscience must pa- ralyze the heart or the hands in the service of God, if the riches of that grace are not clearly seen to be equally adapted and designed to meet the case. Thus there cannot be good spirits with- out a good hope through grace, wherever the con- science is faithful or tender; nor will such a con- science purify the character much, whilst it derives no peace from the blood of the Lamb. It must be somewhat pacified by the Cross of Christ, before it can delight in copying the example of Christ. Consider this. It is not with yon now as it once was, nor as it still is with the self-righteous, that the abandonment of a wrong habit, or the com- mencement of a new duty, can create the hope of salvation. You know the way of salvation too well, to imagine that you can make your peace with God, by laying down sins, or by takmg up mere moral duties. You see and feel, indeed, the necessity of doing both ; but you see and feel equally, that you cannot be justified by the works of the law, whatever good they might do you in other respects. They are not the price of an in- terest in Christ, nor the direct way of finding an mterest in him ; and without that, you knovv' that ?h oroll ui.h nr "f"""f f- '''"'l^''" '" '-^^'-eafly they will be of no avail. Thus mere duty must thronged with proofs of tins. Even on earth, ever seem to vn„ nn„, „.oU.. i.i ..n ,L, „o„ ever seem to you now useless labor, until you can mfhfe roof 1^ /rr^ the work from love and gratitude to the Saviour. - To e .id oiMo . , l" 7"'^^'' f'^' "''"", ''^'' ^^^"' ^^^"^ y«" "^^^'^ ^^''1 ^vork, until vou venture ■' e vman wloh^ ff'':^^^, f ^.^^ to /,o/,e, "that by the grace of the Lord Jesus I e ry man ^^ ho h. th tins hope m Christ : Christ you shall be saved " Waiting for the com- i en as he is pure ? The heart- ing of this good hope, like working for it, will not purificth himself hliThl^S'e'nr^irrl""' °^ ^'^ '-jf-i bi^?i<^"'"^-ii^i;.:r"h;'hoiiup;;s.;^ d ],.,pc of just e.crnpmg hell m some way at set before you in the gospel." or live in susoense. THE MARTHAS. 25 and thus in indecision too ; for character will not settle nor rise, whilst hope is unsettled. I do not forget, in saying this, that there are some very lovely characters, who say that they have little or no hope. They have, however, more than they imagine. I do not mean that they say one thing and think another : but that they mean by hope, much more than hope itself means. Hence, in speaking of their own case they use language which, however familiar, misleads them- selves and others : " I cannot see my interest in Christ ; cannot see my title to the promises ; can- not see my election or my calling." Now it would not be altogether unfair nor unkind, to bring down upon such complaints the apostolic remonstrance, " What a man seeth, why doth he yet hope for "! But if we hope for what we see not, then do we with patience wait for it." This refers, indeed, not so much to our hoping in Christ for mercy and grace now, as to the things hoped for when the whole creation, in common with the church, " shall be delivered from the bondage of corrup- tion, into the glorious liberty of the sons of God." Rom. viii. 21 — 25. Still it is true, that hope, like faith, is not "sight," nor necessarily "assurance," and, therefore, it does not follow that an humble, devout, and exemplary woman has no hope, be- cause she says, " I cannot see my interest in Christ or the promises." In speaking thus, she is not thinking of what the gospel warrants her to hope for ; but either of what she wishes for, or what she once enjoyed. This is not a distinction without a difference. It is by far too common to confound hope with rapturous ccstacy, or witli perfect peace, or with spiritual and heavenly minded ness : and when those delicious feelings subside, to say, — that hope is lost. It would hardly bo more unwise to say, that reason is lost. Reason had as much connec- tion with these feelings, whilst they lasted, as hope : but, who suspects that reason is fled, when rapture or holy calm is gone ! Neither reason nor hope is intended to keep up high emotion for ever. Thus we ought to be very careful how we speak and think about the hope of salvation. It is, remember, a .sinner's hope, — a penitent's hope — a pilgrim's hope : and, therefore, it must not be expected nor desired in such a degree, as would banish all painful feelings. We are fully warranted, and quite welcome, to hope in Christ for present grace and future glory : but we are not warranted to expect such grace as would leave nothing in our nature to humble us ; nor such foretastes of heaven, as would render us in- sensible to trials or temj)tations on earth. We may be really happy, notwithstanding outward trials, and inward struggles ; but the perfect hap- piness of being without any of them, does not belong to time ; it is the bliss of eternity. I am not contradicting nor forgetting myself, by thus guarding you against hoping for too much. I repeat, with more confidence than ever, that you are not hoping enough in Christ, if you are unhappy in your mind, when you think of judg- ment or eternity. You have too little hope, if either your spirits sink, or your efforts relax, in following holiness. I must go still further, and sav, it is not exactly the sinner's hope, nor the 63 ( 14) penitent's hope, nor the pilgrim's hope, that you are thinking about, if you say that you can get but little hope from the gospel. What would you have, that the glorious gospel does not promise ? Depend upon it, you are seeking some unpromised form of the hope of salvation, or some dispropor- tionate degree of that good hope, if you find it al- most impossible to hope for your own salvation. It would be utterly impossible for you to despair or despond, if you wanted nothing but what is promised. Be not offended nor surprised, if I suspect you of wanting more. I do so, because I think favor- ably, upon the whole, of your motives and spirit, in attaching a very high meaning to Christian hope. This is far wiser than taking low views of it. You are, indeed, quite right in feeling quite sure, that there should be a very great difference between natural hope and spiritual hope. That kind of hope which you could keep up witliout much difficulty, whilst you were careless or for- mal, ought not to satisfy you, now that you know the evil of sin, and the infinite value of the soul and salvation. That "great salvation" deserves and requires a "good hope," in more senses than the goodness of either its practical influence or its humble spirit : it ought also to be grateful and joyful. Well ; it may be both, without being all that you mean by "a good iiope through grace." Let me explain myself freely on this point. We are very prone to fix the meaning of hope from our first taste of the joy of salvation. But this, however well meant, is unwise. It is unwarrant- ed. This is more than hope, in the relief which is usually obtained from the first sight of the glory and grace of the Saviour. The Holy Spirit often renders that discovery of the cross so cheering, or so charming, that the whole soul is absorbed and transported with it. We can think of nothing else. We can wish for nothing more. It is heaven on earth. We could take an eternity of it. " That holy calm within the brea.<:f, Seems the dear pledge of heavenly rest." But although this be hope, it is also mucli more than hope. It is that joy of salvation, by which God revives and wins the heart of the contrite ones. It is that manifestation of Himself, by which he proves to us that he "givetli grace to the humble." It is that " demonstration of the Spirit," which places beyond all doubt, both the reality and the blessedness of vital godliness. In a word ; it is the strong consolation of a dying saint, given to a sinking penitent, that she may know and never forget the worth of Clirist. Now we ought to be very thankful for this timely and complete discovery of the all-suffi- ciency of the atoning sacrifice. It is a fine secu- rity, for ever after, against false doctrine and su- perficial experience. It is not, however, a secu- rity against practical error. Accordingly, one of two errors is often fallen into, when this high state of enjoyment falls away. It does subside : and then, we either count nothing hope, which does not come up to it ; or we do no more in religion, than just enough to be somewhat in the way, or 26 THE MARTHAS. not exactly rmt of the way, of findino: it again, ^nd thus it is, that some sink into despondency, and otliers into heartless formality. One becomes gad, anl another inconsistent : and both from the same cause,— tiiev cannot hope as they «;nce did. The hope (as they call it) which first cheered the spirits of the one, and inspired the diligence of the other is gone : and because they cannot get »7 back, they both g"> back ; the one into the re- gion of doubts and fears, and the other into the region of declension. Now, which of these states are you inl Which ever it be, there is but one remedy. You must regard something else as the hope of salva- tion, tiian a return of the precise kind and degree of jov which vou first called hops. I do not say, that that joy 'will never revisit your spirit. I do not think (as Sheshbazzar would have said) that the candle of the Lord will never shine upon you again, as it did when it was first lighted. But I do both say and think, that it will not do so, whilst you are merely xcmlini:; for it. You must be humble enough to begin with the sinner's hope, and to go on with the pilgrim's hope, if you would be iiappy in your own mind again. And, why not ho thus humble and content 1 What right has any one to make terms with God, for faith or obe- dience? Just look at such conduct in two cases. What would you think of a woman who could say in words,— "I have not that comfort in religion, which I had at one time ; and, therefore, I have neither heart nor motive to be very devotional in my closet, or very exemplary in my family, or vc'ry liberal to the cause of God, or very much attached to the means of grace 7 I was all this, whilst my comfort lasted : but, as that is gone, it would be a kind of hypocrisij on my part now, were I to do all tliat I used to do, just as if no- thing had happened to discourage or disconcert inc. I know very well, that I am not doing right at present : but I know too, that I am quite wil- ling to return to my 'first love,' and to my 'first works' too, whenever God returns my first hopes to inc. He has only to shine and smile upon my Houl as in the days of old, in order to my becom- ing again all tliat I ican in the days of old. This, I am waiting for; and I hope it will come in course of time. Accordingly, I do not go alto- gether out of the way of meeting with it. I do not pray much in secret, certainly : but I still K'cep under a faithful ministry, and keep up my innncctions with the church and sacraments of C.'irist. This, indeed, is my chief reason for hop- mg at all : for if God do not meet with my soul again there, I am not likely to find him again at home. I have no heart to seek him at home now ; but, could I only get such another strong impulse from the sanctuary, as that which first sent me to my closet and my Bible, I make no fioubt but I should go on again as well as ever. And, is not tiiis new impulse likely to come! Surely, my soul will not be ' required' of me, whilst it is in this unprepared state, nor before God has healed my backsliding! If it should be re- quired of me 'this night' — or this year — wliat, V What would you say to a case like this ? Shesh- bazzar would have said at once, and that in his most solemn and lender manner, "Take the biii- ner's hope : for as a backsliding child, no line of the ' scarlet thread' of adoption will save you, like Rahab, now that the ark of the covenant is sound- ing its ram's horns around your walls." I say, in plainer terms, " ' The hope set before you in the gospel,' may well suffice you. It would ill become you to stand out or stipulate with God for your first joy. He deserves your ' first love,' and your ' first works' too, for the hope still before you in the gospel. And it is this, ' Whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.' This is hope enough to make any one happy, who believes it : yes, and holy too : for what could bind you to follow holiness, if the as- suring promise of salvation, from the lips of a God who cannot lie, do not ? " Do you dislike to liave your hope of salvation thus thrown upon the evenJual answer of earnest prayer? If so, you are not humble enough yet, to welcome salvation by grace alone. You will, however, be glad to do so, when you know your- self more intimately." Thus I should address such a woman, who was still " prefessing godli- ness," and yet unwilling to take up hope by prayer. Look now at another case. There is a woman, not worldly minded ; not exactly averse to devo- tion or diligence ; and not at all wishing for any assurance of hope or faith, which would be a pil- low to sloth or inconsistency. But she has lost all her hope ; as she calls her first enjoyment at the cross and the mercy-seat. She can neither glow nor melt, think nor feel, there, as she once did : and just because she cannot, she says, that she cannot see one ray of hope for herself. The fact is, she means by a ray of hope, a beam, if not a burst, of that joy which shone upon her soul, when she was first enabled to commit her soul into the hands of Christ : or she wants a degree of hope which would put down at once all the plagues of her heart ; and keep out all tempta- tion and vain thoughts ; and make all duty de- light, and all trials easy. She says, indeed, that she would be thankful for a single and the slightest ray of hope. But, tell her that God is sure to answer her cry for mercy ; and that, although a fi.xed day-star of hope does not cheer her. It is not that /o?-m of hope which cheered her formally. It does not warm or melt her heart at a glance, as her first believing views of the Lamb slain did. She is also too agitated, or too depressed, to grasp with her understanding, the sublime fact, that God's command, " Call on me," is God's com- mand to h,(ype in him. He means " hope," when he says, "Pray;" he means, "Pray," whenever he says, "hope." But the very simplicity of this way of setting hope before us, seems mystery, if not mockery, to a sad spirit, when sadness has been long indulged. " Would not God show some ' token for good' at once, (it is said) if he intended to be gracious ? But he sealeth up even the stars!" Yes; but just that the desponding may look at the sun. It is not breaking a " bruised reed," to say so. She will never hope, who does not see that the command to pray, is a sun " shin- ing ill its strength." How truly Paul says, " We are saved by hope !" THE MARTHAS 2T ALLEGORY. No. IH. Rachel's cure. When they arrived at the tent in the wilderness, Esrom spread the skin of the young lion, which had perished in the swellings of Jordan, for a couch to Sheshbazzar. The patriarch said, as he sat down upon it, " An old lion would not have rushed over the precipice after his prey, when the Jordan had overflowed all its banks. He would have couched when he heard the roar of the wa- ters ; or hunted in another direction, until they had subsided. Esrom ! you have often pursued your speculations into the swellings of a river, which, like the Jordan, discharges itself into the Dead Sea. It is of the Lord's mercies, that you were not swept by the wild waves of conjecture, into the dark Asphaltic of idolatry. You may well say with David, of the God of your fathers, — ' He sent from above, he took me — he drew me out of many waters.' But for this, ' the proud waves' of Philistia, Egypt, or Babylon, had '■come into thy soul :' for all their billows went over thee, and even their water-spouts had thee often under their wings. You despised idols ; but you wor- shipped the powers of nature, and all but consult- ed the powers of darkness. You would have di- vined with the cup of Pharaoh, or stipulated with the witch of Endor, for the secrets of the future; and for the secrets of the invisible, you would have questioned, alternately, the oracles of Baby- lon, the graves of the dead, or the stars of hea- ven." Such had been the character of Esrom, until the master-spirit of Sheshbazzar, and the meek spirit of Racliel, threw their joint spell over his prying curiosity. Even then, he bowed his head only, to Judaism. His understanding yielded to the arguments of the patriarch, and his heart to the influence of the virgin of Beersheba : but upon his spirit, the truth, not the gj-ace of Juda- ism, had all the power. It was the logic of the system, not the mercy of the dispensation, that affected him. Its external evidence was a hook in his jaws ; but its internal glory, as the only hope of a sinner, had no charms for him. The rays of that glory fell upon the scales of his self- righteousness, as the winds of heaven on the scales of Leviathan, and the bones of Behemoth, unfelt ; " one was so near to another, that no air could come between them." Job xli. He had bowed at the side of Sheshbazzar, amidst the thousands of Israel, when the high-priest went within the veil with the interceding atonement ; but, although the veil of the temple shook with the intensity of their emotion, Esrom's heart nei- ther beat with suspense before, nor burned with gratitude after, the answer of peace came from the mercy-seat. " The system must be true ; and therefore it ought to be respected," — was the whole amount of his worship. " Its miracles counterbalance its mysteries," — was his only rea- son for believing. The eyes of his understanding, like the eyelids of the morning, opened without fear ; and his hopes, like the wings of the morn- ing, expanded without effort ; whether he thought of life or death, time or eternity. He was too rich, to feel depend^nt on Providence ; and too proud to be a debtor to grace. He took for granted, that the Utile mercy he needed (for, how could it be much, after all his morals 1) must, as a matter of course, be quite sure. For, what had he ever done, that his soul should be in any dan- ger 1 He had, indeed, been rather free in his in- quiries : but then, truth was his object ! Thus Esrom reasoned; and thus he /eZ/ too. He had not borne " the yoke in his youth." Like Moab, he had " been at ease, from his youth ;" and thus, his conscience had never been confronted with the terrors of the law or eternity. Nothing had ever disturbed his self-complacency, until Rachel's penitence, on hearing the parable of the grapes of Gomorrah, compelled him to pause and ask him- self, — " If Rachel weep, can I be right, or altoge- ther safe 1 Her spirit is both purer and humbler than ray spirit : and yet she trembles before God ! Is this wisdom or weakness, on her part 1 Weak- ness ! Who ever saw Rachel iveak ? Her spirit has towered in strength and majesty, ever since its roots, like the cedars of Lebanon, ' dipped their feet in the oil' of the olive valley. Can I be safe — if she was in danger until ihen ?" This ques- tion went to his heart : and whilst it lodged there, Rachel was won, and Sheshbazzar conciliated, and Esrom himself somewhat humbled. Still, his "eye was not single." It caught occasional glimpses of the genius of Judaism, as the rehgion of a sinner, and as the shadow of good things to come ; but it never looked steadfastly to the sub- stance of the system, nor to the simphcity of his own motives. He became a great " doer of the law," just that he might be a less debtor to the covenant. He threw the whole weight of his in- fluence into the synagogue; but chiefly, that he might conciliate the elders to Rachel. He beau- tified the building, and placed new copies of the law upon the desk ; but not until he found out that Rachel was preparing splendid hangings, ot her own needle-work, for the tabernacle. He often led the choir, when the great Hosanna was sung, if Rachel was present : but when she was not there, his voice was sure to be out of time, owing (as he said) to his being out too early amongst his reapers, or too late amongst his sheep-folds, in a day of rain. Thus his eye was not single, even when his hand was most active and liberal. Rachel was the first to discover his mixed mo- tives, and not slow to arraign them. With "equal promptness and point, she asked him, when his mantle of "Jlax and tvool," would be ready to wear before the Lord in Zionl and, why he did not offer " swine's blood," as well as the firstlings of his flock, at the altar ? Her parable, as she applied it, told upon his conscience, as "The Grapes of Gomorrah" did upon her own. He was shocked by the discovery of his mixed motives ; and, from that time, began to pray, " Unite my heart to fear Thy name." The impiety of serving the Creator for the sake of the creature, unveil- ed to him all the ungodhness of his spirit ; and made him smite upon his breast, in all the bitter- ness of self-condemnation. Sheshbazzar had marked this revolution, and resolved to train Es- rom for the ELDERSHIP of Beersheba ; and as his own successor in the guidance of the pilgrimages to Jerusalem, For this he had often "wrestled 28 THE MARTHAS. until the break of day," with the angel of the co- vcnant. For thLs he had long watched and prayed dailv It was to this he referred, when he said to Esrom, in the wilderness, ^^ But for your sake Rachel would not have been restored." He repeated this in the tent ; and added, "The .Sliephcrd of Israel intends thee to feed his sheep and lambs, and tlierelbre he will spare the lielp, • meet for' thee. Thou art not fit to be trusted alone yet, with such a charge. Thou couldst not be calculated upon for prudence or fidelity, if thy betrothed were taken away at this time. It is not, therefore, for thy merit she is spared ; but in pity to thy weakness, and in consideration of the work thou art called unto. Give thy heart to that work, from henceforth; and thus render unneces- 8ar>- .-uch visitations as I incurred. God had to wri'tc me 'childl/'ss,' and tlien 'widower' belore I gave all my heart to Jiis glory. lie had to make • my soul forget prosperity,' before I would identi- fy iiiy interests with his cause, or seek my happi- ness 'in 'the good of his heritage.' " Then, turning to Rachel, who sat leaning her " Whilst he was 3'et speaking," Rachel was reco- vering. No. IV. VAKIETIF.S, FKOM INATTENTION. Too much importance cannot be attached to a right creed, except when it is put in the room of a holy character, or of an humble spirit. Then, however, there is something equally awful and ominous in orthodoxy. Not that a sound creed itself is a dangerous thing. Far from it ! Indeed, there can be no true holiness nor humility, with- out soundness in thu faith, upon all cardinal points. There may be virtues of character, which are in- tended for holiness : and virtues of temper, which are intended for humility : but, as both hoHness and humility have their chief reasons in the re- vealed character and will of God, the conduct and spirit (however good) which are not chiefly influ- enced by these reasons, are not those virtues. — head upon the ark of her covenant.s, the old rnan j g|^g ^^,]jq ^^^5 ^,0 further than the general princi- said, " R-ichel, I am not a prophet, nor the son of j pie_» j ought to be holy because God is holy ; a prophet ; but I have studied the past, and thus ] ^^^ humble because God is great," is certainly c^in pnticipate the future, in some of its certain j ^^jger than the woman who merely avoids vice and want.-?. It will always want Sarahs for its Abra- p^j^jg because they are vulgar : but still, the for- hams, Rachels for its Jacobs, and Deborahs for its | j^^j. -g almost as far from being " wise unto salva- LapidoHiB. Wiiilst Samuels arejvanted at ^he | ^jq^^.. ^g ^jjg ]atter. She assigns, indeed, a much ' " 1 than the latter for her conduct and spirit : for it is a scriptural reason. That, how- ever, is not enough, so long as it is her only rea- son. God has laid down other reasons than his own holiness, why we should be holy ; and other reasons than his own greatness, why we should be humble. He enforces these graces of charac- ter, by the purifying virtue and design of the blood of Christ, and by the sanctifying influences of the Holy Spirit, and" by the sublime perfection of hea- venly bliss. Now, although all these reasons may be resolved into the glorious holiness of God, as their original fountain, or moral cause, it is cer- tainly not as such, that she sees the matter, who is less influenced by the love of Christ, than by the law of duty. Angels only are able to be holy, "because God is holy." She is, therefore, both heedless and heartless in religion, who satisfies herself with this single motive. Alas, all the mo- tives and reasons furnished by all the wonders of redeeming love, produce but too little holiness, even in those who admire them most ; that morah- ty, therefore, which can subsist without them, must be very meagre indeed. It is, however, a very solemn and startling fact, that, in some things, the character and spirit of females, who act only from a strong sense of pro- priety, or upon a vague principle of duty, surpass those of some women who profess "godliness," upon evangelical principles. "This is a sore evil under the sun !" It proves that there is a way of beheving "in vain," or of "holding the truth" without the love of it : a state of mind and con- science, of all others the most ruinous ! For, if the glorious gospel is believed, without being obeyed, one of two things is certain : either that the person is verging towards a reprobate mind, or that she was never renewed at all in the spirit altar of the Lord, there must be Hannahs in Ra- j better mathaimzophim. Even whilst Samsons are need- ed in israfi, there must be Mothers in Israel, like the wife of Manoah : and all such wives and mo- tlicrsmust 'bear the yoke in their youth.' God ha.s laid his heaviest yoke on thy young neck; and thou has not been, 'as a bullock unaccustomed' to it, impatient, or ob.stinate. Ye can both say, 'our hearts are not turned back, though Thou, O God, hast sore broken us in the place of dragons, and covered us with tlie shadow of death.' Ve have both gone astray like lost sheep ; but ye both re- turned to the shepiierd of Israel, the moment he employed his guardian crook as a chastising rod; and now, it is over you as a pastoral crook again, and will soon guide you back in peace, to all the preen pastures and still waters of Zion. This le- prosy will give place to health in thy countenance ; and this lowness of spirit-s to the joy of salvation. But, my children ! let the dawn of this hope, as it b^l^lltens unto perfect day, bring all your respon- sihdilirf, as well as your prospects, distinctly be- fnre you. You are about to bo blessed again, that, like Abrnhnm and Sarah, ye may be 'a blessing,' in your iiouse and neighborhood. Know there- tore, and remember, that if ye dare to ' live unto yo'irselves' again, ' a worse thing will befall you.' " There was no occasion to prolong the conversa- tion. Rachel's leprosy was rapidly pas.sing away. 'I'he composure and tenderness of Sheshbazzar, h id created a crisis in her spirits, which led on hir health, as if Lot's angel had taken her by the hand, and wiiispered a message of peace from the ihroiif, in tones and terms of heavenly sympathy ; for Siieshbazzar do.'jed the evening "with prayer. And, what a prayer ! Never, since Jacob wrestled uitli the angel on Peniel, had such petitions been poured from the heart, or pressed into heaven. THE MARTHAS 29 of her mind. The latter is, indeed, the more like- i courage to avow and evince your faith ;) and to ly supposition ; for " a reprobate mind," or aban- ; courage, knowledge ; and to knowledge, temper- donment to judicial hardness of the heart, is a ance; and to temperance, patience; and to pa- curse but rarely incurred by " women professing I tience, godliness ; and to godliness, brotherly kind- godliness." Those of them who are very incon- \ ness ; and to brotherly kindness, charity. For if sistent, may be safely regarded as unconverted. — ; these things be in you and abound, they make you Still, it is a very awful thing, when a woman can ; that ye shall be neither barren nor unfruitful in give herself credit for being converted to God by j the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ: But the Holy Spirit, whilst all her religion consists in j (she) that lacketh these things is blind, and can- talking about religion. Unregeneracy is dread- ; not see afar off, and hatii forgotten that (she) was ful, even in a woman who is utterly ignorant of t purged from (her) old sins. Wherefore the ra- the great truths of the gospel of salvation : but it I ther give diligence to make your calling and elec- is absolutely horrible, when found in connection I tion sure ; for if ye do these things, ye shall never with the knowledge and acknowledgment of these j fall." supreme truths. The very devils tremble at what i Now whatever else you fear or feel on reading they beheve. The man or woman, therefore, ; this very solemn and heart-searching oracle, you who can believe all that is peculiar, inspiring, and [ are deeply conscious of, and concerned about one solemn in the gospel, and yet not obey that gos- thing; — that you may '■'■nexer fall.'" That has pel, is less affected by it than even Satan and his i fixed your eye, and affected your heart. You angels. They, indeed, hate it with perfect ha- | cannot bear the idea of falling away from God en- tred ; but still they stand in awe of it, and yield to tirely and finally. You may not be so fascinated it the homage of fear. How infatuated then must I by the prospect of " an abundant entrance into she be, whose religion begins and ends with hear- ! the everlasting kingdom of our Lord and Saviour ing and talking of " the truth as it is in Jesus !" j Jesus Christ," as for the sake of thai, to add " all That truth is intended to rule both the tongue and these things to your faith." You may even be so the temper; to subdue the love of the world, and heartless about heaven, as to care little how you the love of ease; to turn sloth into activity, and enter it, if you are only admitted at last: but you selfishness into cheerful benevolence ; and thus to make all whom it blesses, " a blessing" to others, to the full extent of their abdity. I want, by these hints, to make you as much afraid of not following the Lord fully, as you are of denying the Lord who bought you ; as much shocked at partial obedience and heartless devo- tion, as at open infidehty. Now, you would not i for worlds be sceptics nor scorners. Rather than i are not so lost to all right feeling, as to care no- thing about missing that kingdom, or falling short of it. Well ] make the most of this feeling, if it thus be the best and the strongest of your present religious emotions. It is a good feehng in itself; and, accordingly, the fear of falling away is ofren appealed to in the Scriptures. Rom. xi. 17, 22. You do, then, fear apostacy. You are neither so " high-minded," nor so earthly-minded, as not apostatise from the truth as it is in Jesus, or than ! to fear falling: nor so " double-minded" as to pre hold it in unrighteousness, you would do, give, and I tend to be fearless. Well; so far, you are not pray more than ever you have tried hitherto. — j "blind," even if you "lack" some of those things Yes ; were you quite sure, or even very suspi- cious, that the degree in which you are now fol- lowing God in duty and devotion, was no security against final apostacy, and no conclusive proof of saving piety, you would bestir yourself at once, and make a new effort to act up to your avowed principles. Are you, then, quite sure that you have gone further in the narrow way, than "those who draw j " calling and election are made Rure," and back unto perdition ?" Is it beyond all doubt that ] falling" certain which constitute the security against falling. You do not, however, " see afar off," (are not long- siglited — do not look without winking) if you ima- gine that you can safely continue to lack any of these things. Each of them is an essential fea- ture of that " Divine nature" or holiness, without which you cannot see the Lord. It is by having them all in you, so as to "abound" in them, that "■ ' never you are following the Lord far enough, to prove that you have been " drawn by the cords of Love," and "led by the Spirit!" 1 do not at all ques- tion your sincerity, nor the correctness of your principles, so far as you do follow the Lord. My inquiry is, are you fully persuaded in your own mind, that you are diligent enough to "make your calling and election sure .'" Does your own conscience bear you witness, that you are doing all those things, of which God saith, if ye do them, 'ye shall never fall !" Do read agfain the list of Are you beginning to tire of this process of rea- soning and remonstrance! It is not mine, re- member ! Alas, I feel it, like yourself, to be very strict, and even somewhat stern too. Ag?L\n and again I have been tempted to shut my eyes upon .some of the many things, thus inseparably linked together, and then laid altogether upon me, as ne- cessary to keep me fi-om falling. I have caught myself asking, " Cannot calling and election too be made sure, without adding so many things to faith!" Can I not "stand" at less expense of these essential things. 2 Peter i. 5 — 11. What ; i time, thought, and effort? Who gives all this is it enough for you, that you remember the out- j diligence, to make sure against falling ! Do all line of the passage I have tiius noted? Do, then, fall, who "lack" any of these things? Have I remember that clause of it, (changing the pro- not stood for years, although I have not abound- noun,) she "that lacketh these things is blind and ' ed much in some of these virtues? Do I jiot see cannot see afar off and hath forgotten that she j around me not a few, who are doing even less to was purged from her old sins." If you have any stand than myself, and yet not at all afraid of fall- pretensions to smcerity, you will read again, now, | ing, nor thought to be in any danger of it ?" the list itself; " Add to your faith virtue ; (that is, I Thus there are mom^nt-s of temptation, and 30 THE MARTHAS, moods of temper, when one could almost fly into a passion, as well as get impatient, with the strait meshes of Peter's net. These tossings and twist- ings are not made, indeed, in order to escape from the fisherman's net altogether. We do not want the hberty of those fislics which keep out of the gospel-net, nor of tliose "bad" ones which are sure to be "cast away," when it is drawn to the shores of eternity : but we are, alas, prone to take more liberty than God sanctions. How is this to be cured? It is a bad, yea, a dangerous disposition. Do not, however, make it u-or^e than it really is. I mean, — do not conclude that all Ls wrong in your heart, because all is not vet right. Look not so exclusively upon the things wliich you lack, as to overlook entirely the things which you love in religion. You have no objec- tion to do some of the things which are thus in- sisted upon, as securities against falhng. Nay, there is not one of them you would throw out of the list, or set aside altogether. Consider: you would not " add to your faith, vice ; nor to your virtue, ignorance ; nor to your knowledge, intem- perance ; nor to your temperance, impatience ; nor to your patience, ungodliness; not to your godliness, unsisterly harshness; nor to your kind- ness, uncharitableness." The very idea of this change revolts you ! You would not for worlds reverse the laws of holiness in this way. The ex- clamation, " Wiiat fellowship hath light with dark- ness, or (Jlirist with Belial?" rushes from your heart to your lips, the moment you glance at the glaring inconsistency. There it is ! I knew how the scale would turn, when you were fairly dealt with. It is not immo- ral freedom, that there is a craving for in your hf*r'.rt. You do not want a vice in the room of a virtue. Even the virtue you lack most, you do not exactly dislike. It is the trouble of c.uUicat- i'ltf ir, that is tlic ciiief hardship to you. If virtue would grow out of faith, or knowledge out of vir- tue, or patience out of temperance, or godliness out of patience, or charity out of godliness, with- out any effort or care on your part, you would have but little objection to any of them. You would oven be delighted to "abound" in them all, if they would only come and abide, of their own arrord. For, you see no beauty in impatience, no attraction in anger, no loveliness in caprice or peevishness, and no benefit in your besetting sin. Vou would be very glad, if all that is wrong in your temper and conduct would go away at once and for ever. Thus we begin to get at the secret, of our re- luctance to some duties, and of our failure in some graces : they require more diligence than we like lo bestow upon them. If the fruits of the spirit would only grow and ripen as easily as the weeds of nature spring up and prevail, we should bo quite pleased to bear a plentiful harvest of good fruit to the glory of (Jod: but, finding that they are nei- ther of spontaneous growth, nor of independent vitality: and that wo nmst ''sow unto the spirit," if wo would reap of the spirit, we yield to sloth, or invent excuses for barrenness. Here, then, is the point at which you must make a deliberate and solemn stand for your own safe- ty, by giving all diligence to add to your faith, that virtue of character, or that grace of temper, which you lack most. You know well what it is. You have found by experience that it does not come of itself. You feel that the absence of it, throws doubt and darkness upon both your calling and election. You see how its continued absence must continue your suspense, and embitter, if not utterly darken, your dying moments. Will you not then make a determined stand, in order to add that to your faith, the want of which, not only weakens your faith, but also keeps you in doubt of its sincerity ? O, leave it to the blind and the base to juggle on this matter, with the dice-box of presumtive election. You are not " siu-e" of your election of God, and never can be, whilst you make no resolute effort to crucify your besetting sin, or take no pains to acquire the fruits of the spirit, which you lack most. Do consider also, that it is really mucli easier to excel in the very thing you fail in most, than it is to repair, from Sabbath to Sabbath, the injury which that failure is for ever infhcting upon what is good about your character and spirit. Wliy ; one half of the time, thought, and prayer which you must give, in order to get over the doubts and distress created by your besetting sin, would put an end to that sin. You do not escape from care or la- bor, by leaving your chief fault to go on in its own way. The Sacrament comes round, and then you have to meet all the sad consequences of it there, or to pray them down by strong cries and tears in your closet. Affliction comes, and then you have to suffer under the painful consciousness that God is conttading with you on account of that sin. Darkness and depression come, and then you find that it is the lieaviest weight upon your spirits, and the eclipsing cloud upon your prospects. Thus you do any thing but save time or escape labor, by allowing your chief defect to prevail from year to year. The running account of its consequences must be settled, whenever the bills become heavy ; and then they are not easily met, as you well know, and have often felt. Another fact deserves your special attention; nothing vital or good in your principles or experi- ence will go wrong, by concentrating and confin- ing your care, for a time, to the acquirement of the one grace you lack most. No other fruit of the spirit will fall off from the branches of your profession, or cease to ripen, whilst you are giving all your diligence to add to them a fruit they have never borne yet. God will take care that the hope you derive from the cross, and the peace you obtain from the promises, and the help you get from ordinances, shall not stop nor diminish, whilst you are giving all your attention to set that right in your character, which you know to be wrong, and which he has often contended against. Nay ; he will add to his care of the general interests of your soul, whilst you are adding to your faith that Iruit, the want of which injures you, and dishonors hnn. Remember ; you were no loser, when you began to follow Christ, by the pains you took to remedy what was worst in your case then : and depend on it, you will lose nothing by taking the same course with what is worse now. No one ever went back in Christian experience or comfort, by a set effort to get forward in a neglected line of Christian character or temper. These considerations cannot fail to have much THE MARTHAS. 31 weight with you. They are too solemn to be tri- fled with, and too just to be disputed. No admis- sion of their truth, liowever, will answer any good purpose, unless they both reconcile and determine you to war and watch against your besetting sin. Nothing is gained by this heart-searching, yet, if your heart still rise against a diligent cultivation of that fruit of the Spirit, which you lack most. You may feel ashamed ; you may be very sorry ; you may even condemn yourself very bitterly for your past neglect, and earnestly wish that what is wrong would "take wings and flee away:" but all this will not mend the matter. You may try a thousand plans to get clear of it ; but it will cleave to you, until you are humble enough and honest enough, to take the Saviour's plan — "cu^ it ofi", and cast it from thee." No besetting sin, no dar- ling idol, was ever overthrown, until this rough handling was applied to it. " This kind goetJi not out, but by prayer and fasting." Do these remonstrances soem to you at all legal, or too rigid ! Would you be more pleased to be plied only with motives drawn from the love of Christ, and from the hope of salvation, and from the holy designs of free grace ! You and I too have great need to be very careful how we speak upon this subject. Neither cutting off, nor casting away, what is wrong, will be of any sav- ing benefit, if not influenced by these saving truths. Indeed, the crucifi.\ion of the lusts of the flesh, or of the mind, will not be willingly attempted nor long continued by any one, who is not glorying only in the cross of Christ. But then — if our glorying in the cross alone has not crucified us to the world in certain things, which we know to be wrong, how are we to get rid of them ] Are tliey to be left standing out against law and conscience, because they do not yield to love or hope 7 May a bad temper or habit safely remain unsanctified, because a good hope through grace has not con- quered it ? True ; nothing but more grace will ever conquer it effectually ; but, letting it alone in the meantime, is certainly not the way of obtain- ing more grace. God " giveth grace to the hum- ble," and she is not very humble, who will not employ fears as well as hopes, and threatenings as well as promises, in order to promote her santifi- cation. But do not take my opinion on this subject. Look again at Peter's argument. He gives the first place to the holy influence of the promises, upon the sanctification of believers. " Whereby are given unto us exceeding great and precious promises — that by these ye might be partakers of the Divine nature." Tiius the apostle had no idea of any real sanctification, apart from the sweet influence of the sweetest consolations. But then, he immediately says, " seside this, give all diligence to add to your faith, virtue," &lc. &c. Thus there are things to do, as well as promises to believe, in order to the acquirement of a holy character. He even warns as well as woos be- lievers to give all diligence. How finely this agrees with both the letter and the spirit of the Saviour's coimsels to his disciples. He warned them not only by the fear of falling, but also by the fear of hell-fire. Even in his great intercessory prayer for their sanctification, he did not say, " Sanctify them bv thv oromises ;" nor did he say, " Sanctify them by thy threaten- ings ;" but " by thy truth : thy word is truth." Thus all truth, consolatory and conservative, cheering and checking, belongs to the means of sanctification. Accordingly, the great promise of the Holy Spirit, as the Sanctifier, is, " he shall lead you into all truth." There is still another preservative against fall- ing, which I must bring under your notice, and which you must lay to heart, if you would not fall. It is just as necessary that you should " take mite you the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand," as that you should add to your faith, the virtues and graces we have been contemplat- ing. " For," as Sheshbazzar would have said, " fruit trees must be protected, as well as cultivat- ed. No wonder if a lower is wanted in a vine- yard, seeing a lodge is needed even in a ' garden of cucumbers.' " Now, however different our times and circum- stances may be from those of tlie first Christians, tliey are not so different as to cliange the charac- ter or the spirit of personal piety. Neither the work nor the warfare of Faith ended, when Faith iiad no longer to "stop the mouths of lions" in the amphitheatre, nor to " quench the violence of fire" at the stake, nor to hide from the edge of the sword in " dens and caves of the earth." Piety did not cease to have enemies in the world, when the lions of persecution died : nor to have intimi- dations, when the fires of martyrdom were extin- guished ; nor to have hinderances, when the ob- scurity of the wilderness was exchanged for the publicity of the city, and the fellowship of man- kind. That was, indeed, a great change of cir- cumstances, for which we cannot be too mindful and thankful. The lines have fallen unto us in pleasant places. We have " a goodly heritage," compared with that of the first followers of the Lamb. They had to follow him in "a howling wilderness," through fire and water. Compared to this, our lot is in a garden of Eden, where we can sit or vvallc with equal safety under our own vine and fig-tree ; none daring to make us afraid. But still, if there be nothing in our national Para- dise to hurt or destroy the body, there is much to peril the soul. There is both forbidden fruit and a tempting serpent in our Eden. And, alas, more disciples are drawn away from Christ now, by the pleasures and profits of the world, than seem to liave been driven away from him then by perse- cution. More "fall from their steadfastness" in this time of peace, than in that time of war. Why is this ] Many reasons could, no doubt, be assigned for the melancholy fact. The chief reason, however, is, tliat so many have either no deep fear of falling, or no adequate sense of what is necessary in order to enable them to stand. Thev do not exactly care but little whether they stand or fall. They are neither reckless, nor alto- gether heedless, of consequences. It is their wish, "to stand against the wiles of the devil," and to " withstand in the evil day" of trial and temptation. They even hope to do so. And they are so conscious of meaning well, that they almost think ill of any one who is afraid lest they faff. " Fall, indeed ! Why should they be suspected of treachery or unsteadiness .' Did they not give good evidence, at their outset in the ways of God, THE MARTHAS. 3-J . that thev were savingly converted ? Did not ex- penenced and judicious Christians assure them {hen. that a work ol grace was begun m their Boule, and would be carried on by the Holy bpint unto the day of complete redemption 1 And, have Uiey not kept their name and their place m the church, ever since, quite as well as the gene- rality ' Fall, ijideed ! Let hrni that tlunkelii he standeth better Uian they do, take heed lest he M." This is a wrong spirit certainly : and yet, 1 must confess, that the way in which some warn others against falling, is almost enough to provoke such a retort. There are monitors who seem as if they would not be much surprised, nor even very iorry, if we did fall away. There are re- provcrs who betray a mean suspicion of our sin- eerily, as well as a proper sense of our defects. There are also counsellors, who, although they do not utter warnings in a spirit of pique or suspicion, [ are yet too caustic, or utter nothing but warnings, i They caution others, as if grace were no great j Bccurity against falling, even w hilst it lasts ; and even as if it might be all lost at any moment. If Job's friends were "miserable comforters," ^uch {)crsons are miserable guides ; and almost as dangerous as those who prophesy only "smooth things." It i.", poriiaps, difficult to say, whether those whoproplif'f^y harsh things only, or those who prophesy smooth things only, are most dangerous. One thing is certain — they are both very unlike Christ, and both ignorant, alike, of the human heart. That, can neither be led on in holiness by fear only, nor kept from going back by hope only. Accordingly, those converts who are kept in per- petual dread of falling, obey without pleasure ; and tho^e who arc Uuglit that they cannot fall, disobey without much ceremony or compunction. How do you feel on this subject ? Whether do you take for granted that you shall not fall, or take measuieH to enable you to stand .' On what secu- rity against falling away, do you lay hold oftenest and lean most .' iVot, 1 hope ; — not, I pray ! — on the absiract theory of final perseverance. Fall- ing is begun, whenever a man or a woman, in- stead of persevering in prayer and watchfulness, presumes on safety without them. And when any one comes to argue his case thus, — " If I am decreed to be Ra\ed, I cannot be lost, whatever I neglect ;" instead of praying over his case thus, — " Hold thou iiie up, and 1 shall be safe ;" he is fallen far, both from the doctrines and spirit of grace. He lia.s then given up known Truth, for unknuwH Decrees. Yea, he has ceasears, strong desires ; but strong faith, I am a stranger to. I can say at any time, with the poor man in the gospels, " Lord, help thou mine unbelief:" but I cannot always preface this prayer as he did, by saying, " Lord, I believe." Indeed, I hardly know what to think of myself, when I examine whether I am in the faith. I can neither class myself with believers, nor with unbelievers. I have not the real peace of the former, nor the false peace of the latter. The state of my mind seems something helweeii both. Besides, I become fluttered, and confused, and in- timidated, whenever I go far into the question of saving faith." You are not singular in all this. Many feel ex- actly as you do on this point. Indeed, all Chris- tians, are, at times, more or less embarrassed on the subject of faith. In general, however, those who are most jealous and fearful of the genuine- ness of their own faith, have least occasion to be so. Perhaps this is the case with you ] I do not throw out this hint, that you may drop the ques- tion, nor that you may take for granted the reality of your own faith in Christ ; but that you may sit down with composure to examine " whether you be in the faith." Now the weakness of your faith may, perhaps, arise, in part, from your being somewhat afraid of strong faith. We are not always thinking of Abraham, when we think of the faith of assurance. They are not often very like him, in character or spirit, who say most about their assurance. In general, those who are most like him in humility and hohness, say least about their own faith ; and even the little they do say, is uttered in the spirit in which Abraham prayed, — " Let not the Lord be angry, and I will speak." Thus, between the " much speaking" of those who are least humble, and the almost silence of those who are most humble, we are in no small danger of becoming rather suspicious of the tendency of strong faith itself. Whilst we look at it, and judge of it, in Abraham or in Paul, or in the death-song of "such an one as Paul the aged," we feel no more doubt of its holy tendency, than of its happy influence. In the presence of such examples, we catch our- selves exclaiming, " O for a strong, a lasting faith, To credit what th' Almighty saith; To trust the merits of His Son, And call the joys of heaven my own." Not thus, however, do we judge or feel, when professors, remarkable for nothing but talking about their experience, speak of their assurance, and security, and cloudless hopes. Their strong faith seems very much akin to presumption. We cannot help feeling as if it were both better and safer, to be weak in faith, than to be strong in their way of believing. Besides, it is a very general persuasion amongst those whose piety is most ex- emplary, that the faith of assurance is sail, which very few have ballast enough to carry, or prudence to manage well. Now, I readily grant that these are facts which ought not to be overlooked, nor allowed to have l)\tt little weight on this subject. Caution is, in- deed, poculiariy becoming on such a point as sav- mg faith. Yea, it is necessary: for there are presumers in the church, as surely as there are sceptics in the world. But after honestly weigh- ing all these facts, I cannot forget that God and I the Lamb deserve strong faith. I frankly confess THE MARTHAS. 35 that I cannot answer the question, — Why should I have less faith in God than Abraham had 1 The God of Abraham is not changed in truth or love. What he promises in answer to prayer, under the gospel, is not less free or faithful than what he promised under tiie Abrahaniic covenant. God is not a man that he should lie ; nor the son of man, that he should repent. He proved this by fulfil- ling the great promise of that covenant. At the fulness of time, he sent forth his Son to redeem the world from the curse of the law, by becoming a curse for tliem. We ought not, therefore, to be very slow of heart in believing, that lie that spar- ed not his own Son, but "gave him up to the death for us all," will also, "with him, fi-eely give us ah things." This would, indeed, be believing a great deal : but still, not more than God has promised ; not more than God is able to perform ; not more than he has actually performed to millions and myriads, who were as guilty and unworthy as we can be. I must, therefore, press and ply you with the question. Do not God and the Lamb deserve strong faith from you 1 Can you assign any reason, why you should stagger at their promise, through un- belief, or fear, or suspicion 1 You certainly can- not assign nor conceive one reason for doubt, if God and the Lamb allow sinners to put as much faith in their promises now, as they allowed Abra- ham to put ; and that, they do both warrant and command ! God does not, indeed, speak so openly to us as he did to Abraham ; but he speaks as honestly, and even more explicitly. He does not call us by name, nor with an audible voice from heaven ; but he does better : he puts into our hands the written copy of the everlasting cove- nant, ratified by his own oath and the blood of his Son, pledging all the eternal honor of the God- head, that whosoever believeth in Christ shall not perish. Now, really this strong assurance from the lips of God, deserves strong faith. For, what could he say or do more, in order to warrant implicit and imperishable faith in his promises '.' We really ought to be ashamed, yea shocked, at the bare idea of placing but little faith in them, seeing they are so great, so precious, and so true. Why; if you cannot trust them, what could you trust? — What could be so satisfactory as the assurance, that "it is impossible for God to lie?" This fact, all history, all experience, all the universe rise up to attest and confirm. Neither voice nor vision from heaven, could amount to so much encourage- ment as this one fact. I must, therefore, repeat, that strong promises from the God of truth and love, deserve strong faith ; nor can we have any good reason for withholding it from them. I know quite well what you are now thinking about. You have been ready to say agam and again, whilst reading this essay, — " But how can j I be sure that the promises are meant for me] I They are the children's bread ; and I am not sure that I am a child of God. They belong to the penitent, the humble, the hungering and tliirsting | ai'ter righteousness ; and I am afraid to class my- j self amongst them. Besides, I find no difficulty in believing firmly the truth of the promises them- j selves, or their faithfulness in the case of others : ' my difficulty is, to believe them in my own case. It is there, that my faith staggers." Yes ; and well it may stagger, if you thus want to be sure of your calling and election, before you venture to believe the glad tidings of the gospel. You are, indeed, perfectly right in your opinion that, in general, the promises belong to specific characters, and are adapted and addressed to cer- tain spiritual states of mind. Of this fact, you ought never to lose sight. Whoever regards al the promises as made to mankind promiscuously, understands neither their excellency nor their de- sign. The greater part of them are, emphatically and exclusively, "the children's bread." There are, however, many of them (and these neither weak nor equivocal) the only and express object of which is, to multiply the children of God, or to win sinners to become the sons and daughters of the Lord Almighty. Yes ; one class of tlie great and precious promises are entirely occupied with the manifestation of that matchless love which God bestows, in order that we may be made his children. Nor is this all : the whole of them have it as much for their object to reconcile the world unto God, as to endear God to the church. Consider this fact, and remember it. It will clear your way, mightily and rapidly, to the point at which all the promises can be appropriated and enjoyed by yourself. What you have now to be- heve with a strong faith, is not your own election, adoption, or conversion. You cannot, and oughtnot, to believe these things firmly, untU you have more evidence of their truth, in your own experience. Strong faith on these points, can only be warrant- ed by the fruits of faith in your heart and hfe. But whilst this is true, it is equally true, that even now, and as you are, and however you feel, there are both great and precious promises which you are fully warranted to believe, with all the faith of as- surance. The promise, " Seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened," belongs as much to you, and deserves your entire faith, as the pro- mise, " I will never leave you nor forsake you," belongs to the dearest children of God. What more, therefore, would you have, in order to war- rant and welcome you to hope in Christ for your own salvation 1 God says, " You shall find," if you seek : " it shall be opened," if you knock. Unless, therefore, you want to find without seek- mg, or to be admitted into the household of faith without knoclcing, your way is as open as promises can make it. If this view of the matter do not remove yoiu- difficulty, you have, in some way, mistaken the nature of faith itself, as well as the character of strong faith. It may be, that one cause of the weakness of yoiir faith, is, that you tried at first, to believe more than was necessary at first ; and thus by grasping at every thing in the gospel at once, you got a firm hold upon nothing. I do not throw out this hint in the way of reproof at all ; but just to throw you back upon first principles, and in upon your own recollections. I know too well, (to wonder or blame,) how naturally your mind desired all the comforts and securities of the covenant of grace, when you first saw all your wants and dangers. You then wished to be sure of your election, sure of your adoption, sure of your pardon, sure of your acceptance, sure of THE MARTHAS. r^u- / \a nf vnnr narticioation of resemblance to those who are truly pious. Any ,.„^ - Chnst, '^[t^'l^^^l^^^'^^^^^^ we bear to " the excellent of the earth," ,he Spirit, and sure «' >^"'^^,^"='^,f^''jS^^^ helps us to liope that we are not alto-ether stran- You saw your need ot ^U thi^ and tliere o e ^ j i^ ^^_^.^^^ ^^^^^ ^^^^^^ ^^ excellent. L-our uaioH to poughi for all tliis, and trie d'to believe all tlie ! gcrs to the grace which made We see and deplore the sad difference tiiere is be- prom.es .n which th. host of sjn^^^^^^^^^ ^.^ ^^^^^^^^^^ ^^^ ^^^^^.^^^^^ ,^^, S: S You' w^re'tt'ablerbeCe t much discouraged as well as reproved by h, because we for yourself! Can vou wonder, now that you look' at the ease in this light? Do you not see, that the ivfant hand of faith cannot grasp so much at (jnce ! Is it not obvious, that by thus trying to lav hold on every thing, it can get no sure iiold u"pou any thing? Just suppose, for a moment, that, inste'ad oftliis, you had set yourself to believe nue point in the gospel, at first. Suppose that point had been the promise, that " whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be paved;" or the as:^urance, that "the blood of Je8us Christ cleanseth from all sin." Either of these great truths is quite sufficient to give any sinner a good hope through grace ; or at least, to create hope enough to keep him praying: and that (every Christian will tell you) is the best kind and degree of hope, eventually. Now, do you not see how your faith, if it iiad confined it- self at first to the willingness of God and the power of Christ to save you, might have soon be- come strong faith ? Consider: the willingness of God, and tiie ability of the Lamb, are not doubt- ful nor dark truths. If any thing be clear or sure, they are unquestionable and resplendent facts. Their strong evidence is calculated to produce strong faith. Tliey win the confidence they ask for, when they are duly weighed. Well ; this is the GOSPEL ! This is just what a sinner should believe, when seeking mercy through the blood of atonement. His language sjiould be, "God is willing, and Chri«t is able, to save even me." Why then should not you go back to this point, if. after all your efforts to get higher, you are still in doubt as to the reality of your faith? Why not try for a time what you can make of believing these two truths ? Until you have strong faith in theni, your faith in every other part of the gospel must remain very weak. What ! is it but weak here also ? Do you not believe thai God is willing to save you ! Do you really doubt the ability of Christ to dehver you from the wrath to cmne? If so — you must be very unhap|)y whenever you think of your own case. I would not, for worlds, doubt either truth. My heart would break, or my reason expire, if 1 Hunpccted that God was unwilling or Christ unable to save ii,(>. Hut, ;us they have not .said so, 1 do not suspect the w dlingness of the Father, nor the power of the Son. Why should I suspect either, when iicilh<-r forbid me to hope? Nothing short of a. prnhibilioii to hope, could warrant despair: and as there are express commands, as well a.s be- seeching invitations to hope in Christ, despair and despondency umsl be as criminal as they are unwise. No. VI. VABIKTIKS KROM MODESTY. It is both gratifying and encouraging to be able to trace in our own character and spirit, any real grant can hardly see how we can ever come up to their standard : but still, we cling to the fond hope, that we have something of their spirit, or a spark of the same grace. We cherish this hope the more freely, because our conscience bears us witness, that we really desire to be more like the Chris- tians we admire most, and would be very glad to get over that in which we chiefly differ from them. Another thing very encouraging, is, that we can trace some resemblance between their early experience and our own. Few things, perhaps, please or surprise us more than the discovery, that some of the loveliest and most liappy Chris- tians had to struggle hard, at first, with many of the same doubts, fears, and temptations which now harass us. This, we did not expect to find in the experience of the very holy and happy. We imagined that, from the first, their conversion must have been so complete, as to place them above all such conflicts between the flesh and the spirit. We took for granted, that they had never found it difficult to believe, or to hope, or to pray. This difficulty we thought peculiar to ourselves. And, as to treachery of heart, weakness of pur- pose, changeableness of feeling, and floods of vain and unholy thoughts, we were almost sure that no real Christian had ever felt as we did. We heard, of course, our pious friends speak of their having had to go through deep and dark waters, and to sustain some heavy burdens : but we did not allow ourselves to suspect that unbelief, or the preva- lence of a wrong spirit, or the pressure of temp- tation, entered into their trials. We thought that they could only mean, the trial of their faith and patience, by afflictions or losses : not by the plagues of the heart, or by the treachery of the conscience. It was, therefore, no small help to us, when we found out that "no strange thing had befallen" us, in having to struggle so much against fight- ings without and fears within. We were not, of course, glad that others had hearts as bad as our own, nor that grace met with much opposition in all hearts : but we were glad to know the fact it- soif. It proved to us, that our case was neither desperate nor singular: and thus prevented us from giving up all hope and effort, as useless in our own case. It showed us, that the day of small things ought not to be despised ; seeing it had often been followed by years of great things in the experience, character, and career of many. We have then been somewhat encouraged by discovering, that the beginnings of our piety, had parallels m the early experience of the best. Did it ever occur to you, whilst marking this with pleasure, that just in proportion as you arc of " one spirit" with the saints on eaith, you are of " one spirit" with the saints in heaven also ? If you have never followed out this sweet thought for your own encouragement, it is well worth your while to do so now. The fact is fraught and fra- wilh strong consolation, to all who are THE MARTHAS. 37 anxious to be sure that they have been " made to drink into one spirit" with the children of God on earth : for, if the persuasion that you had done Ihis would cheer you, how much more cheering to discover that your best principles and desires are in harmony with the leading principles of the whole family in heaven ? You are quite sure that their views and feelings and desires are right. You see at a glance, that they cannot err nor mistake. And, do you not see also, that so far as your spirit resembles theirs, even you are right too ? Consider this. The great principles which prevail ui heaven are not natural on earth; do not spring up by accident in the human mind ; nor can they be learnt, so as to be loved, by hu- man means. Whoever loves them, has been taught by the Spirit of God. You have as cer- tainly been illuminated and led by him, if you try to thhik and feel and act towards the Saviour as the saints in glory do, as these saints have been perfected by the Holy Spirit. Yes ; the same hand that completed their sanctification, has be- gun your sanctification, if you are trying to enter into the spirit of heavenly principles. Do not say, on reading tliis, that neither your principles nor feelings will bear to be tried by a heaxenly standard. It is not so true as it is plau- sible, that, if some ear/Zi/y standards of piety make you ashamed and even afraid of yourself, compa- rison with perfect spirits must overwhelm your hopes altogether. This is plausible, but it is not true. In some things, indeed, it is only too true, that you bear none of the image, and breathe none of the spirit of the family in heaven ; and ui nothing are you very like them. There is some pride even in your deepest humility : some sloth in your most cheerful obedience : and much weak- ness in your strongest faith and love. I neither | forget nor palliate this, in you or myself. We l may well hide our heads in the dust, when we compare ourselves with holy men and women of old, even v/hen they were not perfect ; a-.d, now i that they are holy as God is holy, or " without ! spot before the throne," we may well shrink, and | that not a little, from all comparison with them. } Indeed, as to the degree of their holiness, there is no comparison between us and them : it is all contrast or dissimilarity. You see clearly, that I am not about to flatter or compliment you. As, however, I must tell you plainly that, if you "have not the spirit of Christ, you are none of his," I feel equally bound to re- mind you, that whatever you have of it, is really a part of heavenly piety, and as truly likeness to the saints above, as it is to the saints below. Now, I remind you of this fact, because whatever agreement you may be able to trace out between your own spirit and their spirit, will be more easily traced up to the Holy Spu-it, than even the points in which your experience resembles that of Chris- tians on earth. For, do you not see, that if you think at all, feel at all, desire at all, as saints and angels do in heaven, there must have been some heavenly influence slied upon your heart, and some divine change passed upon your spirit ! For as neither saints nor angels have taught you their creed or their emotions, and as you did not begin your piety by trying to copy their example, all real participation in their great principles must have sprung from divine teaching. This conclusion is not so easily drawn, and can- not be so safely drawn, from your resemblance to your pious friends on earth. I do not say that it is unsafe to draw it from likeness to them. I have already shown, that it is both useful and encour- aging to do so at first. It is not, however, the surest ground to go on : for as we do not know the lieart of any man or woman fully, we cannot be absolutely certain that hkeness to them is con- version to God. In the case of glorified spirits, however, there is no room for any hesitation. We are absolutely sure of their sincerity, simphcity, and perfection : and therefore, if we have any real fellow-feehng with them, we have real evi- dence of having passed from death to life. Is there then any thing in your humility akin to their humility 1 They veil their faces before God : they fall down before the throne : and even when they stand around the throne of God and the Lamb, they smg of nothing but the wonders of the grace which brought them to glory. Now this, all this, you intend to do when you join their company. Like them you will be glad to have eternity aU before you, and the throne all open to you, in order to express, for ever, your adoring wonder and gratitude, that one so unworthy as yourself should have been put among the children and made meet for the inheritance of the saints in light. Well ; is there any thing of this spirit in your humility now? Does your conscience bear you witness, that you lie low before God in the dust of self-abasement ; that you are ashamed, and pained, and burdened, on account of your sins and short comings; that you can hardly bear to think of your own vileness and weakness, nor see how you can ever forgive yourself; that you feel at times as if your heart would break, and your soul melt within you, through heavmess and shame, because of your guilt and ingratitude ? This is the humility, in an earthly form, of the saints in heaven. They, indeed, no longer weep. nor groan, nor sigh, nor blush, in the presence of God. His hand has wiped away all tears from their eyes, and his smile banished all pain from their hearts : but this wonderful love has only deepened their humihty. The very absence of all sorrow and sighing, leads their spotless spirits to pour out the fulness of their gratitude, with as much modesty as rapture. Their most breathless pauses of wonder and joy occur, when they re- member what they were on earth ! Thus they are all as fully " clothed with humility," as with the white robes of righteousness and holiness. Now, although the degree of their huniility is, of course, inimitable on earth, the kind of it is not so. To be ashamed and bowed down in spirit by the remembrance of sin, is real humility in hea- ven and on earth. And, are not you so ! O, yes, if a sense of guOt and unworthines^ lie heavy j on your heart, you have drunk into the same spi- rit, which leads all the armies of the redeemed to I prostrate their crowns, and to fall on their faces, before the eternal throne. And tliis is not less true, if you are chiefly pained and ashamed, be- cause your penitence is not so humble as you feel it ought to be. Your humility would not be ge- nuine, if you were quite satisfied with its depth. 38 THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT. sin, and of righteousness, and of judgment ;" and the Spirit put this promise in writing, as openly and willingly as Christ put it into words ; thus undertaking to be the illuminator of the world as fully as Christ was the Saviour of the world. And not less wHlingly did he remind the apostles of the promise, that " He shall abide for ever" in the church. He sanctioned and sealed that pledge too, although he foresaw all the labor it would in- volve, and all the provocation he would have to endure. His majesty took no offence at the weakness or the unworthiness of the myriads he had to teach ; nor his piu-ity, at the vileness of those he had to sanctify ; nor his patience, at the waywardness of those he had to guide ; nor his mdependence, at the poverty of those he had to console. In a word, like the Saviour, the Spi- rit came, " not to be ministered unto, but to mi- nister." The epistles of the New Testament form an- other illustration and proof of the love of the Spi- rit. In them, he as faithfully taught the v«-iters " all things," as in the gospels he had brought "all things" to their "remembrance." In the latter he led them back to " all truth ;" and in the former led them "into all truth." My limits will not allow me to trace, through- out the epistles, the fukiess nor the frequency with which he expanded and explained " tlie truth as it is in Jesus." And it is not necessary to do so. You can see at a glance, that whUst he ad- hered to the very letter of all that Christ taught and did, he also brought out the spirit of the whole, in new forms of argument and appeal, of power and glory, which set aU the Saviour's " apples of gold, in pictures of silver." The experimental design of this little treatise requires now, that the office of tlie Spirit as a remembrancer, be traced in the well known fact, that he still suggests and applies the things of Christ unto the mind. " He shall take of mine," said the Saviour, " and show it unto you." This he did to the apostles ; and the gospels were the first fruits, and the epistles the full harvest of his revealing love. He did not, however, cease to suggest nor to apply the truth, when he closed the canon of Scripture. No ; he closed the canon, to open the heart to understand and enjoy it. Accordingly, every Christian recollects well, many timely and useful suggestions of both promises and warnings, which, if they had not been brought to his remembrance by the Spirit, he must have sunk under trials or fallen before strong tempta- tions. How true it is, that "when the enemy Cometh in as a flood, the Spirit of the Lord lifts up a standard against him !" That repelling and protecting standard is never a new truth, ui the sense of revelation ; but, in the sense of applica- tion, it is, although brought from the old armory, as new to the mind, as if it were created at the moment. For then, we see m some promise what we never saw before. It suits and soothes us, just as if it had been made for no other purpose or person. It takes a place in, and exercises a power over, the mind, which could hardly be greater, were it a direct communication from hea- ven, or an entirely new gift from the Spirit. I do not wonder, whoever else does, that such timely and tender applications of suitable promises, have been mistaken for revelations. This was a mis- take : but it is no mistake, to regard that applica- tion as the direct and immediate work of the Spi- rit. There is new loork, although only the old word. I have not a little sympathy even with the more questionable experience, which speaks of — '■'■get- ting a promise" — lighting upon a promise — hav- ing a promise wonderfully borne in upon the mind." When the promise itself, and not the manner of obtaining it, is the source of comfort, I see no harm nor weakness in ascribing to the Spirit, the timing of its application. Getting hold of a pro- mise at a critical moment, is no small blessing. In the case of those who have but little know- ledge, or weak faculties, it is a very great bless- ing. Yes ; and even those who are mightiest in the Scriptures, and strongest in mind, are glad at times to plead before God, like David, " the word in season," upon which God had " caused them to hope," in the day of former calamity or dark- ness. I am fully aware that the Spirit has often been dishonored by having ascribed to him, visionary and crude applications of insulated passages of Scripture. He apphes nothing but the meaning or the sense of the word ; and that, only in its holy design. He whispers no sweet promise in the ear of the disobedient or the backsliding, ex- cept to remind them, that they dare not appro- priate it to themselves. He has nothing to do with the comforts which those get from "dark sayings," who refuse to take comfort from the plain glad tidings of the gospel. It is an evil spi- rit, not the Holy Spirit, who leads into fanciful interpretations of Jewish history or ceremony, which the apostles have not spiritualized. In like manner, it may be laid down as a univer- sal maxim in the teaching of the Spirit, that he never stops at one lesson. Whenever, therefore, any person takes up with one promise, suddenly or signally brought home to him, and then rests his hope of pardon upon that promise, to the ne- glect of all other truth, it is quite certain that the Spu-it of truth did not apply the comfort : for he leads into all truth, whoever he leads. This, in- deed, he does gradually in almost all cases ; but in no case does he begin the lesson which does not go on, or which is not followed up by others. But whilst I readily allow and proclaim, that tliey are all duping, and thus ruining their souls, who are satisfied with having had a promise brought home to them at one time, whilst ever since they have paid no attention to the Scriptures, and but little to personal rehgion, I must contend for the experimental fact, that the Spirit docs, from time to time, open and apply the Scriptures to the emergencies of the divine light, and according to the wants of the prayerful. A standing proof of this occurs in the sanctuary from Sabbath to Sabbath. It is always the case, that experimen- tal sermons seem to some of the audience, actu- ally made for them ; and as much to the point, as if "the man of God" had heard their family con- versation in their secret prayers, in the morning. He, of course, Imcw nothing of either ; but the Spirit, who led them to desire and pray for a word in season, led liim to the word they wanted. There are only two things farther, which my THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT. 39 fepace will allow me to hint at. The first is, that t would be a sad abuse of the love of the Spirit, to depend on his suggestions, to the neglect of searching the Scriptures, and treasuring up the word of Christ in our hearts. Those who neglect this duty, will not find the Spirit to be their re- membrancer for comfort, in the day of trouble. He wUl not supersede the use of the Bible by suggesting any thing, but warnings, to them who do not use it ; for he is tlie Spirit of truth, not of impulse ; and only " the Spirit of wisdom," to those who honor him as " the Spirit of revela- tion." The other hint is, (and it might be expanded to a volume,) that we should find it almost as useful to go over the New Testament, looking for the mind of the Spirit, as the apostles found it to lis- ten to the Spirit, when they wrote from his dicta- tion. How differently the words of Christ sound- ed to them, when the Holy Gliost repeated and explained the truth as it is in Jesus ! How often they must have said, whilst hearing the Spirit, " Hoio foolish and igimraiU was I, when I first heard these wonderful things from the lips of Christ !" Why should you not go over your Testament again, marking, from page to page, the new light and lovehness, which you now see, in parts that once made no impression upon you ? Why not number and review every part, which you have found experimentally true and sweet ? Do mark in the margin of your closet or family Bible, every passage which the Spirit has ever shone upon. You wUl thus increase your own evidences of hav- ing been led by the Spuit ; and confirm your con- fidence in his teacloing; and meet his love to yourself by more ardent love to him than you have yet cultivated. And all this, he would soon and amply repay, by witnessing to and sealing his own work on your soul. No. XII. THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT AS A COMFORTER. When the Saviour promised to send the Spirit as a comforter, he called him, " another Comforter ;" not a different one to what he himself had been. It is by overlooking this fact, or by not consider- ing wliat kind of a comforter tlie Saviour liimself was whilst in the world, that so many of the seri- ous and the suffering are uncomfortable. They look for more, or for another kind of comfort, than was promised ; and, not finding it, they are thsap- pointed, and thus tempted to reckon the consola- tions of the Spirit "few or small." This is a sad mistake ! The Spirit is always, in the case of all believers, just such a comforter as Christ liim- self was, when he comforted his disciples. Look at this fact. What kind of a comforter was the Saviour to his friends, whilst he remained with them on earth "? Not a " miserable" com- forter, certainly : but still, as cautious as he was kind ; as prudent as he was tender, he comforted his disciples, just as he taught them : — as they could bear it, and not always as they wished for It. Accordingly, when they would have called TO Clti) down " fire from heaven," to punish their enemies, he not only refused their wish, but also reproved tlieir spirit thus, " Ye know not what manner of spirit ye are of." Luke Lx. 55. In like manner, when they gave way to an ambitious spirit, and strove which of them should be greatest in his kingdom, Jesus rebuked them both by words and significant actions. All this, and much more, he did and said, whenever they fell into wrong tem- pers or habits. But, was he not their comforter, notwithstanding all the reproofs and warnings he thus gave them ft-om time to time! They them- selves felt that he was so, in the best sense : a comforter, who neither spoiled them by indul- gence, nor disappointed tliem by caprice. Peter, no doubt, felt very uncomfortable at first, when Christ said to him, " Get thee behind me, Satan, for thou savorest not the tilings which be of God ;" and equally so, when told that he would deny his Lord. The mother of Zebedee's children, and her two sons also, tiiought it any thing but com- forting them, when Jesus refused to maternal so- j licitude, the right and left hand seats in his king- dom. Martha, too, found him any tiling but the kind of comforter she wished and expected, when she was absorbed, beyond all reason and neces- sity, with worldly tilings. But still, none of these chastised children, thought his consolations few or small upon the whole. Accordingly, " sorrow filled" all their hearts, when Jesus began to ex- plain to them his approaching return to heaven. The sad prospect of losing his endeared company even for a time, soon revealed to them, what a comforter he had always been ! Now it was whilst they thus remembered, and appreciated, and felt, both the kind and tjie de- gree of the comfort they had enjoyed for years, that he promised the Spirit as " another comfort- er," or just such another friend as he himself had been ; a very present help in all real trouble : a very gentle reprover of all imaginary fears ; and a very faithful monitor against whatever was sinful in conduct or temper. You thus see, that they could not mistake his meaning. It must have been as obvious to them, from their own experi- ence of his comforts, as his promise of " Peace" was to them, when he quaUfied the words, " Peace I leave with you," by the additional clause, " My peace give I unto you ; let not your heart be trou- bled, neither let it be afraid." This timely appeal to his own peace, was intended to prevent all vi- sionary dreams of earthly ease. The disciples knew well what his peace had been ! Not peace arising from the absence of trials or temptations ; but peace under them, and notwithstanding them all. And equally well did they know what kind of a comforter the Saviour had been : and thus they were prepared to look only for similar com- fort, when the Spirit was given. You now see at a glance, that Peter would not expect the Holy Ghost to comfort him, when he gave way to his fiery and rash temper ; nor Mar- tha, when she cumbered herself miduly with bus- tle ; nor James and John, if they became ambi- tious again ; nor any of them expect the cheer- ing and sealing comforts of the Spirit, apart from walking in the Spirit. In a word, they would all lay their accoimt, with finding the Holy Spirit of God just Buch a comforter, as they had found, by 40 THE MARTHAS. is not true of all your fellow-Christians on earth. Some of them need both sympathy and help, iii order to be faithful unto death ; and all of them deserve aflectionate notice, in order to be useful in life. And, what am I — or who are you — tliat we should care nothing about our brethren ? If those we stand aloof from have faults, — so have ■we : and if God were to treat us for our offences against himself, as we treat them for their offences against us, how should we like it — what would he the consequence 1 Besides ; are there none in yom- neighborhood, very low in life — very straitened in circumstances — very much exposed to temptation, just because of heavy trials ; but who really have " the root of the matter" in them, notwithstanding all these things ? And, are you ashamed or afraid to notice and own them, as Christians? True; they may not do much credit to Christianity, whilst they hardly know how to " make the ends meet" in life. But if you look down on them — if you withhold from them all countenance and counsel, — if they may sink or swim for any thing you care, — who risks the credit of Christianity most ? Do, ask yourself often, how you could meet in heaven, without shame, some whom, notwithstand- ing all their faults, you expect and wish to meet there 1 True ; they will not upbraid you when they meet you before the throne. The neglected will not say — You used to pass me even at the sacrament, without condescending to speak or look to me. Those who « came out of great tri- bulation," will not say, — " I was sick, and ye visit- ed me not ; hungry, and ye gave me no meat ; thirsty, and ye gave me no drink ; naked, and ye clothed me not." This will never be repeated, after Christ has said it from the Judgment-seat : but, should it even be pardoned by him in your case, how could you ever forgive yourself, when you see the poor of the flock at his right hand ? Why, their very silence and cordiality will then be more humiliating to you (although not at all intended to be so) than the most cutting reproofs. Sympathy witii poor and afflicted Christians is, remember, as much a leading as it is a lovely fea- ture of heavenly character. It is the very bright- est feature of tlie social character of the angels of God. We know more about their sympathy with tlie penitent, the suffering, and the dying, than of their nature or their history. I have sometimes come, in thought, to " the innumerable company of angels," saying to myself, without any difficul- ty, until I saw them in the vision of John, " Are they not all ministering spirits to the heirs of sal- vation?" Whilst I thought of them only as a whole, I was not much humbled by their ministry. But when I began to observe them, one by one, in the glass of the Apocalypse, I have been compelled to exclaim, — What, all minister- ing spirits to the heirs of salvation? That angel — " having the Seal of the living God ?" Yes ; he has it to seal his servants on earth. What, those four angels " having the four winds of the earth?" Yes; "that the winds should not blow to hurt" the trees in the garden of God ! But that angel, " clothed with a cloud, and a rainbow around his head, and his face as it were the sun," is he too a ministering spirit to men? Yes; and well pleased to hold in his hand "a little book!" But that angel, " having the key of the bottomless pit, and . a great chain in his hand," is he too a ministering spirit to man? Yes; he shall bijid Satan, and shut him up for a thousand years, that he may " not deceive the nations." Truly, they are all ministering spirits .' Yes ; and any of them would have gloried to carry La- zarus to heaven. All of them rejoiced when yait repented : and is there any heir of salvation, you are ashamed to own, or unvi'illing to aid ? Woman ! " know thyself ;" thy duty ; thy destiny. No. VII. VARIETIES, FROM FRETFULNESS. Any one can expose or reprove that feverish and fretful care, which is always foreboding the worst, or embittering hfe by complaints, and suspicions, and clamor. It is peculiar to the Saviour, to treat undue care with equal tenderness and fidelity. He makes the fretful and the foreboding feel, that he knows thoroughly "what is in them," and yet that he feels for them. Whilst he measures and weighs their unbehef so minutely, that we lay our account with Jiearing him say, "They have no faith at all in Providence," to our surprise, he only says to them, " O, ye of little faith." Thus, just when he seems about to disown th'.m entirely, for their distrust of Providence, he lays his hand upon them as gently as upon sinking Peter, asking, " Wherefore didst thou doubt?" Did you ever mark the inimitable skill with which the Saviour met the over-anxiety of his first disciples, when they began to dwell too much, and too peevishly, upon the questions, "What shall we eat, and what shall we drink, and where- withal shall we be clothed ?" For a moment he almost identified their "cark, ing care" about hfe and the means of life, with the clamorous solicitude of the heathen, for tem- poral things : " after all these tilings do the Gen- tiles seek :" but he did not leave them to suspect, from this reproof, that they stood in no nearer re- lation to God, than the lieathen. No ; lie imme- diately added, " Your Heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things." Matt. vi. 'S2. Thus, in the same breath, he rebuked their WTong spirit, and yet upheld their adoption. " This is not the manner of man, O Lord God !" Did you ever observe, that he never calls upon us to compare our lot with that of those who are above us, or with that of those who are below us, upon the ladder of providence ? Except in the single case of persecution or reproach for his own name's sake, he does not even remind us of the greater trials of some others. " So persecuted they the prophets which were before you," is the only instance in which he teaches patience or contentment, by comparisons. This is another remarkable peculiarity in the ministry of the Sa- viour. He taught providence from nature, not from society. He made the lilies of the fields, or the birds of the air, his texts, in preference to all the facts which the varieties of life furnished, THE MARTHAS. 41 whether his object was to reprove or to soothe, ] the fears of his disciples. There was consummate wisdom in this, whe- j ther you see it or not. It would do you good, to « consider the lilies of the field and the birds of the air," when you feel the burden of your cares overwhehning. This may seem very unhkely at first sight, to you. Like myself, you may be ready to say, — my cares are too heavy to be alleviated by such considerations : it seems almost mockery, or mere sentimentahty, to send me ta learn of birds or UUes. What could the growth of flowers, or the preservation of birds, teach me ? What light could such common things throw upon my uncommon anxieties ? In tliis flippant way, and in this wrong spirit, are we inclined to meet the Saviour's advice : for there is no sense in such objections. They are mere sound. Accordingly, we should be con- demned out of our own lips, were he to press us with the single question, — What benefit do you derive from brooding over your cares ? You think and say, that you could derive neither hght nor good from considering the things I commend to your notice. You cannot, however, say that the consideration of them would do you any harm: whereas I know, and you must acknowledge, that the views you take of your cares rather aggravate than alleviate them. You contrast your lot with those above you ; and that mortifies you ; you compare it with those below you : and that dis- courao-es you, because you are thus compelled to see how you may sink still lower in the world. Thus when you look ;//) the ladder of life, you are dissatisfied ; and when you look down it, you are ready to despair. Now, to say the least, feehngs of this kind would not be produced by considering how the lilies grow, and how the birds are pro- vided for ! I readily grant, that such httle things do not appear capable of teaching much wisdom : but still, what they do teach gives no offence : which is, you know, more than can be said with truth, of some of the graver lessons you get, occa- sionally, /ro?;j certain persons. Besides there is a great deal of pride in our re- luctance to be " shut up" to an exclusive depend- ence upon God, and to a complete deference to his will. For, why should we be less dependent than irrational things 1 We are not so pure as the lily, nor so innocent as the bird. We can, indeed, do more for ourselves, and we can think much ; but if both our doing and thinking have for their real object, to try how far we can take our affairs out of the hands of God, into our own hands, we need not wonder that God should cross us at times, and always leave us to feel that we cannot remove nor lighten our burdens by impa- tience. You do not believe, perhaps, that you want to take your affairs out of the hands of God, into your own hands. There may be only two or three things in your lot, which you wish to alter : and as there are many good things in the lot of others, which you are content to be without, you think it rather unfair to be charged with pride or perverseness, merely because you want to have your own way in a few points. Besides, you may even be con?cious that one great reason, why you are so dissatisfied with some thi.'.gs, is, because 65 (15) they distract your mind, and thus prevent you from serving God so well as you wish to do. It is, therefore, you think, both ungenerous and unjust, to be suspected of, much more to be charged with, any such impious design as that of wanting to be independent of Providence. You never dreamt of such a thing — did you ? Do not answer this question, until you have considered another peculiarity in the Saviour's les- sons on providence. He does not teach confi- dence in, nor resignation to Providence, either as abstract duties, or for their own sake, as Christian irtues ; but chiefly for the sake of keeping up the spirit and habit of prayer, and a proper regard to the eternal welfare of the soul. Now the fact is, we really pray no more, either for spiritual or temporal blessings, than just to the extent of our sense of entire dependence on God. Our word& may go beyond this ; but our praying stops where our sense of dependence on the divine good-will and power ends. There may be some worship and some devotion in what we say to God, when we no longer feel utterly helpless, nor absolutely at his disposal ; but there is no prayer. Nothing is prayer, but that asking, or seeking, which pro- ceeds from a full conviction, that God alone can help or uphold us. Now we are unable to bear this deep sense of utter helplessness, in regard to every thing we need for hfe and godliness. Our spirit would sink entirely, if it always felt all its needs, as it feels some of them. Our Heavenly Father does not forget this. " He knoweth our frame, and remem- bereth that we are but dust." He teacheth us dependence, as well as other things, only as we are " able to bear" the discovery. Accordingly, it is only at a few points in the circle of our wants, or of our weaknesses, that we are com- pelled to cry out, " Lord save, or I perish." It is only now and then that the fiill truth of the ora- cle, " vain is the help of man," is forced deeply home upon us. We are not left, however, to for- get this oracle, nor to give up that prayer. God will have us — by some means — sensible of our absolute dependence on his will. Now, what if the hardship, the cross, or the burden, which you and I so want to get rid of, and which we bear so ill, be the very best thing, indeed the only tiling, that could keep us at the feet of God? Remember; we must be kept there by something. It is also but too true, that those things in our lot which please us most, do not send us oftenest mto our closets, even for thanksgiving — to say nothing of supplication for their continuance. Might not, therefore, the re- moval of the cross which we fret under, remove us from the closet altogether ! Now this is just the secret of our case. That one thing in our lot, which we are so anxious to get rid of, is the very thing which makes us feel that we cannot control providence, nor do with- out help from God. Were, therefore, that " cup to pass away," this feeling would pass away with it. It is all fallacy or fancy, to reckon otherwise. We may mean well, but we judge ill, when we take for wranted that we should serve God bet- ter, if our chief an.\iety were taken away. I do 42 THE MARTHAS. not, of course, intend by this remark, to convey the idea, tliat no other cross could keep us aware of, or awake to, our entire dependence on God. He could make any cross or crook in our lot, an- swer the same purpose. But, why should he change the rod which check us ; or, why whould we wish it changed for another 1 Another must be sent in its place ; and must be heavy enough to produce in us, as in Paul, the settled conviction that God is Master. THE END. THE LOVE OP THE SPIRIT; TRACED IN HIS WORK A COMPANION TO THE '^ EXPERIMENTAL GUIDES." BY ROBERT PHILIP, OF MABERLT CHAPEI.. " Why do those who speak much of the love of God and of Christ, say so little about the love of the SPIRIT r'—Z^r. Henderson. " He comes to us with the love, and upon the condescension, of all the blessed TRINITY."- /)r. Owen. NEW-YORK : THOMAS GEORGE, JR. SPRUCE STREET. 1 8 3 G . INTRODUCTION It is a singular fact, that we liave no treatise on the Love of the Spirit. The British pulpit and press have covered tiiemselves with glory, by their exhibitions of the wonders of Redeeming Love, as these characterise the good will of the Father, and the mediatorial work of Christ ; and by un- rivalled demonstrations of the personality and agency of the Holy Spirit : but no writer, that I know ot (and I have searched diligently,) has traced the wonders of the Spirit's love, in Re- demption. OwxN has certainly done much to en- dear the Spirit to believers, in his brief treatise on "Fellowship with the Holy Ghost," at the close of his masterly work on " Communion with God." The Spirit is, however, the gift of God and Christ to the world, as well as to the church. His mission embraces ' both the world and the church, just as the love of God and the death of Christ embrace them. John xvi. 8. According- ly, quite as much is said in Scripture, to commend him to the confidence of both, as to demonstrate their absolute and universal need of his holy in- fluences. But how many overlook this fact ! In general, the unconverted and the undecided, turn their need of the Spirit, into apologies for delay. They think of his grace as power, rather than as love ; and thus imagine that they may safely wait for it. Many of the penitent also, although pene- trated with a sense of their need of the Spirit, are yet very doubtful whether he will work all that in them, which they feel to be necessary for them. — They are afraid to calculate upon tlie exercise of his power, in their own case. And not a few. even of those who can hardly doubt, that he will carry on the good work he has begun in them, are evidently more influenced in their hopes, by his power, and faithfulness, than by his delight in his work, or his love to the subjects of it. They are not so much at home, — when they speak of the love of the Spirit to their souls, as when they speak of the love of God or of the Lamb. They dwell with solicitude and solemnity, upon their need of the grace of the Spirit ; but not with rap- ture, or complacency, on the richness, freeness, and gloiy of his grace. They do not exactly question its fulness, its freeness, or its tenderness ; but neither do they rejoice in them, as in the ten- der love of the Father, or the intense love of the Son. The Father's promise of the Spirit, or the Son's gift of the Spirit, rather than the grace or the glory of the Spirit himsfif, is most relied on, and rejoiced in by believers in general. They ra- ther plead the promises of his help, than lean di- rectly upon his own good will and great power for help. Their confidence and complacency are thus less in himself, than in the covenant which pledges his influences ; although his place in that covenant was his own choice from eternity, and has been his chief deliglit ever since he entered upon its duties, and will be the " rest" of his love until the end of time ! I have seen and felt so much of this, and found so little to counteract it, in our theology, that I was compelled, for my own sake, to trace out, step by step, the love of the Spirit in the work of the Spirit. How far I have succeeded in restoring this old truth to its original place, it is not for me to say. My object was gained when it took its proper place in my own mind and ministry ; and, therefore, my conversational essays on the sub- ject, are addressed, not at all to theologians, as such, but entirely to private Christians ; and thus they have no critical or theological pretensions whatever. Indeed, they are merely experimental hints, brought home to the bosom and business of those who, like myself, cannot forget, that unless we have "the Spirit of Christ, we are none of his." We thus require to see the love of the Spi- rit, in order to see how we can obtain and retain the Spirit himself, as proof of our personal inter- est in Christ. Tlie hold we need upon the power and grace of the Comforter, we can only get, by getting hold of his love ; for until we see how he loves our souls, we cannot see how he can abide with them, either as a consoler or as a sanctifier. It has, therefore, been my sole aim to engage the attention and wm the confidence of all who apply to themselves the question, " Have ye re- ceived the Holy Ghost since ye believed ?" I have tried to seat myself at their side, and to en- ter into their difficulties, and to whisper in their ear; that thus they may judge for themselves, whilst interchanging experience with a "brother and companion," in the spiritual tribulation arising from the fear of "not having the Spirit." And if I have ever been enabled to help the perplexed or the doubting, I would fain hope that this Com- panion to my Experimental Guides, will increase that help, as wefl as confirm it. Newington Geeen, 1836. THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT. No. I. THE LOVE OF THE TRINITY COMPARED. It is by comparing the revealed perfections and works of the Father, Son, and Spirit, that wg ar- rive at the sublime conclusion, that these three are one ; the same in substance ; equal in power and glory. The mystery of this fact is not at all increased, nor is the sublimity lessened at all, by the circumstance, tliat less is said concerning the divinity of the Spirit, than concerning that of the Father and the Son. Tiliis can only surprise those who forget or overlook the fact, that the Saviour expressly guarded his disciples against expecting much information from the Spirit concerning the nature of the Spirit. " When he is come, he shall not speak of himself." John xvi. 13. " He shall testify of Me." John xv. 26. " He shall glorify Me." John xvi. 14. After these assurances from the lips of Christ, it is unreasonable to expect so many declarations of the divinity of the Spirit of God, as of the divinity of the Son of God. Be- sides, it is not the number of texts, which proves a point of this kind, but their explicitness. One explicit declaration of the Godhead of the Spirit, b just as conclusive as a thousand, when Scrip- ture is concerned. It is not, indeed, so satisfactory to the eye, nor so imposing to the ear in contro- versy, as a host of passages ; but as all the validity and value of a host of proofe depends on their in- dividual truth, one ought to be as decisive as any number ; for if we cannot depend on the truth of one, many cannot give us certainty. I readily grant that, in a matter of such infinite importance as the divinity of any bemg, who claims our supreme homage and confidence, we have a right to know his title before we yield to his claims. Although, therefore, I have maintained the sufficiency and satisfactoriness of even one text of revelation on this subject, I quite feel that it is natural, and not unreasonable, to expect, that such a truth as the Godhead of the holy Spirit, would be frequently introduced in Scripture. And it is so. His personality and divine agency are not only imphed in all the revealed accounts of creation, providence, and redemption, but are also often (some hundred times) and unequivocally ex- pressed. In fact, as much is revealed concerning his divinity, as concerning the divinity of Christ, although less is said. This is not a distinction without a difFerence, nor without a cause. Repeating a truth is not adding to its sum or certainty, however it may en- hance its importance to us. The divinity of Christ is true, not because it is often repeated ; but it is often repeated because the first mention of it was true ; and because it is a truth of supreme im- portance ; and because, in his case, human ap- pearance had to be counterbalanced and counter- acted by divine declarations. He took upon him " the form of a servant, and was made in the hke- ness of man ;" and, therefore, according to the depth of that humiliation, had to be the height of the proof of his equality with God ; and according to the number of his privations and woes, had to be the number of distinct attestations to his origi- nal riches and glory. But in the case of the holy Spirit, his advent involved nothing which veiled his glory, or contrasted with his godhead, or seem- ed to contradict his claims ; and, therefore, as no counterbalance was wanted, none was given. — Enough was said to declare him to be the eternal Spirit : and, in order to prove the supreme im- portance of this truth, his divine agency runs through the whole fabric of divine truth, and is so interwoven with the entire Scriptures, that it can- not be separated from them without tearing them to pieces. I would not have touched this subject at all, had I not felt it necessary to justify my attempt at a comparison between the love of the Father, Son, and Spirit, in redemption ; for it is quite unneces- sary to multiply books upon the divinity of the Holy Spirit. " What can the man do who cometh after (Owen) the king," except to simplify or condense 1 My simpler object is, to compare the love of the Trinity, just as others have compared the natural perfections of the Father, Son, and Spirit ; in order that their equably in love may be as familiar as the unity of their essence. And there is need of this argument : for, although no Trinitarian would hesitate for a moment to say, that the Spirit as well as the Father, "is love;" nor to add, that the persons of the Godhead must be as much one in heart as in glory ; yet, no wri- ter, that I know of, dwells with complacency, or appeals with triumph, or argues with power, on theloveof the Spirit. Christ does so. The apos- tles do so. And Owen evidently saw and felt the capabilities and claims of the subject. In general, however, theologians do not. They content them- selves with taking it for granted ; and thus leave the fact in an abstract or indefinite form, which neither touches the heart, nor tells upon the cha- racter of plain Christians. Indeed, many of the serious " suffer loss," through this inadvertency. They are somewhat afraid of the Spirit. I mean, they do not see that his heart is as warm, and his hand as willing, to do his work in redemption, as the heart and hand of the Father and the Son were to do their part. They have thus less confi- dence in the Spirit, and less love to him, than to- wards God and the Lamb. They do not, however, (5) THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT. give less attention to him. Happily that is pre- vented ; our theology, both from tlie pulpit and the press, being rich, beyond comparison, in glorious exhibitions of the necessity, the fulness, and the freeness of the grace of the Holy Spirit. Both the lesser and the greater stars of evangelism are all culminating in the grand scriptural point, that the influences of the Spirit are just as/ree as they are necessasy, and as accessible as they are indis- pensable. This is as it should be. And nothing is wanted in order to complete this " demonstra- tion of the Spirit," but to enshrine and crown it with the wonders of liis love. That, I am quite miequal even to attempt : because my own mind can only deal with an individual mind, and not with a general subject, in religion. I never could theologize nor generalize at all, apart from trying to carry a practical or experimental point, with a supposed person, to whom I write, just what I should say in conversation. I am, however, on this occasion, more than usually reconciled to this weakness or defect of my own mind ; because my conversational hints upon the love of the Spirit, will in no wise forestall the subject ; but may, perhaps, create a taste for it in the circle of my "guides" and "closet library;" and thus help, at least, to call forth some " Master of Is- rael," to complete our theology, on the doctrine of "The Comforter." Why does not the author of " The Official Glory of the Son of God," bring out that of the Spirit ? Having thus stated how the subject stands at present, I proceed in my own way. Did you ever notice the emphatic brevity of apostolic language, when divine love is the subject ] " God is love," says John. " The love of Christ passeth know- ledge," says Paul. With the same sublime brevi- ty, Paul says, " I beseech you by the love of the Spirit." Thus in all the three instances, we are evidently thrown upon a fact, which words cannot express, and which needs no epithets to commend it. Accordingly, it is always illustrated by otjier facts, and not by descriptive words. Thus, when John says, " God is love," he immediately adds, — " In this was the love of God manifest towards us, because God sent liis only-begotten Son into the world, that we might live through him. Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us, and sent his Son to be tlie propitiation for our sins." 1 .John iii.8. Here facts are every thing, and pliraseology is nothing but the bare statement of them. Thus also Paul writes, when illustrating the love of Christ, "He loved me, and gave him- self for me." Gal. ii. 20. " He loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood," says John, to the seven churches in Asia. Rev. i. 5. Even in heaven, the language of eternit}', either does not supply descriptive words to saints or an- gels, or they prefer ficts, in celebrating the love of Clu-ist ; for there are no epithets in the new song: "Thou art worthy; for thou wast slain, and hast redeemed us to God by thy blood." Rev. V. 9. Now exactly in this way, or by facts, and not by descriptions, is the love of the Spirit illustrated iri Scripture. When Paul pleaded with the Ro- mans by " the love of the Spirit," he had just be- fore reminded them, that " the Spirit helpeth our infirmities, and rnaketh intercession for us" in prayer , that the Spirit " led" the children of God, " dwelt in" them, and " witnessed" with their spirit to their adoption. Rora. viii. In like man- ner, when the Saviour commended the Spirit to the confidence of the church, as " another Com- forter," it was not by eulogizing or explaining his love, but by stating what he would do when he came : the Comforter shall lead you into all truth ; shall bring all things to your remembrance ; shall abide with you for ever. Thus, it is not from words, but from his toorks, that the love of the Spirit should be estimated, when it is brought into comparison with the love of the Father, or the love of the Son : nor is it any valid objection against the equality of their love to the world and the church, that there is no suffering, nor any humiliation, in the whole history of the Spirit's love. This is equally true of the Father's love. That too involved no suffering nor privation : but no one doubts, on this account, the reality, the greatness, or the strength of the love of God. No one suspects it of being at all less than the love of Christ, because Paul does not say of it, as of Christ's, that it " passeth knowledge." The absence, therefore, of.^his epithet in his ap- peal to the love of the Spirit, impHes no inferiority in that love. In a word, its measure is to be found in what the Spirit does, just as the measure of the Father's love is to be found in what he gave, and the measure of the Son's love, in what he en- dured. Let us then contemplate the love of the Father. It is amazing ! But for it, there would have been no Redeemer, no Sanctifier; and, therefore, no salvation on earth, just as there is none in hell. The love of God is, therefore, the real and original fountain from which all the streams of mercy and grace flow to us, in a river of the water of life. That river could flow, however, only upon chan- nels of " everlasting righteousness," or in full con- sistency with law and justice ; and nothing but the atonement of Christ could be such an honor- able medium. Divine love could become re- deeming love, only by a sacrifice which magnified the law, and glorified the divine character. The love of God is not, therefore, irrespective of the work of Christ. It both required and provided an atonement, to legitimate and charter the reign of grace in the divine government. And all this the death of Christ did. Law and justice were not, however, all that had to be satisfied and glorified in the highest, before divine love could become redeeming love, honora- bly and consistently. Holiness, also, had to be satisfied, and magnified, and glorified in the high- est ; and that could only be done by making the redeemed holy, or the pardoned perfect. Here there was room — occasion — necessity, for the love of the Spirit. The saved had to be sanctified on earth, and perfected for heaven : and what but love — infinite love — could have led the Holy Spirit to undertake the sanctification of the Church, which Christ purchased with his own blood? This he did undertake; and he will so consummate its perfection, that divine Holiness shall be as much satisfied and glorified with the eventual purity of the redeemed, as justice is with their escape, or law with their acquittal. If, therefore, the love of God passeth knowledge, m THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT. pitying our misery as sinners, and in bringing all his sympathies to bear honorably and effectually upon our salvation, is not the love of the Spirit, in pitying both our weakess and depravity, and in bringing all his grace and strength to bear upon our nieetness for heaven, love that passeth know- ledge in its warmth and wonders ! Where is the difference, between the love which ^is sinners for heaven, and the love which opened heaven, by the blood of the Lamb 1 Both are infinite ! Let us now contemplate the love of Christ. If the comparison fail at all, it will fail here. It shall not succeed, however, by any forcing or stra- tagem on my part. It will fail unnecessarily, however, if you determine to think only of the sufferings of Christ; for as there was no penal tests of the love of the Spirit, there can, of course, be no comparison on this point. Christ stands alone, in all the glory of suffering and dying love ! The Father's love endured nothing penal or pain- ful, for the world or the church. That it would, however, have done so, had any paternal suffer- j ing been either proper or necessary, we can hard- j ly doubt. Well ; why not judge in this way of the I love of the Spirit also ? There was no more oc- i casion for him to suffer at all, in proof of his love, than for the Father to do so in proof of his love. Doing any thmg unnecessary, is not a demonstra- tion of love. Doing what is ivanted most is the demonstration of that ; and nothing of suffering was wanted, in order to atone, when the sacri- fice of Christ was finished. His love left no room in Gethsemane, or on Calvary, for the love of I the Father or of the Spirit to redeem by price ; ! because he left no drop in the cup of wrath, shrunk from no stroke of the sword of justice, and refused no demand of the law. So far, therefore, the love of the Father, and the love of the Spirit, stand in the same light and relation to redemption by price. You are prepared to go a step farther towards a comparison, now that you see how the facts stand. The real question is now, — what was wanted, after Christ finished his atoning work? There was his sacrifice — perfect, all sufficient, and glorious ! Nothing could be added to its merits, or its effica- cy, or its acceptableness, before God, as a ransom for souls. But still, around that sacrifice, when it was " finished," stood a world, yea, a church, which knew neither its merits nor its meaning ; and which never could have understood them, had not the Spirit explained them ; and never would have employed them, had he not applied them. Thus, although tlie fountain for sin and unclean- ness was opened by the death of Christ, tliere were none to wash their robes in the blood of the Lamb, until tlie love of the Spirit enlightened and led them. But for his love, therefore, the love of Christ would have remained unappreciated and unknown, both to the world and the church. But for what the Spirit did, all that Christ endured would have had no saving effect upon man on earth, although its instantaneous effect in heaven, was the confirmation of all the angels in their holiness, and the ratification of all the salnis in their hap- piness, and the complacent " rest of God" in his love. O, surely, if God is love because he so loved the world as to give his Son to be the pro- pitiation for our sins, the Spirit must be love also, ee (V:,) in the same sense, and to the same degree ; see- ing he gave all the light which revealed that "un- speakable gift," and all the will and power by which any and every sinner applies to the Saviour. The Son is thus as much the free and unspeaka- ble gift of the Spirit to individuals, as he was the gift of God to the world. It is desirable on this subject, that our thoughts and feelings should run occasionally in the same channel, and at the same rate they do, Avhen we realize to ourselves vividly what must have been the condition of the world, had no Christ un- dertaken its cause. In that case, the world would either have been another hell, or the gate of " the place prepared for the devil and his angels ;" conscience would have had no peace, and hope no anchor ; hfe no charms, and death no antidote : for man could not have been even what heathen man is, either in condition or character, had there not been a mediator between God and man from the very moment of the fall. No ; even the hea- then are not a specimen of what the world would have been " without Christ :" for, bad and abo- minable as idolatry is, it has some moral laws, and proclaims some hopes, however vague or fallacious ; whereas, there would have been nothing but " a fearful looking for of judgment and fiery indigna- tion" every where on earth, as every where in hell, had not Christ interfered on our behalf. This fact, in common with many others, renders the love of Christ unspeakable. Well ; just ask yourself, what would the world have been without the work of the Holy Spirit ? I will not allow myself to answer this question, by supposing the worst. Say, if you will, that we should have gone all the length in morals and hope, which they reach who resist the Spirit. It certainly would have been something, to have even a form of godliness, and a ceremonial of worship, and a theory of Christianity. These, without the Spirit, are useful. Christianity, however nominal, exalts the character of nations ; and however corrupted, is still the most powerful check upon immorality. But what is civilization or morality, were they even universal, whilst the heart is un- changed, and heaven not desired, and God not loved, and the Saviour not prized ? All this — would have been the case, every where and all along, had not the Spirit loved the world, and sanctified the church ! These hints do not, I am aware, call up a horrid scene before the imagination : it is, however, an appalling scene to a sober mind. Only think! — had all churches in all ages been churches only in name; all ministers mere functionaries tor hire; all Christians mere formalists ; then, all hope would have been delusion : all faith presumption ; all death damnation ! This has not been the case. But why ? No church would ever have become spiritual, by its own power or choice. No man could have become wise unto salvation, by unaided ef- forts, however arduous. No sufferer could have extracted solid comfort from the promises, by mere pondering What do we not owe to the love oi the Spirit ! But for that, tlie thief saved on Calvary would have been the onh/ tro|jhy of Ihe cross of Christ. Yes ; Paradise might have been barred at once and for ever, when lie entered : for, without Uie Spirit, no man, afterward, cguld either THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT. have gloried in the cross, or understood it. O, if we love Christ, the love of the Spirit to us, should be an inspiring theme 1 It is, remember, a part of the greatness of the great mystery of godli- ness, that Christ was "justified by the Spirit." Yes ; had not tlie Spirit justified the claims of the Saviour, by clearing up the glory of his person and work ; and endeared him, by applying his sa- crifice and grace, even his disciples could not have done so, and we should not have attempted it. I have been chiefly influenced and regulated in these hints, by the ^iress which the Saviour him- self laid upon the work of the Holy Spirit. He had, evidently, as nmch reference to it, in dying for us, as the Father had to him in pardoning. Consider this fact. You say, and justly, that but for the love of Christ in dying for us, the pa- ternal love of God could not have saved us, con- sistently with all the perfections of the divine character and government. Now, this is no re- Heciion upon the love of God. It is, in fact, the very glory of his love, that it thus required to be in full and everlating harmony with all righteous- ness. Well ; in this perfect harmony with eternal rectitude, the love of Christ placed the love of God : and just so, did the love of the Spirit place the love of Christ. For, it is the very glory of the Saviour's redeeming love, that it depended as much on the sanctifying love of the Spirit, as the paternal love of God did on the blood of the lamb. Without the work of the Son as a mediator, the Father could not have honorably become our Father ; and without the work of the Spirit as a sanctifier, the Son could not have honorably be- come our mediator. Christ himself, therefore, looked as much to what the love of the Spirit would do for us, as God looks to what Christ has done for us. Thus, as our redemption by price required the death of Christ, so our redemption by pov^er required the agency of the Spirit. These remarks are, I am aware, but general, if not somewhat vague. They are purposely very general ; because the love of the Spirit is traced, in this little volume, throughout all the work of the Spirit, from its beginning as the good work of grace, on to its consummation in glory. I con- clude this essay, therefore, by remindmg you that the love of the Trinity, although not brought into competition, is so far brought into comparison in Scripture, that the name of Father, Son, and Spi- rit, is equally connected with baptism, and equally associated in the benediction upon the churches ; and in heaven, the Spirit appears as " seven spi- rits before the throne," that we may know and acknowledge the all-perfect Godhead of his na- ture, and the all-suflicient power and freeness of his grace. Rev. i. Who can read the following passage fi-om Dr. Owen, without regretting that his purpose was "to number rather than to unfold" the actings of the Spirit? "The principle or fountain of all his act- ings for our consolation, is his own great love and infinite condescension. He willingly proceedeth, or comes forth from the Father, to be our com- forter. He knew what we were, and what we could do, and what would be our dealings with him. He knew we would grieve him, provoke him, quench his motions, defile his dwelling-place ; and yet he would come to be our comforter ! " Want of a due consideration of this great love of the Holy Ghost weakens all the principles of our obedience. We lose both the power and pleasure of our obedience for want of this consi- deration. Let the soul lay due weight on it : 'The Holy Ghost, in his infinite love and kindness to- wards me, hath condescended to be rny Comfort- er. He doth it willingly, freely, powerfully! — What have I received from him? In the multi- tude of my perplexities, how hath he refreshed my soul ! Can I live one day without his conso- lations ? And shall I grieve him by negligence, sin, or folly ? Shall not his love constrain me to walk before him in all well pleasing V " — Owen on Communion with God, 3d Pari. No. XL THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT IN CONVERSION. " The work of Christ, and the work of the Spirit," says Dr. Wardlaw, "are nmtually necessary to each other's efficacy and are thus both alike in- dispensable to the salvation of the sinner. With- out the work of Christ, the Spirit would want the means or the instrument of his operation ; and without the work of the Spirit these means would remain inefficacious and fruitless. Without the work of Christ, there would not have been, for any sinner, a foundation of hope towards God ; with- out the work of the Spirit, no sinner would have been induced to buUd upon this foundation. Christ has opened the way of access to God ; — the Spi- rit brings sinners to God in the way which Christ has opened." This bringing of sinners to God, by " the new and living way" opened by Christ, is conversion. — None are brouglit, nigh unto God, nor turned from the error of their ways, by the power of the Holy Spirit, but those who are led " in the way ever- lasting ;" or, as Paul expresses the transition from the broad to the narrow way, "made nigh by the blood of Christ." Without this, there may be de- partures from sin, and approaches to righteous- ness, in soiue things, and for a short time ; but, without this there is no saving conversion. The heart, until affected by the cross, does not follow the feet, however fast or far they may run in the path of general duty, by the impulse of ordinary motives. You have, no doubt, observed and felt this. — Perhaps you can recollect instances in your own history, when you made considerable improve- ments in your conduct, and resolved to make still greater ; but neither with good-will. It was com- pulsion, not choice ; fear, and not love, which pro- duced these reformations. Had they even been greater, therefore, and all lasting, they were desti- tute of the very first principle of true religion, good-will. Forced or slavish obedience is not service rendered to God, but a tax paid to the conscience to moderate its uneasiness. What a mercy it is, that the gospel contains and presents motives which can win the heart as effectually as the law can work upon the con- science ! Were not this the case, we should ne- ver yield to God any cheerful or willing obedience, and thus never please or be pleased : for, as it is THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT. impossible to please God at all "without faith" in Christ, so it is impossible to find pleasure long in works without faith. Well ; if you are thankful that Christ is « the way" to the Father, you ought to bo equally thankful that the Holy Spirit is the guide to and tn that way. Did you ever pause to consider how much love the Spirit displays in thus leading sin- ners to God by Christ ? It is worthy of your spe- cial notice and gratitude. It will not divert nor divide your attention from the love of God in giv- ing his Son, nor from the love of Christ in giving himself, for us. It will increase your love to God and to the Lamb, to trace the love of the Spirit as that shines in the conversion of sinners. Now there is no conversion from sin until there be conviction of sin : and there is no conviction of sin, which tends to Christ or to holiness, but that which the Holy Spirit implants in the soul. Thus, there is great love even in the severest part and form of the work of the Spirit. We forget this, or overlook it, whilst conscience is either as unquenchable fire, or as a gnawing worm, within us. Such convictions seem, then, to be sent in judicial anger, not in judicious love. It is, however, in love, that they are sent: wit- ness the design of them at Pentecost. Had not Peter's audience been cut to the heart, they would not have cried out for mercy, much less have look- ed to Christ for it. Natural conviction, however strong, never looks to the cross ; nor, when very strong, ventures to hope or pray for mercy. It is supernatural when- ever it tries to relieve itself at the feet of the Sa- viour. It is sent in love, whenever it sends us to the gospel to search for hope, or to the mercy-seat to seek for hope, or to the cross to wait for hope. Conviction is then the Spirit wounding, that he may heal ; casting down, that he may lift up again. It is evidently his work even when there is only a desire for salvatian ; and although the way of sal- vation be almost unknown at first. Accordingly, both Peter and Paul recognised, in that trembling inquiry, "What shall we do?" the quickening power of the Spirit. Neither the Jews at Pente- cost, nor the jailer at Philippi, knew what to do when they were awakened to a sense of their guilt and danger. The sacred fire that inflamed their conscience did not enlighten their under- standing equally at the same time. It only re- vealed danger, and originated the desire to escape, in the first instance ; and did not shed guiding light nor cheering warmth upon any mind, until the apostles proceeded to unfold " the fulness of the blessing of the gospel." Here, if any where, we may learn to distinguish between natural conscience, and supernatural con- ' viction. The latter (as might be expected) is not ] reckless nor desperate, even when most over- ' whelming. The sinner quickened by the Spirit, ' may see no way of escape at first ; but he desires 1 one, and is looking and inquiring for one. He | may have no hope for a time ; but he wishes to | hope. Like .Jeremiah's penitent, he is wiUing to ! "put his mouth in the dust, if so be there may be i hope." In a word, his sufferings do not irritate his spirit against God. The agony of his con- \ science does not harden his heart. There may j be a passing thought, or a momentary feeling of a ' dark and desperate character ; but neither is in- dulged or welcomed. Both are dreaded and hated. This is not the case with mere conscience, when it breaks loose upon a sinner. It can sear as it suffers, just as some sores mortify as they spread; or it can madden against God and man, untd the opinion of both is despised, and the pow- er of both defied. Such reckless remorse ought not to be ascribed to the strivings of the Holy Spi- rit. It is not, indeed, natural nor common for even a very guilty conscience, to make a man a terror to himself, or to those around him. Indeed, this occurs so seldom, that it has been the chief cause of confounding natural and supernatural convic- tion. It is so very rare, to find even a very wick- ed man trembling or despairing; and so common to see many as wicked as he is, yet quite fearless, that Christians iiave been tempted by the anoma- ly, to ascribe all awakenings of conscience to the work of the Spirit. This may be well meant ; but it is ill judged. — All the conviction wrought by the Holy Spirit, is intended to " glorify" Christ, by rendering his pre- cious blood, precious in the sinner's estimation : and, therefore, all hardening horrors, and all ter- ror which has no tendency towards the cross or the mercy-seat, should either be left altogether une.xplained, or referred to any thing but the agency of the Holy Ghost ; for he can have no- thing to do with the production of alarm, which either steels the heart against God, or drives the soul away from the Saviour. It is "the sorrow of the world," and not "godly sorrow," that work- eth death and despair, in every instance, where there is no insanity : and whenever there is rea- son to suspect insanity, (of which vice is not the cause,) there is no reason for putting a harsh con- struction even upon despair itself. These distinctions ought not to be lost sight of: and yet, they ought not to be hastily appUed. The first aspect of an av>-akened conscience, how- ever awful, should not be treated as mere re- morse. The Spirit, as in the case of the jailer, may have much to do with convictions, which, at first, are altogether terrific, and almost desperate. He had, of course, nothing to do with the rash- ness of the jailer; but he evidently had much to do with the "trembling," which followed it. — Whilst the jailer drew his sword to kill himself, the Holy Spirit was certainly not convincing him of sin : but when he called for a light, and sprang in trembling" and inquiring, Paul treated him as a man quickened by divine power. However, therefore, an awakening may open, or express it- self, for a time, it ought to be met promptly, fully, and even kindly, by the glad tidings of a free sal- vation ; and never reckoned mere remorse, until it has defeated all the means of grace. If these hints throw any hght upon the way in which we should judge and act in the case of others, they throw still more light upon our own convictions, of the evil and danger of sin. These are more than natural, yea, more than providen- tial, if they have either endeared the Saviour to us, or led us to pray fervently for an interest in his atonement and intercession. Convictions which lead to this, are the leadings of the Spirit ; and all in love, however painful they may be. — Had the " hold" which the angel took of Lot, left 10 THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT, its marks upon Lot, lie certainly would not have thought it too hard, when he saw the fire burst on Sodom, and found himself safe in Zoar. It was the gTasjj of an angel's hand ; firm, because friendly ; and unrelaxing, because resolved to save. Well, therefore, may we trace to the love of the Spirit, any and every conviction, which drew our attention to the love of Christ. Well, may we sing, however we have smarted, " Eternal Spirit, we confess, And sing the wonders of thy grace." Another signal proof of the love of the Spirit in conversion, is, that he convinces chiefly of the sin of UNBELIEF. Remember the Saviour's own account of this characteristic feature of the work of the Spirit : " When he is come, he shall re- prove the world of sin : of sin, because they be- lieve not in me." This being the point on which the Holy Spirit chiefly plies tiie conscience, the Saviour does not hesitate to call him "the Com- forter," even whilst he is only convincing of sin. Conviction, like affliction, is, indeed, any thing but comfort in itself; it "is not joyous, but grievous ; nevertheless, afterward, it yieldelh the peaceable fruits of righteousness unto them who are exer- cised thereby." Thus, although not comfort, it is preparation for it, and the only way to it. This is no;, however, the most striking fact of the case. There is love — love, wonderful in its tenderness and strength, in thus making unbelief the point at which his sword pierces deepest and oftenest. We could not bear its " piercing, to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow," in the case of any other sin. No human mind could sustain a full discovery of the entire evil of sin, either as it affects the whole character and government of God, or as it entails misery on others. Nothing but the two- fold iinmortality of soul and body conjoined, could endure to see how one sin can perpetuate itself along all the line of a man's posterity, unto the very end of time ; and run its consequences, even in a visible stream, through the bottomless pit for ever ! I doubt very much, if there be one man or woman on earth, who could bear to see the influ- ence of even their folly, upon all who witnessed their example, whilst they were unconverted. Yes ; put vicious example out of the question en- tirely for a moment ; our mere indecision and for- mality, for years, told upon every one around us, who were on the outlook for excuses, with harden- ing effect ; and they are now hardening those around them ; and thus originating a line of ruin which shall never stop. The CDNViNCER of sin sees this ; but he does not show it. In mercy he conceals it, and singles out the sin of unbelief for the fullest exposure, because that is the only hinderance to the pardon of all other sins, and because the conscience it- self has no natural tendency to take alarm at mere uubelief. The love manifested in this is unspeakable. We both require, and can bear, to see a great deal of the sinfulness of neglecting the Saviour; for, al- though no discovery of the evil of sin is more humbling, or so melting, no discovery brings with it vn much to balance itself. A clear sight of un- belief comes from a still clearer sight of the glory and grace of Christ ; and tlius the disease and the remedy are seen together at the same time. The light that reveals the baseness and ingrati- tude of unbelief, comes pouring down from the face of Jesus upon the face of the sinner ; and although it almost blinds him for a little, as it chd Saul of Tarsus, it also enables him to cry, " Lord, what wouldest thou have me to do !" You will enter into the spirit of this hint, when you pause to notice the point at which real con- viction settles down into habitual penitence. It may begin at our besetting sin, and run like iire from crime to crime, through all the catalogue of our transgressions, until the conscience is in flames. But this, although it burns ilercest, is not what abides longest, nor what humbles most. It is the cahn, solemn, weighty consideration, that all sin was against grace as well as law ; which, like the small still voice? at Horeb, wraps the face in the mantle of humility, and lays tlie spirit in the dust before God. The agonizing sense of indi- vidual sins subsides before the hope of pardon ; but we never can forgive nor forget our long ne- glect of the great salvation ! Nothing shames or shocks us so deeply and lastingly, as the recollec- tion of having lived without Christ in the world. We see our hearts laid bare in that guilt and folly. We cannot palliate or soften our disregard of the Saviour. Thus the abiding conviction, by which abiding humility is produced in the soul, is, what Christ said — "of sin, because of unbelief." My fellow penitent ! we cannot tell nor con- ceive how much suffering the Spirit of grace has saved us from, by making us feel cliiefly the ex- ceeding sinfulness of unbelief. Had he shed and kept as much light upon any other sin, our spirits would sink for ever under it. Perhaps we must be far down in eternity, before we are capable of bearing a full sight of all sin ! If you understand these hints as I intend them, they will suggest to you a very satisfactory rea- son why conviction is so calm and gentle in the case of many converts. Do you not see at a glance, that the Spirit's point (which is to glorify Christ) is gained, when unbelief gives way'? Tliere is, then, no occasion to set " on fire the whole course of nature." Its pride and self- righteousness are demolished when Christ be- comes precious to the soul. Were this duly considered, you would not be afraid lest your convictions, if they have been gradual and gentle, be not the work of the Holy Spirit. He does not work for the sake of work- ing ; but in order to bring the sou! to the Saviour as its only refuge, and as its supreme example : and therefore, if you have given your heart to Christ, you have as little occasion to doubt your own conversion as to question Lydia's, whose heart the Lord opened without tempest or ter'-or. On the other hand, if your convictions were deep and distracting, that only shows how deep and stubborn your unbehef was. The Spirit shot no more arrows into your conscience than just the number necessary to subdue your aversion or in- difference to the Saviour. He woimded only in order to heal ; and, therefore, only deep enough to make the cure certain. It was all bad blood THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT. 11 you lost, however much you bled under his opera- tions. What do you think now of the love of the Spirit in conversion — in your own conversion ] Are you not ashamed, as well as astonished, that you should never have traced nor marked his love thus minutely before 7 If so, do follow out the mani- festation of it by reviewing still more closely his dealings with yourself. You are only on the threshold of his love yet, even as conversion shows it : your own conversion can furnish more iamps to illuminate it. Consider; what but Jove could have induced the Holy Spirit to strive with you at all 1 There was nothing about your heart to attract his hand. He might have justly passed you by : he might have left you for ever when you resisted his first strivings. Oh, were not the Spirit love, equally with God and the Lamb, he would never have tried to make a holy temple of your heart or mine! Again ; what but love gave power enough to your convictions, to render them strong enough to send you fnlly to the Cross of Christ for relief] There are terrors and stings of conscience which drive some, like Judas, away from Christ, and on to destruction : yours have brought you to your right mind, and set you down where a sinner never yet perished, — at the foot of the cross, and under the shadow of the mercy-seat. Do speak well of the Holy Spirit to those of your friends who have not yet asked for him. Some of them may be afraid of him. So little is said of his love by many who say much of his power, and the need of it, that not a few are dis- couraged. Do speak a word in season to those who are thus weary and heavy laden. It will in- crease your own love to the Spirit, and tlie Spirit's love to vou, to commend him as love to others. No. III. THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT IN JUSTIFICATION. To justify a sinner is more than pardoning his Bins, much as that is : it is also to accept and treat him as righteous, or as if the righteousness of Christ were his own personal virtue. This is a wonderful plan of saving the guilty ! Well may it be called " the manifold wisdom of God." How sublime, and yet how simple, is this plan ! Paul felt all this, when lie said of God, " For he hath made him to be sin for us, who knew no sin ; that we (who knew nothing but sin) might be made the righteousness of God in him." As if the apostle had said, — For the sake of sin- j ners, God treated his own Son as it he had been guilty; and now, for the sake of Christ, he treats sinners, when they beheve. as if they were inno- cent ; not imputing unto them their trespasses, but giving them the full advantage of the righte- \ ousness of Christ, just as if it were their own property. " Behold what manner of love the Father hatli bestowed on us, that we should be called the tons of God." It will not divert you from admiring the love of the Father or of the Son in justification, to behold also the love of the Holy Spirit m it. His love, too, reigns conspicuously in that great act of grace, although not exactly in the same way. He does not, indeed, pass the act of justification : " It is God that justifieth." Nor does he furnish any •part of the righteousness, for the sake of which we are treated as righteous : it was Christ that died and rose again " for our justification." But still the Spirit do-s something, whatever it be, which so connects both his hand and heart with the reign of justifying grace, that the apos- tles do not hesitate to identify him with the Fa- ther and the Son in this transaction. Paul said to the Corinthians, " Ye are justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God!" to the Gaiatians, " We, through the Spirit, wait for the hope of righteousness by faith." The Saviour himself said of the Spirit, " He shall con- vince the world of righteousness." Observe, also, how prominent the place is which Paul gives to the work of the Spirit, when explaining to Titus tlie process by which believers are justified by grace, in order that they may be heirs of glory : '• Not by works of righteousness which we have done ; but according to his mere)', God saved us, by the washing of regeneration and the renewing of the Holy Ghost ; which he shed on us abun- dantly, through Jesus Christ om- Saviour." Why ? "That, being justified by his grace, we should be made heirs according to the hope of eternal life." Tit. iii. 4-7. In like manner, Peter connects " the sanctification of the Spirit" with the "sprink- ling of the blood of Christ," which is the merito- rious cause of justification. 1 Pet. i. 2. Thus, it is not without the warrant of precept or of example, that I invite you to trace the love of the Spirit in justification. The apostles never overlooked or forgot it ; nor can any believer be unaftected by it when he studies it. It may not strike you at a glance, but it will amply repay fixed attention. Now, it is no part of the official work of the Father or of the Son, to convince sinners of their need of a justifying righteousness. The Son has brought in an everlasting righteousness by his me- diation, and the Father hath set it forth by his authority ; but neither officially apply it to the soul, nor stir up the soul to apply for it ; that is left to the love of the Spirit to do ; and the love which does t!iat cannot be weak or wavering. It is a task which nothing but real love would undertake, and which nothing but great love could accom- plish ; for we are not soon nor easily convinced of our need of either an imputed or a personal righteousness : both are against the grain of our nature. Indeed, except a man's character be very bad, it is not easy to convince him of the ne- cessity of being better. Many speak as if they ac- tually dreaded, as well as disliked, to be very righte- ous; thus deeiiiiiig it not only unnecessary, but in some way dangerous, or discreditable, to be so. No wonder, therefore, that a justifying righteous- ness should be fai from their thoughts, :-eeing a personal one is thus lightly valued, and even laughed at, when it is zealous of good works. Tiiis is the bent of human nature : I cannot, therefore, but trace much of both the love and power of the Spirit even in convincing us of the necessity of being more righteous than the aver- 12 THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT, age of our neighbors. This is not a natural con- viction, nor a convential maxim : it is a divine persuasion wherever it is a deep feeling. It is a transition, not, indeed, into "marvellous light," but still out of that gross darkness w^hich covers the people (and they are many) who are satisfied with not being worse than others. I would not attach undue importance to even a deep conviction of the necessity of being better than others ; but I must say, that it is a march (and not a dead march either) gained upon mere conscience, and thus a good sign. The man wlio is led thus far in judging for liim- self how good he ought to be, is, to say the least, in the fair way to discover his need of a better righteousness than his own. Indeed, this disco- very is usually made by trying to be good. That effort is either so unsuccessful, or its success, in a few small things, is accompanied with such fail- ures in great things, and with such a sight of the many things wliich must be added, that the re- forming man becomes afraid, and begins to doubt whether his own power is able to carry out his own purposes. it is often at this point that the need of a per- fect righteousness begins to be felt. The sinner, with all his trying, cannot make his own robe broad enough nor long enough to cover him. Place it and stretch it as he may, it leaves some part naked ; and the more it is drawn upon one point, the more naked others are made. He may not yet think it a " filthy" rag, but he cannot help feeling that it is only a " rag," both in its dimen- sions and strength ; for it tares when it is stretch- ed, and falls off when let alone. This is not more quaintly expressed than it is literally true. We try to establisli our own righteousness until we weary or despair of it : and tlien, did not the Spirit of God turn our attention to Christ, we should give up religion altogether, as a hopeless under- taking, in our own case. It is only by seeing something suitable or encou-raging in the Saviour that this is prevented. Religion would be aban- doned by every man who had tried hard and fail- ed utterly, did not the Spirit step in at the moment of extremity, and show him something of the per- son and work of Christ. " Tliere may be help for me yet, in him who is mighty to save," is the candle which Peradven- ture holds to Hope, and Hope to Resolution, at this crisis. Our first cheering views of Christ seldom amount to more than this. It is not at once that the Spirit convinces the soul that Christ is " the end of the law for righteousness ;" nor is it exactly in the way we expected, even when he does so. Pie leads us into all truth now, very much in the same manner as he made the apostles and disciples wise unto salvation, step by step, as we can bear the truth. Every Christian both needs and finds a day of Pentecost, to enlarge, mature, and con- firm, his knowledge of justification through faitli. Perhaps no one ever understood this grand truth of the gospel at once. Even when it is under- stood, it can hardly be believed for joy ! It seems ton good news to be true. This is, I have no doubt, one reason why it is so gradually opened up to the penitent. They must be kept penitent. Their safety must be more consulted than their comfort, at first. Full submis- sion to the righteousness of Christ, as well as count- ing all things but loss to be found in it, must be produced, before we are prepared to sing meekly or prudently, " Thou hast covered me with the robes of righteousness and the garments of sal- vation." No hps ever sung this well, until they had often sighed in the dust of self-abasement, and breathed in fervent prayer, the cry, " Unclean, unclean ! God be merciful unto me a sinner." The Spirit is, however, convincing of righte- ousness, when he convinces of sin, because of unbelief : for then, our felt need of pardon, and our felt unworthiness of the pardon we need, equally tends to draw and fix our attention upon the question — how can a just and Holy God par- don me'] We are not far from being convinced of righteousness, when we are convinced that God, for Christ's sake, can pardon us, without dis- honoring his law, or his character. More seals than one or two, of the book of righteousness are opened to us by the Spirit, if we see clearly that God can be just, and yet the justifier of the un- godly, when they believe in Jesus. Any ons can say thus : but he who can see its truth in his own case, whilst looking at all his own ungodliness, ' sees " afar off," and has had the eyes of his un- derstanding enlightened by the Spirit of wisdom and revelation. Can you see " this great sight," after looking at all the greatness of your guilt and unworthi- ness ] Does your eye turn to it, and repose upon it, even with hope, after having read the catalogue of your sins from top to bottom, and seen all the plagues of your heart, and all the weakness of your character? Is this your Goshen of light, when aU around you is Egyptian darkness 1 If so, you may well admire tlie love of the Spirit, and waiTantably believe that he has convinced you of righteousness, in no small or superficial degree. But, perhaps, your conviction of it does not go all this length yet. You may rather be looking at your own need of a justifying righteousness, than at the sufficiency or fi-eeness of the righteous- ness of Christ. Well ; even in that case, the love of the Spirit towards you, is no doubtful mat- ter. For, who opened and salved thine eyes to see the need of " tvhiie raiment," to clothe tliy naked soul ? The time was, — when you did not see that you were naked, or poor, or wretched. You once took for granted, that you had only to try, in order to be as good as the best ; or, at least, as good as could be expected in your case. You expected to look well, and to feel very warm too, in the robe you were manufacturing for yourself. And now you are as much ashamed of your righte- ousness, as of your unrighteousness ; and more afraid of being judged by yonr good works, than the natural man is of being judged by his evil works. This is no accident. It is a conviction which even your utter failure, when trying to establish your own righteousness, did not, and could not produce. He is convinced by the Spirit, who is convinced that he himself can do nothing towards his own justification. He is "taught of God," who sees and feels that God must justify him, en- tirely and freely, if ho ever be justified at all. This is not untrue nor doubtful, even if the con- THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT 13 victed sinner lias but a veiy slender hope, at first, of being clothed with the righteousness of Christ. His deep sense of his need of that "spotless robe," and his strong desire to be clothed with it, are both produced by the power of the Holy Ghost. That power has wrought mightily and graciously in the man, who hes self-condemned and self-emp- tied at the feet of God, saying nothing but, " Guilty, guilty ; vile, vile ; unworthy, unworthy : — mercy, mercy ! for the sake of Christ !" The Spirit is not exactly his comforter then ; but even then, he is as much his friend, and as truly his helper, as when he commanded the angel to " take away the filthy garments" from Joshua, the high priest, and to "cfothe him with change of raimenf," and to " set a fair mitre upon his head." It is in- deed, other work, to humble and empty the soul : but it is the same mighty hand, guided by the same warm heart, that lays the soul down at the foot of the rock of ages, and that lifts it up to the summit, or into the munitions of that rock. The weeping penitent, and the rejoicing saint, are equally the " workmanship" of the Holy Spirit. They are stars, differing from each other, in the degree of grace ; but showing equally the glory of the Spirit's love. You would, of course, prefer such a conviction of righteousness, as would enable you to sing, " He hath covered me with the robe of righteous- ness." This is a very natural, and not at all an improper desire, after having passed through many painful exercises of mind, by turning over and over the question, — how can I be just with God 1 It is not wrong, after having thus suffered awhile from the terrors of law, and the sting of conscience, to wish, even very much, to be established, strength- ened, and settled in the hope of pardon, and ac- ceptance through the beloved. They have not suffered much yet, from law or conscience, who are not very anxious to " know" that they "have eternal life." Let us not forget, however, that hope would never have been so very dear to us, had we not suffered a good deal from the want or from the weakness of it. We should have been farther off from " a good hope through grace," than we now are, had we not been led so far down into the val- ley of humiliation. The Spirit has led and kept us there, not for the sake of paining us, nor yet to try our patience merely; but chiefly, that we might be driven out of all refuges of lies, and even out of sight of them all, until we saw nothing be- tween us and perishing, but just the cross of Christ. For his work, be it for ever remembered, is to "glorify Clirist ;" and Christ is not fuEy glorified in us or by us, until he becomes "all in all," in our hope and desire : and that, we do not make liini, until we come fully to the point and spirit of the cry, " Lord, save ; I perish." Have you come to this point and spirit often, and yet never been able to lay hold upon " the hope of righteousness by faith V Are you still, after all your renunciations of your own righte- ousness, and, after all your prayers to be justified freely by grace, quite uncertain whether you have found mercy to pardon I Is it the case that, whilst you can hardly doubt that you have found " grace to help iu time of need," you yet doubt very much whether you are "justified by grace J" I can sympathise with you, in this uncertainty and suspense. Let us not, however, question the love of the Spirit, even if he has not yet been our comforter in this matter. There may be love in his delay. There is love in delaying comfort, on the question of justification, if the kind of comfort we have been seeking is not promised, or if the promised comfort is looked for from a wrong quar- ter. The comfortable hope of our justification, can only come from the same source, that our con- viction of the need of a justifying righteousness came fi-om. Now that conviction came from the word of God. The Holy Spirit fastened our at- tention upon the revealed fact, "that, by the deeds j of the law, no flesh hving can be justified ;" and ! thus upon the experimental fact, that all our own ! righteousness is as filthy rags. Thus it was truth, ! — that he plied our understanding and conscience with, in convincing us of our need of justification by grace. He made our belief of this, stand on tlie word of God. He showed us our guUt, and danger, and weakness, as we had never seen them before : but still, only as they are depicted in the Bible. He did not reveal to us a law, not written there ; nor a curse, not threatened there ; nor a want, not declared there : he just made us wise up to "what is written" of sinners, and against smners ; and led us to apply that to ourselves. Well ; is it not likely, yea, more than probable, that he comforts, just as he convicts, on the sub- ject, — by the truth l Consider ! The facts and promises of the gospel are as able to comfort, as the demands and threatenings of the law to alarm. Why then should not the Spirit speak peace to the conscience by the gospel, as well as terror to the conscience by the law ? The glad tidings of the former, are as true as the sad tidings of the latter. The heart can be healed by cheering truth, as well as broken by awful truth. Has this, however, been the way in which you, "through the Spirit," have "waited for the hope of righteousness by faith?" Have you not rather waited for some impulse — emotion — or inward sense of pardon, apart from the outward, or writ- ten promise 1 Have you not waited for the Spi- rit, rather than on the Spirit ] Have you " minded the things of the Spirit," (which are chiefly his promises and counsels) as much as you have mind- ed his sweet influences, which are the dew of them? Have you sown to the Spirit the good seed of hope and holiness, as well as looked for the early and latter rain of his grace, to make it fruitful ? This is close, almost cross, questioning : but it is wanted. For, hov/ unlike the Saviour's own account of the way of bringing home the hope of righteousness to the heart, is the creed — the scheme (what shall I call it?) — the notion of many, who, in other respects, are as willing as Paul or Peter, to be entire debtors to Christ for justification ! The whole soul is set upon owing every thing, as to the ground of their acceptance, to his cross ; but, as to the knowledge of tlieir acceptance, they seem, somehow, unwilling to be indebted to his word for that ; or doubt whether his word be warrant enough, for taking up and cherishing a good hope through grace. Do, look again, to the Saviour's own account of the process by which the Comforter is promised to 14 THE LOVE OP^ THE SPIRIT. convince of righteousness. " He shall convince of righteousness, because I go to my Father, and ye t-ee me no more." John xvi. 10. This refers, unquestioniibly, to the sufficiency, perfection, and freeness of the righteousness of Christ, to justify all who believe, from all sin. The proof that such a righteousness was needed, lies 'in the solemn fact, that Christ came from the Father, into the world, to magnify the law by his obedience, and to make it honorable by his death ; and the proof that his obedience and death did work out a per- fect righteousness, lies in the sublime fact, that he was welcomed back to the Father by all the armies of heaven, and by the Father, — who was well- pleased for his righteousness' sake ! Nov/ " by this fact," Christ says, " shall the Spirit convince of righteousness ; or lodge in the mind, such a persuasion of the infinite merits of his work, and of the infinite good-will of the Father, that no new or different revelation of the love of the Father or tlie Son, can be wanted, (in order to warrant the hope of salvation,) by any one who desires a holy salvation, and is willing to be in- debted to Christ for it. Now, I will not ask, what feeling, impulse, or inward sense, can compare with this outward fact. I durst no more allay your solicitude to feel aright than I dare refrain from calling upon you to judge aright. Whoever has no concern to feel hope, peace, and comfort, is not much concerned about his guilt or danger. I want you and myself, — and I avow it, and proclaim it, without apology to the- ological stoics or worldly maxims, — to feel the good hope of pardon and acceptance : I should, however, only perplex or mortify you, were I to call for such feelings, without reminding you that the facts and promises of the gospel, both create and warrant them. By nothing else does the holy Spirit produce in tlie heart, love, joy, peace, or any of the peaceful fruits of righteousness. He is too much a comforter — too concerned for our real comfort — and has too much love to the Sa- viour's glory and our good, — to make impressions on our minds by mysterious impulses, when he can make them, equally well, by plain and glorious truths, which are always at hand to be read, and always easy to be understood. Besides; he will "glorify" Christ; and not your faith, nor your feelings. You want to have a very high opinion of your own faith — as living — and saving — and of divine "operation:" and he wants you to have a very high opmion of Christ ; without whom faith would just be as unequal to your justification, as works. And as the Spirit will " not testify of himself,'" he will not, — depend on it— testify of you, (even to yourself,) liiat there is any thing in the nature or the degree of your taith, which is any cause of, or claim for, your justitication : but he will so shut you up to the ful- ness, and freeness, and sufficiency of Christ to save, that Clirist himself, and not your faith, shall have all the glory ; and you, yourself, shall attach no importance to your faith, but just as it thinks of nothing — realizes nothing — rests upon nothing j but the doing and dying of Christ. I will not, therefore, mediate for you, upon the Saviour's reason for tlie hojje of justification. It is before you, as before myself. Pie returned to the Father and was welcomed by him, as the grand proof that we may " return, and welcome" — to the Father by him. I, therefore, leave you with the word and the Spirit before you, to ponder and pray over that oracle — "He that believeth is justified :" for the righteousness of God " is unto all, and7<|)on all, them who believe." Rom. iii. 22. No. IV. THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT IN KECONCILIATION. Paul says, that " the carnal mind is enmity against God :" and it is neither a contradiction nor an exception to this awful truth, that some persons, who make no pretensions to spiritual- mindednesF, and others who deny the very being of the Holy Spirit, yet profess a high regard and veneration for God. For, it is not God, as he has revealed himself whom they admire or love ; and, therefore, the more they admire and love the cha- racter they ascribe to God, the more they hate his real character. It is not very easy to see this, when men of genius, science, or taste, pay high compliments to the wisdom, power, and benevolence of the Deity — for the same language from the lips of a Chris- tian, would be an expression and a proof of his love to God. How, then, is it a proof of enmity against God, when a mere philosopher, poet, or sentimentalist utters if? God is as wise, as mighty, and as glorious as they say. His eternal power and godhead are to be seen in all the works of creation, which they examine and ad- mire. And they do admire and enjoy what they praise. They are not pretending, when they say, " The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament showeth his handiwork." How, then, can they be traitors, whilst they utter truth ? — Why does revelation class them with the haters of God, seeing they love the works of God, and speak well of the divine perfections displayed in these works ? Are they not, at least, less averse, and more reverential to God, than those who study neither the Bible nor nature ? Now there certainly is a difference o^ form, be- tween the enmity of the philosopher to God, and that of the sensualist ; and between the enmity of the man of taste, and that of the worldling. The latter are " enemies in their minds by wicked works ;" and the former, " by vain and evil imagi- nations:" — a difference, however, amounting to nothing more, so far as God and eternity are con- cerned, than that which subsisted, in ancient times, between the idols of savage and civilized nations. The polished Greeks and Romans, who worshipped no idols but such as were cut from Parian marble, with statuesque perfection, were as much idolaters, as the barbarians who bowed down to hideous monsters, and vile reptUes. — "The glory of the incorruptible God" was equally changed, whether, as in Athens and Rome, it was "changed into an image made like unto corrupti- ble man;" or, as in Egypt and Babylon, "unto birds, and beasts, and creeping things." The Ju- piter of Rome, and the Juggernaut of India; the Apollo of ancient Greece, and the Thor and Wo- den of ancient Britain, are equal proofs, that the THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT. 15 men who invented them, and the men who wor- shipped them, " did not like to retain God in their knowledge ;" but were, in fact, equally haters of God." So it is still. There is as much real enmity to the revealed character of God, in natural and sen- timental religion, as in the grossest superstition. The former despises the Bible, or dispenses with it ; and the latter neutralizes or makes it void by the traditions of men. Be not misled nor amazed, therefore, when you read or hear high eulogiums upon the Divine Character, from men who reject Divine Truth. That Truth pays all the homage, they can do, to God as a Creator : and, therefore, they must dislike the homage it pays to him, as a lawgiver, and as the God of Salvation. For, they cannot pretend, (at least they cannot prove,) that the Bible does less justice to the glories of crea- tion, than philosophy. They have produced no poetry yet, that rivals, in natural beauty or sublimi- ty, the psalms and hymns of inspiration. In re- jecting the Bible, therefore, their reason cannot be found in the spirit or the style, in which it ce- lebrates the natural perfections of Deity. Indeed, by their own confession, nothing is so lofty in sen- timent or language as sacred poetry. We thus get at the real cause of their unbe- lief: it is enmity against the moral perfections of God, as these are revealed in the Bible. How in- veterate then is the enmity of the human heart, seeing it can admire the divine goodness in na- ture, and hate it in grace : trace it in creation with enthusiasm, and trample on it in redemption, with contempt : laud it in a star, and laugh at it in the " Sun of Righteousness !" This is fallen human nature, when it raises it- self highest, without the gospel. It merely re- fines its enmity, and systematizes its pride. No wonder, therefore, if the gospel pour as much scorn upon human wisdom, as upon human crime. Both hate God alike, although for different rea- sons. Thus the necessity of reconciliation to God is universal. And as the best forms of the human mind are, by nature and tendency, the proudest, no wonder that reconciliation is always by the power of the Holy Ghost, as well as by the blood of the Cross. " The Ministry of Reconciliation" succeeds in its Beseechings, because it is "the ministration of the Spirit." It will increase your love to the Spirit, to trace the love of the Spirit, in reconciling you to God, by the Cross. Now, by it, he has reconciled you to the incomprehensible mysteries of the divine es- sence. You do not cavil with them, nor turn them into excuses for neglecting the divine will. This is done, however, by many. They entrench them- selves amongst the mysteries of the trinity, when they are plied with the claims of the gospel ; and demand explanations of the twofold nature of Christ, when they are blamed for unbelief. They wield all the " things hard to be understood," against both "the one thing needful," and the things which belong to their eternal peace ; and because they cannot comprehend, refuse to obey. Mystery is not, indeed, the sole, nor the real reason of their aversion to the gospel. That lies deeper than they choose to acknowledge. It is no calumny to say so : for there is nothing in the 6t (15) trinity of the Godhead, merely as trinity, to pro- voke or offend, however it may baffle. The mind does not, indeed, like to be baffled : but then, it does not escape from this mortification, by taking up with the absolute unity of God. The' incom- prehensible prevails in that, to a degree which, if as much dwelt upon, would be equally baffling. — What offends, therefore, is not the mystery of the trinity, as mere mystery ; but the redemption in- volved in the fact. Accordingly, the Unitarian al- ways discards redemption from his theory of the divine nature and government. He rids himself of more than mystery by rejecting the trinity. He throws ofij along with that, the fear of perishing, the need of a mediator, and the use of a sancti- fier. Why have you not done sol You do not com- prehend the trinity you believe : but it does not of- fend you. You can both say and sing, " I love the incarnate mystery !" Why 7 Because there — you can put your " trust." It is the trust-worthiness of the Lamb of God, which reconciles you to the trinity of the God- head. The Holy Spirit has thus shown you the need of a salvation, which no theory of Unitarian- ism furnishes ; and satisfied you that Trinita- rianism alone, provides for the wants of your soul. This is from the love of the Spirit ! Had he not convinced you of sin, and of righteousness, and of judgment, you too might have rejected the gospel, under the pretence of its mysteriousness. Many are left to do so : and, who can wonder ? — They will not take the word of the Spirit, upon the subject of their sin or danger ; and, therefore, he will not work for their conversion. They will not take truth just as he has written it ; and he will not do that for them, which they can do for themselves. Observe, now, how the Holy Spirit has recon- ciled you, by the Cross, to the sovereignty of the divine will. Nothing, perhaps, is more appalling or repulsive to the natural mind, than the idea of being entirely and eternally at the disposal of the mere will of God ! The heart rises and writhe.s at such absolute dependence. It would shake it off, if it could. To have no claim to be saved, and no vote or voice, but the voice of begging prayer, in the matter of our own salvation, is a galling chain to the spirit of man. Nothing but the power of the Spirit of God could reconcile any man to this chain. But that power does recon- cile to it ! When we are convinced of the evil of sin, we are soon convinced that God is not neces- sarily bound to pardon it, and that he would not be unjust, even if he refused to pardon it. This is both felt and confessed, whenever the evil of sin is thoroughly brought home to the conscience. — Then, our difficulty is, to see how God can do any thing else than allow the law to take its course against us. We have not only nothing to say for ourselves, in bar of its sentence ; but we are even afraid to plead the death of Christ against the curse ; because we feel that we deserve condem- nation, quite as much for our sins, against Christ, as for our sins against law. And there is no pre- tence in all this ! We do not aggravate our guilt or danger, in order to conciliate God by an excess 16 THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT. of humility. We do not take the worst view of our case, in the hope of inducing God to take the best view of it We are not bribing mercy, when we declare our utter unworthiness of any mercy. No ; whatever homage the selt-condemnation of a penitent pays to the majesty of law or justice, is disinterested. It is the Iionest verdict of con- science, and in nowise a stratagem to evade pun- ishment. So it is also in the submission of a real penitent, to the sovereignty of divine grace. His professed submission to the good will of God, is not a clever nor covert plan of rnaking that will good in his own case. He knows that he cannot force God to save him — nor bribe God — nor circumvent God, in the matter of salvation. All that he knows, even when he thinks most, is, that self-condemna- tion is a becoming spirit on the part of a sinner, and the only spirit at all likely to find mercy. All that he hopes, when he hopes most, at this stage of his e.xperience, is, that his sense of utter un- worthiness may be the work of the Holy Spirit, shutting him up to the worthiness of the Lamb slain. Accordingly, ho casts himself simply upon the good will of God. He is reconciled to have no other warrant for hoping in Christ. He may wish for some clue to the divine will — for some sign or token of eventual success : but lie lies down at the foot of the cross without them, leaving the issue m the hands of God. It is no objection against the simplicity or disin- terestedness of this submission to the divine will, that the penitent would not be thus meek, if he thought that the issue would be against him. God has not called on him to think so. The Holy Spi- rit does not work on the heart, to reconcile the heart to condemnation, or to the loss of the soul. He convinces, only in order to save the soul ; and, therefore, it is no part of a penitent's duty, and no part of a penitential spirit, to be willing to pe- rish. It is a sin, to despair. It cannot, therefore, be a virtue, nor a mark of grace, to be willing to be lost. This is so obvious, that I kniow not how to ex- plain the conduct of those, who make " willing- ness to be lost," the test of real humility. True ; they qualify the requirement of such humility by adtoig, " if it would be for the glory of God, that you should perish." I do hope that we mismider- stand those who speak thus ! They must, surely, mean less than their words imply. The loss of a soul can bring no glory to God. He has "no pleasure in the death of a sinner." Judgment is his strange work: and, therefore, although God will be perfectly just in the condemnation of the impenitent, he will never consider himself glorified by it. Goodness is the glory of God ! Accord- ingly, when Moses requested to see his glory, he said, "I will make all my goodness pass before thee." But I will not argue this point ; for I cannot be- lieve we understand the local meaning of the im- scriptural expression I refer to. Observe now, how the Holy Spirit has recon- ciled you, by the cross, to the exchisiveness of the divine plan of saving sinners. He has, indeed, taught you nothing upon this subject, but what is written. What is written, very obnoxious to the natural mind. however, It is, — that there is no other name given under heaven, where- by we can be saved, but the name of .Tesus. It is, — that other foundation (of hope) can no man lay, than that is laid ; even Christ. Now the ut- most that unrenewed nature will cordially allow, is, that this may be one way of salvation, and a very good way for those who like it. But, that it is the only way of getting to heaven, is denied by more than one half of those who have the Bi- ble in their hands. The popular maxim is, that there are as many ways to heaven, as there are roads to London ; and all equally safe, if the tra- vellers are only sincere. This is said, indeed, good-humoredly ; but it is a malignant sarcasm upon the character of God, and a bitter reflection upon his word. Accord- ingly the good humor with which it is uttered in company, soon gives place to anger or scorn, when the maxim is flatly denied. Then, it comes out, both by words and looks, that a God who would only save in one way is not at all to the taste of the majority. They hate "such strictness !" I speak of this maxim, not, of course, as it is applied to the forms or discipline of churches, (but as it is extended to all creeds, and no creed. It is perfectly true, that there are as many ways to heaven as there are churches,) in which Christ is made " all in all" in salvation. The diflference of their government, does not hinder the Holy Spirit from blessing the preaching of the cross ; and, therefore, it cannot prevent the "crown of glory." But this is not true of all creeds. It is not true of any creed, in which the cross is not the only refuge of the guilty, and grace the only principle of piety. It is false, if the Bible be true. But how popular is this maxim, amongst those who do not think, and amongst those who plume themselves upon thinking freely and liberally ! And you and I have been saved from it by the teaching of the Spirit ! We are glad to be " shut up" to Christ, for all our hope. Well we may ! And now observe, how the Holy Spirit has re- conciled you, by the cross, to the revealed charac- ter of God. The substance of that character is, that " God is love." And yet, strange to say, this is the chief reason, why the natural mind is en- mity against God. It hates his love far more than his holiness. And for an obvious reason : the real love of God is paternal ; and thus is seen to claim the heart : it is redeeming love ; and thus is seen to be humbling : it is sovereign love ; and thus is seen to be unmeritable. Were it love that asked for little return of affection, and accepted of still less obedience, men woidd, perhaps, be rather pleased with it than otherwise ; but claiming, as it does their supreme love, and their immediate confidence, they hate it because it leaves them without excuse. They can question authority and cavil at justice, under the pretence of strict- ness or severity : but they cannot resist love, but by resenting it as needless or humiliating. Why else are sublime and lofty ideas of God, so much more popular in the world, than gentle and lovely ideas of his character 1 O, it is not from nobility of mind, nor from refinement « f taste, that the grand is preferred to the gracious, and the sublime to the tender. The former let the heart alone — let the conscience alone — let their sins alone. The majestic and magnificent play arounc' THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT. 17 the head and amuse the imagination : but the fact that God is love, cannot be trifled with, and, there- fore, it is hated. ■\A^liilst, therefore, I admire the grace of the Spir>.. in reconciling the heart to the strictness of divine justice, and to the scrutiny of divine omni- science, and to the glory of divine holiness, I adore it for reconcihng the heart to the fulness of divine love — because that is so full of claims upon our affections, and confidence, and obedience. It brings all duty with it, in irresistible forms. It makes all sin appear as ungrateful, as criminal. It places us so, that the bare idea of refusing any part of the divine wiil, becomes monstrous, as well as base. Accordingly, Paul says, "Hope maketh not ashamed," when " the love of God is shed abroad in the heart by the Holy Ghost." Then it begets the love which is » the fulfilling of the law ;" and thus leaves us to act on David's principle, " I shall not be ashamed when I have respect to all thy precepts." And, now, observe how the H->ly Spirit has re- conciled you, by the cross, to the dispensations of Providence. Our reconciliation to God is not complete, even when we are both quite willing and thankful to be entue debtors to Christ and grace for all our salvation. Indeed, we are not a httle inclined to calculate, that surely Providence will not press very hard upon our patience, when our faith is thus cordially given to the Saviour. We lay our account with having some trials in the world, but take for granted that they will not be many nor mysterious. They turn out, however, to be of a kind, or in a degree, we did not expect : and then the Holy Spirit has to begin the work of reconcihation anew. For it is no uncommon thing to be so unhinged by worldly reverses or disap- pointments, that the very form as well as spirit of piety goes to wreck for a time. It is all very well, for it is very true, to say that the path of the just, hke the light, " shineth more and more, to the perfect day." Those, however, who think before they speak, and whilst speaking, say this, remembering that the sun is often cloud- ed, and sometimes totally eclipsed. And the clouds of calamity, owing to the weakness of our faith, and from our proneness to walk by sense, can so liide the wisdom of Providence, that we soon lose sight of both the work and worth of grace for a time. It is not, in general, the first heavy pressure of "the mighty hand of God," which we bear humbly, or interpret fairly. We are but too ready to judge of his heart by his hand ; and thus our owti hearts rebel or murmur agamst him, until we seem, even to -jurselves, to have no submission to his will. Tliis is the state of mind which the Spirit has to subdue. We have not only to be reconciled to the crosses we groan under, but also to the cross of Christ, which permits them, and to the govern- ment of God, which appoints them. How many will join me in wondering and ador- ing, that the love of the Spirit has reconciled us to privations and sorrows, which, at first, seemed to harden our hearts against God, and to ahenate them from the Saviour, and to make them reck- less of eternal consequences ? Our troubles would have done all this, had not the Spirit lifted up a standard in the midst of them, which claimed us. No. V. THE LOVE OF THE SPIKIT IN ADOPTION. It does not at all lessen our admiration of the love of Christ in redemption that God " sent Him forth" to redeem them who were under the law, that they might receive the adoption of sons. He was sent forth by the Father ; but he also ^^came forth" as wilUngly as the Father sent him. The fulness of time could scarcely be heard, when saying, "Go," so promptly, cheerfully, and loudly, did he say, " Lo, I come ; I delight to do thy will, O my God." Psa. xl. Well ; just in the same way the love of the Spirit, in adoption, is brought before us. He, too, was " sent forth ;" not, indeed, to adopt or redeem children to God ; but to regenerate all the adopt- ed, and to sanctify all the redeemed family of God. And to do this, the Eternal Spirit came forth, at his Pentecostal fulness of time, as promptly and willingly as the Father sent him or as Christ came at the fulness of his mediatorial time. Very different, indeed, was the kind of work which the Father gave them to do in the world. The Spirit had not, like the Son, to come forth in the likeness of man, nor in the form of a servant, nor at all in the capacity of a sufferer. No man- ger, with its privations ; no Gethsemane, with its cup of wrath ; no Calvary, with its cross, await- ed his advent. Humiliation, agony, and death, were the tests and trials of the love of Christ alone. Only his heart bled or broke for the re- demption of the adopted. "In bringing many sons to glory," Christ alone had to be made "perfect through suffering." This creates a distinction all but infinite be- tween the work of Christ and the work of the Holy Spirit. It does not, however, create such a wide distinction between their love as there is between their ivork ; nor such a marked distinc- tion as to forbid the mention of the love of the Spirit when the love of Clu-ist is celebrated : for, there is no more danger of detracting from, or of hiding, the love of the Saviour, by exhibiting the love of the Spirit, than by exhibiting the love of the Father ; except, indeed, the exhibition be un- fair, or disproportionate, or designing. It must, however, be confessed, and should never be forgotten, that the love of God has been exalted and exaggerated, by some writers, for the express purpose of hiding all the glorious peculi- arities of both the love and work of Christ. Such love is ascribed, by modern Socinians, to the Fa- ther, as would, if true, render the atonement un- necessary, and the love of Christ but human. And we have lately seen the gifts of the Spirit exalted above the preaching of the cross, even when nothing beyond " unknown tongues" was pretended to. It is, therefore, possible to have a sinister purpose in emblazoning the love of the Spirit. It may be employed sometimes, as the love of God has been already, to eclipse the glory and grace of the Saviour. Indeed, the light of the Spirit is, at present, made of more importance by some, than the death of Christ and the word of God. I, therefore, write, and would have you read and judge, with a jealousy equally scrupulous and scrutinizing. I have taken my place, in stu- THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT. living tliis subject, in tlic very centre of "the h'ei.'hts and depths, tlie lengtlis and breadths," of the" love of Christ, which passeth knowlcdjre ; that tlius I inav ascribe notliin«rto the Spirit wlmh bvlongs to Chrisi ; nor so present what belonrrs to the Spirit as to hide any of the wonders of re- deeming love. On the other hand, however, equal care ouglit to be taken tliat wo neither overlook nor under- rate any part of the work of the Spirit, or of the wondrous love which distinjruislies his operations. Now, in r.-'.'anl to adoption, all the children of (i,Kl are "bom ;i|raiii of the Spirit," "led by the Si)irit," and •' seiUcd by the Spirit." In Ukc man- n.-r, all tlu-ir knowledge and enjoyment of their adoption comt-s from his witness to its truth. Hence I'aul says " The Spirit beareth witness with our spirit that we are the children of God." Rom. viii. Hi. For these and similar reasons, the Comforter is expressly and emphatically called " the Spirit of .\doption." With such fee ts before us, there can be neither danger nor difficulty in tracing, even minutely, the lo*e of the Spirit, as iliat is manifested in connec- tion with adoption. It shines brightly even in the preliminary step of convincing us that our natural relationship to ( Jod, as " the Father of our spirits," in not soiiship. We arc all, indeed, by creation, "hiH offspring." Yes; and, by nature, we should all trust to th;it, as enough for safety. So prone in the human mind to rest satisfied with mere na- tur.il and nominal relations to God, that the Jews reckoned themselves the children of God because they were tin; " seed of Abraham," and although tlus pn-sumpturnm fallacy was met and uinnasked by the startling oracle, " God is able of these Mom-H to raise up children to Abraham," many have taught, and more believed, even in the f;ic"o of John tlie Haptist's protest, that baptism makes an infant a child of God, and an lieir of the king- dom of heavi-n. We may never have attached any such impor- tance to our baptism, nor founded any claim or hopi.' ujKin our (lescent from pious parents : but »hc time was wh«'n we tfwk for granted that we nerded no nrarcr rel.uioimhii) to God than our birth in a Christian land gave us. When we 8prik« of God. it was a.s our maker chiefly, if not only. We .iddressed him, indeed, as "our Father," when we r<|)iMi..d the Ixird's prayer; but we lliouifht of him only as our creator and preserver; »nd never dr-anit, that he who made us could have '• no mercy upon us," apart from redeeming m from t|ic curse of the law by the death of hi Hon. Thw delubion did not end with our childhood.- It would never have ended by age or e.\perience, had not tlie Holy Spirit convinced us, that "we were bji nature the children of wrath, .la well as othcni. • K|)li. li. 3. This conviction is his work upon llie Houl. wlierever it is an humbling convic- tion. .And whit but love, — even great love, could havt- induced him to implant it in any eoul ] P'or no truth, perhaps, is more hateful to the natu- ral mind ; it exasjwrates, as well as mortifies, our pndo Oh, It w;ui "a night much to be remcm- ber.-d before the Lord," when we first applied this humbling truth to ourselves, and said of ourselves, •* \Vc arc the children if wrath as well as others T There was more than our Bible with us in our closet then :— " Verily, God was in thai place," whether we knew it, or not, at the time. We, in- deed, were reading, or praying, or pondering ; but it was the Spirit, working mightily, who unveiled to us the solemn fact, that we were both aliens and outcasts from the special family of God.— Thus, it is owing to the love of the Spirit that we came to know, so as to feel and confess, the ne- cessity of being " born again," before we could be the sons and daughters of the Lord Almighty. It will be easy and delightful now to trace the love of the Holy Spirit, in creating the desire to be the children of God. Did you ever observe how that desire arises in the mind of a penitent? It is not the Jirst wish of a broken and contrite spirit. " Call me a child of thine !" is not tnc first prayer which springs from the heart to the lips, when we feel ourselves to be children of wrath by nature. Penitents, in general, adopt instinctively the prayer of the prodigal, "Make me as one of thy hired servants, lor 1 ain no more worthy to be called tliy son." You remember that you would have been con- tent, yea, well pleased, to be restored to the favor of God, in any capacity, or relation, which would have placed your soul in safety. To he on the right hand, at the judgment-seat, however far off from the spot where crowns of glory were falling : to be in heaven for ever, however obscure or un- noticed, would have more than satisfied your soul, at first. You could not sec then, how God could "put you among the children, and give you a goodly heritage," in the general assembly and church of the first-born, whose names are written in heaven, and whose mansions are near the throne. You would have counted it "joy unspeak- able and full of glory" for you, to have had the prospect of serving the servants of God, by car- rying their harps after them on the sea of glass, or by helping them to cast their crowns at the feet of the Lamb. Y'ou thought of no crown nor harp for yourself; but felt, that you could adore the Lamb for ever without either, if only permitted to be where he is. Now there was real humility in all this : but it was not so wise, as it was well-meant, nor so very humble as it seems. P^or, as this is not the form in which eternal life is promised or presented to any one by the gospel, so it is not a form in which It should be sought or desired, by any one. It is, remember, "many sons," or only as children, that God wiU bring to glory. Hob. ii. 10. Accordingly, the Holy Spirit did not allow your hopes or de- sires to rest satisfied with the bare prospect of just escaping hell, and entering heaven at last.— He led them out, however gradually, to seek for an interest in the great atonement— for the re- generating power of grace— for conformity to the divme image ; and thus led them on to embrace the prospects of the gospel, as well as the promises ot It ; and to lay hold of eternal hfe, just as Christ has revealed it. Do you not see the love of the Spirit in this 1 Consider ; had you been left to take up with the mere liope of escaping hell, or of being merely "a THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT. 19 hired servant," in your father's house, you would : soon have relaxed in prayer to God, and in de- pendance on Christ. Tliere is, alas, but too little ; of both maintained, even when a hope full of im- \ mortality is takea up : and there would be still less, if less than " the glory to be revealed" were ' permitted to become the final object of desire or ^ pursuit. i Besides ; it is of immense importance, yea, ab- ! solutely necessary, to be led on to the desire of i full adoption into the family of God. WiUingness j to be a servant is all very weE, as a feeling ; but as a principle, it does not, and cannot, produce i either the kind or the degree of service which God requires. Indeed, when it is thoroughly sift- ' ed, as a principle, it will be found somewhat un- holy as well as slothful. Our hearts, remember, are very deceitful, and quite capable of preferring that relationship to God, which involves the fewest sacrifices, and the least serving. It is, therefore, just as possible to hold back from embracing the hope of souship, m order to avoid the duties of children, as to keep back from the sacrament, in order to stand clear of its pecuhar moral obliga- tions and responsibilities. More is expected from children than from servants, in life : and in godli- ness, this is soon discovered to be still more true. O, it is well that the Comforter is "the Spirit of adoption!" By tliis, he proves himself to be the Spirit of sanctification and holiness. For it is sonship alone, that is seen and felt to call for filial, cheertul, and impartial obedience. It is the duty of being " followers of God as dear children," , that explains and enforces " following the Lord I fully." Consider now the love of the Spirit in fixing and exercising the mind of penitents, with God's solemn question, — " How shall I put thee amongst the children'!" Jer. iii. 29. It is a remarkable fact, that all the truly penitent, however intent upon escaping the wrath to come, are yet deeply concerned for the honor of God in their salvation. I mean, that they wish to see how a holy and just God can, consistently, save them. Their chief difficulty lies here. This is not what might naturally be expected from a sinner, when he is shrinking from " a fear- ful looking for of judgment and fiery indignation." Then, it might be supposed, that he would care for nothing but his own safety — that he would catch at any hope of escape, without one thought about the glory of God — that he would count any kind of salvation, in any way, enough for him. But a penitent does not. The louder he cries, " Who can dwell with devouring fire and everlasting burn- ings V the oftener he asks, " How can man be just with God?" The more he feels his danger, the more he wishes to be honorably deUvered from the wrath to come. There is more in this concern for the honor and consistency of God, than can be explained fully by the fact, that we know him too well to suppose that he could show mercy at the expense of law or justice. This consideration has, of course, no small influence upon us. It ought to have much. But still, there is more m this state of mind, than the conviction that God must act in character, or in harmony with all the perfections of his nature, and principles of his government. There is, also, an anxious and honest desire to see God just, in justifying : to see God glorified, in saving. Ac- cordingly, until something of this is seen, no peni- tent ventures to answer God's question, — " How can I put thee amongst the cliUdren V This, however, is just the question, for drawing us to search the Scriptures, that we may ascer- tain whether there be any way in which God can be merciful to us, without injury to his character. And is not the love of the Spirit illustrious, in thus throwing us upon an inquiry, that throws us di- rectly upon the gospel? Were our great question only — how shall I become better, or how shall I resist temptation in future? we might, and most likely should, stop short of the cross of Christ, and think only of our need of some divine help. But the question — how can I become an adopted, ac- cepted, and beloved child of God ? cannot be an- swered by any prospect of mere help, however great. It is unanswerable, until we discover that for this very purpose, or that we might be "dear children," Christ both died and rose again. How wise and kind it is, therefore, 1)0 fix and exercise our hopes and fears, with a point upon which we can obtain no real satisfaction, but by finding out from the word of God, that he sent his Son to re- deem them who were under the law, just " that we might receive the adoption of sons." Gal. iv. 5. Truly, the Spirit is often a Comforter, when we do not think liim so. Yes ; his work is often in tender love, when we suspect him of desertion or denial. We, no doubt, thought, when turning over and over in our minds, the absorbing inquiry, " Am I a child of God — shall I ever be one of his family ?" — that it was very trying, and somewhat strange, that we could come to no settled conclu- sion ! But see now — what love regulated all the work of the Spu-it, in this apparent " standing afar off." He was thus taking care, that we should come near enough to the cross, by the Scriptures, to see in it, and for ourselves, that the great sacri- fice which made mercy free, made adoption equal- ly free ; that the blood which cleanseth from all sin, cancels all unworthiness, and gives power, right, and welcome, to all who receive Christ crucified, to regard themselves as the children of God. There is much of the love of the Spirit mani- fested^ in thus shutting up penitents " to the faith" of the gospel, for the relief of their anxieties about sonship. No direct witness of the Spirit with their own spirit could, under orduiary cir- cumstances, do tliem so much good. It might be more agreeable to us, to have a sense of sonship, or the consciousness of adoption, borne in upon our minds by an impulse ; but it would neitlier be so profitable or safe. We should be in no small danger of attaching more value to it, than to the cross ; and in great danger of makmg less use of our Bibles. The Holy Spirit, therefore, does not give a sense of any thing, which would set aside or lessen the necessity of " a life of faith" on the son of God. He witnesses to no sonship, but what is drawn from the cross, and held at the cross, by humble and prayerful faith. Accordingly, even those cloudless and glorious discoveries of sonsliip which hallow and enshrine the death-bed of some saints, are, most likely, — indeed certainly, — all made tlurough the medium of their former experi- 20 THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT. mental knowledge of the ^ace and power of Christ ; then, (fathered into one full-orbed sight of tlic Lamb slain ! I mean,— that the Spirit's wiuiess then, is not to their worth, but to the worthiness of the Lamb. It seals, or accredits, of coun-c, tiieir sincerity as the followers of the Lamb — but It shines fromlJie Sun of Righteousness him- Fclf Yes ; the life of faitli is at its height, when even the holiest Christians are dying, whether in triumph or Iranquilhty. The witness of the Holy Spirit with the spirits of the ciiildrea of God, to their adoption, is, con- ffs«?dly, a difficult subject. One thing, however, ta certain, — and sheds great light upon both his love and witness, — that he does not witness against the testimony of our own spirits, but rvith il. When our own heart or conscience condemns as for known sin, or for heartless prayer — or for allowed inconsistencies— or for the indulgence of unliallowed tempers and worldly-mindedness, — the Holy Spint is too holy; yes, and loves us too well, to shine upog our souls. He bears witness to our adoption, only when our own spirit witnesses that we are honestly trying to walk worthy of our high calling. When we cease to conduct ountelves as tJie children of God, the Comforter ccd.M.-s to act as the Spirit of adoption, until we return to filial obedience and submission. Thi.s is real love to us. For if we could re- t.iin the sense of sonship, after having lost the ►pint of prayer ; or could we carry the hope of adoption, into the patiis of backsliding, witliout diiiHiung it, we sliould soon become prayerless, if not apostate. So far, the rule of the Spirit's witness is as plain, as it in wise and holy. There are, however, not a few very exemplary Christians, whose own spi- ri!« bear them witni'S-s that they are trying to walk wiUi (iod, and to lean entirely upon Christ, and to act ai< children ; and yet they say, that they are " utter strangers to the spirit of adoption." Now, what sliall I say to this ! Few; perhaps, have Been oftonor, or corresponded more with this rLisx, than mvself. None can tell the dilemmas I h.ive been placed in, by cases of this kind, when I have ha/1 to answer startling questions, upon the r()ur of the moment, to the victims of depression and dr>H[x)ndeiicy :— a cla-ss more numerous than iiisny HuinKxsf, and more tempted than I sus[>ect- • d. Often (and that just in order to throw their ilioiightH into a new channel, and thus to gain a li-aring) have- I been comiwlled, whilst my heart w.Ai< blecdin.' with sympafhy, to ask with a smile, " \ iiibling sinn<'r, — Your distress, and fears, and anxieties, arc proofs that God ha-s not given you up to a reprobate mijid, and proofs that the Iloly Spirit is making you feel your need of a Saviour ; ftiJl, I would ahvays add, — they are not proofs of your election, nor pledges of your final safety. All tlicir value depends on what they lead to. If you ilo not follow them out by fleeing from the wrath In come, they may prove the forerunners of that wrath. If you rest in them, instead of applying at once and fully to Christ, they may turn out to be the first gnawings of "the worm that dieth not ;" the first .-sparks of the " unquenchable fire !" You see now, I hope, the diiferonce between liirht and illumination. I say "difference," be- fiu-^e there is more than a distinction between ihefn. And it is of immense importance to re- niomber this fact : for thousands, by forgetting it, setMe down into idle waiting for more grace, under the rasli jjresumption that the fear of perishing is the plrdge of eventual salvation. Thus, instead of flocinp from the wratli to come by actually and immcdiatfly applying to Christ, they turn their momentary fear of that wrath into a reason for fi'jpmg tc) escajK" it. .Again I say, I attach great importance to con- victioHH of sin and danger : but still I must repeat that he is not illuminated, nor much enlightened, who can be satisfied with having felt then deeply for a time. Indeed, convictions which can find cutTiricnt relief in their own depth or sincerity, cannot be very deep. A deep fear of perishinn- would compf'l flight, for refuge, to the hope set bc"- fore 118 in the gospel, I low Homo now light upon the evil and danger of cm ran bo set down as saving grace, I can only explain by the deceitfulness of the heart. All the Bib!.! illasfrates and proves, that light upon thi- dubiort is intended to lead to Christ. Accord- inply. when Paul prayed for the quickened Kphe- Man^ that the eyes of their " understanding might .- enhghtoned." his obj(;ct was, that they might know " the /,„,v of God's calling." Eph. i. 18 And It i« not safe to call any light divine iUumina- iH.n, which permits us to stop short of that hope, or to li(ip«- merely because we have feared. We aro not lhor..ng!ily m earnest about our souls, if any impresMon made upon them (whether painful .T |.l-.i.s,ng) ,s turned int.. an excuse or a reason f..r not pressmg to an issue the question of their falvation. You are now prepared to consider how much love the Spirit manifests in standing " afar oflf" as a comforter, from aU who try to take comfort from his work, instead of seeking for it in the finished work of Christ. For, were all fears, and all con- victions, and all arrests of conscience, really his work, he will not witness to them, as being " the good work" of grace on the heart, until they are employed as reasons and motives for trusting the soul to the great work of Christ on the cross. He will not only stand aloof from comforting those who take up with their own feelings instead of Christ ; but he will leave these feelings to subside, perhaps to vanish away so completely, that the heart shall become harder than it was before its first meltings. There is wonderful love in this, however it may seem anger at the time. Tliere is indeed, anger in it too ; but it is the paternal anger which chas- tens sharply, because paternal love is strong. For, were we allowed to comfort ourselves with the hope of salvation just because certain feelings prevailed in us at one time, we should soon under- rate Christ as much as Legalists do, and neglect holiness as much as Antinomians do. I have dwelt much upon this point, too long, per- haps ; but I have done so, that you may dread and hate the bare idea of resting satisfied with any light, which does not bring you into thorough sub- jection to the cross and sceptre of Christ. The light is not divine, which is not leading on this subjection, from year to year. " And if the light that is in you be darkness, how great is that dark- ness I" It is not darkness, however, if our relief from distressing fears of God, arises from his lovely character as God in Christ, delighting in mercy, and reconciling the world unto himself. Relief from this view of the glory of God in the face of Jesus, is spiritual illumination, and that, too, in a very high and emphatic sense. The light of crea- tion is not more directly the effect of the power of the Spirit, than this light upon the character of God is from the love of the Spirit. It is tptally different from the mild and gentle views of the Almighty, which fashion and philosophy talk of. The believing views of a Christian are mild and gentle ; but not in the world's sense of the words, nor for the world's reasons. The le- niency and love which worldly men ascribe to God, have not only no moral influence upon their hearts or habits, but they are ascribed to him just to hide the danger of caring nothing about him. They are not conclusions drawn from the unspeakable gift of his Son as a Saviour, nor from the promise of his Spirit as a comforter, nor from the un- searchable riches of grace and the eternal weight of glory ; but from the base wish to sin without danger, and to die without fear. The light of a Christian is, also, quite a dilTer- ent thing even from that of the formalist ; who, m speaking of the divine character, uses the very words of Scripture. The expressions, " God is love, ' « God delighteth in mercy," " God can be just in justifying him that believeth in Jesus," are read and repeated by thousands, who neither wonder nor adore. All this is mere matter of course to them. It wins no love, and leads to no prayer: it dlummates neither the shadow of death. THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT. 23 nor the pilgrimage of life : it is all phrases without meaning, or facts without interest. Not so to a Christian; he can hardly beheve, for joy, that God is love ! He feels so tmworthy of any love, and is so ashamed of his ingratitude, that he is afraid of presuming, even when most willing to be an entire and eternal debtor to grace. The words, "God is love," are infinitely more to him than words. He sees in them the face of God smiling on penitents ; the heart of God yearning over his children ; the wisdom of God guiding, the power of God guarding, and the grace of God sanctify- ing, all his family. He hears in them promises of pardon, and pledges of acceptance, and assurances of glory. This is illumination ! True ; it is nothing but the mind of the Spirit in the written word ; no- thing but the meaning of Scripture; but then, what a meaning it has, compared with what we used to find m it, and put upon it ! It is only old truth ; but it is now full and overflowing with new glory, to a Christian. And, who is to blame, because all who read that " God is love," do not see so much in it as to be melted or amazed by if! Is the illuminating Spirit "a respecter of persons]" No ; but he is a respecter of principles, and a respecter of laws and order : and if any will pay no respect to the word of God, nor to the reproofs of providence, nor to the dictates of conscience, he respects the au- thority of divine means too much to illuminate without them. It is as " the Spirit of revelation," as well as "of wisdom," that he enlightens the eyes of the understanding in the knowledge of God as love. Eph. i. 17. No. VII. THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT IN INTERCESSION. It is just as true that the Spirit " ever Uveth" to help our infirmities by suggesting prayer, as that the Saviour ever liveth to intercede for the prayerful. Indeed, the respective offices of Fa- ther, Son, and Spirit, in reference to prayer, seem to sustain each other. The Father's readiness to hear, seems to be as much the Spirit's reason for helping our infirmities, and the Son's reason for pleading his own merits on our behalf, as their joint intercession is the Father's reason for an- swering prayer. He answers it because the Spi- rit suggests it, and because the Son presents it ; and they promote it thus, because he dehghts to hear it. This seems the grand moral reason why the Holy Spirit does so much to help our infirmities, and the Saviour so much to insure our success in prayer. The Spirit knows that supplication has only to be " according to the will of God," in or- der to find a sure place in the golden censer of the Son ; and the Son knows that the incense of his merits can sanctify and sustain it with the Fa- ther ; and, therefore, both ever live to intercede for us ; — the one on earth, and the other in hea- ven ; the one by teaching us to pray, and the other by praying for us. There is as much holy wisdom in this arrange- ment for the success of our prayers, as there is 68 (16) paternal kindness in it. It enables us to know, in some measure, what degree of interest the Sa- viour is likely to take in our prayers. It prevents us from imagining that he ever liveth to intercede for those, who never pray for themselves. Thus we are not allowed, for a moment, to suppose that Christ is praying for us, if we dislike or neglect prayer ; nor that he takes much interest in our prayers, when we afe heartless or heedless in de- votion. It is just as necessary, in order to secure the in- tercession of Christ On our side, that our prayers be " according to the will of God," as that inter- cession itself is, in order to secure their accept- ance : for Christ will no more put heartless prayers into his censer, than God will answer Christless prayers. In this matter, the Son looks as much to the way in which we treat the Spirit, as the Father looks to the way in wJiich we treat the Son. Whoever will not pray in the name of Je- sus, the Father will not answer him ; and who- ever will not yield to the strivings of the Spirit, the Son will not own him. And who can wonder at this ? Where is the common sense, or the common honesty, of the man who objects to the duty of "praying in the Holy Ghost," or "with the Spirit i" The help of the Spirit is just as open and free to him, as the merits of Jesus. He is just as welcome to ask for the Spirit, as to add to his prayers the all-prevail- ing name of the Saviour. There is no more ob- stacle between him and the help of the Holy Spi- rit, than there is between him and his Bible. He may as soon and easily obtain help in prayer, from the Spirit of grace and supplication, as obtain from his Bible the rules and reasons for pleading only the merits of Christ. Nor is this all. That man is not to be found under a gospel ministry, or after reading the Scrip- tures, who is an utter stranger to the strivings of the Holy Spii-it. Every such man has felt, again and again, convictions of the duty of prayer, and impulses to pray. Many, alas, resist them ; but all who hear the gospel feel them. Yes ; and find it so difficult to get rid of them, that their inge- nuity is put upon the rack, to find out speculative excuses for not praying. None have had such hard work in stifling their convictions of the duty and necessity of prayer, as those who are most dexterous and prompt, m excusing their neglect. Whenever a man asks, How can I pray in the Spirit, before I receive the Spirit ? — he has had more stirring up from him, than he liked to fee), or cares to confess. He does not wish for any more drawing or driving to the mercy-seat, than he has felt. He has had enough of both, to con- vince him, that praying will not fit in with his pur- suits. He has been near enough to the foot-stool of the throne of grace, to see that he does not hke it at present: but, as this confession does not sound well in words, he sets himself to excuse himself. And if his pretences of wanting time, or abihty, for prayer, do not silence either his friends or his conscience, he tries to prove that the work of the Spirit is too great, and too good, and too remarkable, to have any connection with what he has felt. It means (forsooth!) every thing, but "the day of small things," which he wants to de- spise, because he dislikes it. Accordingly, he 24 THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT. would be any thing but glad, to have that Spirit, | which, he says, lie has not pot, and cannot com- mand. In a word ; he dreads having any more of \ his work, at present, than ho has had. He saw \ lUj face, and did not like it ; and, therefore, lie ! wante to make out that tlic Holy Spirit has done nothing for him! This is the real secret of all the pretences put forward by the delaying and undecided hearers of the jTOf^pel. The Spirit of CJod is doing more for , theui than they wish at present ; doing so much, tliat the only way in which they can get to the bu.^lle or the follies which quench divine influence, is, to deny the divinity of what they feel at solemn j moments. Not a man of them has the shadow of a doubt upon his mind, as to whether he could pray— when he feels thus. He sees clearly that, were he to i/ield then, he both could and would pray enough to commit liimself beyond all retract- ing or retreating. If it be thus base and criminal to "resist the Holy Ghost," even whilst he is only convincing of the duty of prayer ; how much more, when he has convinced us of the advantages and enjoyments, which may be derived from it, and found in it? And this conviction he has established in the in- most soul of all who have yielded to his first striv- ingB. Whoever has allowed himself to be drawn to the throne of grace, and has there given way to his feelings, untd his heart was "poured olit" before (iod, lias found by experience, that it is pood to draw nigh unto God. He may not have found, at first, all the enjoyment, nor all the relief, whicli he h:is heard others speak of: but he did rise from his knees a happier man than he knelt down. I le did wonder, after giving way to strong cries and tears, that even he should have disliked to 1)6 alone with (Jod in f)rayer. He did resolve, that he would soon return to the mercy-seat. The manife.Mtaiion of the love of the Spirit, which occurs at this point in conversion, is pecu- liarly int»-resting. He may not exactly comfort nor cheer tJie t*ouI, when it first yields to him as " the Spirit of Hui)phcation ;" but he either soothes if into Homething like calmness, or excites it to a fer\pncy of hof)' desire, which seems the forerun- ner of hope. If he do not reveal at once to the soul. Its warrant and welcome to believe on Christ for itfl own salvation, he does siiow enough of the HufJiciency of Christ, to satisfy us that "he can Have to the uttermost, them tfiat come unto God by hiiii." Thus we are made to see and feel, that prayer is not a vain thing; that its eflicacy is worth trying; and that the very act of trying it, bringu come composure. Thus a lesxon is taught by the first influence of ranifht nr-iyer, which is never forgotten. The .Spirit jodires niirl neals a sense of the usefulness of drawintr mikIi to God, which can never be lost. It may be v.eakencd ; but it cannot be erased.— Airordiiigly, the inowt liearlless, yea, the most hopele»« backslider, cannot forget nor despise "the days of old," when the candle of the Lord first shone in his closet. He may not dare to pray_he may dread nothing so much as beincr alone w.ih God in prayer ;— but he has no doubt ol the iiappiness of those who are prayerful. He envies their stale. He knows that "there is no liappmeaa for hun. until he resume the devotional habits of his first love, and become a closet Chris- tian again. . These sad effects of quenching "the Spirit of supplication," will enable us to understand clear- ly, how yielding to his intercession with us, se- cures the intercession of Christ for us. Christ will put no prayer into his censer of much incense, which has not been put into oui- hearts by the Holy Spirit. And, on the other hand, it is just as true, that Christ will not exclude from his golden censer, any prayer which the Spirit excites. It may not be answered at once ; but it is sure to be presented, accepted, and remembered. It is as truly filed at the throne of God, as it was felt by the heart or breathed by the hps. Wliat an encouragement this is to pray "in the Spirit," or "with the Holy Ghost!" I do not mean, of course, that we should pray only when we are powerfully urged to the duty, by a deep sense of want, or weakness, or danger. No. There may be quite as much of both the love and the grace of the Spu-it, in enabling us to keep up regular habits of devotion from day to day, as in those powerful impressions, which seem audible calls to extraordinary prayer. Indeed, wherever there is no habit of morning and evening prayer, there will seldom be any compUance with the calls or drawings of the Spirit to special prayer : for if the standing law be disregarded, it is not likely that the occasional impulse will be obeyed. Such impulses, however, ought not to be resisted. There is, depend on it, a strong " needs be," whenever the Holy Spirit bears hi upon the mind, the con- viction that there must be more prayer than usual, or more fervency than there has been ! He fore- sees some imminent or real danger to our princi- ples, our character, or our peace, whenever he stirs us up to " cry mightily unto God.'' This is the signal he gives, to forewarn us of approaching trials of some kind. Yes ; whenever his voice in the heart says, like the Saviour's in Gethsemane, " Watch and pray, lest ye enter into temptation," something is about to happen, which we are not prepared for, by our ordinary devotion. Either trouble is coming, which we are not fit to sustain in our present strength ; or temptations are com- ing, which we are not able to overcome by it: either our spiritual or our temporal affairs are on the eve of some turn, which will involve serious consequences, perhaps for life ; or Satan has taken measures to " sift" us " as wheat :" and, therefore, our faith must fail, unless the Intercessor in hea- ven pray for us ! All this the Spirit foresees, and thus forewarns us of; and, therefore, he intercedes with us, to watch and pray for ourselves, that Christ may intercede for us. The sufficiency of the Saviour's grace, or strength, for sustaining us in the hour of trial, is, remember, " made perfect in weakness ;" and it is by pressing upon us the im- mediate necessity of praying more earnestly, that the Spirit reminds us of our weakness, and ap- prizes us of our danger. Christian, let no clamor against impulses in ge- neral, divert you from obeying the Holy Ghost, when lie is impelling you to abound in prayer, or to improve your devotional spirit. You are in no danger of praying too often or too lono' in your closet. Fanaticism does not send her dupes, nor 1 1 ancy her votaries, into the closet to wrestle with THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT. God for grace to help in time of need. Prayer against falling or fainting, is not one of the dic- tates of a spirit of illusion, or of delusion. There is real need for more than usual prayer, whenever your sense of need is strong. There is a critical nick of thne at hand, whenever your heart tells you, that you are too far off from the mercy-seat to be safe or steady. I am not foreboding evil, if by that you mean only afflictions or reverses. I am thinking of far heavier calamities than a sick-bed, or than sink- ing in the world : these are, indeed, trying ; but they are not ominous, nor so perilous as they seem. Swimming in the world, is far more ha- zardous to a Christian than sinking in it. He knows how far he can sink, and yet be safe : but he does not know how far he can rise without losing his piety. He knows the worst that " bread and water" can do to his soul ; but he cannot calculate the effect of luxury, nor of money, nor of ease, upon his present character or upon his eternal state. This, however, is not exactly what I mean. Like myself, you may be in no great danger from abundance. There may, however, be a worldly spirit, without wealth ; and a slothful spirit in re- ligion, without the snare of leisure to induce it ; and a backsUding spirit, without any great falling off of public character. Here is our danger ; and it is real. For how many sink and settle into a heartless profession, by which they lose all en- joyment of religion, and are lost to all usefulness ! Now, it is to prevent this sad issue that the Holy Spirit is so prompt and pressing, whenever the power of godliness begins to decline in the heart. — Then he gives warning at once ; and, for a time, haunts the soul with the interceding cry, " Como, my people, enter your chamber ; watch and pray, lest ye fall into temptation." O, what falls, and shipwrecks, and apostacies, and backslidings, might have been prevented, had all who were thus challenged and charged, when they began to decline from their "first love," been obedient to the heavenly vision ! liet their folly and fate teach us wisdom. It is infinitely easier to obey these timely promptings of the Spirit, than to extricate ourselves from the en- tanglements of backsliding. An hour of special prayer then, may save to us, what the disobedient have not been able to recover for years, the pre- sence of God, and the hope of acceptance. It will also prevent us from being, as they all are eventually, " rebuked in wrath, and chastened in hot displeasure," by the strokes of retribution. A prudent Christian cannot but admire and adore the love of the Spirit, in interfering thus promptly and urgently, to check the first symp- toms of declension, by powerful incentives to more prayerfulness. He will also trace his love in drawing out prayer to all the extent of the pro- mised salvation. For, how true it is, even in re- gard to mercy and grace, that " we know not what we should pray for as wo ought." Ptom. viii. 26. It is said, I am aware, that our chief difficulty is, to know what temporal things we should pray for. And it is, no doubt, more diffi- cult to choose aright amongst temporal blessings, than amongst spiritual, in one sense ; for we are very bad judges of what is best for us in this life. and very prone to desire most what is most with- held from us. In regard to temporal things, how- ever, we never desire tooUttle, nor feel indifferent to what is good ; whereas, there are many spi- ritual blessings which we could but too easily overlook entirely, or dispense with until the even- ing of hfe, did not the Holy Spirit force them upon our notice, and draw them into our prayers. For, how few would seek humility, were not pride dangerous ; or spirituality of mind, were it not death to be carnally minded ; or communion with God, were it not a mark of union to Christ ; or the witness of the Spirit, were it not the proof of the work of the Spirit ; or the joy of salvation, were it not an earnest of eternal life"? Indeed, I dread to look at the long list of promised bless- ings, which would hardly be prayed for, or thought of at all, were they not brought to our remem- brance, and built into our prayers, by the Holy Spirit. Alas, we are so inchned to be contented with, if not to prefer, a mere escape from the wrath to come at last, that, if left to our own choice, we should be in very great danger of not praying at all for the divine image or presence ; for the seal of the fruits of the Spirit ; for like- ness to Christ, or for a sense of his constraining love. We could make less serve and satisfy us, were we left to our own choice, or to take our own way. Nor is this all. We have but very inadequate views, at first, even of the extent of our need of mercy to pardon ; and much more inadequate views of our need of grace to help. We mean, indeed, much of both, when we begin to pray in good earnest : but still, much less than we really need, even if we feel our need of more than we can venture to hope for at the time. I do not know that I could have beheved this, in reference to my need of pardoning mercy, had the fact been told me when, like the publican, I began to cry, " God be merciful to me a sinner,' without daring to lift up my eyes. Then, the fear of not seeing God through eternity, and the im- possibility of saving myself from the curse of the broken law, made mercy unspeakably dear to me. But, now that I hope to see God as he is, and dwell for ever in his immediate presence, I see my need of a kind and degree of pardoning mer- cy, which I had no idea of at first. Then, mercy enough to keep me out of hell was aU I thought of: but now I see the need of such pardon, — of such reconciliation, — and of such acceptance, as shall enable me to feel at home with God, in hea- ven, to all eternity ! This is not, perhaps, another kind of mercy than that I began to seek ; but it is quite a different degree of it, and leads to as much prayer. For, who can realize, or imagine, and not pray fervently for it, a pardon so gracious and complete — that the soul shall be perfectly at home for ever in heaven, even when it knows as it is known, and when it beholds God in all the ma- jesty of his authority, in all tlie glory of his holi- ness, and in all the independence of his blessed- ness"! The bare idea of going up to the eternal throne, even once, without terror or shame, is al- most inconceivable : for how much is required in order to one welcome ? But an eternity of wel- come, composure, and joy, at that throne ! — What is the mercy which bestows and prepares for that ? 26 THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT. We should not appreciate it, nor think of it, did not the Spirit help our infirmities, and teach us to pray for it. His love is not less conspicuous, in leading us to pray for all the grace we need to help, in this world. Now we have already found out that to be more than we suspected at first. And yet, the conviction, "I shall need much grace to keep me," is, in general, a very deep one in the mind of a penitent, even from the first. Indeed, so deep, that many yield to tlie temptation of keep- ing back from the sacramental fellowship of the church, lest they should fall away, or disgrace it. This is a sad mistake : for that fellowship is one of tlie most eifectual of all the appointed means, to prevent falling. It is not, however, sufficient of itself. Accordingly, those who have been long- est under sacramental bonds, know well, yea, best, that they have acquired far more grace than tJiey ever thouglit of needing, when they gave them- selves to the Lord and to the church. There have been times of trial and temptation, when we have been ready to give up all hope, and even to tlirovv up all religion. There have been moods of temper or of spirit, when nothing in religion seem- ed sure, sacred, or interesting. There have been conjunctions of the world and the heart, by ad- versity or prosperity, which almost produced Atheism, or the wish tliat there were neither a God nor an hereafter. Oh, had not the Spirit helped us then, wlien our infirmities were becom- ing infatuations, where, what, should we have been now 1 Had he not brought us up from "the fearful pit and miry clay" of such temptations, and put a new song into our lips by putting a new prayer into om- hearts, we should have sunk where we fell, and risen no more. But whilst such restorations and deliverances should be had in everlasting remembrance, we must not forget how much love there is in the help we receive from the Spirit, which enables us to keep on praying, in spite of all our hinderances and discouragements. I do not tliink lightly of the injury which sudden and peculiar temptations do to piety. I wonder and adore, to see how the Spirit repairs and counteracts these injuries : not less, however, to see how he prevents the ordinary tear and wear of tlie world, and the natural ten- dencies of the heart, and the force of prayerless example, from wasting away both the love and habit of devotion. Keeping alive the fire of hea- ven upon the altar of the temple, was nothing to this prescvvalion of the spirit of prayer ! That fire had many a shelter ; but this is like a spark in the ocean, exposed to the waters beneath and to the winds above. One way in which he preserves the love and habit of prayer, is, by the remarkable help he gives at times of peculiar need. It is no uncom- mon thing for Christians to go to their closet on one errand, and yet completely to forget it, when they catch the spirit of prayer, or obtain commu- nion with God. Perhaps the original errand is, to plead for the removal of some Jieavy cross, or for the continuance of some temporal blessing : when, lo, in trying to bring this desire into harmony with the divine will, — the thoughts rise amongst the di- vine perfections which call for submission ; and, there, get amongst the perfections which win love and awaken gratitude. The worth of the soul shines out in this light. The claims of eternity begin to open. Then, the favor of God is so felt to be life, and his loving-ldndness better than life, that nothing else is thought of ! Time, earth, cares, and comforts, are all forgotten in the ab- sorbing glory of salvation, and in the beaming smiles of the divine presence. The soul finds in communion with God and the Lamb, perfect peace and joy unspeakable ; and thus loses time, in eter- nity ; earth, in heaven ; the body, in the soul ! And the less is really lost in the greater. We come forth, after such " times of refreshing from the presence of the Lord," willing to do or suffer any thing, and prepared to resign all our wishes to the divine will. Christian I let them doubt the actual help of the Spirit, who pray only by fits and starts ; and let them overlook his love in helping infirmities, who are satisfied with repeating forms of sound and serious words : we know, that he has enabled us to pray without book at times, as well as with it ; and drawn us beyond all that books contamcd, and all that we ourselves intended. Neither books, nor memory, could have led us into some of the outpourings of the heart, which we have been occasionally drawn into by the Spirit, when we have let him have "free course" in his sug- gestions, and have followed them up honestly. No. VIII. THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT IN RESTORATION. It is worthy of special notice and remembrance, that whatever was the kind or the degree of spi- ritual declension in any of the seven churches of Asia; and however the particular counsels and warnings addressed to them varied according to the depth of their fall ; still, the great general com- mand to each of them was one and the same, — " Hear what the Spirit saith." This is neither accident nor mere form. Attention to the Spirit was the only cure for any of the defections. — Without hearing him, the Ephesians could no more have regained tiieir "first love," than the Laodiceans could have thrown off their lukewarm- ness. Witiiout help from the Spirit, the " little strength" of the church in Philadelphia was as unequal to overcome " in the hour of temptation," as the Sardians' "name to live," was unfit to strengthen the things which were ready to die. Pergamos would have continued to listen to the false doctrine of Balaam and the Nicnlaitanes, and Thyatira to the licentious doctrine of Jezebel, had not both set themselves to listen again to " what the Spirit saith unto the churches." According- ly, all the return of any of these churches to their first love and their first works, was in consequence of renewed attention to the Holy Ghost ; and only lasted whilst he was listened to in his oracles. It is also worthy of special notice that the Epis- tles to the Asiatic churches, although dictated to John by the lips of the Saviour himself, and all opened with proclamations of his own supremacy as the head of the church, are yet invariably closed by the authority of the Spirit, as the author of re- THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT. 27 velation, to enforce them. The Saviour does not conclude by saying, "Hear what I say ; but thus, "He that hath an ear, let liim hear what tlie Spi- rit saith unto the churches." Thus whilst he maintains his own office and honor as king and priest of the church, and condescends to act as her prophet too, he asserts and sustains the office of the Holy Ghost, as the Spirit of inspiration. — The Saviour makes himself heard, that we may recognise and revere the Comforter, in the lively oracles. The reason of this may not be obvious at a glance ; but the wisdom of it is profound, and its design gracious. The prommence and import- ance thus given to the work which the Holy Spi- rit carries on in the soul, by the truth, like that given to the work of Christ/or the soul, is, for the purpose of shutting us up to an entire dependance upon each. Were less said, than that Christ is ■" all in all" in the work of redemption, we should divide our faith between his merits and our own morals, or seek to be justified partly by law and partly by grace ; and thus never come to the point, in penitence nor in humility. For, it is by seeuig that we must look to nothing but the blood of Christ, for pardon and acceptance, — and that there ia nothing else to look to for justification, — that we come to set ourselves in good earnest, to fall fuUy in with God's plan of saving. Finding that half-measures will not do ; or, that God will have nothing to say to us, until we have nothing to say to him, but just that Christ died for the ungodly ; we are glad to go any length in abandoning all legal claims and rehances ; and become intent upon glorying only in the cross of Christ. We retreat from one thing after another, until we give up every thing but the cross, and say of it alone, " Behold, O God, our shield." Indeed, we get no quiet rest, until we cease to argue or plead, by any thing we have become, or intend to be ; and begin to confine ourselves to the one plea, " Look upon us in the face of thine anointed." This is that reception of Christ, concerning which it is said, " as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God." John i. 12. Now, just such a place in our atten- tion and confidence, should he given to the Holy Spirit, in reference to his work. We ought as much to look to him for grace to help, as to the Saviour for pardon and acceptance. Whenever we look into the Scriptures for counsel or conso- lation, we ought to look up to the Spirit for a heart to appropriate and improve them ariglit. Whatever means of grace we use for safety or edification, we should never forget that their suc- cess depends upon the blessing of the Holy Spirit. In a word, we ought to be as much afi-aid of over- looking or underrating the Comforter, as of not applying to the Mediator ; and as watchful against leaning to our own understanding, or trusting our own hearts, as against self-righteousness or le- gality : for the work of the Spirit is as much in- tended to shut us out from self-dependance, in the matter of sanctification, as the work of Christ is to shut us out from self-complacency, in the mat- ter of justification. To concede all this as a point in theology, or to agree to it as a maxim in religion, is, however, not enough. It must just be apphed and acted upon, as you do in the case of making Christ "all and all" in your salvation. Now in doing that, you search out your legal tendencies ; you set them down as refuges of lies ; you not only pray that God would sweep them away, but also watch lest they should be swept back again by Satan. You are not easy when you find yourself looking less to Christ. You even become afraid of your sincerity in religion, when you are not conscious of a single-hearted and exclusive reliance upon his merits. Well; just such a jealousy and watchfulness should we exercise over our own hearts, in refer- ence to the grace of the Holy Spirit. Wo must no more allow ourselves to forget him when we open the Bible, or enter the sanctuary, or engage in prayer, than we overiook the Father or the Soli. We ought to be as much afraid of grieving iiim, as of dishonoring them : for as we profess to as- cribe equal and everlasting glory to Father, Son, and Spirit, we are bound to pay them equal atten- tion. I mean, that the attention given to the Spirit, should not be left to accident, nor paid in formal compliment. And it need not be so. It is just as easy, because as much our duty, to give him his proper place in our confidence, as to give the Father and tlie Son their place. We took some pains to ascertain, and to fix in our minds, the precise reference which our prayers, our hopes, and our feelings should have to God and the Lamb. We did not leave that to chance nor to impulse, when we became anxious that our fel- lowship should truly be with the Father, and his Son Jesus Christ : and the fellowsliip or " coni- mmiion of the Holy Ghost," cannot be kept up by paying him empty compliments, nor by yielding vague honors to him. I dare not ask yet, whether you feel deeply in- terested in these huits. They are both too few and feeble to command absorbing attention, or to excite much expectation. Perhaps they do not even suggest to you their precise design which is, to explain how backsliding and declension chiefly arise. Now that it is not fully explained by say- ing, that some sin of omission or of commission, grteved the Spirit of God, and then the power of godliness declined rapidly. This is. indeed, (piito true ; but it is not all the truth. The sin, wlie- ther of omission or of commission, or of both, which led to this sad result, was, itself, preceded and occasioned by inattention to the Holy Spirit, or by expecting help from his grace without iiear- ing his word. For " what the spirit sai/h to the ch°urches," is as much his moans of sanctifying and comforting, as what the Saviour hath done and suffered for the church is (Jod's reai=on for pardonintr. Now we expect no pardon, apart from the cross? We are quite sure that wc siiould re- ceive none, were wc to look away from the cross, or even to look to it but partly. Well ; it is just as true, that we are not warranted to expect grace to help, apart from an impartial use of the word of trace. The Spirit sanctifies, and susf atn.s, and consoles, " bv the truth," just as God acquits and accepts by 'the atonement. But how f.nv so notice this fact, as to follow up thoir full sub- mission to the cross, by a full submission fo " the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of Here is the real secret of backsliding, and of THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT, that loss of " first love," which is so common. We content ourselves with selecting, here and there from the Holy Scriptures, a few of the most remarkable directions for walking in the Spirit ; and a few of the most solemn warnings against grieving the Spirit ; and, having adopted these general maxims, together with certain strong phrases about the power of the Spirit, we take for granted that we are as orthodox and honest in re- ference to him, as we took pains to be in regard to the Saviour. Now I do not mean to insinuate, that we are either wiUingly or wittingly dishonest, in thus satisfying ourselves with a general recognition of the claims and commands of the Spirit. No ! We honestly suppose, that this will be enough to keep up and carry on our piety. It is too, as much as the generality possess, and more than some pro- fess. What then 1 It has not always been enough to keep up the power of godhness in our hearts, nor to prevent backshding in our hearts. Nay ; it has not been enough to secure equal at- tention even to " the fruits of the Spirit." For, after all our professed subjection to him, are there not some of them we have never yet set ourselves to cultivate or consider? " The fruit of the Spiritis, love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, good- ness, faith, meekness, temperance." Gal. v. 22. Look at this list, and judge for yourself, whether you have gone far enough in honoring the Holy Spirit. Well might Paul say, when he brought this list of graces and virtues before the churches, " If we Eve in the Spu-it, let us also walk in the Spirit." Ver. 25. Why ; if we had given as httle atten- tion to " temperance," or to " faith," or to general "goodness," as to "love, joy, peace," or as to "meekness, gentleness, and long-suffering," we should have made " shipwreck of faith and a good conscience" long ago! Even now, did our ac- count stand as ill with the morals of this list, as it does with the mercies of it, we should almost set ourselves down as being still unconverted. The absence of both "joy and peace" does not, how- ever, prove that against us. Conversion may be real, even although our enjoyment be but small, and our love but weak yet. But still, although neither hypocrisy nor unregeneracy is pj-oved, by the want of joy, nor by the weakness oi love, in- attention to the Spirit is proved against us by them : for as the good seed of joy, love, and peace, is as abundant in his word, as the good seed of faith or repentance, both the want and the weakness of the former fruits of the Spirit, must be occasioned by our not sowing that seed sufficiently. " He that sowetli to the Spirit, shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting." Gal. vi. 8 ; and joy and peace in believing, are first-fruits of that harvest of glory. But still, they are as really the fruit from seed, as they are foretastes of hea- ven. Hence, Paul prayed for the churches, that they might have "joy and peace in behoving;" not in wishing for them, nor in waiting for them, nor in merely praying for them ; but in behoving tlie joy-giving and peace-giving promises, or in sowing to the Spirit the good seed of good hopes and strong consolations. This is giving the Holy Spirit his proper place, in a proper way. There is both sense and humility in wishing and waiting for the joy of the Holy Ghost, when we are sowing the seed of it, and watching the springing of it, and watering the leaf of it by prayer : but we are trifling with the Spirit, when we are not attending to what he saith unto the churches. For how can he help us on points, on which we neglect to "hear" him? If, indeed, he had not spoken enough in the promises to comfort us : or not enough in the precepts, to direct us ; or not enough in the warnings to check us ; then wishing and waiting for the upspringing of the fruits of the Spirit in our hearts, without sowing or seed, might neither be sinful nor use- less. It is, however, both, now that the Scrip- tures are able to make us wise unto salvation, and to furnish us thoroughly for every good word and work. Thus we might have, and we ought to have, the joy of salvation, and the Spirit of adoption, and the earnest of heaven, as well as the desire for them. They are as fully provided for, and as freely offered, in " what the Spirit saith unto the churches," as hope is warranted by what he saith to the world. " The Spirit speaketh expressly," when he assures the world, that whosoever will believe shall have eternal life ; and not less ex- pressly when he says to the church, " he that be- lieveth hath eternal hfe, and shall not come into condemnation." Yea, tliere is much " written" to believers for the express purpose, that they " may know that tliey have eternal life ;" and thus feel encouraged and bound to continue a life of faith on the son of God. It is by overlooking this, that backsliding is so common. Many converts do not listen to the good and comfortable words of the Spirit, the be- lief of which gives joy and peace ; but waste their rime in wishing for comfort to come into their minds, or to spring up in their hearts ; not fi-om what he has said, but from what he can do. The consequence is, they have not enough of " the peace of God," nor of " the comfort of the Holy Ghost." to keep theu- hearts and minds happj;- or steadfast ; and thus they lose their first love, and often neglect their first works. If you have never studied this subject before, you are in some danger of getting impatient with this mode of treating it; especially as I hardly seem to have a definite object before me. Do you then ask me, what I mean ] I am glad of it ; for a plain question will bring me to the point, or stop me altogether. Well; I mean, that you have nothing to expect from the Spirit, but just what the Saviour promised ; which is, that the Comfort- er would sanctify and console by the truth — by leading into all truth, — and by bringing it to re- membrance. If, therefore, you and I overlooked or forgot this fact, and satisfied ourselves with listening to the Spirit on only a feiv great truths, what could be expected, but that our comforts should be few and small, and thus our declensions many ! Now, do not quarrel nor quibble with this fact, as if it would impose upon you a task which you have neither time nor ability to undertake. All that the Spirit hath said to the churches, is not so much, but that it may be examined and consider- ed too, by reading over the Epistles — not the work of a month to the bu.siest ! And begin, if you will, by hearing what he hath said to comfort, THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT. 29 and thus to confirm, tliem who believe. You want to know whether the righteousness of Christ is imputed to you ; and iie says, that it is " upon all them that beUeve." Rom. iv. 22. You want to know whether you are a child of God ; and he saith, " ye are all children of God through faith in Christ." You want to know whether your sins are pardoned ; and he saith, " he that believeth is justified from all tilings." What do you mean by comfort, if this be not enough to comfort you] — For, what more could the Spirit say to you, were he to speak to you as he did to the prophets and apostles ? True ; the comfort of these sweet as- surances turns upon faith. They are only ad- dressed to believers. What then ] You are not as an unbeliever, if all your reliance be upon Christ, for the holy salvation proclaimed in the gospel. You are a believer, if you love salvation from sin and wrath, and be honestly seeking it by prayer. The Spirit does not stand upon niceties, nor lay down perplexing distinctions, when speak- ing of faith. He looks to the heart ; and when it is well disposed towards the cross and sceptre of Christ, and willing to be a debtor and dependant for ail mercy and grace, he recognises faith, who- ever else may doubt or deny its existence. O yes ; the love of the Spirit is too tender and con- siderate, to perplex or embarrass an humble peni- tent with intricate questions about the nature of faith. The substance of his questions is, — in 1 whom do you believe for salvation ? and for what ! holy purpose do you believe } and if our souls, in ' answer to this appeal, throw themselves upon the Lamb slain for grace and law, the Spirit saith, — " be of good cheer, thy sins, which are many, are forgiven : go, and sin no more." Tiiere would be less backsliding, if tliis were believed. Neither Satan nor the world would be able to get such a hold upon us as they do, if we took cnre to keep a firm hold upon what the Spirit saith to the churches, as a Comforter. And were he to be as much listened to as a sanctifier, there would soon be but few complaints about desertion, or darkness, or doubts. Where backsliding, however, has occurred, what the Spirit saith is, " Remember from whence thou hast fallen, and repent, and do thy first works. Repent ; or else I will come unto thee quickly, and fight against thee, with the sword of my I mouth." Rev. ii. 16. And he keeps his word! I The Spirit makes his sword turn against the back- ; sliding, until they return to their first love and [their first works. Accordingly, they can find no coiiitV)rt in his promises; no refreshing from his -orilinances; and but little hope from the glorious [gospel itself. Thus, their Bibles become to tlicm boolcs they are afraid to open ; and sacraments, 'lawful hazards; and their closets, painful retire- !!ut still, the Spirit does not say, even to such, that they are hypocrites; nor that they never kiif'w the grace of God in truth. No! He treats tn.iii as fallen ; but not as if they never had stood. Aicordingl)^ he sends them to recommence their " iirst works," and not to begin their faith anew. I I moan, he does not treat them as unbelievers, but as ungrateful and disobedient children, who I require to be both wooed and warned to return I home. Here, again, the love of the Spirit shines brightly ! He does not make the worst of very bad cases ; but even when " things are ready to die," says, " Be watchful, and strengthen" them. The general sentiment of this essay will come under your notice in another form, when I trace the love of the Spirit watering and ripening the good seed of his own word. As, however, I have referred so much to the Apocalyptic Epistles in this chapter, I cannot close it without reminding you, that the "first works" of the primitive churches included one work, which very few mo- dern Christians begin with— the consecration of their property to spread the gospel. I say, to the spread of the gospel ; not the aggrandisement of its ministers, nor the architecture of its temples. They laid their goods at the feet of the apostles, that the apostles might lay the gospel before the world, and enable its poor adherents to be faithful unto death. This, when it is done at all now by individuals, is usually their last, instead of their first work. And yet, the first emotions of a true convert, are very much akin to the benevolent feelings of the first converts at Pentecost. Indeed, were the ministers of the gospel as much pledged to the world now, or as intent upon carrying or sending the unsearchable riches of Christ to the Gentdes, as the apostles were then, rich converts would do now as they did then ; and the first work of every Christian, who had any property beyond the ne- cessities of his family, would be to" distribute to necessitous saints, and to help on the chariot of salvation. And this good work is not loss neces- sary, now that it has to be begun in the churches. For the churches will never have the outpouring of the Spirit, until there be an outpouring of their own property into the treasury of the Lord. This time is at hand ; and it will be a searcliliig time. It will soon be impossible for a ricii man to believe the gospel, unJess he is prepared to spread it. The kingdom of heaven is again making its strait gate a " needle's eye," througii which the camels of providence cannot enter, without selhng all they have, more than they really need. I tremble to think how many, when this duty is en- forced, wUl, like him upon whom it was first en joined, "go away sorrowful" from Christ, just because he wants their property as well as their faith. No. IX. THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT IN SEALING BELIEVERS. If the witness of the Spirit be a somewhat mys- terious, and thus a perplexing subject, to many Christians, the seal of the Spirit is an intimidating subject, to stiU more. Indeed, very few venture to say or think, that they are " sealed with tlie Holy Spirit of promise." Eph. i. 13. This is hardly to be wondered at, however much it sliould be deplored ; for when a Christian asks, " wliat is the seal of the Spirit ]" and turns from his Bible to commentaries for an answer, he is not made much wiser, nor at all happier, by learning the ancient modes of scaling sacrifices, letters, and 30 THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT. property. To tell him, that believers are sealed, as these were, to distinguish and preserve them ; only widens the question, without answering or simplifying it in the least. It then returns with the puzzling addition, — what is the distinctive mark 1 What is the impress of the seal of God, upon the children of God 1 Now, when the question takes this form, we can never be far wrong in taking general ground at first, and saying, " they that are after (or ac- cording to) the Spirit, mind the things of the Spi- rit." Rom. viii. 5. For whatever his seal be, they are not utterly unsealed, who are mindful of, and take a lively interest in, the things which the Holy Spirit has written, and wrought, and promis- ed. And in like manner, they are not altogether unsealed, who are not unsanctified. Whoever has any real features of the image of God upon his heart and character, is not quite without the seal of the Spirit of God. So far this process of settling the question may, indeed, somewhat confound sealing with sanctifi- cation and spiritual-mindedness. That, however, will do no harm to truth or piety. Far better confound the seal of the Spirit with the sanctifica- tion of the Spirit, than separate them. They cannot be separated, in fact, nor in experience, however they may be distinguished in theory.— Neither the unholy in character, nor the carnal in mind, have any seal of the Father, Son, or Spirit upon them. " Their spot is not the spot of his children;" but "the mark of the beast," or of " the false prophet." Accordingly, whenever any thing independent of faith and lioHness, has been invented or paraded as the seal of heaven, it has always been some mystery of Babylon, or some vagary of fanaticism. There is, amongst the truly pious, a familiar, but emphatic use of the word " sealing," which I am persuaded, is quite as near to the real fact on this subject, as the definitions of any creed or critic. I allude, especially, to the well-known stanza, " Prone to wander ; Lord, I feel it ; Prone to leave the God I love. Here's my heart! Lord take and seal it; Seal it fiom thy courts above." Any Christian understands this; and every Chris- tian feels his need of such sealing, and desires to experience its help. For, having found, again and again, that warmth and tenderness of heart can relapse into cold formality ; and that our best frames are not abiding ; and that botii our views and vows can be almost forgotten at times ; we cannot but desire this sealing work of the Holy Spirit. Tiiat may be more than the perpetuation or the ratification of our best viev/s and feelings : but we know, and are sure, that we are neither prepared for more, nor likely to obtain a higher seal, until our principles and affections are more sealed or confirmed. And we know also, that when truth has the force of truth upon us, and whilst the spirit of prayer keeps up well, and whilst we walk humbly and circumspectly before God, neither our hopes nor our comforts are few or small. They may not amount, even then, to all that is meant by the seal of the Holy Spirit of promise, as " the earnest of the inheritance of the purchased possession" of heaven ; but they are so like it, that they cannot be far from it. For we have soirte foretastes of heaven, and some humble consciousness of the beginnings of meet- ness for the inheritance in hght, when we are walking with God. They may not, indeed, be very lasting, nor at all rapturous whilst they do last ; but they are both sweet and soothing. They - help us to go on with some calmness, and with more rebsh, " look for tlie mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life." It is, therefore, well worth our while to trace the love of the Spirit, in sealing his own work upon the soul, even if his special seal be some- thing more and higher, than settled principles and habits of faith and holiness. Indeed, the more than these it is, the more need there is that these should be sealed, or confirmed, by the Spirit. For, to what can you look in your religious experience, which, if left to itself, would not have vanished away, like the early cloud or the morning dew 1 True; there is vitality in gracious principles. But why ] Just because the Spirit who implant- ed them, keeps them alive. The good work of grace in the heart does go on ; but it does so, be- cause he who began it, carries it on. Where would its goodness or its progress have been at this moment, had it depended entirely upon its first powerfulness, or upon our prudence ■? Alas^ we have often brought that good work to a very low ebb, and into a bad position in our hearts. We have, at times, thought that it was utterly lost ; or that it had been only a delusion, from the first. And it would have gone entirely, had not the Holy Spirit loved it more than we prized it» and watered it more than we watched it. It lives, because he, in common with Christ, has ever hved to keep it alive. This is emphatically true of that sense of guilt and danger, in which the work of grace usually begins. For, had not our first convictions been sealed by the Spirit, as well as awakened by him, they would either have passed away, or been shaken off. Self-upbraiding, and especially self- condemnation, are so unnatural and painful, that the mind does all it can, first to evade them, and then to throw them off. The fear of perishing would never gain such an ascendency over our self-love and self-complacency, as would lay us down, self-condemned, at the feet of God, did not the Spirit of God bring it to this point, and keep it there long enough to compel flight from tlie wrath to come. " A fearful looking for of judg- ment, and fiery indignation," is too fearful, to be willingly admitted, or long retained, by the mind. It would be kept out, or cast out, if we could. But if it had — we should not have fled for re- fuge from the wrath to come, to lay liold on the hope set before us in the gospel. Had not the Spirit sealed our fears, until they shut us up to the cross and the mercy-seat, v;ith the cry, "Lord, save, I perish," we should never have bv^come be- lievers, nor penitents. This sealing of the sense of danger, at the very time when the mind is doing all it can to rid itself of fear, is not, indeed the sealing spoken of in Scripture. Tliat, whatever it be, comes "after" THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT. 31 believing. Hence Paul says to the Ephesians, " After ye believed, ye were sealed." i. 13. There would, however, be no believing with the heart unto salvation, if there was no sealing, on the heart, of the awakened sense of the need of sal- vation. It is only sealed convictions, that lead to saving conversion. Do, mark the love of the Spirit in this ! It well deserves your admiration and gratitude. He carried out your fears far enough, and kept them up long enough, to render the gospel glad tidings to your uneasy conscience, and to make Christ precious to your soul. It was, no doubt, very painful at first, to be kept on the rack of suspense, whether by terror or by timidity ; but it was good for you. It led to a fervency of prayer, and to a searching for hope, and to a cast- ing of the soul upon Christ entirely, that more than compensated for all the pain. For you could not wish now, that your sense of danger had been shghter at the time, however trying it was for the time. Well ; observe how it has been sealed by the Spirit, since it ceased to be painfid and oppressive. You have not now that "fearful looking for of judgment," which once haunted your conscience, or depressed your spirits : but stUl, you do look forward to tlie judgment-seat. You have lost " the fear which hath torment ;" but you cherish still a holy fear or awe of both judgment and eter- nity. You are neither altogether fearful, nor al- together fearless. Why] There has been a sealing of your convictions at tliis middle point, between absolute dread, and perfect peace. I mean, that the Holy Spirit has taken care, that you should neither despair nor presume. It is just as true of the way of salvation, as of our need of salvation, that both our knowledge and love of it, require to be sealed by the Spirit, in order to live and last. They are not natural to us, any more than self-condemnation ; and, there- fore, although more agreeable, they too would vanish away, if the power which created them did not confirm them. Accordingly, we know by bitter experience, that our clearest views of our warrant and welcome to trust in Christ, have be- come so dim and indistinct, that we could make nothing of the gospel for a time, in our own case. And, what is worse, our love of the gospel can wax cold, even when our knowledge of it is not clouded nor confused. And had tiiis darkness and disrelish gone on, or remained, when they set in upon our mind, where now had been our faith or hope ! Who does not feel, that iie requires to be kept to the cross, as well as brought to it "J This is a melan- choly confession ; but it is only too true ! Our hearts can be treacherous even to the Saviour; and our consciences, to the blood of sprinklmg. They have both had to be sealed again and again, in order to bind them to the only thing which can pacify or purify them. But, thus, they have been bound to " the horns of the altar" of Calvary ! They may at times so loosen " the cords" of confirmation, as to seem about to fall or fly otf entirely ; but tliey do neither long. We cannot forget, for many days together, what we have known and felt of our need of a person- al interest in Christ ; nor can we give up, often, the habit of seeking, or of trying, to make sure, 69 (16) ] of bemg found in him. Why ■? we have sealed I persuasions of the necessity of this, and settled ! desires to obtain it. Our efforts have not, alas, I been equal to our convictions or to our desires ; but they would have been less than they are, had not the Holy Spirit stamped our concern to be- long to Christ, with stability and perpetuity. It is peculiarly delightful to trace the love of the Spirit, in keeping alive, in spite of all the world's snares, and all the heart's treacheries, and all Satan's temptations, a settled sense of our need of an interest in the unfinished work of Christ. This need has been before us for years, in all Ughts and in all forms ; but we are neither tired of feeling it, nor indifferent about its success. Our hearts return to it, however they wander ; and our prayers re-centre upon it, however they fail for a time. Thus our solicitude to be found in Christ, has been so far sealed by the Spirit, that we do not, and dare not, give up seeking to be found in him. It is impossible not to remember, in this con- nection, how our general views and convictions of the truth of the gospel, have survived shocks of trial, or of temptation, which must have upset them, had they not been sustained by the power of the Holy Ghost. Sometimes, the dispensations of Providence have seemed to us, at variance with both the promises and doctrines of Grace. We have looked for hght, and found darkness ; for joy, and found only sorrow. Then, God's dealings seemed clashing with God's word, and his provi- dence running contrary to his promises. This creates a sad dilemma ! When this suspicion set- tles in the mind, it unsettles every thing for a time. Oh, were there no seal put upon our principles, when the rod of Providence seems to contradict the pen of inspiration, and the hand of God to undo the word of God, by mysterious visitations, how soon and entirely our faith would fail ! Yes ; had it not been sealed in the cloudy and dark day, when all things seemed against us, we should have made shipwreck of both faith and a good con- science. It is not adversity only, that can thus peril the life of faith. Prosperity, also, not unfrequently, induces a state of mind prone to speculation, or open to sceptical suggestions. Satan thus finds it easy, first to amuse the soul with curious ques- tions, and then to entangle it with jjlausible sophis- tries. And, having inserted the wedge of doubt among the mass of first principles, he drives it homer until they split up like dry timber or a veined rock. Nothing could stop their destruc- tion, but seals which stop the rent. If you have at all passed tlirough trying exer- cises of mind from affliction or temptation, it ought not to be very difficult for you to conceive, how the Holy Ghost, as the Spirit of promise, seals the souls unto the day of redemption. This is not more unlikely, nor more inexphcable, than that, as the Spirit of faith and truth, he should have sealed your principles and desires, when they were giving way before heavy trials, or harassing temptations. You are no stranger to sealmg, if you have passed through deep and dark waters, without losing entirely your faith or your hope. You may well behove Uiat the Spu-it of promise 32 THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT. can seal your hopes, seeing he has so often revived them. ^ , 11 I prefer to let the meaning of the special seal of the Spirit creep out thus, without formality of definition or announcement, that you may not only judge for yourself, but also enjoy what you discover. It is, you see, only a higher and strong- er degree of the hope of eternal redemption. That is usuaUy weak and fluctuating at first. Even the joy and peace found at first in believing, have not much of a heavenly character about them. I mean, they are not so much earnests or foretastes of heavenly peace and joy, as sweet re- liefs from present fear and anguish. They rather look back with wonder to the past day of dread, than forward with delight or composure to the final day of redemption ; and thus are but earnests of " the earnest of the inheritance" of the saints in light. It is then when the soul is enabled to hft up its head, in prospect of the final day of redemption, with a hope full of immortality, that it is sealed by the Holy Spirit of promise, as the earnest of hea- ven. When he carries out the hope of finding grace, to the hope of glory also ; and makes present communion with God and the Lamb, a sweet foretaste of eternal happiness ; then, the soul is sealed as well as enlightened — confirmed as well as comforted. This is not so uncommon as some say. There are, perhaps, but very few Christians, who have not been again and again sealed with earnests of the heavenly inheritance ; although they have not ventured to call or consider then- " Moments rich in blessing," as earnests of glory. But, have you not known such times of refreshing, both in the sanctuary and the closet, when you found it something like heaven begun on earth, to see God in a light, and the Saviour in a light, which hushed all your anx- ieties, and filled your soul with peace ? Have you not felt at times such oneness of spirit with all the armies of heaven, that you could not but see how instinctively and cheerfully your heart joined their harps in ascribing " Salvation and glory to God and the Lamb !" Have you not said at the wells of salvation, If such the sweetness of the streams, What must the fountain be, Where saints and anprels draw their bliss Immediately from Thee ?" of their inheritance. Thus he wanted them to have more sealing eartnests of heaven. And that their first sealing did not confirm their souls long, is but too evident from the Saviour's message from Patmos ; charging them with hav- ing "left their first love," and threatening to re- move their "candlestick out of its place," un- less tliey repented. These facts give the he di- rect to all theories of sealing, which make the seal final or indelible. His seal like every other part of his work, has to be renewed from time to time. Lilve his witness, it is not abiding any longer than we keep from grieving him. The Holy Spirit soon unseals every one, who makes a bad use of his comforts. And in misealing the inconsistent and slothful, he evinces as much love, as when he seals, most fully, the diligent and de- votional. For if we could find the sanctuary "a httle heaven below," however seldom we were in our closets, or however unwatchful we were in the world, we should soon try more hazardous experi- ments. You now see that the seal of the Spirit is nothing which makes either calling or election sure, apart from walking in the Spirit, and bearing the fruits of the Spirit. It makes these fruits foretastes of heavenly happiness : and that is all. But that is much ! " The fruits of the Spirit are love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, meek- ness, temperance." Gal. v. 22. And what a sweet and useful sealing of the soul it is, when these take a heavenward direction, and something of a heavenly character ! How delightful it is to love, feelmg that it will be perfect and eternal in heaven ! How joy improves, when we think of it becoming full of glory ! How peace passeth all understanding, when we think of it reigning unto eternal hfe ! How gentleness and goodness com- mend themselves, when we realise them as holi- ness which can never be tarnished, and as com- posure which can never be ruffled ! And this is the way to ripen the fruits of the Spirit. Instead of looking at them only in their connection with this world, we ought to lift them up, one by one, into the light and warmth of glory, that we may see and feel how they will be " plea- sures for evermore." But this subject must not be treated thus vaguely. It will come under your notice in a more definite form, in a subsequent chapter, where the love of the Spirit, as the earn- est of the heavenly inheritance, is traced experi- mentally. This is the sealing work of the Spirit. Nothing is more unwarranted or unwise, than to regard that, as either indelible assurance, or an unalter- able witness of sonship. It was not a full nor an abiding earnest of heaven to the Ephesians ; al- though a real earnest whilst they took care not to "grieve the Holy Spirit of God, whereby they were sealed." Eph. iv. 30. Observe this fact. Even whilst their first love was in its first glow, and when they were just sealed, Paul told them, that he bowed his knees for them in prayer, that they might be rooted and grounded in love, and that they might know the iiope of their calling, and the riches of the glory No. X. THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT IN SANCTIFICATION. It is not easy, even with the promise of the Spirit before us, to maintain a lively hope of sanctifica- tion, in the presence of the solemn assurance, that "without holiness no man shall see the Lord :" — and it would be impossible to hope at all in the face of the fact that " nothing which de- fileth" can enter heaven, if we had not the Holy Spirit to look to, and depend upon. They laiov/ little of heaven, and care still less about it, who do not feel this. It is deeply felt by those who THE LOVE OP THE SPIRIT. 33 cannot forget, that heaven is a prepared place for prepared people ; or an inheritance for which they must be made " meet" by grace, as well as made « heirs" by Christ. Such persons are not relieved from solicitude, or from suspense, in tlieir own case, by knowing well, that meetness for the in- heritance of the saints in light, does not mean perfection in this world. They know too, that it means more holiness than they have yet attam- ed or attempted. They also see things about themselves, so unholy, that they are almost afraid to regard themselves as real subjects of " the true grace of God." Even what is best in their cha- racter and heart is so imperfect, weak, and vari- able, that they sometimes doubt thefr own sin- cerity, as well as their personal interest in Christ. And, had they not the power and the grace of the Spirit to look to ; and, did he not " in his love and in his pity save them," they would despair alto- gether, when they weighed themselves in the ba- lance of the heavenly sanctuary. For, even with the Spirit to depend upon, they can hardly keep up hope, whilst the plagues of their hearts keep down the fruits of tlie Spirit in their character. Then, the difficulty is, — to see how there can be any sanctifying grace, where there is so much un- sanctified nature ; or how there can be any saving work of the Spirit, where the workings of the flesh are so powerful. I We must remember more than the power of the Spirit, when we feel thus, if we would con- tinue to follow holiness witli a hope full of immor- tality. We must take hold of his love, in order to get hold of his power, at such a crisis. I can- not see how his hand will work for my sanctifica- tion, until I see how his heart feels towards me. Now although it be no easy matter to believe that he can love again, or love at all, after he has been so often grieved and vexed, by wayward- ness or by ingratitude ; stUl, until this is beheved, or at least hoped, his power cannot be drawn nor calculated upon. Accordingly, we try to gather from our wishes to be holy — from our willingness to submit to sanctifying discipline — from our dread and loathing of being given up to the lusts of the flesh or of tlie mind — from our keen sense of the way and degree in which holiness would make us happier, and from our deep sense of the beauty of holmess — we try to gather proofs, that the Holy Spirit would not have shown us these things, nor sealed our convictions of them, had he not loved us. We are, indeed, very ingenious in balancing things, and in making the best of bad circum- stances, when the fear of having the Holy Spirit taken from us, comes in like a flood upon our hearts. It is, however, for a good purpose, that we thus try to make out a good case in our own behalf. We are trying to increase our love to the Spirit, when we are thus straining our ingenuity to keep up the hope, that he loves us. It is not in order to be less afraid of grieving him, that we cling to the fond hope of being still precious in his sight. O, no ; when we are most mtent upon making out to ourselves, that Jie has not left us entirely, nor forgotten us at all, we are most de- termined not to quench or vex him again. Tiius it is for holy purposes, that we wish the Holy Spirit to abide with us for ever. It is because we feel his work in us, to be a " good work," and wish it to be carried on in its goodness as well as its existence, that we are so willing to hope for his continued help. And we are right in all this. The Holy Spirit does love all who are trying to love him, and pray- ing to be sanctified by his grace. His heart is not alienated, nor cold, nor grudging, towards any heart that wishes to open itself to the sweet in- fluences of his holy presence. He knocks, and strives, and woos, even at the door of hearts which are resisting and evading him ; and, therefore, it is no presumption nor rash conclusion, to believe that he is not departed from those who, although they have grieved liim, are yet deeply grieved for having done so, and honestly desirous to be " temples of the Holy Ghost." Well ; it will much increase and confirm your habit of " minding the things of the Spirit," thus seriously and conscientiously, to trace the love of the Spirit in sanctification. You do not see that love, in either its warmth or strength, by a hasty glance at the surface of your own conformity to the divine image. You are not aware of how much he has done in you and for you, whilst you look only at what you have done yet in following holiness. His " good work" is greater and better than your good works. Not that it is a substitute for practical holiness. O, no ! There is no good work of grace in the heart, where there are no good works of godhness in the life. There is none of tlie grace of the Spirit, where there are none of the fruits of the Spirit. But still, it is " the root of the matter," that brings forth the fruits of the matter. It is the goodness of the tree, that makes the fruit good. It is not, however, by figures or emblems, that the worth of the pruiciple of true holiness can be experimentally shown. " That which is born of the Spirit, is spirit ;" a new creation ; or the germe of a " divine nature," immortal in its prin- ciple, and holy in all its tendencies. Thus facts are stronger than figures, on this subject : indeed, so strong, that they are almost staggering to us, when we first try our own regeneration by them. No wonder ! That which is born of the flesh, is flesh ; and in general, it has grown up so much be- fore we seek to be born again of the Spirit ; and, even after, it finds so much in earthly tilings, and in worldly example, to nourisli and cherish it ; whilst that which is bom of the Spirit, and is spirit, finds so little, that the former overtops and outweighs it. O, how difficult it is, when com- paring that which is born of the Spirit, with that which is born of the flesh, to prove, even to our- selves, the existence of the spiritual principle, whilst the carnal principle is so predominant! Were it not that the spiritual principle rallies again, after seeming extinct or overpowered ; and thus continues to exist like a spark in the ocean, unquenciied by the many cold and stormy waters which go over it, I see not how we could satisfy ourselves, that we are born of God. But here is a fact in our religious history, — inexpUcabJe in any other way : we cannot give up altogetJier the de- sire or the pursuit of holiness ; we cannot forget the necessity of it, nor the beauty in it, which we have seen and felt : we cannot bear the idea of coining under the dominion of sin or Satan j but 34 THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT. however mastered or betrayed at times, we gladly try again and again to " put off the old man with his deeds, and to put on the new man, which after God is created in righteousness and true holiness." Is not this the finger of God, and the hand of the Spirit? This "pursumg" of holiness, although faint, goes on and holds out so, from year to year, notwithstanding fightings without and fears with- in, and in spite of so many hinderances and dis- couragements, that I cannot account for it, nor explain it at all, but by saying — spirit must have been bom of the Spirit, where the holy principle thus survives, and tries to surmount the world, the devil, and the flesh. For nothing of this kind is seen in, or pretended by, the unregenerate. — When they are "led captive by Satan at his will," it is at their own wUl too. They are willing, as well as chained captives : whereas, when a Chris- tian is most chained, he is most unwillmg, and never so unhappy. You feel this. Well ; I want you to mark the love of the Spirit, in producing and sustaining this holy principle, or "law of the mind," which "the law of the flesh," although for ever warring agamst it, does not overcome. Now, what but love could induce him to implant this divine principle in our impure and earthly hearts ! It is, remember, the germe of the divine image ; " the seed of God !" Now, although our hearts are not, by nature, worse than others, we know most about our own ; and ought, therefore, to judge from them, when- ever we study the love or the condescension of the Spirit, in beginning in them the good work of conformity to the image of God. VVe should not have begun it ourselves, even if we could have turned " The stone to flesh." An angel would have been afraid to try it, even if he had been able to accomplish the change of heart : for, as he could only liave influenced us by persuasion, he might have dreaded infection from long familiarity with the plagues of the human heart. No pure spirit, but "the Eternal Spirit" could deal with our spirits, long, and frequently, and deeply, without contamination and disgust. Accordingly, none of the angels can take "joy" in us, until we become penitents. Their rejoicing begins with our repentance. But wonder, O heavens ! the infinitely Holy Spirit, " for the great love wherewith he loved us, even when we were dead in sins, quickened us," without reluctance, and has kept us alive without wearying. Herein is love ; not that we loved him or holiness ; but that he loved us, and wrought upon our hearts, in which Satan was more welcome, and the world more precious. When I think of the Holy Spirit, thus produc- ing "spirit," where there was nothing but flesh, or carnal and earthly mindedness, I feel no curiosity to know the modp. of his operations, — I am so eatisfied and pleased with their effect upon the tastes and tempers of the natural mind. It is in- deed, sj)irit that is born of the Spirit, when a sin- ner is made alive unto God, through Christ Jesus. For, from that moment, there is an absorbing con- cern about the divine favor and image, which proves, that, however « old things" are unseated in the heart, and however "new things" spring up in it, as to the -process of the change, — the former are passing away, and the latter growing. What are definitions of the modes of spiritual opera- tions, compared with this " demonstration of the Spirit ]" This divine change whether sudden or gradual, speaks for itself, and declares its author at once, by its holy tendencies. It stops the dominion of sin, and strips all vice of its blandishments, and makes holiness rise before the mind in winning forms of beauty and pleasure, and concentrates the desires and determinations of the soul upon real goodness. I know, alas, too weU, how this new bent of the mind may be unbent again and again, for a time, by the force of temptation and circumstances ; but I know, also, that it can never be forgotten, how- ever much it may be lost by the fallen backslider, or laughed at by the reckless backslider. I have seen the latter, hke a ruined gamester, affect to despise his loss; but his eye contradicted his tongue, and his smiles at his former experience were alternately ghastly and bitter. The mocker was evidently miserable ! There is a great mistake prevails, in regard to those who, " after they have escaped the pollu- tions of the world, through the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ, are again entangled tlierein and overcome." 2 Pet. ii. 20. It is supposed by many, and I was one of the many long, that those who return to their " vomit and mire," after hav- ing known the way of righteousness, find enjoy- ment in their old sins. Enjoyment ! Transgressors dwell in a dry land, and their path is hard. — " Were you such a fool," (said one of them to me when I expressed my astonishment at his apparent tranquillity, during the years in which I had no suspicion of his being a sensuahst,) " as to beheve my pretences ? Why, sir, I never lay down a night then, without being prepared to end my misery in this world, if I should be unable to drown it by drinking. I carried hell about with me, whether you saw me canting or caricaturing." I have never been imposed on by such gentry since ; nor once deceived by taking it for granted, that they were miserable, just in proportion to the loudness and frequency of their avowals of being quite at their ease. I am persuaded also, that theoretic as well as practical Antinomians, are utter strangers to enjoyment, however they may talk. The very ingenuity and dexterity, which tliey evince in their arguments about eternal sanctification, and about Christ being their personal as well as their justifying righteousness, are too unnatural to be any thing but masks of a bad or a burning con- science. Such spasmodic forms of hope, are merely indications of secret despair. A man who has a good hope through grace, never assigns bad reasons for it, nor astounds sober minds by start- ling perversions of truth or logic ; whereas the man whose wits have been at work, and on the rack, to find out doctrinal excuses in the cross or the covenant, for an unholy hope, tells more than he intends, when he affirms that he is not unhappy in his mind, nor wretched in his closet. But enough of tliis ; although I could reveal much more. I just hint at these reckless experi- ments, that you and I may flee, as from a serpent, THE LOVE OP THE SPIRIT. 85 from all teaching and temptations, which would reconcile us to any theory of sanctiiication, that is not both practical and progressive in its charac- ter. No man is " elect according to the foreknow- ledge of God," but " through sanctiiication of the Spirit, unto the obedience," as well as "the sprinlding of the blood of Christ." 1 Pet. i. 2. Is this your creed and conviction ? Well ; just consider ihc love of the Spirit, in leading us into all truth on this subject. We see now, that " Christ is of God, made unto us sanctification," as well as justification, agreeably to what he taught as a Prophet, and to what he did as a Priest, and to what he demands as a King ; and not contrary to all or any of these offices. We cannot hide from ourselves the fact, that he teaches us to cut off and cast away besotting sins, lest we ourselves should be cast into hell fire ; that he died to save us from our sins, and to make us zealous of good works ; that lie wiU not, as the Uving Vine, nourish any branch in him, which beareth no fruit now, nor own at last any workers of iniquity, liowever they may have pro- phesied in his name, or eaten and drank in liis presence here. Thus it is according to the sanctity he taught, and atoned to secure, that we look to Christ as our sanctification. And he is so ! O, it is not little nor doubtful benefit, we derive from him, in this respect. He relieves us from no duty, and winks at no sin ; but he does what is infinitely better for us : he gives aU the motives, by which the Spirit sanctifies us, and all the merit which hides our imperfections. Yes ; it is his love, which the Spirit employs to make sin hateful and holiness beautiful, in our estimation ; it is his cross, by which the Spirit crucifies us unto the world and the world unto us ; it is his example, that the Spirit renders authoritative in our con- science and inspiring to our hearts ; it is his pro- vidences, which the Spirit makes to work for our good, in taking away and preventing sin ; it is his presence in ordinances and afflictions, which the Spirit employs to make us humble and watchful ; it is his " well done," at the judgment-seat, and the prospect of being for ever with him and like him in heaven, which the Spirit renders a purify- ing hope. Thus, whilst the Spirit is our sancti- fier, Christ himself is emphatically our sanctifi- cation. There is one manifestation of the love of the Spirit in sanctifying, which, if I could express it as clearly as I feel it deeply, I should present a line of thought, that would lay hold of every true Christian it came near ; I refer to the work of the Spirit, in sanctifying by afflictions. He is not slow nor ashamed to make them work together with his owTi sacred influence, for the promotion of our holiness. If this fact do not strike and astonish you at once, you forget that afflictions are chiefly chastisements for grieving the Spirit. It is because he has been resisted or evaded, that God takes up the rod of Providence, to correct what we would not allow him to cure by grace. Now, that the Holy Spirit should not leave us comfortless under the rod, nor leave it to work as it can upon us, even after we have quenched much of his holy rire, and stood out against his sweet influences, and almost expelled him from the tem- ple of our hearts, — this is love that passeth know- ledge. For, remember, if left to ourselves in the furnace of affliction, we should either sink or harden to a certainty. Yes ; but for liis watchful eye, and mighty hand, we should either " despise the chastening of the Lord, or faint when we are rebuked of him." You do not know much about real affliction, if you do not see his wonderful love, in this conde- scension to our weakness and unvvorthiness. You win find out, however, if you live, that you have as much need of the grace of the Holy Spirit to sanctify afflictions, as to sustain and soothe under them. Yes, as much need of his power to pre- vent them from liardening your heart against God, as of his blessing to prevent the gospel from becoming to you " the savor of death unto death." But I must close this essay. I cannot do so, liowever, without imploring you — to number — to weigh — to tell yourself, the kind and degree of sanctifying influences, which the Holy Spirit must put forth upon your heart and character, before you are "meet to be a partaker of the inheritance of the saints in light." Why; only consider liow much he must do in you, and for you, even before your calling and election be sure to yourself! — And now think, O think deeply, what he must do when you are dying, in order to fit you for any kind of an entrance into the everlasting kingdom of God, of holiness, of glory] What finishing touches he must give to the divine image, now so faint and imperfect on your soul '! What ripeness he must produce, then in all the fruits of lioliness, now so unripe? What a volume of holy fire ho must throw into and around your spirit, in order to prepare you fully to meet God — to see the Lamb on his throne — to mingle with the general assem- bly of perfect spirits — to sustain the blaze and weight and work of unveiled immortality? — Quench not, vex not, grieve not, the Holy Spirit, at your peril. No. XL THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT AS A KEMEMBRANCER. Had not the Holy Spirit brought " all things," said by the Saviour, to the remembrance of the evangelists, neither Matthew, Mark, Luke, nor John, could have written the gospels. Either of them, no doubt, could liave written much of what they saw and heard, during their intercourse with Christ : for all his miracles were too remarkable, to be forgotten by the witnesses of them ; and many of his sayings too striking, to be lost by his regular hearers. He who spake as never man spake, was thus sure to be remembered as never man was remembered, especially by liis disciples-. He said, however, much that tliey disliked, and more that they did not understand, and not a little which one hearing could hardly fix, to the letter, in any mind. His sermon on the Mount was l)oth longer and more sententious, than the strongest memory could carry away, without copious notes, and his chief arguments with the Scribes and ^10 THE LOVE OF THE SPIRIT. Pharisees, look so many turns, in order to meet the shifting grounds and temper of his opponents, that their effect, rather than their precise form, must have been the chief recollection of even the most attentive listeners. And when his ministry became, as it did towards its close, prophetic as well as parabolical, and mysterious as well as so- lemn, his precise words became, of course, almost as difficult to remember, as they were to compre- hend. What a loss, therefore must have been sustain- ed by the world and the church, had not the Holy Spirit so loved both, as to bring to the remem- brance of the disciples, "whatsoever things" Jesus had said unto them. They themselves took no notes of his sermons or conversations, at the time of their delivery. What they seem to have re- membered best, was not what was most interest- ing. All that has proved most useful and consol- ing to posterity, in the gospels, is chiefly what the writers disliked or misunderstood, until the Spirit recalled and explained it to them. I know that it was never intended to be lost. The Saviour's gracious words, like his sacred body, could not see corruption, however they might be buried for a time. The oblivion of me- mory was as impossible as llie oblivion of the grave, in his case. StiU, his words, like his body, were " quickened by the Spirit." He, who brought again from the dead the Lord Jesus Christ himself, brought to remembrance the truth as it is in Jesus, just as it had been spoken. John xiv. 26. " The Comforter, which is the Holy Ghost, whom the Father shall send in my name, he shall teach you all things, and bring all things to your remem- brance, whatsoever I have said unto you." If you have never traced the love of the Spirit in this resurrection of the truth from the grave of forgetfulness, you have not seen the compass nor the point of the Saviour's often-repeated com- mand, " He that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith unto the churches." Rev. ii. 17. The Spirit not only inspired the writers of the epistles ; he also inspired the writers of the gos- pels ; and in fact, re-preached to them all they had heard from the lips of Christ. Thus the New Testament is as emphatically the word of the Spirit, as it is the word of Christ : and as strictly the word of the Father as of both : for the Son invariably declared throughout all his ministry, " The words I speak unto you are not mine, but the Father's who sent me." There is, therefore, a threefold inspiration upon the gospels. They are the word of the Father to the Son, and the word of the Son and of the Spirit to the evangelists ; and thus the word of God to the churches and the world. You see now how much the Spirit had to do, when the ministry of Christ closed on earth. That ministry was conducted thus : " I have not spoken of myself ; but the Father who sent me, he gave me a commandment, what I should say, and what I should speak. And I know that his commandment is Life Everlasting : whatsoever I speak, therefore, even as the Father said unto me, so I speak." John .\ii. 49. Such being the case, that the word of Christ was the word of God, and all of it the word of Eternal Life, how important that none of it should be lost ! But, what could have preserved it, had not the Spirit treasured it up, and repeated it to the apostles 1 You remem- ber that the wayside hearers lost it ; that it was choked by the thorny ground hearers; that it withered away amongst the stony ground hearers ; and that even the true disciples, who were the good ground, retained it but very unequally, and not impartially. Much of the good seed must, therefore, have been irrecoverably lost, had not the Spirit gathered it all up as it fell, and after- wards re-sown it just as it was given. I have sometimes, in order to endear the gospel to myself, ventured to imagine, what kind of a New Testament we should have had, if the evan- gelists had been left to the mere resources of their own memory, and to the guidance of their own taste and discretion, when Christ left the world. And even in that case, I could not but see, that it would have been a wonderful book ! well worth reading, preserving, and circulating throughout the world, until the end of time. Yes ; had it contained nothing but just what the friends of Christ recollected, by dint of memory, it would still have been the best book in the world, and worth all that ever has been or will be expended, upon the perfect canon. It would, however, have been a very different book, in many things of very great importance. For none of the apostles liked or understood the spirituality of Christ's kingdom, or the atoning design of his sufferings and death, until these truths were again revealed to them by the Spirit. None of them had much love to chil- dren, nor any warmth of sympathy for the Gen- tiles, until the day of P'^ntecost. I will not spe- cify what, I suspect, they would most likely have passed by or forgotten : but I see enough of both to make me thankful, that they had to speak and write " as the Spirit gave them utterance," and " in the words which the Holy Ghost teacheth." But for this, we might not have known, concern- ing little children, that " of such is the kingdom of heaven ;" nor concerning those who only hun- ger and thirst after righteousness, that " they shall be filled ;" nor concerning all manner of sin and blasphemy, that "it shall be forgiven;" nor con- cerning the love of God in the gift of his Son, that it was love to the world, as weU as to the Jewish nation. In throwing out these hints, I do not mean to insinuate that the evangelists, if uninspired, would have kept back any thing they deemed useful to the world. I think they would have meant well, even when they judged iU. They were, however, men of " lil