of a fallen parent to sinners feeble and guilty as himself. His severity was tempered with sympathy, He was earnest with others, because he felt his own danger.

We may further illustrate our subject by the remarks of a late excellent clergyman, who was intimately acquainted with our preceding correspondent; and, like him, no idle observer of himself and the surrounding scene. "The religious world," says the Rev. Richard Cecil, has a great momentum. Money and power, in almost any quantity, are brought forth into action when any fair object is set before it. It is a pendulum, that swings with prodigious force. But it wants a regulator. And therefore, when I have any influence in its designs and schemes, I cannot help watching them with extreme jealousy. It has many features which are distressing to a holy man. He sees in it much proposal and ostentation covering much surface. But Christianity is deep and substantial. A man is soon enlisted; but he is not soon made a soldier. He is easily put into the ranks, to make a shew there; but he is not so easily brought to do the duties of the ranks. What is the consequence? People groan under their connexions. Respectable persons tell me such stories of their ser

vants, who profess religion, as to shame and distress me.-I have been amazed to see religious pro fessors, whose ungodly character has been known and read of all men, who have nevertheless enter. tained a good opinion of themselves. I have accounted for it by supposing that they build entirely on the distinction of their views of truth from those of other nien. I have seen such sin in the church, that I have been often brought by it to a sickly state of mind. But when I have turned to the world, I have seen sin working there in such measures and forms, that I have turned back again to the church, with more wisdom of mind, and more affection to it

CHRIST. OBSERV. No. 335.

tainted as it is. I see sin, however, no where put on such an odious appearance, as in the church. It mixes itself with the most holy things, and debases them, and turns them to its own purposes. It builds its nest in the very pinnacles of the temple. The history of the primitive ages of the church has also checked the disgust which would arise from seeing the impure state of things before our eyes. Folly and wickedness sported themselves, even then, in almost all possible forms*." We may rivet another link to the chain of evidence, by calling up a venerable friend of the last confessor, the Rev. Henry Venn; who, writing in 1765, says,-"Be not stumbled, if you should meet with many hollow professors, talkative, and full of confidence on account of their supposed conversion, and the knowledge they have attained in spiritual things. So it has been from the beginning. Upright followers of the Lamb are few in every age+."-We might multiply similar extracts to an indefinite extent; and are compelled to abbreviate, or rather dismember, the citations already made, wishing

Cecil's Works. Vol. IV. pp. 329, 330, 338, 320. Our quotations are not

consecutive.

† In 1787, the late Rev. Thomas Scott writes, from London," Religion here is such a superficial slight matter, so very yielding and worldly, that every thing I see and hear, as well as what I feel, is grievous. When I look into the Bible, and view the religion therein contained, it is so pure, so beautiful, so divine, that I long to see its counterpart on earth; but when I look for it in this and the other church, or denomination of Christians, I seem to find nothing like it, but its opposite; hatred instead of love, pride instead of humility, contention instead of peace, worldly. mindedness instead of heavenly affections, and dissimulation instead of sincerity. Yet there is even at this time a 'remnant according to the election of grace;' and many more than the eye of man can discover......How welcome will be a world of perfect purity and love at the last!" Life; seventh edition. 266.-It would be easy to confirm Mr. Scott's views by those of his friend the Rev. John Newton; although the latter was of all men most gentle in his censures, and made great allowances for human frailty,

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the reader to refer to the original works, where the current of the argument flows with greater velocity and depth. The necessity of accumulating testimony on a selfevident fact would be obviated; if we did not feel that we, and our coevals, are descendants from the same source of pollution which, in every age, has diffused itself over the visible church. Whitefield, who had far less penetration into character than his shrewd associate Wesley, yet saw very plainly the inconsistencies fastened upon the then reviving cause of Christianity, by faithless professors. He was accustomed to say, "The world and the church ring changes." He was conscious of the little dependence to be placed upon either; and recurred to one of the heavy trials of the Apostle, who was frequently entangled by "perils among false brethren."

In reference to THE world, Shakspeare makes one of his characters say

"I hold the world, but as the world, Gratiano;

A stage, where every one must act his part;

And mine, a sad one."

This was a politic resolve-making the best of a bad bargain; neither wishing nor knowing by what means to contribute to its reformation; and ending by a desponding reflection on his own hard lot. This is in accordance with the constitution and course of nature; but it is opposed to a system which teaches us" where sin abounded, grace did much more abound;" an intimation, primarily describing the effect of religion upon an individual, but indirectly shewing what ought to be attempted with regard to all men around us. "Visits to the Religious World" may be, and indeed perpetually are, made by per'sons of opposite character; and of course for opposite reasons. One visitor comes as a spy; another, as a physician. By the first, the nakedness of the land is explored, noted down on his tablets, and deli

vered with exulting triumph to the party awaiting to hear his report. By the second, the barrenness is also explored, and to a far wider extent--for a friend sees much more than a spy--but he also discerns fertile tracts, such as escape the notice of a one-eyed surveyor; returns to his circle, to consult upon measures for the better cultivation of a beautiful, but neglected, country: and the work is undertaken, and pursued with various success.

Let us now turn to the examinant of the religious world, the report of whose visits lies before us. The object of the writer (whom, being anonymous, we must speak of with masculine pronouns, though the style is said to indicate a female pen), is twofold; namely, to shew that what are popularly called the religious world, grievously err in two most important particulars-their doctrines and their manner of life. Their faults of doctrine are, that they do not sufficiently dwell upon such points as personal election, final perseverance, and, above all, "assurance:" their faults of life are, that they are stiff, unaccomodating, always talking of mortification and self-denial, and wearying people to death about Bible and missionary societies, and visiting the sick and the poor. They are incessantly thinking of duties when they ought to be thinking of privileges; doing instead of enjoying, studying precepts instead of promises; they go to church to be exhorted, as well as comforted; and are so cold, dry, and legal, that their very looks and deportment become precise and formal, to the great disparagement of religion, and the inanition of their own souls.

things are the characteristics of the religious community, and not the mistakes of some isolated individuals. Occasionally, indeed, the au thor qualifies his censures with the restriction "some," as in the following instances; but even then the arrows fly around with so little of precision, that thousands are wounded where only one gave offence.

"I have been disgusted with the gloomy melancholy groaning ways of some of them, and their rash censorious habit of judging and condemning all who don't appear to be quite of their stamp, from the form of his face, the colour of his clothes, to his very shoe-ties." p. 48.

"That anxiety to appear amiable, and devoted, and full of good deeds, which some professors of religion exhibit." p. 3. "The habit too prevalent among religious persons, of paying a kind of homage to human merit, when they meet with it in some high professor, who, although secretly sacrificing to spiritual pride, ostentation, or a decent and respectable kind of avarice, is yet held up by them for his external sanctity and good works, done 'to be seen of men,' as a being less sinful and more inherently holy than his fellowChristians, and as having achieved this distinction, in part at least, by his own exertions." p. 55.

The whole work is in this style; and the only persons whom the reader feels to be excepted, are those who laugh at "the mortificationists," and talk about "assurance." For instance, if a bookseller makes a cheating bargain, he is, of course, one who had been recommended as "a pious man;" "one of your pious tradesmen, a very knowing businesslike fellow, with as clear an eye to number one as I ever saw;" "a particularly conscientious man," "a zealous, active, humble-minded, consistent Christian." Who can read these epithets, and not as long as he lives think of lies and cheating whenever he hears them? And, as if expressly to prevent the reader saying to himself, Yes, but such a hypocritical canting rascal is not to be taken as the knight of the shire for the whole religious world, the

moral of the tale is clenched as follows:

"Mrs. Harding seemed quite distressed, she felt as a sincere Christian should, more for the dishonour done to God's

cause than for the individual himself; she lamented, in strong terms, the bad impresfrailty in a professor of religion, was likely sion which such a specimen of human to make on Mr. Conroy.

"Oh! my dear madam,' he replied, spare yourself that annoyance, this is neither the first nor the fifty-first time that I have had occasion to observe that the world, and the things of the world, are not altogether so despicable in the eyes of the good people as they would have you believe." 999 p. 53.

Mrs. Harding herself, who appears to so much advantage in the above extract, and who is also described as

"one of those kind-hearted persons who are always ready for any act of charity, never seeming to consider that she had any aim in life but to devote herself to the good of others, and who was strongly influenced by a desire that all she did might redound sacrifice time, ease of body, and every to the glory of God, and was willing to other advantage, for this end;" p. 58. this excellent Mrs. Harding herself meets with a good share of ridicule, because she was one of the selfdeniers, and had not obtained full assurance of her personal election; but was endeavouring "to work out her salvation with fear and trembling." She is made by the writer, to think it her duty on arriving at home fatigued at eleven o'clock at night, from a visit of charity, to sit up to read the Psalms and Lessons for the day. Our heroine, Mary, remonstrates with her as follows:

:

"I could never see it a duty to sit up late and drag my mind as a slave to his find a verse that I liked, fall on my knees work. I should perhaps open my Bible, before God, thank and praise him for my day's enjoyment, for the rich provision laid up in Christ for His people, lament my sins and failures, and rise quite sa

tisfied that He was reconciled to me in Christ Jesus." p. 61.

"This," adds Mary, "is all I should do." Now, Mrs. Harding might be over precise in the matter; we think she was; but she was humble, tender-hearted, and conscientious, and we are old-fashioned enough to trition, and even her scruples more say that we respect her deep conthan the free and easy style of our young heroine, who dispatches matters with so much familiarity, after the fashion of Huntington and Dr.

Hawker, opens her Bible, finds a verse to her liking, falls on her knees, thanks and praises, laments her sins and failures [a very tender phrase], and then "rises quite sa"" in that conscious "assurtisfied rance of her personal election, which it appears the chief object of the volume to inculcate. Mary, "smiling" at her friend's rigid ideas of" duty" retired to her own room, where

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"she poured out her heart to God that he would shew her more fully Christ's perfect and justifying righteousness; she prayed that a constant sense of unworthiness might be impressed, that laying low at the foot of the Cross, she might be raised above self by a view of His love, His condescension, His superabounding mercy to fallen man; she besought God that he would never suffer her to find any

satisfaction from her own duties, never the smallest comfort from any of her own performances." pp. 63, 64.

There is much that is excellent in this prayer; but the last words convey an implication which runs throughout the volume; that those who do not take Mary's view of Christian doctrine necessarily look to their own works with great complacency. The charge is uncharitable, and has been ten thousand times refuted; but never better than in the pithy words of Hooker, who is so often quoted with approbation by our author: "We acknowledge the dutiful necessity of doing well; the meritorious dignity of doing well we utterly renounce.' Our author, if we understand him rightly, renounces both he explodes the very word "duty."

"Duties of the Gospel! My dear brother, excuse my saying that such an expression does not sound to me very intelligible: what is the sense of duties of glad tidings?'

"I mean that man should be told, that it is his duty to obey the precepts of the Gospel.

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It is true, that man, as a creature, owes the deepest attention to every word of his Creator." p. 413.

The "deepest attention!" It is not our "duty" to obey God; only "we owe the deepest attention to what he says." The venerable aged clergyman into whose lips this hair-splitting distinction is put,

thinks it quite enough to tell us that the expression "duties of the Gospel" is unintelligible; or rather, that it is ridiculous; "duties of glad tidings." In the phrase "the duties of the Gospel," the preposition of means belonging to, or connected with; we should not ourselves have used the phrase; it wants filling up, but its meaning is plain; nor would even the caricatured phrase "duties of glad tidings" be without a significative moral. The Gospel means the Christian religion; the Christian religion is glad tidings of joy, that a Redeemer has offered a sacrifice for the sins of mankind, and that those who believe in him shall not perish but have everlasting life. This is truly "good tidings,' but it involves duties;-duties we say, not merits-love is a duty, obedience is a duty, repentance is a duty, faith is a duty; and is a duty less a duty because, under an economy of Evangelical privilege, it becomes a delight? it less the duty of an affectionate child to obey its parents because it is a pleasure also? Are we to reject, for this hypercritical system, all the works of the most holy men of every age? When the venerable rector was catechising his Sundayschool children, did he alter the church formulary, and in place of, What is your duty towards God? What is your duty towards your neighbour? substitute some new form of words. And when his curate read in the desk from the Prophecy of Ezekiel, "That doest not any of those duties," namely,

Is

walking in the statutes of God, and keeping his judgments" with the corresponding duties of love to our neighbour; did he interrupt him with "My dear brother, excuse my saying that such an expression does not sound to me very intelligible?

Mary Conroy would perhaps be surprised if we were frankly to say, that, with all her amiableness and delicacy, and even her self-renunciation, self appears in her character in a light to our minds far from Christian. She does not indeed say,