This comparison might be considered unfair, as their circumstances differed so widely. Let us employ one that may be considered more equitable. The ancient kingdom of Israel was at one time in a condition similar to that of England at the time of Charles I. The king was unpopular, and was known to be wicked and forsaken of heaven. A youth, the son-in-law of the king, enjoyed the affections of the people, and it was, moreover, a general impression, that he was to be the future king-that he possessed the necessary talents to manage the affairs of the state. With all these circumstances in his favor, with abundant opportunities to destroy the king, and to seize the reins of government, solicited as he was on all hands by his followers, David was the last to commit an act of violence to Saul anointed of heaven to be king. He rather endured privations and sufferings, until Providence should open the way for the realization of the divine promise, nor have succeeding times been able to impugn his motives for thus conducting himself. Will centuries yet to come place the Protector on the same platform with the king of Israel?

It has been said that Cromwell was influenced by the evangelic spirit of his times: much more so, perhaps, than has hitherto been supposed. Previous to his introduction to public life, he lived many years in private, apparently absorbed in devotion, to the neglect, it is said, of his private affairs. In his letters, his spirit seems to be glowing for the progress of what he regarded as the pure faith. If his own accounts are true, of which we have no reason to entertain any doubt, he offered up numerous and fervent prayers for the prosperity of the Protestant faith, and the downfall of antichrist. Even amid the din of the camp, he could wield theological arguments against the Scotch clergy, represented by Carlyle as the severest reprimand they have ever received. But these concessions will only serve to divest him of the character of arch-hypocrite, under which he has been made so frequently to appear. Further than this, they can be of no force, except to place him among a class of individuals who have too much Christianity to be classed entirely with the world, and too much of the world to be placed on the side of Christianity. Such a rank is not an arbitrary one. It is the same which many of a congenial spirit with him, often regarded as champions of Christianity, are beginning to occupy. It is more and more felt that Christianity recognizes no heroes, except such as a Paul, a Luther, a Martyn, who forsaking all they have, and renouncing all

VOL. I.-NO. IV.

25*

confidence in the flesh, seek to regenerate the world by the Everlasting Word; that a Constantine, a Gustavus Adolphus, a Henry IV., have no claims to a Christian character, based merely upon their Christian policy or their Christian warfare, and if they are to be canonized at all, their merits must be founded upon different considerations entirely. Geologists inform us that the skeletons of huge, misshapen monsters have been dug from the earth, so unlike the present races of animals, that it is difficult to decide, whether they belong to the present, or are the remnants of a former world. We suppose that the position of Cromwell and others like him, with reference to Christianity, is somewhat similar to that of these animal giants in reference to the present order of things. Whether they belong to the Christian world, or are entirely exterior to it, at all events they occupy the dark and isolated position of the mammoth, the megalosaurus, and the iguanadon in the natural world, which fortunately for us have become extinct.

The character which we have been discussing is very important, owing to its bearings upon modern times. Our most enlightened political institutions took their rise in the seventeenth century, and hence for ages to come, the Cromwellian period will engage the study of the scholar and the Christian. How important then that the literature of that time should be pure and according to truth! If Cromwell is to be regarded in the light of a pure and elevated Christian, his example will be, and it ought to be imitated. But how direful the consequences, if this opinion be founded on error! It was Achilles, the hero of Homer's song, who formed the character of Alexander, whilst the hero of Macedon became the exemplar of Charles XII., king of Sweden, and justly styled the madman. But would we desire another Cromwell? Then let us cultivate a pure literature of Cromwell, and our circumstances most likely will never become so straitened, as to render his presence in our midst necessary or desirable.

But Cromwellian Christianity has its imitations, affinities in our days already, as it has had in all ages of the Church. There is a species of Christianity now abroad in our land, that has all the zeal of a Cromwell himself, but does not seem to possess any clearer consciousness of the divine power of Christianity than its prototype. We notice a manifest impatience among many with the regular developments of Providence in bringing about its ends, and an apparent forgetfulness that the gospel works as leaven, in the improve

ment and refinement of the human race. Owing to the fearfully intense activities now at work, the improvement of society is no longer permitted to be carried on as a regular growth, but must necessarily be hastened by a kind of high-steam pressure. Human appliances, often carried to violence, are employed without regard to the hidden principles of life, that are enfolding themselves in society, and bidding fair to yield an abundant crop. The sword has not as yet been unsheathed, and standing armies have not as yet been summoned as a backing to argument and reason, but how often has it been attempted to coerce public opinion, and employ it as a rod! How much of the thinking of our days is performed by voluntary associations! The most marked form, perhaps, which Cromwellianism has assumed in our days is represented to us in modern abolitionism, that is, the abolitionism of the extreme left side. Here we meet with Cromwellian zeal and impatience in abundance, and at the same time a practical denial of a vital Christianity. Our precious institutions, the freest and the best which the world has witnessed, are too corrupt to embody their ideals of perfection. Changes in the constitution, the dissolution of the Union, or if it must be, steel itself, alone can realize their views of the kingdom of God. According to these chivalrous reformers, we may wait till the day of doom for a better era, if we must rely upon the mere preaching of the fundamentals of Christianity. If Cromwell were permitted to revisit our earth, and to settle in America, it is not unlikely that he would know where to find sympathy, and how to turn our distractions to account. Happy is it for America that her military characters, know how to enjoy their honors, and to cultivate the arts of peace.

SMITHSBURG, MD.

T. A.

ART. XXIII.-THE CLASSIS OF MERCERSBURG.

Tais body held its annual meeting lately in Greencastle. In some respects, it may be considered one of the most important

ecclesiastical occasions in the history of the church to which it belongs. The meeting was full. The best spirit prevailed among its members. Less time than usual was lost on the dull formalities of mere outward business, and more room in consequence allowed for strictly church transactions. Questions of deep theological interest were brought forward for discussion, not in any cold abstract view, but under the pressure of the most direct and urgent practical want. These discussions were conducted with unusual earnestness and animation, and no small amount of spiritual ability; while, at the same time, the zeal to which they gave rise, was happily tempered and governed by the true spirit of Christian charity and peace. We know not that we ever attended an ecclesiastical meeting, in which what seems to us to be the proper idea of such an occasion, might be said to have been, on the whole, better sustained. Among other good things, the Classis resolved, with the help of God, to carry up its subscription towards the endowment of the Theological Seminary, to the mark of at least Ten Thousand Dollars. More than half

of this sum had been secured within its bounds previously; under the reasonable expectation that the other parts of the church would have been stimulated by such noble example to come up also, with a moiety at least of the same liberality, to the completion of the work; in which case the endowment would have been long since out of the way, and the Seminary placed on a sure and firm foundation. By some strange fatality, however, the example seems rather to have worked just the other way; some of the Classes even, of which we might have hoped better things, making use of it, apparently, as a reason for sitting still and doing almost nothing. All this formed no inconsiderable temptation to anger as well as discouragement. Happily, however, this temptation was surmounted, and sorrow became tributary, by the grace of God, to the sacred interest of piety and love. The Classis fell back on the vast solemnity of the cause at stake; counted the cost as in the presence of God; and calmly concluded to shoulder again its own full proportion, and more, of all that still remained to be done, as though it had done nothing before, trust. ing in God, by such "coals of fire," to move finally the tardy energies of the church at large, to some corresponding zeal. In

deed the feeling seemed to be, in the end, that if it were found necessary, the Classis would even dare, in God's name, to shoulder, single-handed and alone, the entire work, so far as it remains still incomplete. No such necessity, however, is likely to exist. The action which has since taken place on the part of the other Classes, may be taken as a full guaranty that the endowment will now be consummated by the church as a body. Never be

fore has there appeared so much union of mind, and determination of will, and consciousness of strength, in the body at large. All this, as carrying direct respect to the institutions at Mercersburg, is highly encouraging and full of significance. It shows that they are not at war with the true genius and spirit of the German Church; that they have not led the way within it to discord and disunion; that in proportion precisely as their real character is understood, they find a responsive chord of sympathy and love and truth through the whole length and breadth of its communion. Such a testimony, coming in such form, is well, entitled to consideration, and ought not to pass without grateful notice.

Our object, however, in referring to the Classis of Mercersburg, is not merely nor mainly to bring into view the interesting fact now mentioned. The whole action of the Classis, at its last meeting, deserves to be commemorated, as forming a significant advance in the direction of a sound and healthy church consciousness, in this particular section of our Reformed Zion. As illustrative of this general fact, we note particularly two very important results, which were reached with great unanimity after the most full and earnest discussion; namely, the rejection of the Albright ordination as invalid, and the full affirmation of the old catechetical system, as the true and only legitimate order of the church, in opposition to the theory and fashion of religion, by which in modern times it has been so generally brought into disuse, or turned into an idle form.

The first question came up, in connection with an application from a most worthy and pious minister of the Albright connection, to be taken under the care of the Classis as a candidate for ordination in the German Reformed Church. The request in such form could not, of course, relieve the Classis itself from the