pulpit, he sees distinctly that atonement considered in itself simply, consisted exclusively in the removal of legal obstacles on the part of God to the exercise of mercy to sinners; that it intentionally removed these obstacles, not in the case of the elect merely, but in the case of all men,-doing as much, in this point of view, for the latter, as the former; so that there remains nothing, except in himself, to prevent the salvation of every man who hears the message of mercy through the Lamb that was slain. If, indeed, there be any who desire not, and, consequently, seek not salvation, theirs alone is the blame, and theirs will be the punishment. There was a plenitude of virtue in the medicine; it was freely offered to them, rejected by them; and their rejection-and their rejection alone, deprived them of its healing influence. It is by thus separating the atonement itself from what has been called the purpose of God concerning its application, or, more correctly speaking, from the Divine intention to lead the "elect," the "sheep," the "church," by the special influence of the Holy Spirit, to accept the mercy freely offered to all men in the gospel-it is by this separation alone that we can reap the full harvest of our principles in regard to the nature and extent of the atonement. If we identify the two things, the atonement itself, and the purpose of God in regard to its application (as they have been just explained,) -if we in any measure confound the one with the other-nay, if we are not careful to mark their perfect distinctness, the fruit of our principles is necessarily lost. ment. The logical, and, therefore, necessary conclusion is, that atonement was made for the elect only-that no way of salvation has been set open for the nonelect, and that they, by necessary inference, could not be saved if they would. Scarcely is infidelity itself more opposed to the Divine testimony than this sentiment. I place it hors de combat, never having shown it any mercy-never intending to show it any. Those among us, who are sometimes designated moderate, or modern Calvinists, have not, perhaps, brought sufficiently into view the distinction between the atonement itself and the accompanying Divine purpose. Some of them, it may be, have abstained from employing the phraseology which would have done this-the phraseology which their principles would have naturally led them to use, lest, being misunderstood, it should be thought to convey more than they intended to teach. For myself, I confess I have never ventured to say in the pulpit, "He died for all men," or "made an atonement for all men." I should have meant by the words simply (and in this, I think, the essence of atonement consisted), that he died with the intention, (and, of course, to the effect,) of so removing all the legal obstacles (resulting from universal apostasy) to the exercise of mercy to the guilty, as to render it possible for the moral Governor to extend mercy, safely and honourably, to one man, or to a number of men, or to all men, as it may seem right in his sight, and in whatever manner he may be pleased to appoint. I feared, however, the hearers would, or might, understand me to mean that he died with the intention of saving all men by the ATONEMENT, or of leading all men, by special influence, to implore mercy, (without which a moral governor cannot grant it,) in God's appointed way; and, therefore, I have abstained from using the phraseology. Now, by our ultra-Calvinistic brethren, these two things are identified. The tendency of the sacrifice of Christ, (in which consisted its atoning influence,) to render it honourable and safe for the moral governor to exercise mercy to sinners, and the accompanying purpose in the mind of the moral Governor to lead the "elect," by spiritual influence, to seek Yet, though circumstances may have mercy, are confounded. The purpose to justified this caution in regard to the save by the atonement enters, as they phraseology which some of us have emthink, into the very essence of the atone-ployed-caution, let it be remembered not to conceal our sentiments, (for we greatly abhor the thought,) but to preventa misconception of them,-and though circumstances may yet, in some cases, require continued caution, it appears to me, I acknowledge, that we must resort to freer and more unrestricted phraseology respecting the nature and extent of the atonement, before we shall reap the full harvest of our principles. If we fail to convince our hearers, not only that the atonement was sufficient for the salvation of all men, (which it cannot have been on ultra-Calvinistic principles,) but was designed to be so that the blessed God intended by it to remove every obstacle which the claims of his character and government had presented to the salvation of every member of the human family, we shall fail, to a greater or less degree, in persuading men to rest their hopes for eternity upon it. The mere preaching of the sufficiency of the atonement-though even this cannot be done, consistently, on any principles except those maintained by Dr. Wardlaw-can--to have tasted death for every man— not prevent the embarrassing and distressing inquiry, "Did God design to lay a basis sufficiently ample and solid for my salvation?" and, without confidence of this, the awakened sinner may fear to place his dependence upon it. Besides, he sees no love to himself in the provision of the atonement. God's love, in the gift of his Son, (on the limited view of the atonement,) was restricted to the elect. He had no love to the worlddid not intend to lay a foundation of hope for the world. He has, indeed, laid a foundation which is sufficient, (as the limitarians say,) for the salvation of the world; but that was a matter of necessity not of intention. He would not serve the elect without providing a sacrifice which was in itself able to save them; but there was no regard in the provision to their benefit. Now what is there, in this view of the matter, to melt and subdue the heart of a sinner? If the intent is not sufficiency of the atonement, (for which Bishop Davenant argues with such resistless power,) developing the love of God to all men,-in having opened for them a door of mercy-be not brought into prominent view, (and a portion if it be denied, as it is by some,) there is no display of mercy to touch and melt the heart of a man who feels himself to be a mere sinner. He must begin to love God if he love at all-without any manifestation of God's love to him; and such love, in the case of a consciously condemned sinner, I believe to be impossible. On the principles of the modern Calvinists, our blessed Lord made an atonement (taking that view of the essence of the atonement which is given in this paper) for all men; and the practical question for those of us who have been hitherto cautious in our phraseology, is, "Whether we are not bound to say so?" There is nothing like reserve and caution in the language of the New Testament. God is said to have loved the world-to have reconciled the world to himself. Christ is called the Saviour of the world to have given himself a ransom for all to be not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance, &c., &c. Why should we hesitate to follow where the Scriptures lead? It is manifest that, if we can truly tell all our hearers that an atonement has been made for all, that is, that all obstacles to their salvation, (except what are found in themselves,) were removed by the death of Christ, we remove all ground for the distressing inquiries referred to at the beginning of this paper. The whole world of mankind, in contradistinction to fallen angels, are elect in this respect. God, in infinite mercy, has opened a door of salvation for all. He invites, nay, implores all to enter in by it. If any will not enter, the fault, as we have already said, is theirs. God called, they refuse; he stretched out his hand, they do not regard: they set at naught all his counsel, and will none of his reproofs! What can they expect but that, hereafter, he will laugh at their calamity, and mock when their fear cometh. GEORGE PAYNE. 290 An Address delivered to many hundreds of Sunday-school Teachers in the THERE is something almost pictorial in the announcement of the subject to be discussed this evening. It stands thus :"The Sunday-school teacher acquainted with his work." As I first read it, the image of a well-qualified teacher rose up before my imagination. I beheld him in his work,-the eye of intelligence and benevolence beaming on his youthful charge, -and, on their part, the returning glance of affection and rivetted regard; on the one hand an earnest instructor, and on the other an intense and listening class. He is no trifler himself, and triflers cannot take refuge within the circle of his influence. He has something to impart which he feels to be of infinite moment, and he looks as one who feels the weight of his message. Having mind and moral feeling to deal with, his appeals are uniformly made to the intellect and the conscience. His love of order is such, that the most disorderly yield him homage. His rebuke, indeed, is stern, but the law of kindness is in his heart and on his lips. He can reason, and inform the judgment; but he can also weep, and melt the heart. Urgent must be that call of duty which withdraws him from his post. He has put his hand to the plough, and feels that he dare not look back. While others leave their classes to the chances of an hour, of him it may be said, as of the faithful shepherd, that he is "instant in season, out of season.' And all this is the result of fixed principle,-vanity and self-importance have no place in his rule of action. He has calculated the cost and the self-sacrifice involved in his work, and has resolved to place all on the altar of his Saviour. His heart is full of pity for the children of the neglected and the poor; and he longs to conduct some of them to the feet of that tender and gracious Shepherd, who "gathers the lambs in his arms, and carries them in his bosom." Nor does he satisfy himself with handing out to his class what costs him nothing. His sabbath toils occupy his thoughts through the week. Could you follow him into the retirements of home, you would find him, like the busy bee, gathering honey from every opening flower, to enrich the parent hive. Now he reads a commentary, to rectify and enlarge his Bible knowledge. Now he ponders the lesson of the coming sabbath, that he may conIvey it with freedom and ease. Now he examines the best works on Sundayschool labours, and makes the thoughts of men wiser than himself his own. Now he exercises his own mind, and ponders well the lessons of experience and observation. And there is a still more profound secret of his devotedness and success. He is a man of prayer; he walks with God; he lives in the Spirit; he walks in the Spirit; he wrestles for the blessing. He feels his own weakness and insufficiency, and casts himself on the power of his Omnipotent Redeemer. And as he comes forth on the sabbath morning to his loved employment, his heart glows and his face shines, as one who has been in converse with heaven. This is the grand secret of his intensity, his devotion to his work, his zeal and regularity in the performance of it, the stillness and thoughtfulness of his class, the progress which marks his career, the blessing which attends his labours. He is in earnest; and even the transient visitor can see that his is the purpose of an undivided heart, the toil of one who labours for God and eternity. Such, dear friends, was the image which rose up before my mind, as I read the announcement of the theme upon which I am called this evening to address you. I saw before me the Sunday-school teacher fully acquainted with his work; his whole soul engaged in it; seeking to approve himself unto God, and willing "to spend and be spent" for Christ, and the souls of yonder youthful group, for The image thus realized by me I would now desire to place before you in that form which may render it most available for the benefit of those who have kindly asked me to give them a word of counsel and encouragement on the present occasion. whom he expects to render an account | God, for the spiritual care of the class in the day of the Lord. committed to him. As in God's sight, he has said, "I will do all in my power to form the minds and characters of these children, to lay open to them the fountains of Divine knowledge, to guide them into the way of peace, to introduce them to the Friend of sinners." To feel aright this responsibility to God lies at the very foundation of the Sunday-school teacher's work. Nothing will be done to purpose without it. Every other standard of obligation will be found to be too low, and mean, and powerless in the absence of this. Our chief engagement, in this work, is with God. We are acting for him; to him we must look for approval; to him we must render our final account. There are many elements entering into the character of "the Sunday-school Teacher acquainted with his work ;" and it would be vain for me to attempt to describe them all. But I will endeavour to sketch an outline, which, if filled up by my valued friends present, may tend to fit them for growing usefulness, for larger measures of happiness in their work, and for a joyous meeting with their little charge at the judgment-seat of Christ. Let me have their fervent prayers, that the present address may not be fruitless of benefit to the great cause which lies so near to their hearts and mine. I observe, then, I. THAT "THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL TEACHER, ACQUAINTED WITH HIS WORK," IS ONE WHO KNOWS ITS RESPONSIBILITY. It is well to be impressed with the conviction that every one who undertakes to teach anything to another, contracts a certain amount of responsibility. If he lose sight of this, he will, in all probability, fail in accomplishing his object. This sense of responsibility cannot be separated from the voluntary exercise of Christian benevolence. It presses with its full weight upon the Sunday-school teacher. He has a full right to consider well, in the first instance, whether he is called, in the providence of God, to devote himself to this work; but having made his decision, he is as responsible for the obligations involved in it as if his choice of occupation had not been at the disposal of his own immediate will. The nature of this responsibility should be well and deeply pondered. In a sense never to be lost sight of, the Sunday-school teacher has made himself responsible, by his own act, to There is a responsibility, too, contracted by the Sunday-school teacher to the charge committed to him. He has undertaken to be their teacher in sacred things,-"the things which belong to their peace." Another cannot do his work; and if he neglects it, or performs it amiss, the consequences to himself and to his class may be lamentable beyond expression. He must teach nothing but truth, Divine truth; and, in order to this, he must be acquainted with it, and carefully discriminate between truth and error. His engagement is to teach the simple elements of the gospel, and to make himself thoroughly acquainted with them, that he may be able to fulfil his mission. His duty and his ambition ought to be, to teach Christian truth in the best way; to make it intelligible to the youthful and untutored mind; to convey it with interest and impression to the heart. Let him reflect continually upon the evil or the good effects which must spring from the subject and mode of his teaching,—an evil or a good which will be accruing every time he stands up before his class, and for which, as far they are not conducted into paths of been almost, if not altogether, neglected; peace and holiness. and reached them by that kind of agency which is most likely to affect them for good. Nor must the Sunday-school teacher forget the responsibility which he has contracted to his fellow-labourers in the same delightful field. He must be in communication with them; he must cooperate with them; he must be a link of harmony among them; he must keep up the respect, the influence, and the authority of his superintendent. One upstart, ignorant, ill-tempered teacher, may disturb the repose, the order, and the efficiency of a whole school. Where such a teacher creeps in unawares, the sooner he is removed so far the better. If he is allowed to keep his place, he will corrupt others, and fearfully arrest and hinder the work of God. I observe, II. THAT 66 THE SUNDAY SCHOOL But solemn and striking as are these general views of the benefits accruing from Sunday-schools, and amply as they are verified by our national statistics, and especially by the records of our crime and prison discipline,-yet they are not the views which most deeply affect the conscience and the heart of the pious Sunday-school teacher, as he endeavours to form a proper estimate of the importance of his work. He may be a true patriot in feeling,-for as a philanthropist he cannot be otherwise; but his aim, at its first bound, is loftier than the highest perch that the mere secular statesman can reach. He is touched with TEACHER, ACQUAINTED WITH HIS WORK," sympathy for a being over whom hangs WILL DULY ESTIMATE ITS IMPORTANCE. In fact, he will mainly gather his notion of its responsibility from the sense he has acquired of its importance. The collecting together, in our day, of hundreds of thousands of young people in our Sunday-schools, is, to say the least, an imposing spectacle. How different the position of such children, if they were left to follow the bent of their own inclinations, and were suffered to run wild in the streets or the fields! In a mere national point of view, how great must be the effect of Sunday-school operations upon the moral and social welfare of society! Who can accurately estimate the benefit which Sunday-schools are conferring upon the body politic; in preventing crime, dispersing savage ignorance and brutality, and diffusing order and peace? Those Rulers who, by depressing the voluntary character of education, would extract more than half its power, but little think what an injury they would inflict on posterity. I thoroughly believe that our Sunday-schools, single-handed and alone, have done more for the amelioration of the masses of society, in our day, than all the grammarschools and colleges of the empire. They have reached a numerous class, who had an immortal destiny, but who is rising into life without any proper estimate of the boundless prospect which opens before him. He thinks of the most ragged and disorderly child that comes into one of our Sunday-schools as the possessor of an internal and spiritual principle that will survive "The wreck of matter, And the crash of worlds." He sees that every child before him is capable of indefinite improvement and happiness. He knows that the evil principles which lurk within its bosom, and which are powerfully developing themselves with its advancing years, may be counteracted and overcome. He is stirred and overwhelmed with the thought, that this unpromising child is accessible to all the blessings of salvation; that, notwithstanding all its unsightliness and disorder, and incipient depravity, it may become an "heir of God, and a jointheir with Christ." He feels, too, that he is in possession of a secret which, if communicated, will make it wise and happy, and pure-the fit associate, in a better world, of angels and glorified spirits. My dear friends, you can never see the |