The women joined the scornful men. The rich took part with the poor. The chief priests demeaned themselves to a level with the lowest of the crowd: forgetting self-respect, and even decency of manners, every thing was sacrificed to the gratification of reviling Christ. Saving in the little band of true disciples, there was exhibited one universal mockery over this congregated mass of human beings. The smile of contempt, the jeer of ridicule, the loud laugh of derision, were all employed against the Lord. Instead of sympathising in his sorrow, they were rejoicing and exulting over his distress: "All they that see me laugh me to scorn." Here there was no mistake. A dejected spirit is apt to imagine evils; but Jesus had experienced this treatment too frequently before to misunderstand it now. When he entered the chamber of death, and comforted Jairus, it is said of the people in the room, that "they laughed him to scorn." It was needful that the Redeemer should be tried in every possible way that he should be" tempted in all points like as we are." This was doubly necessary-first, that he should be proved to be " yet without sin;" and, secondly, that he should thus be able from his own experience to sympathize fully in the sorrows of his people. Ridicule is at all times bad-to all persons painful; and from any individual rude and disgraceful: we dishonour ourselves by employing it. At best it is a punitive weapon-never a healing medicine. If it banish an offence from the manner, it sinks one deeper into the heart. Of all retaliative weapons, it seems most like that which an evil spirit would put into our hands. It defends self, and wounds an opponent, but never does real good to either. The satirist is dreaded, but not loved; we smile at his pictures of others, but we recoil from his company yet the smile is sinful which attends a sinful deed. Did we love our neighbour as we love ourselves, we should as sorely feel, and certainly reprove the ridicule that injures him, as we do that which is directed against ourselves. So would Jesus have felt. He never listened to a backbiter, or a satirist the first attempt would have called forth his disapprobation. Yet he here endured it in his own person without inurmur or complaint; he heard all that the company of mockers could say against him.. It is written of the persecuted saints, and may especially be affirmed of the Saviour-" He had trial of cruel mockings." Nor were his revilers contented with opprobrious epithets; their malevolence was too great to find vent only in words: signs and gestures, movements and gesticulations, must increase its emphasis and assist its utterance. The evangelist gives us a full account of their shameful doings: St. Matthew says, "they that passed reviled him, wagging their heads;" St. Mark adds, "likewise the chief priests, mocking, said among themselves with the scribes, he saved others, himself he cannot save'" (xv. 31). St. Luke informs us that the soldiers also mocked him, coming to him and offering him vinegar (xxiii. 36). Mockery accompanied the Saviour from the garden of Gethsemane till he expired on Calvary: Judas set the example with his insidious kiss: the men that apprehended him mocked him: the officers at the several courts mocked him: the chief priests, scribes, and pharisees mocked him: the high priest himself, Caiaphas, mocked him: the servants of his house and others surrounded the Saviour and mocked him: they smote him with their staves, and with the palms of their hands they did spit in his face: they plucked off the hair: they blind-folded him: then they did buffet him with their fists, and said, "Prophesy unto us, thou Christ, who is he that smote thee" (Matt. xxvi. 68)? Herod and his men of war mocked him, This circumstance, however, was rather the smile of incredulity than the jeer of contempt.-ED. and set him at nought; arraying him in a gorgeous robe, they sent him away as a laughing-stock to whence he was brought. Pilate regarded him as a weak, inoffensive creature, and jestingly asked him, "What is truth?" brought him forth, saying, "Behold the man!" and sent him to crucifixion with this mock title-"The King of the Jews." The Roman soldiers mocked him with a most perfect mockery. They acted it to the very life: they procured a crown -it was of thorns; royal garments-they were a castoff purple vest, and a scarlet robe; a sceptre-it was reed; they paid him homage as a king-it was mock-kneeling, laughter, and derision; they lavished their honours upon him-their salutation was a scoff, "Hail, king of the Jews!" their gifts were not gold, but strokes-not frankincense, but spitting-not myrrh, but mockery. When he was led away to Golgotha, a mocking multitude followed him; his feeble frame, his tottering steps, his ghastly visage, were subjects of entertainment, ridicule, and biting sarcasm to his enemies. Doubtless his friends shared this ignominy. The weeping of the women would be mocked, their wailings derided, their gestures of grief pointed at with laughter. All this too was perfectly gratuitous. The ceremonies of judgment had some show of necessity-the scourging and the crucifixion were ordered by the officers of justice; but to make mirth and mockery over a fellow-creature's sufferings was the most wanton piece of cruelty that has ever been heard of. It was altogether without the least pretence of reason. The gratification of their own cruel and malicious propensities, the indulgence of their hatred and spiteful feelings, and their mad desire to render Christ as miserable as it was possible to make him, were their only stimulants. Therefore they hurry him forward to Calvary, that they may set him up as their mark-a spectacle to the whole nation that abhors him (Isa. xlix. 7). There every species of mockery that can be thought of is employed; they wag the head, shoot out the lip, make wide the mouth, draw out the tongue, wink with the eye, point with the finger, utter the jest, break forth with laughter, and jeer at him with the bitterest scorn. Behold this motley Imagine this dreadful scene. multitude of rich and poor-of Jews and Gentiles: some stand in groups and gaze; some recline at ease and stare; others move about in restless gratification at the event. There is a look of satisfaction on every countenance. None are silent. The velocity of speech seems tardy. The theme is far too great for one member to utter; every lip, and head, and finger, is now a tongue. The rough soldiers, too, are busied in their coarse way: the work of blood is over; refreshment has become necessary; their usual beverage of vinegar and water is supplied to them; as they severally are satisfied, they approach the cross, hold some forth to the Saviour, and bid him drink as they withdraw it; they know he must be suffering an intense thirst, therefore they aggravate it with this mockery of refreshment. Cruel Romans! and ye, O, regicidal Jews! was not death enough? Must mockery and scorn be added? On this sad day Christ made you one indeed! Dreadful unity! which constitutes you joint mockers and murderers of the Lord of glory. Contemplating this scene with feelings of indignation, the Christian may be tempted to say, "Had I been there, I would not have joined this mocking multitude." Boast not so. Hadst thou been there, thou wouldst, without God's grace, have taken part with that cruel crowd. Say, hast thou done nothing to offend thy Master since last year? If conscience tell thee thou hast often grieved him, now that he is in heaven, let calm reflection convince thee that, without restraining grace, thou also wouldst have mocked him in his sorrow upon the cross. All Jews and Gentiles are alike-both classes equally need the Spirit of God. "As in water face answereth to face, so doth the heart of man to man." What others did, we would, without sustaining grace, do also. Let us remember Peter, and be humble. The hour of trial proves how weak the very strongest are in themselves. Every Christian knows by experience that he has not, in every company, and on all occasions, acted and spoken as a valiant and faithful soldier of the cross. Remembering, therefore, how difficult it is, and how impossible in yourself to stand, even for an hour, against the example of those around you, thank God, O Christian, that thy sins were there that day, and not thy person; lest, being ashamed to join a few weeping women, thou shouldst have been led away with the multitude to do evil, and been found with eye and head and finger, mocking the meek and suffering Saviour of the world. Biography. NOTICE OF THE REV. THOMAS ORPE, VICAR OF STAUNTON, SHROPSHIRE. I HAVE heretofore laid before the readers of the Church of England Magazine brief memorials of some of those devoted men who, in the evil days when it was deemed a crime to adhere to that church, nevertheless held fast their allegiance to her, and refused not to suffer for conscience sake. A notice of another individual, who was so persecuted, may not be unacceptable. The facts are furnished on the authority of Walker, in his "Sufferings of the Clergy." 66 Thomas Orpe was born about the year 1610. After the usual course of education he became school-master at Tarporley, in Cheshire, and curate to Dr. Fowler, at Whitchurch, in Shropshire. When the rebellion had broken out, he was summoned before the committee at Nantwich, and was offered preferment on condition of his taking the solemn league and covenant. But this he decidedly refused; and therefore he was immediately subjected to persecution. "Warrants," says his son, were issued out to the constables to take him, and bring him by force, which the constables said was for hanging, or a worse turn, to be kept as a prisoner there; and then, failing of their purposes, soldiers were often sent, both horse and foot, and beset the house at midnight to take him by violence to the gaol. And above all the rest, as I do well remember, once they came about midnight, myself, my brother, and sister all being asleep in our beds, and called aloud to open the door, that they might take the rogue they had so many journies about; and threatened to fire or pull down the house upon our heads, because my mother did not make haste to open the door at their command; and then came in with drawn swords and pistols cocked, and said it was a good deed to shoot her forthwith. After they had searched and could not find my father, they rifled the house, and took away what they had a mind to, and ripped open the beds and bolsters, shaking out the feathers and flocks upon the ground, to make bags to carry the corn in the tithe-barn away, to give their horses. Not long after another party of them came upon a Lord's-day, thinking to find my father at church in the morning service, but, missing of him, they con tented themselves with breaking open his stable-door and stealing his horse" By these outrages Mr. Orpe was compelled to leave Tarporley. He repaired therefore to Whitchurch, where he set up a little school; but in a few months he was driven thence also. Next, having officiated for a while at Morton-sea, a chapelry in the parish of Hodnet, he was turned out of that station by colonel Clive, who, living in the parish, scized upon the patronage of the chapel, and put in one Peartree, who had previously been a pedlar, and therefore we may conclude was but little fitted to minister in holy things. Thus was Mr. Orpe driven from place to place, finding no rest to the sole of his foot. To add to his affliction, his wife was at that time confined in child-birth; and he also, being forced to conceal himself, fell down stairs at the house where he was lodged, and broke his leg. In this helpless condition he lay four months, with no other means of subsistence than what the hand of charity bestowed upon him. But he that supplied his people with bread in the wilderness, and called water for them in their thirst from the stony rock, he did not forsake his suffering servant. The family of the Corbets were raised up as comforters to Mr. Orpe. He was indeed distantly related to them, and, because the arms of that house are ravens, he used thankfully to say that God had fed him, as he did Elijah of old, by the ministry of the ravens. And, as soon as he was sufficiently recovered to ride on horseback, lady Corbet (the relict of sir John) sent for him to officiate at a small curacy in or belonging to Hodnet, where she lived; of this, however, he was speedily dispossessed. He was next presented by lady Corbet (the relict of sir Andrew) to the vicarage of Staunton; but he had scarcely been settled in it half a year before one Rowland Kent instigated the parishioners against him, and accused, him before some of the tribunals of the times, on several false and frivolous charges. It is observable that some of his persecutors, who made the greatest profession of religion, were soon after detected in open immorality: he had not therefore much difficulty in entirely rebutting their attacks; and, having been pronounced altogether innocent, he was permitted for two or three years quietly to enjoy his living. But further troubles were in store for him; and the malice of a pretended friend proved more dangerous than the enmity of open foes. There was in those parts a person who had formerly been Mr. Orpe's school-fellow, of the name of Gilbert, rector of Edg mond, and domestic chaplain to Oliver Cromwell. He took upon him, under the appearance of kindness, to send for his old intimate, and urged him to take the engagement, which was a pledge to be faithful to the then government without a king or house of peers, accompanying his proposal with the assurance that preferment of considerable value should be the reward of his compliance. But the bribe was indignantly rejected; and in consequence Gilbert procured in revenge the vicarage of Staunton for Mr. Churchlow, who had been a gentleman's butler, but was at that time his curate. This man therefore prepared to deprive Mr. Orpe of his living, regarding little his noble conscientiousness, and not troubling himself to The Cabinet. reflect that it was the entire subsistence of a family | mighty bulwark of the truth being gone, the Romish feight children. Here, however, lady Corbet inter- wolf would have had little difficulty in re-entering fered; but her interference only produced the threat the fold, and subjecting again the land to his fatal to herself, that, if she attempted to protect her friend, tyranny. S. she should be put under sequestration, and that, if Mr. Orpe made any further resistance, he should be forthwith imprisoned. He went forth, therefore, from the presence of the court, dispossessed of every thing, and, like his divine Master, with not a place to lay his head. He could not forbear, in the bitterness of his soul, to say, as he left the committee-room-"That, since matters stood thus with him, he found that he should be obliged to put himself in a way for a subsistence which he doubted might cost the life of many a man." These words were overheard, and he was immediately called back, and commanded to tell what he meant by such threatenings, as it was apprehended that he meditated the stirring up of some insurrection. But he replied, with somewhat of the caustic humour of bishop Latimer, that they had entirely misapprehended him, for "that his meaning was, that he should be forced to practise physic, and he feared that he should kill ten before he should cure one." He was then dismissed, and Churchlow put in full possession of the vicarage, who cruelly reaped the corn which Mr. Orpe had sown, without allowing him one penny for it. He was then again bandied about from place to place, and with difficulty procured the liberty of officiating in two or three chapelries, from which he received altogether 201. a-year. On this, and what he could add by occasionally practising physic, he contrived to support his family through seven more years of trouble, when, the monarchy being restored, he was reinstated in his living; Churchlow, at his return, expressing his malicious hope that he should shortly be able to eject him again. But the evening of his life was peaceful: he lived sixteen years in quiet possession of his vicarage, and died Dec. 9, 1677, in the 67th year of his age. A melancholy feeling comes over my mind as I reflect on cases of persecution of this kind; for, not content with depriving them of their parishes and means of subsistence, the persecutors have slanderously destroyed the character of their victims. They fixed upon them the brand of "scandalous ministers," and this note of disgrace has hardly to the present day been removed. Many well meaning persons imagine that the puritans did well to dispossess the clergy; and that the chief, if not the only, error of the times was that they, the puritans, were in their turn dispossessed. Let such persons make themselves acquainted with treatment experienced by the evangelical Featley; let them become acquainted with the hard measure" endured by the saintly Hall; let them remember that the profound Pococke, whose reputation was high throughout Europe, narrowly escaped being ejected for want of learning; aud then let them learn, by these specimens, the miserable audacity which obtruded common soldiers and mechanics into the vacant rooms of men like these. Honour to the names of men who, in evil times, unflinchingly held fast their profession. We owe them a deep debt of gratitude. Had it not been, under God, for their firmness, the church of England would have been entirely swept away, and then, this CONVICTION OF SINFULNESS *.-When a person, no longer at ease in his thoughtless neglect of religion, or in his merely formal attention to it, begins in earnest to call his past ways to remembrance-to compare his thoughts, words, and actions, with the requirements of God's holy and just and good law, and to think seriously of turning his feet to God's testimonies, it is no uncommon thing for him to be overwhelmed at the view of his sinfulness. Possibly seizes hold of his conscience, stares him in the face, some one particular sin of which he has been guilty, and haunts him as a 66 spectre wherever he goes." Certainly a thousand actions, in which, at the time of their commission, he saw little, or rather no sinfulness, now start up before him in all their native deformity. He is too at length led to see and to acknowledge the fruitful source of all this evil-the original corruption of his nature; he is led to acknowledge, with the psalmist, that he was shapen in iniquity and conceived in sin. With this view of his sinfulness by nature as well as by practice, he combines a view of the danger which he has thereby incurred. He hears, with self-application, that the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men: he listens to the fearful description which God himself has given of that wrath of lieved the existence, but to which he now finds himwhich he once thought so lightly, and perhaps disbeself exposed; and the apprehension of the worm that never dieth, and of the fire which never shall be quenched, fills his soul with terror and dismay. However he may have neglected God in time past, his flesh now trembles for fear of him, and he is a fraid of his judgments. Such convictions as these are not, indeed, felt in an equal degree by all persons who truly turn to God; yet it is apprehended that, with the exception of those who, from God's blessing on a religious education, have been sanctified, like John the Baptist, or Timothy, from their earliest infancy, few real Christians have altogether becu strangers to them. Now, under such convictions as these, it is the man Christ Jesus who alone can afford us effectual relief. All other coverts, to which men may betake themselves for shelter from this storm and tempest, will but fall upon them and crush them in the ruins. But the obedience of Christ unto death has purchased the pardon of sin and the favour of God for every penitent believer. The wrath of God, due to such characters for their transgressions, expended itself all on their surety when he stood in their room; and, under the covert of his righteousness, they are safe from the stormy wind and tempest: "Being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ." "There is, therefore, now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh but after the spirit." From "Sermons preached in the parish church of St. Sepulchre, London and Middlesex, by the rev. J. Natt, B.D., formerly fellow, and sometime tutor, of St. John's college, and vicar of St. Giles, Oxford." London: Hatchards, 1841, pp. 377. The sermons contained in this volume, as the author tells us, were all preached at St. Sepulchre's, with the exception of the last two; many having been previously preached at St. Giles, Oxford, where it was our privilege to listen to many of them some twenty years ago, at a time when Mr. Natt's ministrations were peculiarly valuable. The sermons are in themselves sound, scriptural, and impressive; and of a character peculiarly appropriate for perusal in the family circle. We wish the author would favour the public with another.-ED. Poetry. CHARITY. 1 COR. XIII. BY REV. W. P. HUTTON. (For the Church of England Magazine.) FATHER of heaven! how bright and clear, Within the record of thy grace, The truth thy willing servants trace: Father of might! in ancient days, Father of mercy! thou art nigh, But vain e'en faith, as viewed by thee, Father of love! this gift is thine; Lo! at thy mercy seat we bow-- Chester. Miscellaneous. MISSIONARY EFFORTS.-It is a fact that travellers and others, who have opportunity of personally observing the proceedings of missionaries in heathen lands, do not always sufficiently appreciate the effects of their teaching. An unfair criterion is frequently adopted; either the attainments of the native converts are compared with the acquirements of Christians in enlightened and civilized countries, or in some way the disadvantages in their condition are overlooked; and, as a natural result, all the benefits which have actually resulted from the instructions of the missionaries are not perceived and acknowledged. Duly to estimate the change which has been effected by missionary labours, the present state of the people whose benefit has been sought should be contrasted with their former heathen condition; and the comparison ought to be instituted under the full impression of the truth, that the elevation of a people from the depths of barbarism is not the work of a day.-Beecham. FANTEE. The spirit of industry and desire for general improvement, which have been excited, are strikingly evidenced by the fact, that many of the Christian natives applied to Mr. Freeman to obtain for them while he was in England the means of introducing an improved method of agriculture, and such other assistants as would enable them to advance more rapidly towards a state of civilization. An extract from a report on this subject, drawn up by Mr. Freeman during his visit to this country, will be read with interest. After expressing a decided opinion of the practicability of Sir T. Fowell Buxton's plans for the instruction and elevation of the natives of Africa, he proceeds:" It is with great pleasure I state that many of the natives of Fantee, with whom I have had frequent intercourse, and who have already laid aside their heathen errors and embraced Christianity, are very anxious to engage in agricultural pursuits; and have requested me to render them some assistance, by taking out for them, on my return to Africa, a supply of seeds, implements of husbandry, and any thing that would be useful in cultivating their uative soil. At Domonasi, a small Fantee town, about twenty-five miles in the interior, there is a little band of Christians, about sixty in number, with the young chief of the district at their head, who are now anxiously waiting my return with a supply of the above-mentioned things. There are also many of the natives of Cape Coast and Annamaboe, who have small plantations in the bush, at a distance of from three to ten miles from these towns, who are now turning their attention, more fully than they have ever done before, to the cultivation of the soil. These requests on the part of the natives have impressed our minds with the importance of establishing, at the earliest opportunity, two modelfarms in the interior of Fantee; that we may thereby have the means of teaching them the best methods of culture, and of showing them the very great capabilities of the soil. One of these farms will be established at Domonasi, and the other at Mansu, formerly the great slave-mart, and still a considerable town and district, about fifty miles on the road to Ashantee. In each of these places a residence for a missionary is now being prepared, and we hope that in the course of a few months both these posts will be occupied; when one of the great objects of the missionaries will be that of instructing in the practical science of agriculture all those natives, whether Christians or heathens, who may feel disposed to turn their attention to it. The moral improvement which has already taken place in Domonasi, is beginning to have a powerful influence on the social condition of the people. Their houses are kept more clean and decent than those of the heathen, and they are imbibing a taste for those many domestic comforts and conveniences which are to be found in a European cottage. Several of them are beginning to wear European clothes, and have requested me to take them out a fresh supply on my return from England. The effects produced in the minds of the heathen in the surrounding neighbourhood by these salutary changes are also becoming strikingly manifest. They begin to admire the improved social condition of their Domonási neighbours, often calling their town a white man's croom;' and, as a natural consequence, they are now feeling, in some measure at least, a respect for that religion which has been the eause of such a beneficial change."-Beecham's " Ashantee and the Gold Coast." London: 1841. London: Published by JAMES BURNS, 17, Portman Street, Portman Square; W. EDWARDS, 12, Ave-Maria Lane, St. Paul's; and to be procured, by order, of all Booksellers in Town nd Country. PRINTED BY JOSEPH ROGERSON, 24, NORFOLK STREET, STRAND, LONDON. THE SAFETY OF ABSALOM. MARCH 26, 1842. PRICE 1d. gently with the young man for his sake, and by several it was heeded; but Joab, general of the host, stayed not at the king's word, but, when he found Absalom entangled in a wood, slew him. Tidings of the victory are sent unto David, and the first messenger, it would appear, dreads to tell him of his son; but on the question being repeated to another, the truth is disclosed-the young man Absalom is dead. That day the victory was turned into mourning, so deeply did the king mourn for his son. "Is the young man Absalom safe" (2 Sam. xviii. 29)? is the anxious inquiry of a distressed parent, which arrests attention from this very fact: : tidings of victory are come -news that tell David he is still king of Israel; these satisfy him not: there are yearnings of heart that these reach not. "Is," he cries, "the young man Absolom safe?" We envy not that heart that feels no sympathy with the king of Israel, who, picturing to themselves his in- We may learn from this history our uncertense eagerness, does not mourn to think tain hold of earthly blessings. Who, but a of the tidings that shall so soon harrow up short time since, more to be envied than his soul. And yet there is a safety more David-his kingdom established, his conimportant than this-thoughts relating to quests great, his family prospering, abundance it may have been, nay, doubtless were, his? Within a little how changed the scene! much wrapt up in that cry. The thought--a fugitive from his own palace; his servants, how unprepared for death that rebellious son was, may have caused those agonizing throes, "Would to God I had died for thee, O Absalom, my son, my son." It is with this view of the inward workings of mind of the king of Israel that we propose to consider the inquiry-noticing, first, the history connected with it; second, the important inquiry suggested by it; and, lastly, directing the attention to some of the means available for the instruction and salvation of the young. 1. It was an eventful day to the king when he uttered the inquiry. Compelled, by the conspiracy of his own son, to flee from Jerusalem, hotly pursued by him, the two parties had now met in battle. The melancholy spectacle is presented of a son opposing his father-the father driven to take up arms against his son. Ere they engaged, strict had been the command of the king to deal VOL. XII.-NO. CCCXXXV. his very son, conspiring against him; his restoration or death dependant, probably, on this single battle? Is it thus-is such our state, our liabilities? Are possessions now Our stay-do we seek to have them increased, and to be esteemed on account of them by othersglory in them ourselves? How uncertain their tenure! "Thou fool, this night may be the voice of God to thy soul" (Luke xii. 20). Or is health our confidence? Young-does life teem with delight? we are rerry-hearted, and wonder that others sigh; but let the decree go forth-the hue of health be exchanged for sickness, a solitary chamber ours, little visited by gay companions of the day of health-how will our heart's experience write "vanity" on all that once seemed attractive in our sight: the world passeth away, and the lust thereof. One only is there the same yesterday, and to-day, and for ever. [London: Joseph Rogerson, 24, Norfolk-street, Strand.] Р Seek |