tell what he thought of himself in the sight of God, and what was the foundation of his hope: "Oh," he replied, "I have been in great trouble this morning, but I am happy now. I saw an immense mountain with precipitous sides, up which I endeavoured to climb, but when I had attained a considerable height, I lost my hold and fell to the bottom. Exhausted with perplexity and fatigue, I went to a distance and sat down to weep, and while weeping, I saw a drop of blood fall upon that mountain, and in a moment it was dissolved." Wishing to obtain his own ideas of what had been presented to his imagination, Mr Williams said, "This was certainly a strange sight, what construction do you put upon it?" After expressing his surprise that I should be at a loss for the interpretation, he exclaimed, "That mountain was my sins, and the drop that fell upon it, was one drop of the precious blood of Jesus, by which the mountain of my guilt must be melted away." Mr Williams expressed his satisfaction at finding he had such an idea of the magnitude of his guilt, and such exalted views of the efficacy of the Saviour's blood, and that although the eyes of his body were blind, he could with the " eye of his heart" see such a glorious sight. CHRISTIAN TREASURY. a The grand Consummation.—Who can express the joy and glory of that day when Christ shall give up the kingdom to the Father, and present unto him all its faithful subjects transformed into his own image! beautiful and splendid Church indeed, for ever to be the object of the Divine complacence, for ever to dwell in the Divine presence, in a state of the greatest nearness to God, who shall then be all in all. Well may the expectation of this illustrious period cheer the Christian under his greatest extremities, and make him of all men the most happy, when otherwise, on account of his sufferings in the flesh, he might seem of all men most miserable.-DR DODdridge. THE YOUNG SHOWN WHERE TO FIND "Deceived; they, fondly thinking to allay Their appetite with gust, instead of fruit There is something interesting and attractive in the ingenuous frankness of youth; and when amiable and estimable qualities also appear in the young, the interest is enhanced, and, "Oh! that they were the Lord's!" is the fervent desire of the believer in Jesus. But how affecting is it to see these young persons in the families of the worldly, and to know, that those in whom they naturally confide, who are the guardians of their early years, are the most ready to warn them against the way of life, and to lead them in the path that separates from God. We speak not of the pernicious example of the openly wicked, which it is too evident, must be prejudicial to youth; but we allude to the conduct of worldly-minded parents, whose desire it is to warn their offspring against extremes in religion, (of all evils what they most dread,) and to initiate them in scenes of vanity and folly, which ensnare and contaminate. It is possible these pages may be perused by some young persons whose situations are similar to what has been stated, but who have not yet become the slaves of the world. Oh! that they could induce them to reflect ere they enlist themselves among its votaries, who are solely intent on human applause; desirous of decoration and splendour; caring for nothing but their temporal interest; and making self-indulgence, ease, and pleasure, their chief concern. Were there no hereafter, the attempt might warrantably be made, to derive satisfaction from what, notwithstanding, never afforded it. Still, were it, our all, it were reasonable to strive to attain something, even where others had failed. But to cast aside the certainty of blessedness for that which, on trial, has ever proved fallacious, is surely madness. We are not aware that a single instance is on record of the worldly having acknowledged that they had found what they sought,-happiness. But many times has "vanity of vanities, all is vanity," been at the last hour, the exclamation of men of the world; and having seen, and known, the most this earth can give, they have confessed that its joys are illusive, and its possessions unsatisfying. The testimony of one individual to the vanity of the world, after having enjoyed its favours in the highest degree, and to whom it was every thing, is so valuable, that, although well-known, we make no apology for transcribing it. So devoted was he to his idol, that outside varnish, good breeding and good manners, constituted his model of perfection! And he enforced to his own son, that the principal objects to which he wished him to devote his attention, were his appearance, his elocution, and his style; to promote which worldly advantages, he cared not to what vices this near relative was degraded! To gloss over this part of his history, his memorialist charitably wishes that he had lived to publish his letters to his son himself, which would have given him the opportunity of ex. punging some obnoxious passages. But he who so unreservedly recommended the world, with its follies, its principles, and practices; in his latter days, to that son, thus avows that it had failed him : 66 "I have seen," said Lord Chesterfield, "the silly rounds of business and pleasure, and have done with them all. I have enjoyed all the pleasures of the world, and, consequently, know their futility, and I do not regret their loss. I appraise them at their real value, which is, in truth, very low; whereas those who have not experienced, always over-rate them. They only see their gay outside, and are dazzled with their glare; but I have been behind the scenes. I have seen all the coarse pulleys and dirty ropes which exhibit and move the gaudy machines; and I have seen and smelt the tallow candles which illuminate the whole decoration, to the astonishment and admiration of an ignorant audience. When I reflect hack upon what I have seen, what I have heard, and what I have done, I can hardly persuade myself that all that frivolous hurry, and bustle, and pleasure of the world, had any reality; but I look upon all that has past as one of those romantic dreams which opium commonly occasions; and I by no means desire to repeat the nauseous dose, for the sake of the fugitive dream. Shall I tell you that I bear this melancholy situation with that ineritorious constancy and resignation which most people boast of? No; for I really cannot help it. I bear it because I must bear it, whether I will or no. I think of nothing but killing time the best way I can, now that he has become mine enemy. It is my resolution to sleep in the carriage the remainder of the journey." Poor worldling is this all that you have gained, even in time? But it may, moreover, be useful to know, that this noble personage was deemed peculiarly fortunate among the worldly. We therefore quote a passage from a letter addressed to Lord Chesterfield, by a still more celebrated worldling and infidel, Voltaire, and which likewise proves that he also thought but meanly of all the world can give. 66 Tully," says he, "wrote a fine treatise on Old Age, but he did not realize his assertions, and his latter years were far from being happy. You have lived longer and more happily than he did. Your lot has been, and is still, one of the most desirable in that great lottery where the prizes are so few, and where the great prize of constant happiness has never yet been drawn by any one. Your philosophy has never been discomposed by those phantoms which have sometimes overset pretty good heads, nor have you ever been, in any respect, a pretender, or the dupe of pretenders, which, in my estimation, is an uncommon degree of merit, and contributes to that shadow of felicity which may be enjoyed in this short life." Here we have the testimony of one who likewise enjoyed the world's highest favours and distinctions, that its felicity is but a shadow, that its prizes are few, and the greatest prize unattainable, and that the man who could write a fine treatise on Old Age, was, nevertheless, (being devoid of the consolations of religion,) not happy in his latter years. And we have this shadow of felicity attributed to him who himself tells us, he did not possess it. In similar language, he who is told that his lot is so favoured, compares worldly pleasure to a dream, which has no existence but in fancy. Yet, if it were real, it is not enviable; for it is not durable. It withers as certainly as the opening leaf is nipped by the frost of winter. Its tendency is to decay. Place a man on the highest pinnacle of worldly prosperity, and there let him remain while in the body; he may feel enjoyment, but it ceases necessarily, and of itself. To suppose an impossible case, as we are constituted, that some one were continued on earth, with youth, health, and all the gifts of time, for a thousand years, satiety and disgust would arise from the repetition of pleasures so unsubstantial as those the world affords. In the possession of such, an immortal spirit cannot solace itself. They neither ennoble nor elevate. They are trifling, they are degrading, they are vain! * And is it for these that the worldly so anxiously seek; for which they, with so much eagerness, toil; and for which they lose heaven? Are these a fair exchange for everlasting life? "O my soul, come not thou into their secret; unto their assembly, mine honour, be not thou united." But possibly the young may imagine, or may be told, that religion is gloomy, and that the only satisfaction that can be derived from it, is in the hope to which it gives rise in the view of another state of existence. Ah! think not so. How many testimonies might be adduced, to give the lie to a representation so false ! How many, among the gay and the prosperous, have confessed, when changed by grace, that they knew not joy until they tasted it pure and unmingled from its fountain, godliness. but I now feel that I have obtained that pardon,-that I obtain it every moment,--and I experience inexpressible delight in seeking it at the foot of the cross. My heart is full, and it is now that I understand the angelic song, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will towards men.'' In another letter she writes, "I experience a pleasure in reading the Bible, which I have never felt before; it attracts and fixes me to an inconceivable degree; and I seek sincerely there, and only there, the truth. When I compare the calm peace which the smallest and most imperceptible grain of faith gives to the soul, with all that the world alone can give of joy, or happiness, or glory, I feel that the least in the kingdom of heaven is a hundred times more blessed than the greatest and most elevated of the men of the world." And again she says, "the certainty, that without divine grace I can do nothing, but that that grace is always with me, that it surrounds me, preserves me, supports me, this sweet assurance fills my heart; and thus I feel most profoundly, that faith alone can satisfy the void which I sometimes used to feel in my soul. The profound conviction, that there is an infinite and merciful Being, who orders all things, that not a hair of the head falls without his permission,and that he will control every circumstance for my real welfare, gives me an habitual peace and tranquillity which nothing else could inspire." 66 And is there ground for suspicion here that gloom possessed the mind? Is there reason to apprehend that religion was, to this young person, the source of melancholy, and that she only resorted to it as a subterfuge, earth's gifts having failed her? No; it is distinctly stated in these valuable extracts, that it answers to all her wishes, and meets all the wants of her soul;" that "incomparable tranquillity, habitual peace, and inexpressible delight," were experienced in consequence of a reception of Gospel truth; that faith can alone satisfy the void that is felt in the soul of man; and that nothing else can inspire the habitual peace which true religion imparts. Yet language like this is not peculiar; it is common to all who have learned to place their confidence in a crucified Redeemer. Among genuine believers we never hear the voice of despondency or complaint, unless when faith fails, and they are unable to realize their interest in the blessings of salvation. Give them the possession, and the anticipation of these, and they Perhaps we may be permitted, in proof of this asser- ask no higher joy; entire satisfaction is the result. tion, to quote the language of a young and beautiful "The statutes of the Lord rejoice the heart, and his woman, living among the most distinguished inhabit-people rejoice in his Word, as those that find great ants, and in the gayest circles of the French capital. Here, every thing to allure was present, and the world, in all its splendour, held out its most attractive fascinations. She was the daughter of Baron Cuvier, and the name of her eminent sire ensured her the notice and regard of the world. But Clementine had sought and found "the pearl of great price," and had learned to despise the glitter of earth's parade. "I want to tell you," she writes, "how happy I am. My heart has at length felt, what my mind has long understood; the sacrifice of Christ answers to all my wishes, and meets all the wants of my soul; and since I have been enabled to embrace, with ardour, all its provisions, my heart enjoys a sweet and incomparable tranquillity. Formerly, I vaguely assured myself that a merciful God would pardon me; An anecdote occurs to the writer, which was related to her by her lamented father, Sir John Sinclair. He was invited by a late eminent statesman, Lord Melville, then high in office, to spend New Year's day with him at Wimbledon Common. He arrived there the day before, and in the morning repaired to the chamber of his host, to wish him a happy new year. "It had need be happier than the last," replied Lord M., "for I cannot recollect a single happy day in it.' And this was the man who was the envy of many, being considered at the height of worldly prosperity! spoil." If we are favoured by familiar intercourse with the pious, or if we read the accounts of them, transmitted to us by those who are so, we cannot fail, also, to be struck with the conviction, that remarkable support and consolation, along with their trials, are afforded them, and that tranquillity and confidence, in days of adversity, and at the hour of death, is the fruit of reliance on the Saviour. The authoress hopes she may be forgiven for mentioning the experience of a much loved sister, whose resignation and peace on a death-bed were eminently conspicuous. This endeared relative was, earlier than many of her contemporaries, called to her everlasting rest; but not before she had left, for the benefit of others, a short but luminous compendium of her faith, in heart from the world, and by the excellence of her or before she had proved its sincerity, by her separation temper, and her practice. * A Memoir of Clementine Cuvier appeared in the Evangelical Magazine in 1828. The writer is indebted for these extracts from her letters, to an interesting little work entitled "The Flower Faded." By John Angell James. That religion was not in her productive of gloom, may be gathered from some observations which have been noticed in her Memoir, and which are still fresh in the memory of the writer, to whom they were made. "I have never," said she, "been so happy as last night. I was not able to sleep, and began to meditate on the employment of saints and angels around the throne. I ruminated until I thought I saw the multitude of the redeemed, which no man can number. I fancied I heard their angelic voices, singing the song of Moses and the Lamb. Methought I joined with them, and at last I concluded, by praying that I might be soon, if not immediately, removed, to unite my note of praise with theirs." "Such expressions," adds her memorialist, "illustrate the character of those highlyfavoured moments, in which God is sometimes pleased to animate his faithful people, by a peculiar blessing upon their meditations, concerning the heavenly state. He thus giveth songs in the night.' that in humble reliance on the Saviour's sufferings and intercession he is hastening to an inheritance of eternal happiness, far greater than it has entered the heart of man to conceive." And again, we ask, is gloom manifest here? Were dissatisfaction, and discontent, the result of a life spent in the service of God? And was sorrow, or comfort, the most apparent at its close? The reply to such inquiries is evident. But if we peruse the writings, or listen to the melancholy lamentations of those who have spent their lives in the pursuit of worldly gratifications, we shall soon be convinced where chagrin shows itself, and where gloom really exists. The contrast is striking! Let not the subject be carelessly and hastily considered; let it he deeply pondered, and viewed with the seriousness it demands. If the pleasures of the world afford not satisfaction even in time, where is the inducement to make them our portion, for time is the limit of their come with a flattering show, and dazzling appearance of earthly happiness, to entrap the unwary; but, when grasped, they are discovered to be phantoms instead of realities; and even if they should be enjoyed for a moment, they vanish when we most need their aid,— in the season of affliction, of poverty, of sickness, of old age, and at the hour of death! When days and months of languishing were after-durance; they pretend not to exist beyond it. They wards appointed her, confidence in God, and undisturbed serenity in the prospect of a future state, continued to be experienced by her. It is stated, that "at this period she said to a friend, I never spend one dull hour,' although she was very often necessarily left alone, being unable to bear the fatigue of society for any length of time together. A younger sister one day lamented that her sufferings were so great, she replied, I would cheerfully suffer it all over again, that you might enjoy the same consolation from religion, in the same circumstances.' Her uncommon patience struck every one who saw her. She never complained; and when it was noticed to her, said, It would be a wonder if I were not patient, when I have so many mercies to be thankful for.' Her thoughts and occupations,' writes a near relative, were in sickness, as they had ever been in health, such as became one, so deeply impressed as she had the happiness to be, with the unspeakable comfort, as well as importance, which belongs to the truth as it is in Jesus.' And again, it is added, "Never was a death-bed more tranquil and calm. Not a doubt nor a fear disturbed her. Not a complaint or a murmur once escaped her lips; all was peace, peace." In reference to what he had beheld of her bodily sufferings and peaceful state, and to the value of the Bible in promoting a confidence so enviable, a relative to whom she was tenderly attached, (her brother, now Sir George Sinclair, Bart.,) thus bore testimony:-" If called upon to tend the sick-bed, and to witness the protracted sufferings of one unto whom the heart is closely knit, by the double ties of reverence and love; have we not found, that, whilst the taper of life is imperceptibly hastening to extinction, the pure lamp of faith still burns internally, with unquenchable and undiminished, nay, even with increasing brightness? Have we not perceived, that when all human help is vain, when the memory of the past is fading away, when the occurrences of the present cease to interest, and all personal concern in the future events of this world is about to be cut off for ever, the mercies of our God, and the promises of our Redeemer, are the theme on which the dying sufferer still loves to expatiate and to reflect? When the eloquence of the orator, the liveliness of the wit, and the sublimity of the philosopher, can no longer fascinate or instruct, the Scriptures are still listened to with avidity and delight. When a transient slumber has recruited for a time the fast decaying strength of the body, how eagerly does the mind again seek to refresh itself at this pure and inexhaustible source of spiritual peace and serenity! It is then that the perusal of the Bible disarms death of all its terrors, it reminds the expiring Christian, Memoir of Hannah Sinclair, prefixed to her Letter on the Principles of the Christian Faith. By the Rev. Legh Richmond. But we began this chapter by addressing those interesting characters among the young, whose sincere desire it is to live as they ought, but who, from untoward circumstances, have not been accustomed to view genuine religion in its just light. With them we would importunately plead. Oh halt, inquire, pray. Is it rational to suppose that God claims no more of your time, of your thoughts, and of your affections, than the worldly are disposed to allow? Can religion be comprised in a few cold, heartless, ceremonies ? Can the world's pleasures ensure lasting happiness? And if not, how is joy here, and joy hereafter, to be attained? In these questions, your conduct during life is involved. Oh, then, solve them without delay. If the will of God is revealed in the Scriptures, there, with Clementine, seek the truth. Seek it unweariedly, seek it prayerfully. Light, it is promised, shall be given when thus sought, to walk in the path; straight, indeed, may be the entrance, and narrow the way, but still it is the hallowed path that leads to unending felicity. The foregoing paper we have extracted from a very valuable little Work which has recently appeared from the pen of Lady Colquhoun, whose writings on the Kingdom of God," and "The Impressions of the Heart," are well known. The subject of the present volume, "The World's Religion as contrasted with Genuine Christianity," is one with which, from her rank in society, the excellent authoress had ample opportunities of becoming acquainted, and she has displayed admirable tact and skill in performing a delicate and difficult task,-exposing in its true light, the hollow and meaningless nature of the nominal religion, almost universally prevalent among people of the world. While however, Lady C. is faithful in dissecting the false, though fashionable, religion of multitudes, she is equally happy in delineating the principles and the character of genuine, because Scriptural, Christianity. Published by JOHN JOHNSTONE, 2, Hunter Square, Edinburgh; J. R. MACNAIR, & Co., 19, Glassford Street, Glasgow; JAMES NISBET & Co., HAMILTON, ADAMS, & Co., and R. GROOMBRIDGE, London: W. CURRY, Junior, & Co., Dublin; and W. M'COMB, Belfast; and sold by the Booksellers and Local Agents in all the Towns and Parishes of Scotland; and in the principal Towns in England and Ireland. Subscribers will have their copies delivered at their Residences, THE SCOTTISH CHRISTIAN HERALD, CONDUCTED UNDER THE SUPERINTENDENCE OF MINISTERS AND MEMBERS OF THE ESTABLISHED CHURCH. [THE following is the first portion of a series of Lectures on the History of the First and Second Reformations in Scotland, which Mr M'Crie is in the course of delivering in Edinburgh, and which will appear in successive Numbers of our Periodical.] BEFORE entering on the history of the Reformation, it may be necessary, in order to appreciate the full value and importance of that glorious deliverance, to take a brief survey of the state of the world, and particularly of our own land, previous to its introduction. It may be truly said, that, before this period, "the whole world wondered after the beast." There was not a nation in Christendom, and hardly any class of people, who did not bow to the authority of the Roman See, if we except the Waldenses, who inhabited the inaccessible fastnesses of the Alps. The Pope, pretending to be the vicar and representative of Jesus Christ, not in the lowliness of his appearance when on earth, but in the splendour of his kingly dignity in heaven, had risen to such a pitch of arrogance, as to assume the character, not only of the head of the church, but of supreme potentate and plenipotentiary over all the kingdoms of the world. Our Lord has said, " My kingdom is not of this world," teaching us that his Church was not to claim temporal dominion over men; but the Church of Rome, in direct contravention of this statute, and interpreting literally those passages of Scripture in which the glory of the Church is set forth under images drawn from earthly kingdoms, transformed herself into a worldly monarchy, and challenged, in civil as well as ecclesiastical affairs, the homage of the greatest princes of Europe. If at any time one of these monarchs ventured to disobey the mandates of the Italian priest who happened to be seated in the chair of St. Peter, he was immediately excommunicated, and his kingdom laid under an interdict the effects of which were, that his subjects were absolved from their allegiance, and to No. 7. FEB. 16, 1839.-1d.] ib. 110 111 ib. ib. assassinate him was declared a meritorious service, entitling the murderer to heaven-other princes were summoned to make war against him-the churches throughout the country were shut upthe sacraments suspended-the dead buried in the high-ways-and the muffled bells rang a funeral peal, as if some fearful curse hung over the de voted land. In such circumstances, the stoutest monarchs were compelled to yield, and submit to the most humiliating penance. Two of them,— one, a king of England, another, a king of France, -were compelled to hold the Pope's stirrup while he mounted on horseback; a third, was ordered to lie prostrate on the earth, while the haughty pontiff, placing his foot on his majesty's neck, exclaimed, "Thou shalt tread upon the serpent, and trample on the dragon and lion;" another was whipped by proxy, the Cardinal of Lorraine receiving the lashes on his bare back in the name of his royal master, lying flat, as D'Aubignè expresses it, "like a mackarel on a gridiron :" while another, Henry IV., emperor of Germany, having offended the Pope, travelled to his residence to beg his pardon; and there did he stand at the gate, barefooted and bareheaded, for the space of three days, before his holiness would admit him to his presence; and after all, he deprived him of his crown and transferred it to another. The spiritual power claimed by the Pope was, as it still is, not less extraordinary. Not content with assuming the prerogatives and even the names of Deity-the lordship of conscience, the gift of infallibility, and the power of absolving men from the consequences of sin in a future world; he went beyond this, and exalted himself above the Most High. While he presumed to consecrate vice, and dispense with the obligations of the divine law, he invented new sins, and created new worlds in which they might be punished. In dulgences were openly sold for money, by which the deluded people were taught to believe that their venial sins would be forgiven, and the souls [SECOND SERIES. VOL. L of their departed friends redeemed out of a place called purgatory. The Pope, however, with all his pretensions, was merely the head of a vast conspiracy against the civil and religious liberties of mankind, the ramifications of which extended over the whole earth, and every member of which, from the pontiff down to the meanest monk, was sworn to advance the interests of the body. Swarms of priests and confessors infested every country-penetrating, like the plague-frogs of Egypt, into the recesses of every family, from that of the king to that of the cottager, polluting every thing they touched; and, by means of auricular confession, made themselves masters of the secrets of every court, every household, and every bosom in the land; so that a regular system of espionage was established, by which secret intelligence of every movement might be conveyed to head-quarters, and the whole complicated machinery, obeying the touch of some unseen hand, could be made to bear, with decided and irresistible effect, on the accomplishment of its designs. You may wonder how such a system of organised tyranny and oppression could have been tolerated so long without any combined attempt being made to shake it off. But our wonder will cease when we consult the Scriptures, where we learn that the antichristian system is the masterpiece of Satanic ingenuity, expressly devised for deluding mankind; "whose coming is after the working of Satan, with all power, and signs, and lying wonders, and with all deceivableness of unrighteousness in them that perish." We will cease to wonder when we consider that Popery is the religion of corrupt human nature, admirably contrived to gratify its pride, and chime in with its lusts and passions-furnishing pardons which may be procured for money, and presenting objects of worship which may be seen and handled; enlisting all the fine arts-architecture, music, painting, and statuary-into its service; appealing to every sense; enthralling the mind by the mystery and plausibility of its doctrines; fascinating the imagination by the gorgeousness of its ritual; and overwhelming reason itself by the very magnitude of its paradoxes and absurdities. And we will cease to wonder, when we think on the power which they were able to wield in support of their system; that the slightest heretical whisper was sufficient to consign the person to the dungeons of the Inquisition; and that if he persisted in holding his opinions, he was doomed to expiate in the flames of a cruel death, the crime of having dared to question the dogmas of the infallible church. of god upon earth. Of Christianity almost nothing Persecution and the suppression of free inquiry were the only weapons by which this system of corruption and imposition could be supported. Every avenue by which truth might enter was carefully guarded; the Scriptures were effectually kept from the view of the people by being locked up in a dead language; the most frightful pictures were drawn of those that had separated from the Church of Rome; and if any person hinted dissatisfaction with the conduct of churchmen, or proposed the correction of abuses, he was immediately marked as a heretic, and if he did not consult his safety by flight, immured in a dungeon, or committed to the flames. Such was the power and the vigilance exercised by the clergy, that it was not safe to The state of religion in Scotland, immediately utter a word against them even in one's sleep; before the Reformation, was deplorable in the ex- and it is recorded by Knox as a fact, that one treme. Owing to the distance between us and man, a precentor or chanter as he was called, was Rome, it was the more easy for the clergy to actually apprehended, and had he not recanted keep in the minds of the people a superstitious would have suffered death, because he was overveneration for the papal power; and our ances- heard saying in his sleep one night, tors, who heard of the Pope only in the lofty tak the priestis, for they are a greedy pack!” panegyrics of the monks, regarded him as a kind * M'Crie's Life of Knox, i. 23. "The deevil Knox's History, p. 14. |