I have said, indeed, above, that all persons are not equally susceptible of violent emotions of any kind. But what shall be said of the same persons, who have the strongest passions on every other subject, and nothing but coldness and indifference in matters of religion? What shall be said of the same persons, who are easily and deeply affected with all temporal sufferings, and yet are but very slightly affected with a sense of the evil of sin? Whose tears flow readily and copiously over a dying friend, but have no tears at all to shed over a dying Saviour? Does this at all correspond with the description given by the prophet, "of mourning as for an only son?" In which penitential sorrow is compared to the most severe and exquisite of all human calamities. I must, however, observe, that temporal suffer ings are ordinarily attended and aggravated by sensible images, and are also sometimes sudden and unexpected, on both which accounts they may more powerfully call forth the expressions of sorrow and sympathy. But it is not difficult to judge which of them dwells most heavily upon the mind, which of them would be first avoided by the deliberate choice of the heart. Every true penitent does certainly see sin to be the greatest of all evils, and will discover this by comparison with all the other evils of which he hath at present any knowledge or experience.

4. I shall only mention one other evidence of conviction's being to a proper degree, which is when a sense of the evil of sin is still growing, instead of diminishing. This will be found essentially to distinguish a sense of the evil of sin in itself, from a mere terror of God's power in taking vengeance on the sinner. Time gradually weakens the one, but knowledge, and even the mercy of God, continues to increase the other. When a sinner is brought under great convictions, it

is a state so painful and distressing, that it cannot continue long. Some kind of peace must of necessity succeed. Either he stifles his convictions, hides the danger by shutting his own eyes, and returns to his former security and licentiousness of practice; or he does some things for a time, to quiet the cries of conscience, and lay a foundation for future peace; or, lastly, he returns to God through Christ, by true repentance, and continues to serve him in newness of life.

The first of these cases needs no illustration; the sense of sin in all such persons being not so properly weakened as destroyed. In the second, the sinner is under great restraints for a season, but, when the terror is over, his obedience and diligence is immediately relaxed. This shows plainly, that he had no sincere or cordial affection to the law of God, but was afraid of his power. It shows that his convictions never were of a right kind, and, therefore, it is no wonder their strength should decay. But, in every true penitent, a sense of sin not only continues, but daily increases. His growing discovery of the glory of God points out more clearly to him his own corruption and depravity, both in its quantity and its malignity, so to speak. The very mercies of God, whatever delight or sweetness they afford, take nothing away from his sense of the evil of his doings, but rather melt him down in penitential sorrow. They serve to cover him with confusion at his own unworthiness, and to fill him with wonder at the divine patience and condescension.

The first work of a convinced sinner is, to mourn over the gross enormities of a profligate life, or a life devoted to worldly pursuits. And his continued employment after conversion is, to resist and wrestle with that inherent corruption which was hidden from his view before, but becomes daily more and more sensible. So true

is this, that I have known many instances in which the most genuine expressions of self-abasement happening to fall from aged experienced Christians, have appeared to others as little better than affectation. They were not able to conceive the propriety of these sentiments, which long acquaintance with God and with ourselves doth naturally and infallibly inspire.

From these remarks, let me beg the reader to judge of the reality and progress of the spiritual life. Does your sense of the evil of sin not only continue, but grow? Do you now see sin in many things which you never suspected before? Do you see more of the boldness, ingratitude, and sottish folly of sinners and despisers of God? Are you daily making new discoveries of the vanity, sensuality, and treachery of your own hearts? Be not discouraged at it, but humbled by it. Let it empty you of all selfesteem and self-dependence, and give you a higher relish of the gospel of peace. The substance of the gospel is "salvation to the chief of sinners, by the riches of divine grace, and the sanctification of your polluted natures by the power of the Holy Ghost."

As I would willingly give as much information and instruction as possible, I shall, before quitting this part of the subject, speak a few words of a pretty extraordinary opinion to be found in some of the practical writers of the last age. It is, that genuine conviction, and the soul's subjection to God, ought to be carried so far in every true penitent, as to make him willing, satisfied, and, some say, even "pleased," that God should glorify his justice in his everlasting perdition. This is so repugnant to nature, and to that very solicitude about our eternal happiness, by which the conscience is first laid hold of, that it appears to be utterly impossible. There have been many to whom this requisition has given

inexpressible concern, has been a daily snare to their conscience, and an obstruction to their peace. There is such an inseparable connexion between our duty and happiness, that the question should never have been moved; but, for the satisfaction of those who may have met, or may still meet with it in authors, otherwise deservedly esteemed, I shall make some remarks which I hope will either explain it in a sound sense, or show it to be at bottom false.

Men do often differ more in words than in substance. Perhaps what these authors chiefly mean, is no more than what has been explained above at considerable length, viz. That the sinner finds himself without excuse, his "mouth is stopped," he seeth the holiness of the law, he confesseth the justice of the sentence, he quits every claim but mercy. Thus he may be said to absolve or justify God, though he should leave him to perish for ever. So far, I apprehend, it is undeniably just; otherwise, the very foundation of the gospel is overthrown, and salvation is not "of grace," but "of debt." If we impartially examine the word mercy, and the many strong declarations in scripture of our obligations to God for the gift of eternal life, we shall find that they cannot, consistently, imply less, than that the sinner "deserved," and was liable, to "eternal death.”

But to carry the thing farther, and to say that the penitent must be pleased and satisfied with damnation itself, as he is pleased with suffering in another view, as it is his heavenly Father's sanctified rod, appears to me to be at once unnatural, unreasonable, unlawful, and impossible. It is plainly contrary to that desire of our own happiness which is so deeply implanted in our natures, and which seems to be inseparable from a rational creature. No such thing is, either directly or consequentially, assert

ed in the holy scriptures, which so often urge us to a due care of our own best interests. Wherefore, says the prophet, do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labour for that which satisfieth not? Hearken diligently unto me, and eat ye that which is good, and let your soul delight itself in fatness. Incline your ear, and come unto me, hear, and your souls shall live, and I will make an everlasting covenant with you, even the sure mercies of David."* Further, the proposition seems to me necessarily to imply an impossibility in itself. For what is damnation? It is to be for ever separated from, and deprived of, the fruition of God. Is this then, a dutiful object either of desire or acquiescence? It is to hate God and blaspheme his name, as well as to be banished from his presence. Can this be tolerable to any true penitent? or is it reconcileable to, or consistent with, subjection to his righteous will? Can any creature be supposed to please God, by giving up all hope of his favour? Or is it less absurd than "disobeying" him from a sense of "duty," and "hating" him from a principle of "love"

We must, therefore, carefully separate the acknowledgment of divine justice, and most unconditional subjection to the divine sovereignty, from an absolute despair, or giving up all hope in the divine mercy. We have a very beautiful scripture instance of humble, yet persisting importunity, in the woman of Canaan, who met with many repulses, confessed the justice of every thing that made against her, and yet continued to urge her plea. Neither is there any difference between the way in which she supplicated of the Saviour a cure for her distressed daughter, and the way in which an

* Isa. lv. 2, 3.

awakened sinner will implore from the same Saviour more necessary relief to an afflicted conscience. And behold a woman of Canaan

came out of the same coasts, and cried unto him, saying, Have mercy on me, O Lord, thou son of David, my daughter is grievously vexed. with a devil. But he answered her not a word. And his disciples came and besought him, saying, send her away, for she crieth after us. But he answered and said, I am not sent but unto the lost sheep of the house of Israel. Then came she and worshipped him, saying, Lord help me. But he answered and said, it is not meet to take the children's bread and cast it to dogs. And she said, Truth, Lord, yet the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their master's table. Then Jesus answered and said unto her, O woman, great is thy faith; be it unto thee even as thou wilt."* I shall conclude with mentioning an instance of a similar character in a foreigner of eminent station, who had been a great profligate, and afterwards became a great penitent.t He composed a little piece of poetry after his conversion, the leading sentiment of which was what I have recommended above, and in his own language was to the following purpose: "Great God, thy judgments are full of righteousness, thou takest pleasure in the exercise of mercy: but I have sinned to such a height, that justice demands my destruction, and mercy itself seems to solicit my perdition. Disdain my tears, strike the blow, and execute thy judgment. I am willing to submit, and adore, even in perishing, the equity of thy procedure. But on what place will the stroke fall, that is not covered with the blood of Christ ?"

(To be continued.)

* Matt. xv. 22-28. † Des Barreaux.

THE PILGRIM.

Vain folly of another age,

This wandering over earth,
To find the peace, by some dark sin
Banished our household hearth.
On Lebanon the dark green pines
Wave over sacred ground,"
And Carmel's consecrated rose
Springs from a hallow'd mound.
Glorious the truth they testify,
And blessed is their name;
But even in such sacred spots
Are sin and wo the same.

Oh, pilgrim, vain each toilsome step,
Vain every weary day;
There is no charm in soil or shrine,
To wash thy guilt away.

Return, with prayer and tear return,
To those who weep at home;
To dry their eyes will more avail,
Than o'er a world to roam.

Remember, He who said "Repent,"

Said also, "Sin no more.'

Return, and in thy daily round

Of duty and of love,

Thou best will find that patient faith
Which lifts the soul above.

In every innocent prayer each child
Lisps at his father's knee,

If thine has been to teach that prayer,
There will be hope for thee.

There is a small white church that stands
Beside thy father's grave;

There kneel and pour those earnest prayers

That sanctify and save.

Around thee draw thine own home ties,
And, with a chastened mind,
In meek well-doing seek that peace
No wanderer will find.

In charity and penitence
Thy sin will be forgiven.

shame

The guilt that lured before,

Whence prayers ascend to heaven.
L. E. L. [Eclec. Rev.

NOTES OF A TRAVELLER.

(Continued from page 71.)

Berne, Switzerland, August 26, 1828. Tuesday-To-day, being the fair or market day, we found the streets this morning crowded with country people from different parts of the canton. We had a good opportunity of seeing the peasantry in their various costumes. The dress of the Bernese females is quite peculiar: we noticed it yesterday almost as soon as we entered the canton, and now we saw it in all its perfection and variety. The head is covered with a black cap, fitted close to it, from the sides of which project two pieces of net-work, five or six inches broad, like wings, which have a very odd looking appearance. If nothing but the head of the animal could be seen, it might be mistaken for some huge nondescript species of dragon-fly. I supposed these wings to be made of wire; but

upon touching one of them upon the head of a little girl, passing through the crowd, I found it composed of horse hair. This kind of millinery lasts a very long time, and I understand passes from generation to generation. The hair under this machine descends in two long plaited queues, which ought to reach to the heels to be in fashion; and to effect this, black ribands, of the proper length, are interwoven with the hair. The arms are covered with enormous sleeves of white linen, gathered close to the wrist: black staysshort frocks-red, blue, and white stockings, complete the dress-not to be surpassed by any thing in the Parisian fashions or in Ackerman's Repository. The dress of the men has nothing about it peculiar.

The city of Berne is interesting on many accounts; and you are not to suppose that, because my notes here are not so full as in other places, we saw but little. Com

mon, though beautiful objects, have become rather tedious. Our eyes are almost saturated with novelties; and it is often a matter of great gratification, to ascertain that there is nothing worthy of notice near us. Though our visit to Berne was short and hurried, it has left quite a vivid impression on my mind.

Taking an early dinner, we set off for Lucerne. The road is delightful. After riding a few miles, we stopped at a chapel near the way side, to see a curious and celebrated monument, erected to the beautiful Maria Langhans. The little girl who showed us the church, opened a rough kind of trap-door in the pavement, which conceals the tomb. The marble is represented as splitting asunder at the sound of the last trumpet: the mother rises through the fissure, bearing on one arm a little infant, while with the other she pushes aside the fragments of the tomb. The artist has succeeded happily in combining the expressions of pious awe, and hope and surprise, in the beautiful face of the young mother. The whole, which is nearly as large as life, is carved out of a single piece of stone. The impression which this fine piece of sculpture is calculated to produce, is very much weakened by a number of mean and dirty accompaniments. We purchased a good representation of the monument from the guide. Every thing here is converted into an object of gain.

At about seven miles distance from Berne, we passed Hofwyl, the celebrated seminary of Fellenberg. The merits of this highly interesting establishment are well known to all who are devoted to the great and good cause of education. Our party were equally divided, as to the propriety or pleasure of passing a few hours here; and rather than create any disagreeable feeling, I submitted to the disappointment of not examining the ar

VOL. IX.-Ch. Adv.

rangements of this manual labour school.

The country through which we passed was full of hills and valleys, all in a good state of cultivation. The Swiss farmers, male and female, we observed sprinkling their grounds with a dark coffee-coloured, odiously perfumed liquid, drained in large casks, from their styes, and the manure heaps of their barn yards. The women are employed in all kinds of agricultural labour. In one instance, we saw two cows dragging a load of hay, under the guidance of a damsel that looked like any thing else but a Chloe. The romance I had attached to females employed in rural life, is entirely dissipated. I never want to see any more shepherdesses. Thus you see, one dream after another of my youthful imagination vanishes, before the "dull realities of life," and by the time I hope to get home, you will find me, I think, a plain, sober, matter-of-fact personage.

The black skull-cap of the Bernese women, with its dragon-fly wings, is now superseded by a large flat circular hat, made of straw, or some other light substance, painted yellow: it has no crown, but is kept in its place by a riband tied under the chin. In almost every canton, the females have a peculiar bonnet, which, if worn by those in any other canton, would be considered an outrage.

Owing to the hilly nature of the country, our progress was but slow, and our coachman was particularly careful of his horses. It is a general remark, that in no country are horses better taken care of than in Switzerland. After mounting any considerable hill, they rest a short time, and the driver takes a loaf of bread out of his pocket, and commonly feeds. himself and his nags with a number of slices, before we take a fresh start. This method of giving bread to horses on the road is common,

Q