this discourse to the close, who despise the doctrines of the grace of God. Do any of you lean to the fashionable scheme of irreligious, pretended morality; and when you are at liberty, treat the doctrine of free grace, and of Christ's righteousness and merit, with contempt and scorn. As the full soul loatheth the honey-comb, so the self-righteous soul spurns at the riches of divine mercy, and likes not the incessant repetition of the name of Christ. Your guilt is of the darkest and deepest dye. Your danger it is impossible to conceive or express. What views have you in drawing near to a holy God in solemn worship? Or what meeting do you expect with God, when he sitteth upon the throne of his holiness in the day of judgment? Do you ever, though in the slightest manner, make conscience of the duty of self-examination? May I not have some hold of you by that quarter? What satisfaction have you in your own hearts? Dare you tell us now what passes there? O the power of self-deceit! You would be covered with confusion, did but the world know the foul pollution that lodges within you: how much less shall you be able to stand the strict and impartial judgment of the great Searcher of hearts?

Do but open the book of God, and what page will not condemn you? This sentence stands uncancelled against you, "Cursed is every one, that continueth not in all things that are written in the book of the law to do them. "Out of your own mouths will you be judged, ye wicked servants. Thou that makest thy boast of the law, through breaking the law, dishonourest thou God?" Bring forth your boasted morality, and let it be put to the trial. Will you, or dare you say, "I have loved the Lord with all my heart, with all my soul, with all my mind, and with all my strength? Will you say, I have

loved his worship, and served him in public, in my family, and in secret, and I hope he will accept of it? I think I am authorized to answer in his name, "Was it worshipping me to be singing psalms with your mouths, and not once remembering their meaning? to be thinking of an hundred vain things when you were in the house of God? To be praising without thankfulness, confessing without sorrow, and asking blessings without desiring them; and to be more attentive to the faces and dresses of others around you, than to the frame of your own hearts? Was it hearing my word, to be criticising the style and manner of the speaker, and laying hold, with the utmost eagerness, of every improper motion or ill-chosen expression, as a fund of entertainment for yourselves and your companions over your cups and bowls? Or do you call your careless, hasty, drowsy prayers, with long intermissions, worshipping me in secret ?"

But perhaps you will rather choose to trust to the duties of the second table, and what you owe to your neighbour. Perhaps you will say, I have been honest in all my dealings, and never wronged any man: nay, I have been kind and charitable, have dealt my bread to the hungry, and supplied the wants of the afflicted and poor. I answer, in the name of God, "Many have been your defects even in these duties; but supposing it to be so, you have not feared me. It might be from pride, from fear of censure, from prudence; but it was not in obedience to me, for I was. not in all your thoughts. Was it your duty to your neighbour, to make a mock at his sins, to lead him into intemperance, to despise him in your hearts, and ridicule him in your conversation?" one word, do but examine all your "righteousnesses," they will "be found as filthy rags before God." Trust not in such a "refuge of lies."

In

-The bed is shorter than "that a man can stretch himself on it, and the covering narrower than that he can wrap himself in it."* Believe it, there is no salvation in any other than in Christ. His atoning blood will reconcile you to God: his grace and love will captivate your souls: his holy and blessed Spirit will write his laws in your hearts. Belive in him, and you will be more holy than ever, and yet stand astonished at your profane and blind pride and vanity. He will create in you a clean heart, and you will then blush at the thoughts of your remaining pollution. You will apply yourselves to his service with zeal and diligence, and yet still say you are unprofitable servants. One view of the cross of Christ will make sin more odious than a thousand fine descriptions of the beauty of virtue, which commonly serve only to nourish and fortify the pride of man. If ever you desire to see the face of God in mercy, or to dwell in his presence, believe in Christ, for there is no other way to the Father.

6. In the last place, suffer me to preach the gospel to the chief of sinners. It is the glory of our Redeemer, that he saves "to the uttermost all that come to God by him." The dignity of his person, the greatness of his sufferings, and the infinite value of his atonement founded on both, makes him "mighty to save." Let such sinners attend to this, who are without excuse, whose hearts have been a sink of the greatest impurity, whose lives are stained with the foulest and grossest crimes, whose sins have been numerous and heinous, and scandalous; who have no plea to offer, but are sensible that they have justly merited the wrath of God in its utmost rigour. Let such attend to this, as are trembling at the thoughts of a righteous judgment, and saying, "It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the • Is. xxviii. 20.

living God.-Men and brethren, what shall we do?" Behold, I bring you good tidings of mercy unmerited, pardon unsolicited, a full and free remission of all your sins. "I have blotted out thine iniquities as a cloud, and as a thick cloud thy sins: return unto me, for I have redeemed thee." Receive this testimony, and "set to your seal that God is true."

Think not to do injury to the grace of God, by weaving a selfrighteous cobweb, and refusing to believe, till you have laid down some rules of a new life, and effected some partial reformation, as if you would first save yourselves, that you may be fit for salvation by Christ. These hopes will soon be dashed in pieces. Faith in the imputed righteousness of Christ is the sinner's only plea. The more vile you are in your own apprehension, the more need you have "to put on Christ." The subsequent change' of heart and practice must be the effect of his power, is a part of his purchase, and ought to be received as his gracious gift. And I will venture to foretell, that you will make the greater progress in true holiness, the less you are disposed to boast of, or to trust in it.

This I apprehend, is the gospel itself, styled in Scripture, with the highest propriety, the "gospel of the grace of God." "Christ came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance." If you will rely on him for salvation, he will shed abroad the love of God in your hearts by the Holy Ghost, which will be a powerful and operative principle of new obedience. I beseech you, therefore, in the most earnest manner, not to reject the counsel of God against yourselves. Nothing can be more liberal, or more gracious, than the offer of the gospel: "I will give to him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely." There is no sin of so deep a dye, or so infectious a stain, but the blood of Christ is suf

ficient to wash it out. not any slave of Satan so loaded with chains, but he is able to set him free. If you perish, it is of yourselves. I have given you warning, from a sincere and ardent concern for your everlasting interest; and may God himself, for Christ's sake, by his Holy Spirit, effectually persuade you to comply

with it.

(To be continued.)

FOR THE CHRISTIAN ADVOCATE.

When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained; What is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him 2-Ps. viii. 3, 4.

When I behold the evening sky,

And all the starry wonders there; Thy power, Oh Lord, and majesty, O'erwhelm my heart with awe and fear. There shine Arcturus and his sons,

There Mazaroth proclaims thy praise; There, too, Orion circling runs, And Pleiades' influence sweetly plays. And does that same almighty arm,

Which holds and guides each rolling sphere;

Protect me from surrounding harm,

And grant me every comfort here! Well might the royal psalmist say,

Viewing those glittering orbs above; Lord, what is man-what worthless clay! That thou shouldst visit him in loveThat thou shouldst every want supply, Notice and keep each pious tear; And when he lifts to thee his cry,

That thou shouldst bend a gracious ear. Oh! may thy condescension fill,

With love and gratitude my soul; And prostrate this rebellious will,

Submissive to thy full control. Whate'er denied, O grant me Faith,

That heavenly guide to realms above; Which shows the straight and narrow path,

That leads to everlasting Love.

From the Mirror.

THE BIBLE CLASS,

IN THE CONNECTICUT STATE PRISON.

K.

I saw them bending o'er that holy page, Whose breath is immortality. There seem'd

still

The day to toil, and meeting every night,
In solitude, reflection's chast'ning glance,
Which wounds to purify. There too doth
glide

Fair charity, prompting to deeds divine
The unaccustomed pupil, while he cons,
'Mid the deep silence af a lonely bed,
His Bible lesson; seeks a deeper root
For Christian purpose; or anticipates
Glad Freedom's sacred gift.

Ye whom our God Hath held from deep transgression, be not proud;

Nor in the heat of passion, haste to weigh A brother's fault. The Eternal Judge himself

(When by the sin of ingrate Adam moved,) Came not to Eden till the cool of day. And since that hour when first the vengeful sword

Hung o'er the forfeit gate of Paradise, Man hath been wayward,-weak, and

prone to fall

Beneath temptation's wile, and so must be Unto the doomsday burning.

Then let his bitterest discipline be mixed In Mercy's cup,-that so the prison cell May work his soul's salvation; and the law,

Like a school-master' Severe, the truant bring

To Christ, his advocate and righteousness. Hartford.

L. H. S.

SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF REV. JACOB

GREEN, A. M., formerly Pastor of the Presbyterian Church in Hanover, Morris County, New Jersey. (Continued from page 412.)

A DREAM.

I thought that I was in a large room, just at even or twilight, where were a number of elderly men, and also a number of children, chiefly if not all boys, about 5, 6 or 7 years old. They all seemed to be serious, or rather mournful. At the north side of the room was a door standing wide open. Without the door were two pair of stairs. The one on the right side which went upwards, and led to some place over head; and directly before the door, or a little to the left hand, were stairs that went downward, and led to some place beneath. There was the space of about two feet without the door, before the stairs began that led up or down. I thought the children in the room called the place which the stairs led to above HEAVEN, and the place which those downward led to, they called HELL. Once in a while one of the children went out at this door, and went either up or down. They went one at a time, and some went up and some down. They went out at this door, in order to know whether they should go to heaven or to hell. Not that I thought they went immediately to heaven or to hell; but whether they went up or down they tarried safe and well that night, and in the morning came back again, and after that lived their life in this world: but according as they went up or down when they went out of that door, so, whenever they died, they would

• A review or recollection of the latter

part of this article in our last number, is necessary to see the connexion and import of this dream.

VOL. IX. Ch. Adv.

I

go to heaven or to hell. At length all the children were gone out, except one little boy. The children, the old men were to make the trial. say, for it was not supposed that They all sat still in the room. The father kept this one little boy that was left, between his knees, not willing that the child should go out. The boy was very desirous to go, kept begging his father to let him go, and even cried to go. He told his father that such a boy, and such a boy was gone up to heaven, and that he did not doubt but that he should go up to heaven. His father said, "I am afraid you will not, I am afraid you will go down to hell." I thought they all desired and endeavoured to go up, and what it was that made any of them go down I did not then know; but I soon knew. At length the father consented to let the boy go. Now, thought I with myself, is my time, to try what will become of me when I die. I concluded to let this boy go first, and as soon as he was gone, that I would go. But I trembled and greatly feared that I should go down. I went to the door with the boy and well observed him. stepped one step out of the door, and the next step, he stepped down one stair, that went downward. And as soon as he saw he was going downward, he cried and lamented most bitterly. But he kept stepping down as fast as possible, which, if he had not done, he would have fallen down head foremost. He went down crying and was soon out of sight; and I thought I saw no more of him, but had all my thoughts turned upon my own case. I stood trembling and afraid, but I thought I must try; and concluded therefore to go out, but determined that I would not go straight out at the door, as the others did; but as the stairs that went upward were at

3 N

He

the right side of the door without, I went to the left side of the door within, determined to run quickly and spring up the stairs at the right hand.

At length I sprung with all my might; but no sooner was I without the door than a strong wind took me, stopt me in a moment, and like a whirlpool, sucked me down the stairs. This wind turned my face to the stairs that went downwards, and drew me with great violence. Finding myself thus drawn downwards, I set out one foot before the other and hung back; but my foremost foot was about half the length of it over the first step downwards, and only my heel and part of my foot upon the floor. I hung back, and the wind drew so hard that it bent me down, my face to my knees, and drew my loose clothes over my head; thus I continued as on a poise, for about half a minute. At length I fell backwards, and scrabbled toward the room again. I got up and went into the room crying bitterly, for I thought I certainly belonged to hell.

When I stepped out at the door, and the wind stopped me and turned me downward, the old men in the room, who had their eyes upon me, spoke out together suddenly "Alas! is the congregation will ing." This they said with respect to my going downwards; but the meaning of it I knew not. When I had got back among the old men, I thought in my dream I saw a door on the west side of the room which opened into a yard: and I, in anguish and dreadful distress, went out of this door, and there, in that yard, sat God Almighty, on a kind of throne. In great bitterness and anguish I threw myself down before him, and prayed that he would tell me why I must certainly be damned. He told me it was for breaking my promise made in the woods, together with the sin I had committed against light and the checks of conscience at the time of

it; for God, and I myself, regarded me as having committed the sin, though the external action was not performed. The sin itself, said he, was great the breach of your promise and vow was also a great and dreadful sin: and the sin being committed, and the promise broken, against the light and checks of conscience, make it an unpardonable sin. What! said I, must I certainly be damned! Yes, he replied, you must-you have committed the unpardonable sin. Upon this I cried most bitterly, and said, "O most merciful God! didst thou never pardon so great a sin as this!" No, said he, I never did. Then I mentioned David's sin, and Peter's sin, and said "O Lord, were not these sins so great and dreadful as mine? No, said he,

they were not. Then did I cry and plead for pardon in the most lamentable manner, before an angry God-I pleaded the merit of Christ

that his merit was infinite-that no sin could exceed the infinite merit of Christ-is not, said I, the merit and satisfaction of Christ sufficient? The unpardonable sin, he replied, is excepted-'tis of such a nature it cannot be pardoned. Then I threw myself down before him and cried, "O Lord, is there no way! is there no way! cannot I be pardoned! Lord, canst thou not have mercy on me! Thou art merciful, O Lord; thou hast pardoned; wilt thou not have mercy on me? No, he answered-that sort of sin can never be pardoned; 'tis, said he, the nature of the sin, and not the greatness of it, that makes it unpardonable. Then I thought of the nature of my sin, and knew I committed it against the checks of conscience, in the very time of it. Your sinning against light and conscience in the time of it, said God, made it the unpardonable sin. Then I cried, and lamented, and begged, and prayed, and continued entreating for pardon. But, said God, I could easily pardon all your