hope in Jesus, a firm trust in him, keeps us stedfast unto the end :-yes, even in death, trust then in Jesus; cling to this precious Saviour! He will be with you, he will strengthen you, he will uphold you." I could see that the great enemy of souls was trying her mind with many doubts, for she could only answer me with tears. I besought the Lord to have mercy on her, assured that he alone could speak peace to her soul. At length I said to her, "Did you always feel as anxious about your soul as you now do? Was there not a time when you thought nothing, perhaps cared nothing, about the matter?" She seemed roused from her deep sorrow by this question, and said, "I will tell you about it, ma'am." She then gave me the following account of herself-often, indeed, she was obliged to pause, for want of breath; and the distressing cough, which was excited by the effort of speaking, made it painful to listen:

"My father was drowned at sea when I was only six years old; but I now remember the sad day, when my poor mother, after being recovered from the fit into which the sudden intelligence of my poor father's death had caused her to fall, threw her arms round me, and said I was now her only comfort. Ah! how often the words came to my mind after that sad day; for, as I grew up, I prided myself on the decent life I led, and the comfort I was to my mother. I married when I was quite young, and came to live in this cottage, at some little distance from my mother. My husband is a fisherman, and obliged to be much from home, sometimes during the whole day. It used to be my pride to have every thing bright and shining in our cottage; and how gladly did I prepare his evening meal for him! Then, on the Sunday, when we went regularly to the house of God, how well I thought of myself for all these things: but God, who sees the heart, knew that this was full of sin in me all the time. After my little William was born, I became very weak, and felt the care of my two children try me very much: I could not keep my cottage so tidily as I had been used to do, and this troubled me then I could not get to church; and I had a feeling about it, that I could not be so good, and I was troubled more. Then, when my husband did not come home to me after his day's work, my spirits quite sunk; I had no heart to do any thing. One day (it was Saturday) I had been trying to clean my house for Sunday; my strength was quite gone, and I sat down to rest. When I looked round the kitchen, I found it as neat as ever; but I thought, where's the value of doing all this, now William won't come home to see it? and here I am alone. Tears came into my eyes. O, I felt very sad: then I thought of the next day, Sunday, and that I should not be able to go to church; but I thought, again, I cannot help it, for I am ill; and then some beautiful words I had once heard at church came into my mind: they were something about bearing our sins and our infirmities. I had never thought much about my Saviour, but I now felt certain that this must be him: they seemed beautiful words to me; and I thought I would pray to my Saviour; I think I did then for the first time in my life; for afterwards I felt comforted. many happy thoughts about heaven and my Saviour came into my mind. O, ma'am," she said to me, with an earnestness I have since often remembered, "I wanted some one to tell me about these things!"

Here I must pause in Fanny's history, to make a few remarks on what appears to me a very important duty it is that of visiting the poor. I am well aware that this employment may at times interfere with first duties; and if it be done to the neglect of these, I would be the last to urge it; but I much fear there are very many who, having both time and opportunity, forget that we have the exhortation to visit the fatherless and the widow in their affliction. How great the privilege, of being permitted to imitate His example,

who, being the brightness of his Father's glory, came to this world of sin and sorrow "to preach good tidings to the meek, to bind up the broken-hearted, to comfort all that mourn." We may often meet with much to try and discourage us in our labours amongst the poor, but those "who water shall be watered." This text is particularly applicable to my present subject. Never have I felt so strongly the depth of that love, which plucked me as a brand from the burning, as when I have been speaking of it to the perishing souls of my poor brethren. Never did I so deeply feel the providential mercies of my God, his love, in bestowing on me all things richly to enjoy, until, in the cottage of the starving poor, I was led to ask myself the question, "Why am I made to differ?" But I must add further, never, until I stood by the dying bed of one poor fellow-sinner, whom it had pleased God to make me the honoured instrument of directing to Him, who only can give peace in that solemn hour, did I feel the power of those words, "He which converteth a sinner from the error of his ways shall save a soul from death." A soul from death! What words are these! Reader, they are words of that deep importance which, until we meet before the judgment-seat of Christ, we shall never fully understand. Let us, then, now never forget, that in that solemn day we must meet not only those whom we have directed into the way of life, but those also whom, although we saw them wandering from the fold, we cared not to lead to the good Shepherd.

But to return to Fanny." The next day I got a kind neighbour to read me a chapter in the Bible: she chose that one which tells us about our Saviour's dying on the cross; and I began then to think that he would save me from going to hell, which I knew I deserved to do, on account of my sins. I often got some one to read in the Bible to me; and felt great comfort in prayer, and thinking of my Saviour, when quite alone, which I often was.' She never told me her husband neglected and ill-treated her: it was from others I heard he did so. "After the birth of my last dear infant, now with God, my health became very much worse, and I began to think I could not live long; and I now am certain I must soon die. Sometimes the thought (were it not for my two dear children) would be joy to me; for I long to be with that precious Saviour who has done so much for methen I know I shall sin no more: but when I think what a sinner I have been, I say to myself, Can I be forgiven ?" I answered, "Jesus is able and willing to save you; he has said, 'I will cast out none that come. I then repeated part of the hymn, beginning, "Jesus, lover of my soul." When I came to the verse, "Thou, O Christ, art all I want," she clasped her hands together, and exclaimed with a strength which quite astonished me in one so weak, "It is so ; blessed Jesus, thou art all I do now want." "Then," I added, "you must cast all your care on him; for you know he does care for you. You do not doubt now, that he will take you to be with him in heaven." "I must not," she answered; "for he gives me peace, peace, peace." Her strength was now quite gone; she could only say, "Pray for me." I did so, and then wished her "good-bye," saying, "I will, if it please God, come again; but, if I never more meet you here, I trust we shall, through mighty love, be together in that land, where

'Doubt in full belief shall die; Pain in endless bliss expire:"" she smiled sweetly on me and I left her.

As I walked home, I thought much of the scene I had witnessed, and Fanny's simple story. Never had I before so strongly seen the power of God, unassisted by the agency of man, manifested in convincing a soul and leading it into the right way, as in the present instance. "The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell

The

whence it cometh, or whither it goeth; so is every one that is born of the Spirit." God is pleased to use us frequently as the means of bringing the souls of our fellow-creatures to him; yet humbling to us is the consideration of the truth, " Paul may plant, and Apollos water, but God only can give the increase." heart of man, until touched by Divine grace, may be compared, I thought, as I stood on the cliff before mentioned, and viewed the sea, which had now become very rough, to yonder troubled element, which rises in proud defiance against every obstacle, and would indeed overwhelm all that obstructed it, were it not for that great Power, which says, "So far shalt thou come, and here shall thy proud waves be stayed." Let the Creator speak, and the roughest billows are hushed, and give place to the soft rippling waves of the summer sea. O delightful, comforting reflection! the same mighty hand which formed the vast expanse of water before me, is about the meanest of his creatures for good:

"He sees their griefs, allays their fears,

And counts and treasures up their tears."

A week passed, when, one fine morning, I again entered the mossy lanes to go to C. Every thing in nature looked bright, and was smiling with beauty: the thick foliage was just beginning to wear those varied hues, which, as they adorn the trees, seem to say, We thus clothe them with loveliness as they decline, that men may, with hope and joyful anticipation, look for the time when spring shall again cover them with fresh blossoms and buds, which may expand into beauties like those now about to be lost. -Beautiful trees! well are they chosen, in the inspired writings, as emblems of those whom the Lord loves; for how rich an ornament they are to the landscape, and how refreshing the wide shade they cast around them! Thus the Christian, in whatever station of life he be placed, reflects his light around him, to the glory of that God whose servant he is.

When I reached the cottage, I found the door of it, as usual, open. As there was no one below, I went to the foot of the stairs, and called gently; but receiving no answer, I ascended the staircase, and entered the little bedroom: I looked towards the bed, on which was Fanny; the hectic flush was now quite gone from her cheeks, and their extreme paleness told me of death. Another steady look convinced me that "her spirit had returned to God," and that this beautiful tenement of clay was vacant. I stood for some time gazing on the lifeless form before me. There is an awfully mysterious feeling caused by the sight of death. So much yet remains to be revealed to us after passing that dark portal, that it would seem no one could look on the remains of a fellow-being who has entered it without being led to deep reflection. Where, I thought, is now the kindred spirit, who, the last time we were together in this chamber, looked to me to speak the words of comfort? By faith I was enabled to behold her clothed with the beauty of holiness, joined to that great multitude who surround the throne of God, with a perpetual song of glory. She is now led by the Lamb to drink of the living fountains of water: she shall weep no more, for Jesus doth there wipe away all tears. With her, to use the words of my late much-loved and venerated pastor, Rev. T. T. Biddulph, the cord is broken, the prison-door is burst, and the free glorified spirit, in the presence of God, experiences joys ever varying, ever new: with her the palm-tree is ever green, the robe ever white, the conflict ever passed.

I contrasted my own form with the lifeless one before me. Can it ever be, that the body, now so vigorous, shall become like this on which I look ? No motion, no sound-all, all is gone! Yes, for a time it must thus be; but even for this mass of sleeping clay there is reserved a glorious destiny; for we are told,

"Do

that though the worms destroy it, yet in the flesh we shall see God? How can these things be? O, triumphant answer to the question, Our Redeemer liveth; he says, "I am the resurrection and the life." He rose from the dead; he conquered death. We shall all rise, we shall all leave the tomb; but there will be this great difference in that awful day. Those who have slept in Jesus shall waken to rise with him, to receive his smile of welcome; to be transformed into his glorious image; to be like him; to enter into his kingdom; "to go no more out;" there to see him as he is. Those who have not slept with Jesus will not waken with him; but they, too, must rise; and O tremendous truth, they must rise to meet his frown; to receive the awful sentence, "Depart, ye cursed, into the fire prepared for the devil and his angels." O, will they not then call on the rocks to hide them from that Saviour whom they neglected and despised, when they might have had him for their Friend through time and eternity.-I was roused from my reflections by Fanny's mother: she came so quietly into the room, that I did not at first see her, until she said, O ma'am, my poor child is now quite gone!" not call her poor," I answered; "she has a richer inheritance than any one here." "But," she said, "what am I to do without her?" "You must try to follow her; for, although she will not return to you, you may go to her: think what a meeting that will be, in that blessed land where there are no trials! Here, very often, you used to weep, when you saw her suffering so much pain; but now, could you look on her, you would see her face brightened with an expression of unfading joy and glory. How often, when she was talking, her sad cough obliged her to stop! and I have seen you raise her in the bed, and say, with the tears in your eyes, 'O, my dear child, you will be suffocated!' And now, could you listen to that voice, how serene and clear it would sound to you, as she sings without weariness the praises of her God and Saviour! Let us pray to be enabled to press forwards to that happy place where she now is; to be kept simply and constantly looking unto Jesus, who is "the way, the truth, and the life." "The Lord grant I may!" was the answer. "Was there peace at the end?" I asked. Her sister, who then just had entered the room, said, "The last words we could hear were, Peace, peace.' She wished for you, ma'am, to come to her: I had thoughts of going to fetch you, but she got so much worse that I could not leave." Both the mother and sister wept much: I read to them the eleventh chapter of John. This beautiful portion of Scripture composed their agitated spirits. "Who will take the charge of the two dear children?" I asked. The elder woman said, "They shall never want a friend while I live."

It was now time for me to return home; and I left a cottage which had been the scene to me of rich enjoyment and deep interest. How very insignificant does every earthly object, which does not lead the mind to heaven, appear, after contemplating that last solemn scene, which for ever separates us from earth and its pursuits. This I felt as I walked home; and gladly I left the houses of C-, to enter the green fields, where every thing spoke of God, and led me to think of heaven. The setting sun seemed to tell me of the bright beams of his love, which shine to brightly around the Christian; sheep feeding peacefully, reminding me of that Saviour, who said, "I lay down my life for the sheep :" the pasture on which I walked, and which fed the flocks, emblem of those rich supplies of grace with which the Lord nourishes his people from day to day; it is always fresh, for it is watered with the heavenly dews. May I who write, and those who shall read my simple story, seek to enjoy that heavenly communion with God; which blessed feeling is not confined to time or place, but may be enjoyed when we go out, when we come in, as

we walk by the way, or sit alone in our house. So

shall we anticipate that time when we too shall share the joys of the blessed in that country, where "we shall know even as we now are known."

MAN THE SELF-DESTROYER, AND GOD THE SAVIOUR:

A Sermon,

BY THE REV. W. W. CHAMPNEYS, M.A.,

Rector of St. Mary, Whitechapel.

HOSEA xiii. 9.

thine help."

IN these few words, addressed by the Almighty to his ancient people, are set forth those two grand truths, the right knowledge of which leads to life eternal. I. The lost state of man, both by nature and by practice; and II. The means of his recovery and restoration. To know these things truly and from experience is life eternal. The first of these generally leads to acknowledgment of the second, and must always go before it; for the man who knows and feels himself to be ill may not always seek to the physician; but he must always know and feel that he is ill before he will care to seek for one.

Observe to whom these words are spoken: to Israel. “O Israel”—“my covenanted people"-my professing people-the people "who know me, and in whose mouth is my law"-the nation which I have chosen from all the nations of the world to put my name there yet thou hast destroyed thyself. How truly may the same things which the Almighty spoke to Israel of old, be spoken to us and of us Christians now, since we are now what they were once! To us Christians belong, as a people," the adoption and the covenant and the giving the law (even Christ's perfect law of liberty) and the promises-we that were once not the people of God, are now the people of God; we once had not obtained mercy, but now have obtained mercy." We, then, are God's Christian Israel--the Church is our Sion, "whither the tribes go up, even the tribes of the Lord," wherein is the seat of judgment, even the eternal throne of the house of David.

Of his ancient people, the Lord, by his prophet, declares that "they had destroyed themselves."

This they had done-" they had broken his covenant and despised his laws-they had bowed their heads and lifted up their hand to idols, which were so many, that according to the number of their cities was the number of their gods: their altars were as many as the heaps in the furrows of the field." He had warned them, but they had despised his warnings; he had threatened them, but they

We, like Israel of old, have destroyed ourselves" our first father sinned," and destroyed us in him and with him; for we "were in the loins of Adam" when he "broke the covenant of his God." Sin entered into him and defiled both body and soul; sin clouded his understanding, perverted his will, made earthly his affections, weakened his conscience; sin strewed upon the fountain of his blood the seeds of sickness, sorrow, pain, and death. And we were destroyed in him. So that we are born in sin-body and soul are defiled—not a thought of our hearts that is good by nature-not an "imagination of the thoughts of our heart"-not a thought of the thoughts" that is not evil continually;" the fountain-head is polluted, and the streams that flow from it must be polluted also. There is in the most innocent child's heart enough sin to turn this earth, were it pure and free from evil once more, into what now it is, the burial-place of its inhabitants-a city of the plague.

But who is there whose account of sin is summed up in birth-sin only? Who is there that is guilty on account of imputed guilt only? Who is there that has only sinned in having the inclination to sin-the disposition to break God's commandments-the capability of doing wrong? Who is there that deserves God's wrath only because Adam brought guilt on all? No, "we have destroyed ourselves." We are sinners not only by nature, but by practice. Had there been no sin against us, when we came into the world, we should have all made a long and fearful account since we have been in it.

We have sinned in our thoughts; the very principle of mind being corrupt, whatever arises therefrom must be corrupt also. We know not indeed how these thoughts arise. He who understandeth them long before, and seeth them even before we feel or perceive them, has said that in His sight "the thoughts of man are but vain." David's renewed mind and purified taste made him hate" vain thoughts," and the believer knows and feels that "the thought of foolishness is sin:" and that as for idle words, so for idle thoughts also, which are the parents of idle

words," we must give an account in the day of judgment." Who is there, then, that in this has not "destroyed himself?" Who can number or call back to remembrance the thoughts of childhood: which, springing from a foolish and ungodly heart, have themselves therefore been foolish and ungodly? Who can reckon up in order the vain imaginationsthe silly fancies-the romantic folly, the secret levities of his youth? Who can count the covetous, the angry, the envious, the proud and selfish feelings of his manhood? Who would not tremble if God were to unfold the heavy roll that he could bring against us for those thoughts of our heart, which he understands altogether, and not one of which, if evil, he passes by unnoticed?

And is it likely that when the heart has thus been filled with folly, the lips have overflowed with good? It is written "out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh;" that which comes out of the overflowing well shews what is within it. What have our words been? They have been often insincere, seeming what they were not, appearing to mean what they meant not. How often have we "given good words with our lips," while we gave no good wishes with our hearts? How often have we "flattered with our lips, and dissembled in our double heart?" How often have we spoken exceeding proudly, and let arrogancy "come forth from our mouth?" forgetting that "God is a God of knowledge, and that by him actions are weighed." How often has self been the subject, and vanity the motive, of our speech? How often have "words that might do hurt proceeded from our false tongue?" How often has vain, and sometimes it might be even corrupt, communication proceeded "out of our mouth, and not that which is good to the use of edifying, which might minister grace and do good to the hearers?" How often have such empty nothings been the subjects of our talk, that "a grain of wheat in a bushel of chaff" would fully represent the good and evil of our conversation?

And words lead on to actions. His life can scarcely be godly whose words and thoughts are ungodly; that house can scarcely be good whose ground is rotten, whose foundations are loose, and whose lower story is unsound. He cannot act aright who does not first think aright. Oh! if every action of our life, which we have done through love of self, love of gain, love of pleasure, love of praise, love of the world, could be set on one side, and on the other those of which love to God has been the moving spring, and desire of his glory the great and prevailing object, what a fearful list would be on one side, even if we are now true Christians, what a mere no

thing on the other! If that heart-searching God, "who looks not on the outward appearance as man looketh," but who looks straight on the heart; who judges not of men's motives by their actions, but their actions by their motives; and in whose sight the reason why we act is the pith and marrow of the action, which gives it all its value and fixes its character in his sight; if this Almighty God were to shew us what He thinks of many of those things, which the world thinks best of, we should perceive that "the things most highly esteemed among men are abomination in the sight of God."

66

Surely it may be truly said to every man among us, as God said to his people by the prophet, "thou hast destroyed thyself," thou art by nature and by practice too the wretched slave of sin." In thought, word, and deed, thou hast offended and that continually. "O, Israel, thou hast destroyed thyself!"

But can we save ourselves? We have shewn that the principle of evil is within the heart and the mind of man, that evil thoughts, and evil words, and evil works, are only the fruits of an evil nature, the muddy waters of an impure spring, "the corrupt fruits of a corrupt tree.' "Make the tree good and its fruit will be good." Cleanse the blood, purify the system, change the constitution of the body, and the leprous skin shall become pure as a young child's, the unsound flesh shall become healthy as a babe's. But who can do this for himself? Who can "make one hair of his head white or black? Who can alter the colour and complexion of a single hair? Who, then, can change the heart, renew the mind, put in new principles, and save that which sin hath destroyed? We know not how thoughts arise in our hearts: how then can we get at the springs of thought, and, like Elisha at Jericho, pour the salt into those bitter waters, which have made the heart barren of every truly good fruit, and have scattered. death and sin around them? Let any man try of himself and by his own unassisted strength, to think but one good and holy thought, and he will find the question answered; he will say, we are not sufficient of ourselves to think any thing as of ourselves,"-as for the thought of changing his own nature or saving himself, "he will let that alone for ever." For he looks back upon the past-there a long line of sins, stretching backwards through the plains of memory, reaches from the present moment to the first starting-point, to the early dawn of opening life. He looks back upon the past—he knows that no effort of his own can blot out one of those countless sins which are written against his name in the account

66

book of the Almighty Creditor. He knows that no sorrow he may feel, however deep and sincere it may be, can undo one of those things which has once been done, or do one thing now which he ought to have done in times gone by; but he knows next that if he could now do all his duty, he would still have nothing over, nothing to spare for the past, no extra merits (as the Papists tell us) to lay up a bank of good works withal. But he knows more than this, he knows that he cannot thus do his duty, he knows from past experience that the resolutions to do better, which he has made in his own strength, have been as the "morning cloud," and the mist that is scattered by the sun; he knows that he has destroyed himself, but cannot save himself, he cannot put one good thought into his own heart, one truly good word into his own mouth, one really good action to his own life; he looks forward, therefore, to the future, and sees for certain that, if left to his own way, and aided only by his own strength, the future will surely be as the past has been. But if any man, feeling thus, should ask honestly and sincerely, "Is there no hope?" the words of my text, (the words of God himself) give an answer. "Thou hast detroyed thyself, but in ME is thy help." Those latter words set forth shortly each believer's hope, each mourner's comfort, each weak one's strength. There is no help in thyself, poor sinner, but there is help in ME, the Lord the Everlasting Father, the hope of all the ends of the earth.

In me is thy help-in me, the Almighty Father the eternal Son-the Holy Spirit the Creator-the Redeemer-the Sanctifier, the Just-the Merciful-the holy God!

You look back upon the past-there is a dark list of sin, the guilt of which is a load upon your conscience. That sin derives all its sinfulness from its having been done against God's majesty; every sin is high treason against the King of Heaven, and deserves (and if not pardoned will receive) eternal death as its punishment; but learn that that merciful God-that much-wronged sovereign-that Divine Majesty, offers to every guilty soul, that only feels and acknowledges its fault, a full and free pardon, for what the traitorous and rebellious world deserves to suffer. The Son of God himself hath suffered, and he is worth all the world yea, ten thousand worlds. He has put himself into our place-God's justice has a glittering sword over his throne, furbished and sharpened for the destruction of every rebelthe punishment of every sinner. God's justice drew that sword, and sware that it should not return to its scabbard till it should be red with the blood of satisfaction; but the

blessed Son of God stepped in, presented himself to suffer for the guilty rebels, and that sword of justice was buried in his heart, -sheathed in his bosom, and is wetted with his blood. Thus then, if you look back upon the past, and see your guilt, and feel that you never can remove it nor take it away-learn that in God there is help. The gracious King of Heaven is ready to forgive you and bestow a free pardon for all your transgressions. Only draw nigh to him in prayer-plead with him the atonement of the Son of God; acknowledge that you deserve what he suffered; and God's faithfulness to his word and promise pledges him fully, freely, and entirely to forgive you for all that is past. If you confess your sins, he is faithful and just to forgive you your sins, and to cleanse you from all unrighteousness. But you look forward to the future. You remember how sins have led you captive in times past, and you feel that if left to your self they will yet hold you captive. And so they will, if left to yourself; but the same God who pardons you through Christ our Saviour, and leads you to believe in Him, that you may have forgiveness through his blood, will send the Holy Spirit into your heart, to implant in you new principles of thought and action; and when once he has made you love Him, for his love shewn to you, he will enable you to shew your love to Him by doing what he commands, and avoiding what he forbids. He will give new light to your once darkened understanding-a right bias to your once perverse will-a heavenly direction to your once earthly and grovelling affections; He will renew your once numbed conscience. He will give you a new nature, a better heart, a right mind; and as God was your help to procure and to bestow your pardon, so will God be your help to renew and to change your character. He will implant in you the fear of God instead of the fear of man-the desire to please God, and not to please yourselves. He will lead you to hope for heaven, and to long after perfect likeness of God as the utmost object of your wishes. He will give you daily strength for daily trials, enabling you to resist passions as they are moving, and to beat down tempers as they arise. He will give you watchfulness against sin, and make your conscience like that muscle of the throat which has been placed by the wise providence of our great Creator to prevent anything dry from passing into the stomach; so that, as that muscle flings up a grain of salt or a hair, with as strong throes and convulsion as it would a bone or a pin, so your watchful conscience, set to guard your heart against the entrance of sin, shall think no sin little, but throw off the very smallest with abhor