be the case, the very attributes of God and of Christ make but little or no impression on the heart; and are without power, either to deter from sin, to excite to holiness, or to produce peace and joy in believing. Christ is, in such a case, like a pearl of great price in the hands of a savage, who, from ignorance of its real value, may be induced to part with it for a greater number of glass beads or a handful of fish-hooks.

From what has been advanced it will be seen already, in some measure, that the knowledge of God does not consist solely in professing that there is nothing else which ought to be called God; neither is it a mere headknowledge of his attributes, and of the way of salvation in Christ Jesus. At the very time that I am myself describing and setting forth these things, it is possible that I may be entirely ignorant of that particular knowledge which alone proves to be eternal life to its possessor! Of the possibility of this, a few examples shall conclude this section of the subject.

The sons of Eli were educated for the priesthood, and evidently officiated as priests in the ordinances of the Lord. These men must, therefore, in the course of their ministry, have professed and taught, to a certain extent, the things of God. It is, nevertheless, written of them, "the sons of Eli were sons of Belial, they knew not the Lord." prophet Balaam is a still more remarkable example, for he describes himself as

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The

one

who knew the knowledge of the Most High." Yet, instead of its proving eternal life to him, his last end was that he perished like a fool. And, once more, the Jews in our Saviour's time boasted of their knowledge of God; but the Lord, nevertheless, reproves them thus: "It is my Father that honoureth me; of whom ye say, that he is your God: yet ye have not KNOWN him; and if I should say I know him Ι not, I shall be a liar like unto you."

[To be continued.]

RECOLLECTIONS OF A COUNTRY PASTOR.

NO. II. THE INFIDEL. The First Visit.

"WE shan't have Mr. L. at the vestry on Tuesday," said the clerk to me, as I was leaving the church on the afternoon of the Easter-Sunday after the circumstance referred to in my last paper. "Poor man, I hear he is very sadly-the doctors think he can't get over it. He always made noise enough when he did come to meetings; and he never entered the church at any other time."

Mr. L. was a retired solicitor, who had amassed a small fortune, not in a very fair way, it was surmised. He was a bachelor, and had been resident in the parish for a few years; and from the moment of his entrance into it, he had apparently laboured to do as much harm as could well be imagined. He was resolutely opposed to all the rector's plans for the spiritual and temporal good of the people. He delighted, in private, as in

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He

public, to denounce the Established Church as the greatest curse of the country: war, famine, pestilence, whatever afflictive dispensation it might have pleased God to visit us with-all would have been referred by him to the Church. It was difficult to know what were Mr. L.'s real opinions on the subject of religion. used formerly, once or twice a-year, to visit a dissenting meeting-house, some miles off, where the great saving doctrines of the Gospel were impugned; but even from this place he now wholly absented himself. Frigid as was the character of the service, it was at length too warm for him; and he never joined in worship of any kind. The fact can scarcely be doubted that he was a downright infidel. Socinianism has been well represented as a half-way house between Christianity and infidelity." Mr. L. did not long stay there. Ile rapidly proceeded on his headlong course. In politics he was an avowed democrat. Such characters as Mr. L. are not unfrequently to be met withmen who are extremely troublesome by their interference, extremely dangerous by their derision of all that is religious, and extremely injurious to the neighbourhood in which they dwell by their bad example. I had never had any intercourse with this unhappy man. He had not called on me, as might be supposed; he had not attended at any of the meetings held for devising plans for the relief of the poor, at that time suffering greatly from the dearness of provisions; he systematically refused contributing one farthing to their support.

I was deeply affected by the clerk's statement, and was at a loss how to act. I felt that Mr. L. might be in a dangerous state. I was young and inexperienced of divine truth, as before stated by me, were by no -on many points I had yet much to learn. My views means so clear as I trust they now are. After an hour's deliberation, however, I summoned courage to knock at Mr. L.'s door.

On inquiring after his health, the servant informed me he was very far from well. The apothecary on the preceding day had called in the aid of a physician, who expressed his doubt as to the patient's recovery; medicines had been prescribed, the effects of which could not be ascertained. "Shall I tell master you

are here?" continued the servant.

"You may, if you please," I replied: "say I am anxious to know how he is; and that, if he has no objection, I will see him."

"I don't think it likely master will see you," said the servant; "but I will tell him."

She returned after some minutes: the time which elapsed shewed there was some hesitation on the poor man's part. She informed me, however, that her master would see me in a short time, and begged me to walk into the parlour until he was ready.

I confess, at this moment I felt extremely nervousperhaps it was through a sinful fear of man; but I had heard so much of Mr. L.'s extreme violence of temper, and hatred of every thing religious, that I trembled at the anticipation of the interview. The parlour was a neat room: on the sofa there lay a newspaper of avowed democratic principles; a gardener's calendar, a volume of Voltaire's works, and three or four infidel tracts, one by Lord Herbert of Cherbury, formed the library. There was a cheerlessness about the whole, notwithstanding its neatness, that quite damped my spirits.

Twenty minutes or more had elapsed before the servant summoned me to the bed-room, on entering which I found the sick man seated by the fire in a dressing-gown. He was evidently very much emaciated, and appeared to have had a paralytic stroke.

"This visit is very civil," was his first remark. "I hardly expected it from one of your cloth; but I suppose you heard I was dying, though I may cheat the doctors yet." His remarks, it may be observed, were usually accompanied by oaths, which it would be im

proper to repeat, but which added to the horror excited by many of his expressed sentiments.

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"I certainly did hear, sir," I replied, "that you were very ill, and I felt it my duty to call upon you." Duty! what do you mean by duty?" was his reply. "Oh, I suppose you want to convert me, as you call it; you think my soul is in as much danger as Taylor, the doctor, thinks my body is; but I shall cheat you both yet, I'm sure I shall. I daresay the old parson wishes I were dead-I know he hates me."

Can't I

“ Wish to talk to me about my soul-eh? take care of my own soul, do ye think? What good can you do my soul-eh?"

، Why, sir, I really do conceive it my duty to say, that I fear you do not feel as you ought the solemn importance of religion."

"Duty, sir! why a parson's duty appears to me to be to eat and drink, and pick people's pockets, and to grind the poor. I tell you what, religion's all a farce, and you know it as well as I; but it's your trade to keep it up ; you live by it - I don't blame you, young man. You have your part to act, as well as other folks if you manage to cheat them, the more fools they."

There was a coarse vulgarity in the language he employed which quite shocked me, and which appears inseparable from such persons. I continued as follows:

"How, sir, can you, in common honesty, make such a statement? You must know better."

Why, sir," said he, rather fiercely, "look at our own parish. See the exorbitant sum that is paid the incumbent for tithes. See how the poor are starved; and all this to support the priestcraft. But there will soon be an end of all that. We'll soon have no church. The world's becoming too enlightened, sir."

"Well, sir," I replied, "let us look at our own parish. The value of the living is not 400%. a-year. Will any man say that such a sum is exorbitant for the support of a family at a time when every thing is most expensive and as for the poor, sir, I can assure you that the rector gives to the utmost of his power for their relief. I know, sir, that he never allows wine to be put on his table, or luxuries of any kind, that he may give to the poor. I know that he has not purchased a book for the last two years, that he may give to the poor. There is a regular supply of food for the most destitute of the parishioners at the rectory every morning and Saturday's post brought an order upon his banker for 501., to be distributed this Easter; and this at a time when he has many extra expenses. I cannot see how it can be said that the rector grinds the poor. Putting the spiritual blessings of a resident minister out of the question, even the temporal benefit to a parish is very great."

"Oh, that's all stuff, sir; the poor don't deserve to be fed, sir-they ought to have their rights; they'll never have them till the parsons are done away with: but it will be all right soon.'

"Pardon me," I continued, "if I state that I have

heard that you make it a rule never to give to the poor. Certainly you don't subscribe to our clothing fund, or the fund for selling flour at half-price-to both of which the rector is a most liberal subscriber. Don't you think that they are the true friends of the lower orders who seek to minister to their wants, and not they who seek to excite them to rebellion?"

"I do not give to the poor, and never will," was his reply. "It's all a pack of nonsense; it's all a trick to keep the people down in thraldom, in bondage; but they'll see through it soon. I have just been reading the newspaper: all is going on as it should, sir; we shall soon have a revolution, and then what will Pitt's head be worth, or Pitt's master's?-eh? Come, now, don't be a spy, and convict one of treason. But perhaps you came to get me to subscribe to some of your charities, as you call them, to cheat me of my casli, because I am ill; but you'll miss your mark, my lad. But come, won't you have something? Pray do; I wish to treat every one civilly-I have no spite against you-I hear you do what good you can."

I assured the wretched man that nothing was further from my thoughts than to ask him for money, and that I did not wish refreshment of any kind; that my sole object in calling upon him was to have some religious conversation. I said what I could to induce him to believe that both the rector and myself were sincerely anxious for his welfare. But his frame of mind was such as to preclude the hope that I could do any good. I made the attempt, however, again, and simply asked him what his views were on the subject of religion?

"Religion, young man!" he answered hurriedly; "what are my views on religion? why, what business is that of yours, or of any man, parson or no parson? My views are my own my conscience is my ownmy belief is my own, and I'll keep them to myself; and let me advise you not to meddle in other folks' matters. It won't do you any good, and may gain you much ill-will."

But, sir," I went on, not a little agitated, "do you ever think about death, and judgment, and eternity?"

"Why, what's that to you? Betty!" he cried out, ringing the bell as furiously as his weakness would permit; "here, bring this gentleman something to drink, for I wish to be civil; and it's time for me to have one of those draughts. Taylor 's as bad as you-quacks, both of you. As for death, we must all die, I suppose; other folks have died, and so must we. As for judgment and eternity, what can you or I know about them? How do you know there is an eternity?"

Why, sir, the Bible tells

، Pooh, pack of stuff' ! we'll soon have an end of all that. We'll soon have no Bibles -- fit only for old women. All's going on well, sir. The age of reason will soon be here, and then we'll have no poor, and no Bibles, and, best of all, no parsons. I tell you what, sir, I'm getting tired, and you won't have any thing to drink, and suppose we say good night. I'm obliged to you for your call. I'm only sorry I can't get out on Tuesday to the vestry, to vote against any money being given to the support of the Sunday-school and such priestcraft. Why cram the young with the Bible ? But there will soon be an end of that. Good night, young man. I'm obliged to you; but won't you have something before you go?"

I saw it was utterly in vain to remain any longer in the room, and thought it prudent to withdraw. Conversation, I felt, might excite him, and render the medicines he was taking inefficacious. I therefore left the room I was, in fact, not sorry to do so. I had never before come in contact with such a character, and seldom have since. I returned home dispirited, and yet glad I had called upon the wretched man. But as I sat meditating on what had occurred, I found that

--

nothing had been done by me to arouse the poor sinner to a sense of his guilt and danger. I resolved therefore to see him again; and for this purpose to despatch a note the following morning, to say that, if convenient, I would call once more. I determined, also, to ride over to the parish of a neighbour, a man of deep experience, and to obtain his advice how to act; and I trust that I felt the need of that Divine guidance for which I prayed, that I might be the instrument of saving a soul from death."

The night which I passed was a most restless one. The wretched infidel, for such I was convinced he was, was ever present to my thoughts. In the morning I arose, despatched my messenger with the note; to which I received the reply, that the sick man would see me on Tuesday evening.

Perhaps these few remarks may meet the eye of some younger brethren in the ministry, similarly circumstanced with respect to some parishioner, as I then was; for such characters as that now before us may occasionally be found. My advice to them is this, that while they, with all due caution, must beware of stirring up additional prejudice and causing angry feelings, they must not swerve from boldly pointing out to the unbeliever the error of his ways, and the dreadful consequences of unbelief. But it is perhaps easier for me to advise now, than it was for me to act consistently then. I can only pray for every brother in the ministry, that his steps may be ordered aright, and that he may have grace given to him to speak the things that he "ought to speak."

[To be continued in next Number.]

THE BOOK OF COMMON PRAYER.

[Continued from No. XIII.]

THE death of Edward, and the advancement of Mary to the throne, after the short reign, if it may so be termed, of Lady Jane Grey, was a severe blow to the cause of Protestantism. The queen's bigoted attachment to popery, and her servile submission to the see of Rome, were soon manifested, not only by acts of fearful cruelty to all who presumed to differ from her on religious matters, but by the public restoration of the idolatry of the mass. She had, indeed, solemnly pledged herself that the Protestants should be permitted to enjoy full liberty of conscience, and to worship God according to their own views and principles; but "faith was not to be kept with heretics"-and she had little scruple about breaking her promise. This is not the place to detail the sufferings of those who in this bloody reign witnessed a good confession at the stake; or to enumerate those who died as martyrs to the cause of truth, and who, we doubt not, shall through eternity follow the Lamb, having not only come out of great tribulation," but "washed their robes in his blood." Our pages have already recorded, and will, from time to time, record their willingness to leave all, and to suffer all, for Jesus' sake. It must be remarked, however, that all Protestant books were prohibited under pain of the severest penalties, and among these the Book of Common Prayer. Even books on scientific subjects were included in the prohibition, as they are at the present day, if contrary to the philosophy of the Romish schools. Darkness, indeed, was again beginning to cover the land, and gross darkness the people. How merciful the deliverance wrought for us by God from such a state!

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On the accession of Queen Elizabeth, termed in the preface to the present authorised version of the Bible,

Dr. James Pilkington, afterwards Bishop of Durham. Mr. David Whitehead.

Mr. Edmund Grindall, afterwards Bishop of London, and then Archbishop of Canterbury.

Dr. Edwin Sandys, afterwards Bishop of Worcester. Mr. Edward Guest, afterwards Bishop of Rochester and of Salisbury.

The question arose, at first, as to which of the two Liturgies it would be most proper to adopt. But it was at last resolved, that it should be the second; and accordingly an act of parliament was passed, commanding it to be used, "with one alteration or addition of certain lessons to be used on every Sunday in the year, and the form of the Litany altered and corrected, and two sentences added in the delivery of the sacrament to the communicants, and none other or otherwise." The alteration in the Litany was the expunging the petition" from the tyranny of the Bishop of Rome and all his detestable enormities;" the addition of the words, in the prayer for the monarch, “strengthen in the true worshipping of thee in righteousness and true holiness of life;" and also in the words addressed to the communicants on the administration of the elements in the Lord's supper. Other alterations were also made with respect to the situation of the chancel, and the proper place of reading the service: and the clerical vestments forbidden by the second book of Edward, but enjoined by the first, were restored. The prayers for the queen and clergy were added.

In this state the Liturgy remained until the reign of James I.; when,--after a conference held at Hampton Court, between the king, with Archbishop Whitgift of Canterbury, and other bishops and divines, on the one side, and Dr. Reynolds, with some other Puritans, on the other, several forms of thanksgiving were added at the end of the Litany, and the portion of the Catechism relative to the sacraments was added. In the rubric, at the beginning of the office for private baptism, the words lawful minister were inserted, to prevent midwives and laymen from presuming to baptise, a custom, which, if we mistake not, is still sanctioned by the Romish Church; and what had been allowed by the previous rubrics, from the erroneous notion that baptism was not merely generally, but absolutely necessary to salvation.

The Liturgy in this state remained unaltered until the restoration. During the Commonwealth, it had been suppressed, and a Directory for public worship had been set forth, under the specious plea that the Common Prayer was a stumbling-block in the way of godly persons, both at home and abroad. The order in which the service was to be conducted was laid down, but the prayers to be used were to be left to the dis

cretion of the officiating minister-no directions being given for the introduction of the Lord's Prayer, the Creed, or the Ten Commandments. Communicants were to sit at a table, and not to kneel, at the reception of the sacrament of the Lord's supper. Baptism was not to be administered at the font, and the signing with the sign of the cross was to be laid aside. There was to be no prayer or ceremony at burials, at the grave or in the church. All holydays were abolished, as vain and superstitious. The Directory, in fact, was the same order for religious services as is now observed in the established Church of Scotland, and in many of the bodies of seceders from the national Church, who still retain their adherence to the "Confession of Faith." Meanwhile, the Liturgy was not to be used even in private. It was represented as an injurious and soul-destroying production; a mixture of popery and heresy. The person who worshipped according to its forms and language, was liable to a fine of five pounds for the first offence, of ten for the second, and a year's imprisonment for the third. Truly, it may be said of those who, under a pretended zeal for the glory of God and the good of men's souls, thus infringed the most sacred rights connected with liberty of conscience, that they knew not what manner of spirit they were of.

Immediately on his taking possession of the throne, Charles II., at the request of several of the Presbyterian ministers, allowed the whole book to be reviewed, and empowered twelve bishops, with twelve Presbyterian divines, and nine coadjutors, on each side, to consider the alterations deemed necessary to be made. These commissioners had several meetings at the Savoy, but without coming to any decision. On the Presbyterian side, an entirely new Liturgy, drawn up by Richard Baxter, was proposed to be substituted instead of the old-a proposal which, as might have been expected, was entirely rejected by the bishops, Some of the alterations, however, proposed by the Episcopalians, were submitted to convocation in the May following, and agreed upon. The chief of these alterations were, that several lessons in the calendar were changed for others more suitable to the particular days; the prayers for particular occasions were disjoined from the Litany; and the two prayers used in the ember-weeks, the prayer for the "Parliament," that for all conditions of men, and the general Thanksgiving, were added; several of the Collects were altered, the Epistles and Gospels were taken out of the last translation of the Bible, having been read before according to the old translation: the office for baptism of those of riper years, and the forms of prayer to be used at sea, were added. The whole Liturgy, in fact, was then brought to that state in which it now stands; and was unanimously subscribed by both houses of convocation of both provinces, on Friday, December 20th, 1661.

From time to time, since that period, there have been various proposals for alterations in the book of Common Prayer, both with respect to its language and to its rubrics; chiefly, however, from those who have embraced heterodox views of the doctrine of the Trinity, and of other vital truths of the Gospel. By God's goodness, however, it has been preserved to our Church, and long may the blessing be vouchsafed. As a human composition, the Prayer-Book is not

without blemishes. To use the words of the present Lord Bishop of London, "It would be little short of a miracle were it otherwise; and I know not why I should be ashamed or reluctant to avow an opinion that was entertained by Sancroft, and Stillingfleet, and Tenison, and Wake, and Secker, and Porteus. But, I can also say, with perfect sincerity, that the improvements which I think might be made in that admirable book-next to the Bible, the treasure, and glory, and safe-guard, of our reformed Church — are neither so numerous nor so important that it would be proper to risk the peace of the Church for the sake of introducing them; and I see but little probability of attempting their introduction without such a risk, at a time when men's minds are agitated by the contemplation of dangers, which menace, not merely the peace of the Church, but its very existence as an establishment; and which loudly proclaim the necessity of union and co-operation on the part of all who desire to preserve it. I heartily pray that a season may come when the question can be looked at with calmness and candour; and if the recent conduct of the Dissenters forbids us to look forward with any sanguine hope to an extensive comprehension of those who differ from us, that something may be done for the satisfaction of many who are sincere and zealous members of the Church. But, when I consider the circumstances in which we are now placed, and the advantage which would be taken, from different quarters, of any door which might be open to change, I am led to adopt the sentiment of a pious and sagacious man (the Rev. John Newton, Apologia 9), uttered nearly forty years ago:- As to our Liturgy, I am far from thinking it incapable of amendment; though, when I consider the temper and spirit of the present times, I dare not wish that the improvement of it should be attempted, lest the remedy should be worse than the disease.'"

Fully agreeing in these remarks of his lordship, we can only pray, that the great and important truths set forth in the Liturgical services may never be expunged, in the vain and delusive hope of inducing those who are without to come within the pale of the establishment. May those who are prejudiced against our Liturgy be brought, not merely to admit the spirituality of its services, but to join in these with the spirit and the understanding; and, on every occasion, whether in public or in private, in which we present its petitions to the throne of grace, may a speedy answer be returned by that eternal Jehovah, who hath revealed himself as the hearer and the answerer of prayer!

Biography.

THE LIFE OF DR. HORNECK.

ANTHONY HORNECK was born at Baschatach, in the Lower Palatinate, in the year 1641. His father was a decided Protestant, and held, with the highest honour, the important situation of recorder of that place. Being destined for the sacred office of the ministry, Anthony was, at an early age, sent to the university of Heidelberg, under the superintendence of Dr. Spanheim, who described him as a youth inde

fatigable in the study of the Scriptures, and of elevated wit, a cheerful mind, and anxious to receive instruction. In 1695 he publicly defended a dissertation concerning the nature and consequences of the rash vow of Jephthah, and shewed himself well versed in theological subjects.

At the age of nineteen he came to England, and in 1663 was entered a member of Queen's College, Oxford; of which society he was appointed chaplain soon after his admission by the provost, Dr. Barlow, and was incorporated M.A. from the university of Wittemberg. His next appointment was to the church of All Saints, Oxford, in the gift of Lincoln College, which living he retained for the space of two years, faithfully discharging his duty. He thence removed as tutor into the family of the Duke of Albemarle, who presented him to the rectory of Doulton in Devonshire, and procured for him a prebendal stall in the cathedral church of Exeter, from Bishop Sparrow.

Previous to his marriage he went to visit his friends in Germany, in 1669, where his ministrations were thankfully received, and he himself treated with the greatest respect at the court of the elector palatine. After his return, he was appointed preacher at the Savoy, where he continued, until his death, a blessing, not to the neighbourhood only, but to the city. Deeply impressed with a sense of the importance of religion, his sermons were energetic and powerful. They attracted the notice of persons of all ranks, who flocked in such numbers to his ministry, that the church used to be crowded to excess. Having preached a preparatory discourse on the preceding Friday, he administered the sacrament twice on the first Sunday of every month, in the morning at eight o'clock, and in the forenoon after the ordinary service; on both of which occasions the communicants were very numerous. But his time was chiefly occupied in the instruction of youth, and in the laborious duties of parochial visiting. He had generally so much business upon his hands, that he had not time to take his regular meals. The sick in heart as well as in body sent for his counsel and advice, and his ministrations were abundantly blessed for the spiritual instruction and comfort of those whom he visited. His income was very small. He had a wife and four children to support; yet he complied to the utmost extent with the injunction, "Turn not thy face from any poor man." The needy flocked to him from all quarters, and were relieved.

Popery was at that period, as it is at the present moment, busy at work in England. The known tendency of many connected with the court to renounce Protestantism, and the avowal of others of their adherence to the popish cause, were viewed with serious alarm by Dr. Horneck, and he used every endeavour to stem the flood of error. He preached most earnestly and most powerfully against the corrupt doctrines of the Romish Church, pointing out their delusive and destructive tendency; and was at all times ready to enter into controversy with the priests. After the revolution, he was promoted to a stall in Westminster Abbey by the queen, and was provided with a residence; but he still continued to officiate as before among his beloved flock, being equally energetic in all his duties, and enabled, by his increase of income, to contribute much more effectually to the relief of tem

poral wants. He still retained part of the house which he had formerly rented, where, on stated days, he was to be found, for the purpose of advising those who still regarded his counsel as most important.

He now resigned his stall at Exeter, on account of its great distance, and had another given him by the Bishop of Bath and Wells, which required no residence. With this preferment he was raised above all wants. His means of usefulness were increased, and he acted the part of a good steward. His labours were so excessive, that serious alarm arose among his friends as to the result; and, as had been expected, disease of a most excruciating character too soon began to manifest itself.

He now walked with difficulty, and could hardly bear a coach. He was often told that he could not long continue under the fatigues he underwent; and though convinced of it himself, yet he continued his accustomed labours until Christmas 1696. His work then increased upon him; he had more frequent communions, besides an incredible number of applications from poor people. He went through this with the utmost cheerfulness; but soon after altered for the worse. On the 24th of January he was to preach at the Savoy. He was earnestly solicited to spare himself that day, but to no purpose. He did preach, but it was his last sermon. In the evening he was in great disorder, from which time his illness increased. He continued in great agony all that week; and being asked if he was not in racking torture, only answered, that "the pain he felt was tolerable." Every expedient was adopted for the alleviation of his sufferings. The ablest physicians were consulted, who attended him with great diligence and tenderness, but without success. On Sunday morning, January 31, he was thought to be dying. A clergyman, an intimate friend of his, was sent for to pray with him. He asked him if he was sensible that he was dying; he answered in the affirmative: also, if he was resigned, and willing to die; when he readily answered, that he was willing; and, likewise, if he had considered the words Heb. ii. ver. 14, 15; and whether or not he found himself delivered from all the slavish fear of death? when, looking up to heaven, he replied that he was delivered from that fear. He was in an excellent frame, and joined with the prayers which the Church appoints on such occasions with great expressions of devotion. Some time after this he grew delirious, and then speechless, and expired at eight o'clock that evening, being in about the fifty-sixth year of his age. His body was interred, February 4th, in Westminster Abbey, with great solemnity.

This divine published several treatises, some of which are well known.

Dr. Horneck is described as having been eminently and truly pious. He devoted himself, without reservation, to the service of God. This service was not only his business, but his choice and delight, his meat and drink. He had an ardent love of God, an unspeakable zeal for his honour, and a profound regard to his word and worship. He had such a sense of God's mercy, in giving his Son to die for sinful men, and opening, through his blood, a way of escape from eternal ruin, that when he discoursed on that subject, he used no measure, bounds, or limits: his whole soul