The society, as its name imports, is one strictly and regularly belonging to the Church of England; and we may say of our Establishment, and that boldly, without fear of contradiction, even in these days of her unmerited reproach, that it is essentially a missionary Church. Throughout her Liturgy missionary labours are referred to, and their success prayed for. I will adduce two or three instances out of many which can be readily brought forward. In her collect for Good Friday, she prays, that "God would have mercy upon all Jews, Turks, Infidels, and Heretics, and take from them all ignorance, and bring them home to his flock, that they may be saved." In her Litany, she supplicates the Triune Jehovah "to give to all nations unity, peace, and concord,"-" to bring into the way of truth all such as have erred and are deceived," and "to have mercy upon all men ;" and in her daily evening service, she prays, "O God, the Creator and Preserver of all mankind, we humbly beseech thee for all sorts and conditions of men, that thou wouldest be pleased to make thy ways known unto them, thy saving health unto all nations." - Thus, on the very best and firmest grounds, do we of the Church, and of its Missionary Society, "commend ourselves to every man's conscience in the sight of God; and we call upon all our brethren who are not yet united to us, "to the help of the Lord against the mighty" powers of darkness. We say to them, as we all love the Gospel-as we believe and feel that we, as a Church, are richly favoured with it—"come over and help us" to communicate it in our Church's most scriptural manner, to the poor and perishing heathen thus rearing them, under God's blessing, in the love of the Redeemer, and in that "unity of the faith" which best preserves "the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace." Do you love your Church? I say to my readers, and particularly to the younger portions of them, then you must also love missionary effort, and, to the utmost of your ability, patronise missionary exertion. : Re collect that attachment to the Church, and a true and ardent missionary spirit, flow but from one source-attachment to the Saviour. The root of that overpowering love for their Church which you find strike deeper and deeper in well-informed churchmen's minds, in exact proportion as they increase in spirituality, and grow more vitally and experimentally religious, is the love of Christ, combined with the full, the unbounded development of his blessed Gospel, which they find their Church afford them, and the highly favourable atmosphere which experience proves to surround it for the growth and It is For the encouragement of those who can do but little, very little, and who are, therefore, apt to conclude that they can render no available service to the cause, I will add a striking fact in the experience of the missions. calculated that in India and other countries, a penny a-week educates a destitute heathen child in the knowledge of the Lord Jesus. Therefore, every subscriber to the society of so small a sum AS A WEEKLY PENNY, has the rich satisfaction of knowing that that offering may be made the means of rescuing a child from ruin; that, by that penny a Syrian," or other immortal soul "ready to perish," may be "plucked as a brand from the burning," and be "planted a tree of righteousness in the garden of the Lord." Surely, then, dear friends, such a reflection as this should make even the poorest among you consider whether they cannot easily spare a contribution so small in itself, so great and glorious in its probable results. In conclusion, amidst all the difficulties of missionary labour, we have a sure refuge we may constantly look upward for that wisdom. from above which is ever promised to the prayer of faith; and we may humbly, yet assuredly, hope for "the continual dew of the blessing" of the great Head of the Church upon efforts and measures, the entire doing of which is ascribed to Him, with whom alone is all counsel, and wisdom, and understanding, and strength. MYSTICISM.* MYSTICISM I Conceive to be injurious to Christianity, because it necessarily disqualifies the mind for that distinct and intelligent contemplation of IMMANUEL, to which we are called, by all and every trait, however minute, of the evangelic records. I will not say that mysticism intentionally turns the mental eye away from this object; but it, self-evidently, unfits the faculties of the mind for every such employment. By engaging its votaries in that contemplation of Deity to which the embodied spirit is unequal, and in which, it should seem, even angels are not occupied, it creates in them both a disrelish and an incapacity for that view of the Deity, which we might humbly dare to say the deepest wisdom of God has been exerted to furnish. That every subordinate part of the divine scheme should be in perfect accordance with its first and grandest feature, would be * From the Remains of Alexander Knox, Esq. natural to conclude. That the fact is actually so, we have luminous evidence in every page of the Bible. Let us open this wonderful book where we may, we meet no mystical abstraction. We feel our whole mind to be addressed at once; no faculty, active or passive, being left without its provision. Human nature is every where made to furnish the machinery which may work most effectually on itself. To withdraw the mind from sensible ideas while reading the Bible is absolutely impossible. It places real life before us in all its most interesting and impressive forms, and obliges us to converse with "men of like passions with ourselves," even while it is teaching us "the way of God more perfectly." Instead of abstracting us from the world, it makes the world a school of wisdom to us; and teaches us, by example, as well as precept, to proceed in making it so, daily, to ourselves. We discover, that while it is the scene of the devil's temptations, it is also the scene of God's providence; and that as, on the former account, we must be ever vigilant against its seductions; so, on the latter account, we cannot but be deeply interested in its various movements, past, present, and future. To be regardless of these, would be to overlook the volume of prophecy, as well as that kingdom of Messiah upon earth, of whose advancement the sacred oracles chiefly treat, and in whose final triumph all their brightest rays concentre. It is not, therefore, a mystical escape from the world to which the Christian is called. His vocation is much more glorious; he is to keep himself unspotted from the world; but he is to remain in it, that he may maintain, as far as in him lies, his Lord's right to it, and promote his cause in it. He is taught thus by the Redeemer's last prayer for his followers: "I pray not that thou shouldest take them out of the world, but that thou shouldest keep them from the evil." And he is still more fully instructed by our Lord's own example, who made every walk of human life the scene of his beneficence, and turned every object and occurrence into a means of the most interesting and deepest in struction. Biography. LIFE OF THE HON. ROBERT BOYLE. WHEN greatness and goodness meet together in the same character-when high intellectual powers are united to eminent piety, they exhibit a specimen of human nature approaching as near to perfection as the condition of our being in this state will permit. Robert Boyle was born in the year 1626, upon the day of St. Paul's conversion, at a country house of his father's, called Lismore, one of the noblest seats in the province of Munster. His mother was rich in virtue: his father, Richard Boyle, earl of Cork, had, by God's blessing on his prosperous industry, from very inconsiderable beginnings, built so plentiful and eminent a fortune, that his prosperity has found many admirers, but few parallels. To be such parents' son, and not their eldest, was a happiness that he mentioned with great expressions of gratitude: for, "as, on the one side (he writes), a lower birth would have too much exposed him to the inconveniences of a mean descent; so, on the other side, to a person whose humour indisposes him to the distracting hurry of the world, the being born heir to a great family is but a glittering kind of slavery; whilst obliging him to a public entangled course of life, to support the credit of his family, and tying him from satisfying his dearest inclinations, it often forces him to build the advantages of his house upon the ruins of his own contentment." He mentions two great disasters as having befallen him in early boyhood-the one was the loss of his mother, of whom he speaks in terms of the highest respect,-"her kindness and sweet carriage making her hugely regretted by her children:" the second misfortune that befel him was his acquaintance with some children of his own age, whose habit of stuttering he imitated until he contracted it, which he speaks of as "possibly a just judgment upon his derision, and turning the effects of God's anger into the subject-matter of his sport. So contagious and catching are men's faults," he adds, "and so dangerous is the familiar commerce of those condemnable customs that, being imitated but in jest, come to be learned and acquired in earnest." He was, however, manifestly the object of Heaven's care; for about this time he escaped from a danger, his deliverance from which was wholly owing to God's good providence; for, he says, that so far from contributing to his own rescue, he did what he could to oppose it; for, when he was accompanying his father to Dublin, to wait the return of his eldest brother from England, as they were to pass over a brook, which at that time was much swelled by rain, he was left alone in a coach, only with a lad to attend him; when a gentleman, a friend of his father's, who was on horseback, and saw his dangerous situation, carried him, in spite of his own unwillingness and even resistance, over the water, which proved so rapid and deep, that horses and riders were hurried violently down the stream, and with difficulty escaped drowning. The first rudiments of his education were communicated in his father's house, where he acquired some proficiency in speaking French and Latin, and learned to write a fair hand. He was very teachable, and of an excellent disposition-the latter quality shewed itself in his childhood, by an invariable adherence to truth, which endeared him to his father, who used to say that he never found him in a lie in his whole life. At the age of eight years he was sent, with his elder brother Francis, to Eton College, of which Sir Henry Wotton, an old friend of his father, was then provost. He was there placed under the inspection of a private tutor, whose character disap pointed those who had selected him for the office. For, Mr. Boyle himself says of him, that he "wanted neither vices, nor cunning to dissemble them; for though his primitive fault was only a dotage upon play (gaming), yet the excessive love of that goes seldom unattended with a train of criminal retainers; for fondness for gaming is the seducingest lure to ill company, and that the subtlest pander to the worst excesses." Mr. Boyle, therefore, in looking back to his connexion with this young man, reckons it “both amongst the greatest and the unlikeliest deliverances he owed Providence, that he was protected from the contagion of such precedents; for though the man wanted not a competency of parts, yet perverted | which he used to mention as one of the most remarkabilities make men but like those wandering fires philosophers call ignes fatui, whose light serves, not to direct, but to seduce, the credulous traveller, and allure him to follow them in their deviations. And it is very true, that during the minority of judgment, imitation is the regent in the soul; and those that are least capable of reason are most swayed by example. A blind man will suffer himself to be led, thongh by a dog or a child." The master under whom he was placed, a Mr. Harrison, took great pains with him, endeavouring to inspire him with a true love for learning, in which he was successful. The first occasion which made him so fond of reading was the accidental perusal of Quintus Curtius. He felt so thankful to this book for having awakened in him the appetite for knowledge, which signalised his future life, that not only he owed more to Quintus Curtius than Alexander did, but derived more advantage from the history of that great monarch's conquests than ever he did from the conquests themselves. During his stay at Eton several occurrences befel him, by which his life was brought into great danger. He would not ascribe any of his several escapes from these dangers to chance, "but would be still industrious to perceive the hand of Heaven in all these accidents; and, indeed, he would profess, that in the passages of his life he had observed so gracious and so peculiar a conduct of Providence, that he should be equally blind and ungrateful, should he not both discern and acknowledge it." His whole stay at Eton was nearly four years, in the latter part of which he almost forgot his classical attainments; but recovered them again at Stalbridge, in Dorsetshire, a seat of his father's, under the clergyman of the place; from whose tuition, however, he was soon removed, to be placed under that of Mr. Marcombe's, a French gentleman, who had been the travelling tutor of two of his brothers. This man was a competent instructor, but very irascible: his young pupil states that this was his own failing also; and that from his desire to avoid clashing with his preceptor, he accustomed himself to bear the violent outbreaks of his temper, and so learned to subdue the like temper in himself. He refers the continuance of this power of self-government to the influence of those words of St. James: "For the wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God." He was a strict observer of that precept of the apostle, "Let not the sun go down upon your wrath;" for he felt that "continued anger turns easily to malice;" and this made him remark, with reference to the injunction of St. Paul just quoted, that "anger was like the which might be wholesome for a day or two; but if it were kept long, it would breed worms, Jewish manna, and corrupt." able of his whole life. He himself has left a particular account of it. To frame a right apprehension of this, we should understand that, though his inclinations were ever virtuous, and his life free from scandal, and inoffensive, yet had the piety he was master of already so diverted him from aspiring unto more, that Christ, who long had lain asleep in his conscience (as he once did in the ship), must now, as then, be waked by a storm. For, at a time which (being the very heat of summer) promised nothing less, about the dead of night, that adds most terror to such accidents, he was suddenly waked in a fright with such loud claps of thunder (which are oftentimes very terrible in those hot climes and seasons), that he thought the earth would owe an ague to the air, and every clap was both preceded and attended with flashes of lightning so frequent and so dazzling, that he began to imagine them the sallies of that fire that must consume the world. The long continuance of the tempest confirmed him in his apprehensions of the day of judgment being at hand. The consideration of his being unprepared for it, and the "hideousness" of being surprised by it in an unfit condition, made him resolve and vow that, if his fears were that night disappointed, his future life should be more religiously and watchfully employed. The morning came, and a cloudless sky returned, which ratified his determination so solemnly, "that from that day he dated his conversion," renewing, now he was past danger, the vow he had made whilst he believed himself to be in it; that though his fear was (and he blushed it was so) the occasion of his resolution of amendment, yet, at least, he might not owe his more deliberate consecration of himself to piety to any less noble motive than that of its own excellence. Thus had this happy storm an operation upon him resembling that which it had upon the ground; for the thunder did but terrify, and blasted not, but with it fell such kind and genial showers as watered his parched and almost withered graces, and reviving their greenness, soon rendered them both flourishing and fruitful. Though he was assaulted by temptations, yet he always offered them a strong resistance, considering that "piety was to be embraced, not so much to gain heaven, as to serve God with." He mentions having been once in company with a number of careless young men, when one of them was saying to him, what a fine thing it would be if men could sin securely all their life-time, by being sure of leisure to repent upon their death-beds,he replied, that truly for his part he should not like sinning, though on those terms, and would not all that while deprive himself of the satisfaction of serving God, to enjoy so many years' fruition of the world. 'In effect," he here remarks, "it is strange that men should take it for an inducement to an action, that they are confident they shall repent of it." But, if he had received on this late occasion a reinforcement of grace in his soul, a near opportunity awaited him for its exercise. He himself viewed the opportunity to which he refers, and which we are about to relate, in this light; for he says that, “as when in summer we take up our grass-horses into the stable, and give them store of oats, it is a sign that we mean to travel them" In 1638, his father sent him, with his brother Francis, to Geneva, through Dieppe, Paris, and Lyons. Here he devoted himself to a severe course of study, and renewed his acquaintance with the mathematics, the study of which he had begun, when he was ten years old, at Eton, to cure the bad effects produced on his mind by reading books of romance, which his ill-judging friends had put into his hands at a time when he was recovering from the ague. During his residence at Geneva, an occurrence took place so, after he had received this new strength, he found a the crucifix. He returned to England in 1644. On his arrival he found his father dead; and though the earl had made an ample provision for him, it was some time, through the political confusion of that period, before he came into possession of his property. In March 1646 he retired to his estate at Stalbridge; and "in this peaceful solitude, withdrawn from the tumults which agitated his unhappy country, he spent his time in literary labours, particularly in philosophical and chemical studies." He formed an intimacy with all the men of that day who were distinguished for learning and science, and was one of the earliest members of that small but learned body of men which went under the name of the "Philosophical College," and which, after the Restoration, assumed the name of the "Royal Society." D. [To be continued in next Number.] FAITH AND SIGHT.* new weight to support. For, passing some of the spring in a visit to Chambery, the chief town of Savoy; Aix, famous for its baths; and Grenoble, the head town of Dauphiné, and residence of a parliament,-his curiosity at last led him to those wild mountains where is situated the chief of the Carthusian abbeys, where "the devil, taking advantage of that deep raving melancholy, so sad a place, his humour, and the strange stories and pictures he found there of Bruno, the father of that order, suggested such strange and hideous thoughts, and such distracting doubts of some of the fundamentals of Christianity, that, though his looks did little betray his thoughts, nothing but the forbiddenness of self-despatch hindered his acting it." After enduring this dark state of mind with great distress for many months, at last it pleased God, one day he had received the sacrament, to restore to him the withdrawn sense of his favour. Impious suggestions of this kind, though he always treated them as temptations to be kept under, rather than as serious doubts to be removed, did not cease to trouble him occasionally afterwards; they "now and then darkened the clearest serenity of his quiet; which made him often say, that injections of this nature were such a disease to his faith as the toothache is to the body; for though it be not mortal, it is very troublesome." However, as all things work together for good to them that love God, he derived from those perplexing doubts the advantage of being "rooted and built up in the most holy faith" of the Gospel; for those doubts obliged him, in order to their removal, to inquire seriously into the truth of the fundamentals of Christianity, and to ex-sands and ten thousands-alas! how impotent the amine the opinions of Turks, Jews, and the various sects among Christians, "that so, though he believed more than he could comprehend, he might not believe more than he could prove, and not owe the stedfast-resist only to reason, to nature, to the world! ness of his faith to so poor a cause as the ignorance of what might be objected against it." IN contemplating the condition of man, as subject to temptation, to sorrow, and to death-how great the superiority of him who walks by faith, and not by sight! To withstand the assaults of temptation, of that “lust of the flesh," which kindles unhallowed fires; of that "lust of the eye," which allures by innumerable fascinating pleasures; of "that pride of life," which, fixing on the objects of wealth and honour, excites in the soul insatiable cupidity and lawless ambition: to withstand these these that have mastered their thou resolutions of the stoutest bosom-the efforts of the strongest mind! How ineffectual the exertions of him who walks only by sight, who looks for strength to But what victories has not faith wrought-what lusts of the flesh have been too violent for faith to quench-what pleasures have been too seducing for faith to resist what temptations of wealth and am Walking by faith, animated by the holy principles which it inspires, and aided by the Divine strength which it confers, the Christian has crucified the flesh; has destroyed the body of sin; has renounced pleasures dear as a right hand or a right eye; has despised the wealth of earth, in comparison with the treasures of heaven; and has counted the highest honours of the world but as dross, in comparison with the honour of being a son of God, and the heir, with Christ, of immortal glory. Speaking of those persons who have the means to inquire and ability to judge, he said, "that it was not a greater happiness to inherit a good religion, than itbition have been too powerful for faith to overcome? was a fault to have it only by inheritance, and think it the best because it is generally embraced, rather than embrace it because we know it to be the best; that though we cannot always give a reason for what we believe, we should be ever able to give a reason why we believe it; that it is the greatest folly to neglect any diligence, that may prevent the being mistaken, where it is the greatest of miseries to be deceived; that how dear soever things taken up on the score are sold, there is nothing worse taken up upon trust than religion, in which he deserves not to meet with the true one, that cares not to examine whether or no it be so." The whole of the above instructive account of what befel him during his sojourn at Geneva, is given nearly in his own words. After studying twenty-one months at Geneva, he visited Verona, Venice, Florence, Rome, Genoa, and Marseilles. At Rome he surveyed the numerous curiosities of the imperial city, among which he tells us "he had the fortune to see Pope Urban VIII. at chapel with the cardinals, who, severally appearing mighty princes, in that assembly looked like a company of common friars." At Antibes, on his way to Marseilles, he fell into danger by refusing to honour Under the experience of sorrow, what is the consolation of him who walks only by sight? His spirit within him is desolate, and darkness covers the scenes around him. Reason and nature afford no light that unfolds the end to be accomplished by his afflictions; no means of escape from them; no consolations to cheer and support him under them ;--he sorrows, and alas! as one "that hath no hope." But walking by faith, how changed his views and feelings, even though unchanged his lot! He regards the world but as a state of trial, and sorrow as the means of fitting him for the rest which is beyond it. Over the troubled scene through which he passes, From Bishop Hobart, he beholds his Father and God, ruling in righteousness and mercy; saying to the waves of affliction, that threaten to overwhelm him, Thus far shall ye go, and no further; and guiding him, unhurt by their fury, to the haven of rest. Yes-"all things," he believes, "shall work together for his good." God is his Guide, his Protector, his Comforter; and therefore, though "troubled on every side, he is not distressed; though perplexed, he is not in despair; though persecuted, he is not forsaken; though cast down, he is not destroyed." "He rejoices in the Lord alway;" again and again he calls on his soul to rejoice. For "the Lord is his defence, the Holy One of Israel is his King." And his "light afflictions, which are but for a moment, shall work out for him an eternal weight of glory. When death approaches, what must be the views and feelings of him who walks only by sight? Can any human power, in which he has hitherto confided, arrest the march of this resistless foe? Can those worldly principles and hopes on which he has rested, remove the apprehensions which the approach of death inspires? Can any earthly consolations alleviate the pangs of dying-any human arm conduct in safety through the dark valley of the shadow of death? How terrible to be left in this last conflict to the darkness, the doubts, and the weakness of human reason! how terrible to encounter, in this awful moment, the apprehensions and pangs of a guilty conscience, point ing to the tribunal of an offended Judge, to the woes of eternity; and there is no refuge! This refuge is enjoyed only by him who lives by faith. His is that inspiring promise of the Redeemer, "He that believeth in me shall never die." United to that Saviour, whom in holy faith he has served, the believer commends to his divine Lord his departing spirit. He who "holds the keys of death and hell" is with him, to "redeem him from death, to ransom him from the power of the grave." In this last conflict he is supported by the grace of his divine Lord, and he passes through the grave and gate of death to a joyful resurrection. TRANSLATIONS OF THE SCRIPTURES IN SPAIN.* As if in order to put to silence those who say that the people are not allowed to read the Scriptures in vernacular languages, the court of Rome saw fit, several years ago, to relax that prohibition; or, speaking more correctly, to republish it in a more deceptive form. Versions of the Scripture, or of parts of it, are published in Spain. But on what principle are those versions produced? That of paraphrase. Thus the text is disguised, and, by the last degree of sacrilege, the truths of God are filched out of his word, and the doctrines of a depraved priesthood introduced. Every translator and annotator seems to tremble lest he should offend his vigilant mother, the Church; and although Protestants have left their country in deadly peace, you would judge, by the frequent references to them in these books, that their preachers were to be found in every hamlet. You shall have three examples of the system of Biblical literature in Spain. Fray Anselmo Petite, a Benedictine monk, in the year 1804 published in Madrid a version of the Gos From a letter, dated February 20, 1836, by the Rev. W. H. Rule, inserted in the Philadelphia Episcopal Recorder. | "As pels from the Vulgate, with a few notes extracted chiefly from Romish fathers and expositors; and in a preface, which is an anxious and almost continuous appeal to the authority of the Church, he discloses his merits as a critic. His views as to the original text are explicitly given in the following paragraph: regards our having made this version from the Vulgate, in preference to the Greek copies, besides the impossibility of proceeding otherwise, being ignorant of the Greek language, we had another powerful reason, which, I believe, even the most impassioned will not dispute. Not, by any means, to disparage the authority and the respect which are due to those copies where they are not corrupted, it is evident that, after the holy council of Trent declared the Latin Vulgate Bible to be AUTHENTIC, there is no other of EQUAL AUTHORITY.” 66 His Don Francisco Ximenes, a priest, published a version, so called, of the apostolic epistles, 1816, Madrid. preface is specious, and does not match with his translation; which may be judged of by comparing the following exact version of his version with 1 Pet. v. 1-5; "As bishop, and witness of the labours of Jesus Christ, and as partaker of the glory with which he will one day be manifested to the world, I pray you, my companions in the priesthood, that ye feed the flock of God which he has committed to you, and endeavour to discharge your duty, not as constrained by force, but freely, as God wills; nor moved by vile interest, but by a desire to profit your flock. Do not demean yourselves, as lords, with your inferior ecclesiastics and subjects; but give them an example of all virtues, to the practice of which you should yourselves be moved with all sincerity. And when you shall be judged by Jesus Christ, of glory. I also pray you, inferior ecclesiastics, and Prince of bishops, you shall receive an eternal crown you who have not any grade in the Church, that ye live subject to the bishops. Be ye all humble, because God resists the proud, and favours the humble." Don Felix Torres Amat, bishop of Astorga, Madrid, 1832-1835, second edition. This is a version of the entire Scriptures, and has come into great celebrity. The translator is a venerable man, possessed of extensive learning, and animated by a spirit of sincere philanthropy. To censure his work, on which was spent so much learning and deep anxiety during fifteen years prior to the publication of the first edition, is certainly painful, and might be unseemly, especially in such as 1, were not our obligation to the eternal interests of mankind stronger than to any individual, however learned and benevolent he may be. Still, I cannot persuade myself to proceed any further in the way of animadversion, than to observe, that it is a paraphrase in the style of the Romish school. This version was undertaken in pursuance of the royal command of Charles IV., which was followed by a similar authorisation by Ferdinand VII. The design of Charles IV., as the translator himself informed me, was to obtain a translation free from the indelicacies and obscurities of the ancient language, as retained in the Vulgate, and in the faithful version of the Vulgate by P. Scio. And the further design of the translator was to render the version so self-explanatory, as to need but few expository notes. The version is in very elegant Spanish, and is such as could only have been produced after deep research (yet under great disadvantages); but it speaks the theology of Rome. The gloss is incorporated with the text. It must needs have been so, considering the measures adopted by the translator. Having been backed by royal authority, he refused, indeed, to ask make this submission. But having taken that stand, permission of the pope, although plied incessantly to he seems to have been the more anxious to secure the reputation of orthodoxy (and, judging both from his conversation and his writings, I believe him to be stanch in the Romish faith); he sought assiduously the approbation of the bishops, to whom, individually, |