eous one-such by way of eminence, or, that he is righteousness itself in the abstract, is easy to be understood. But the mystery lies in the pronoun our. In this little word there is a perennial stream of comfort, flowing from an inexhaustible fountain, for the refreshment of the contrite believer in Jesus. Fallen man has, and can have, no personal righteousness, either by inherency or operation. He is a moral bankrupt. Born in sin, and a child of wrath, he can make no atone ment for the past, nor promise any adequate obedience for the future. "If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us." "Now we know," says St. Paul," that whatsoever things the law saith, it saith to them who are under the law that every mouth may be stopped, and all the world may become guilty before God. Therefore by the deeds of the law there shall no flesh be justified in his sight: for by the law is the knowledge of sin. But now the righteousness of God without the law is manifested, being witnessed by the law and the prophets; even the righteousness of God, which is by faith of Jesus Christ unto all and upon all them that believe: for there is no difference for all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God." (Rom. iii. 19-23.) But the possession of righteousness is indispensable to salvation. The law of God peremptorily requires it. The condition of acceptance with God is a perfect conformity with his revealed will. "This do, and thou shalt live." and sufficient sacrifice, oblation, and satisfaction, for the sins of the whole world. He hath (to use the words of the interpreting angel to the prophet Daniel on the subject) "finished transgression, made an end of sin, and brought in everlasting righteousness." And, to adopt the declaration of an inspired apostle, " He was made sin for us, who knew no sin; that we might be made the righteousness of God in him." "Such (says that bright luminary of the Church of England, the judicious Hooker), such we are in the sight of God the Father, as is the very Son of God himself. Let it be counted folly, or frenzy, or fury, whatsoever; it is our comfort and our wisdom: we care for no knowledge in the world but this, that man hath sinned, and God hath suffered; that God hath made himself the son of man, and that men are made the righteousness of God." In like manner, Bishop Andrews, in his discourse on "justification in Christ's name," says," He is made righteousness to us, that we may be made the righteousness of God in him.' In which place," he adds, referring to St. Paul's words just quoted, "St. Chrysostom says, the very word righteousness the apostle useth to express the unspeakable bounty of that gift that God hath not given us merely the operation or effect of his righteousness, but his very righteousness. He speaks of Christ not only as having done no sin, but as having known none; and yet him hath God made, not a sinner, but sin itself; as in another place, not accursed, but a curse itselfsin in respect of the guilt, a curse in respect of the punishment. And why this? To the end that we might be made (not righteous persons, that was not full enough, but) righteousness itself; and yet more, the very righteousness of God." 6 Jehovah, as appears from his word, had determined, before the world was created, to manifest his own glory to men and angels, by the salvation of lost sinners. But there were obstacles to the accomplishment of this merciful purpose, which were insurmountable by human wisdom or human ability. These Two things are implied in the possessive obstacles could only be removed by a surety-pronoun our; viz. imputation and reception. ship, by a vicarious offering, and by a vica- The former is the act of Divine mercy, and rious obedience. No interposition of created the latter the act of humble faith. intelligence could effect the magnificent object of Divine compassion. But let us listen to the voice of mercy,- "I have laid help upon one that is mighty; I have exalted one chosen out of the people" (Ps. lxxxix. 19). No one conversant with the language of Scripture can hesitate to recognise, in this prophetic language, Him who is elsewhere called " the mighty God-the Prince of peace." The Father of mercies, then, ordained that atonement should be made, and righteousness fulfilled, by his co-equal Son: his co-equal Son undertook to perform the conditions on which human salvation was suspended. He has accomplished the work which was given him to do he has made, by the one oblation of himself once offered, a full, perfect, A creditor enters a debt, which is due to him, in one column of his ledger. In another column he places against it the sum which he has received in payment of that debt, whether derived from the debtor or his surety. Let me open before you the awful book of Divine justice. Therein is placed to your account a debt of 10,000 talents: you have nothing to pay; you must despair. But must a sinner lie down in everlasting despair? No. Cast your eye on the creditor-column of the book: see there the righteousness of God placed to your account; and the result of that suretyship righteousness is a receipt in full of all demands, and Justice is heard saying, "Deliver him from going down to the pit; I have found a ransom." Now, this righteousness is made ours by believing the record concerning it: and this marks the contrast between the Law and the Gospel. The former, in the language of the creditor in the Gospel, cries,-"Pay me that thou owest." The latter addresses us and says," Accept the gift of righteousness freely offered through Jesus Christ our Lord." could not be justified by the law of Moses." And in this confidence I adopt the words of another dignitary of our Church, and say, "Had I all the faith of the patriarchs, all the zeal of the prophets, all the good works of the apostles, all the sufferings of the martyrs, and all the glowing devotion of the seraphs, I would renounce the whole in point of dependence, and glory only in the atoning blood and justifying righteousness of Jesus Christ my Lord." LOWLINESS OF MIND.* This doctrine of justification by faith is the grand doctrine of Protestantism. It is that on account of which, chiefly, our forefathers separated themselves from the Church of Rome, and laid down their lives in the fires of Carfax and Smithfield. The converse doctrine, of justification by personal righteousness, is the foundation and corner-stone of all the monstrous errors of the papal creed. Thereon is built the efficacy of masses for the living and the dead, the worship of saints and angels, its pardons and indulgences, the fiction of a purgatory, with all the other fan- spring up within him. The control of sinful appetites tastical dogmatisms, the belief of which the IT is not by the opposition the world offers to an innocent and holy life; it is not by the severe self-denial and oppressive services which the Gospel exacts from us; it is not even by the strict observance required of moral purity and social duties alone,—that the path of life is rendered so narrow, and that man is so reluctant to enter upon it. The difficulty consists not so much in the evils which lie around him, as in those which and desires does indeed demand his constant care and apostate Church has made essential to salva-vigilance: but it is the pride of his heart which pretion. That the papal creed has found a revived credit among Protestants of the nineteenth century, can only be accounted for by considering how deeply the pride of self-righteousness is rooted in the fallen heart of man. Let us, my brethren, thankfully receive the inestimable benefit offered to us by the Gospel. Let us adore its Author, and resign up ourselves to his service, which is perfect freedom; not the service of a slave, who labours through fear of punishment, or to earn wages from his master, but that of an affectionate child, made such by adoption and grace. Faith worketh by love, and is the only parent of works vitally good, and so acceptable to God. With an assured persuasion that the doctrine of the text, as I have endeavoured to expound it, is the doctrine of the Bible and of our scriptural Church, which has incorporated it, frequently and explicitly, with all her formularies; and that it is the "doctrine according to godliness;" believing that, as Bishop Horsley has forcibly expressed himself, it is the doctrine of the reformers from popery,that it is older than the reformers, and is the doctrine of the fathers,-that it is older than the fathers, and is the doctrine of the apostles, --that it is older than the apostles, and is the doctrine of the prophets, that it is older than the prophets, and is the doctrine of the patriarchs;-in short, that it is the pith and marrow of revealed truth: having this assured persuasion, I cheerfully rest all my hope of eternal salvation on this inspired axiom, that through Him whom our text designates Jehovah our Righteousness," "all who believe are justified from all things, from which they 66 sents the chief obstacle. He cannot bear to be told that his nature is a corrupt, a fallen, a sinful nature; that the carnal, or in other words the natural, mind is at enmity with God; that if he seeks to be reconciled with God, he must seek it alone through the merits of a Redeemer. To him,-not to his own doings, however diligently he may labour in the regulation of his own mind, or in the service of his fellow-creatures,-to his Saviour he must refer the whole merit and the whole efficacy of his salvation. That Saviour hath said, he came to seek and to save them that were lost." And every man who would be his disciple, let him be the wisest and the most virtuous of men, must believe that he himself was one of those lost creatures whom Christ came to save. He must not only acknow ledge with his lips, but in his heart he must feel, that in the sight of God his best deeds are nothing worth: that however they may tend, as they certainly will tend, to make him happier upon earth, they have no power whatever to raise him to heaven. that Nay, more than this; if he trust to himself, if he indulge himself in setting a value before God upon any strumental cause of his ruin; they will lead him fro thing that he does, these very deeds will be the inthat gate through which alone he can enter, and will carry him farther and farther in a wrong direction. His good works will never bring him to Christ; but if he lay hold on Christ in sincerity of faith, he will easily and quickly bring him to good works. He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. He is emphati cally called the Door of the kingdom of heaven. No man cometh to the Father but by him. If, then, there be in any man's breast a secret long. ing after self-righteousness; if there be a disposition, however faint, to justify himself by his own perform ance- any lurking conceit, that he, being so muc better than others, stands less in need of that atoning merit than the worst of his fellow-creatures; let not By the Rt. Rev. Edward Copleston, D.D., bishop of Llandaff. uch an one think that he will receive any thing from the Lord. He may perhaps, upon examination, find that he has exercised himself in doing what he thinks his duty-that he has abstained from excess-that he has dealt justly, and worked diligently for the good of mankind-that he has even practised many of those virtues which are most truly Christian-that he has been kind, patient, humble, charitable, meek, forgiving; yet if his heart be a stranger to God, giving its affections, not to things above, but to things on the earth,--if he suffer it to plead any one of these services as entitled to reward from God, or as fit even to bear his inspection, he is still in his sins-he will be left to wander on according to his own wayward fancies, and will never find the gate of salvation. Such was of old the pharisaical pride which provoked the severe rebuke of our Saviour; " Verily I say unto you, even the publicans and the harlots enter into the kingdom of God before you." The case of gross sinners is less desperate than yours. It is possible they may be brought to a sense of their wretchedness, and may throw themselves upon the only Refuge that is open to them; but you, who not only neglect this help, but who wilfully betake yourselves to another, are altogether without hope. Ye shall die in your sins. Be your deeds what they may in the sight of men-be they just, upright, benevolent, liberal, humane-while they spring from a corrupt and unregenerate source, they cannot please God. For without faith it is impossible to please him; and without holi ness no man shall see the Lord. If now we reflect on the prevalence of this proud spirit among men on their proncuess to value themselves upon their own worth-on the unwelcome and humiliating confession required by the Gospel from the best and wisest of mankind, as well as from the wickedest and the most ignorant-we shall not wonder at the strong comparison by which our Lord illustrates the straitness of that road through which we must pass to salvation. For not only our sinful appetites, but, what is much harder, every "high thought and vain imagination that exalteth itself against the knowledge of God, must be brought into captivity to the obedience of Christ." Neither have we yet described the full extent of that humility to which the heart of man must bow before he can be a disciple of Christ. And the part which remains to be told will perhaps to many minds appear much harder than what has been already stated. "No man For in thus turning from the lying vanities of selfrighteousness to the true and living God, he must not flatter himself that the change is his own work. He must not take credit to himself for the victory; but must give God the praise for having called him out of darkness into his marvellous light. cometh to me," saith our Lord, “ except my Father draw him." To God, then, be our thanks and praise rendered, as the giver not only of our natural, but of our spiritual life. He is, as our Church often confesses, the Author of all godliness. "Of his own will begat he us with the word of truth." "It is God that worketh in us both to will and to do of his good pleasure." His grace brought us to the knowledge of the truth; and unless we resist or neglect his gracious influence, in spite of all the powers of darkness, his grace will preserve us in it. RECOLLECTIONS OF A COUNTRY PASTOR, No. VI.-Brown Gubbens. BROWN GUBBENS was the terror of the neighbourhood. Children were startled by the very name, which was too often wickedly employed to frighten them on any act of disobedience; for to be told that they would be taken away by him, was sufficient to overwhelm them with dismay. Even persons advanced in life had a horror of this strange individual. The farmers were sure, although there was no positive proof, that many of their sheep and poultry had been stolen by him; while he was strongly suspected of being concerned in two or three highway robberies; and the mangled body of a female, found in a large pond upon the waste, excited the fear that his hands were not clean of the blood of murder. He was at large, however; for every attempt to bring guilt to his door was in vain. The constables, in fact, were not very willing to have any thing to do with him. The prevalent maxim seemed to be, "if Gubbens don't meddle with us, we shan't meddle with him." Brown Gubbens was apparently about the age of forty-five. He was a very tall man, of a dark, swarthy complexion, with long matted hair and huge whiskers. His occupation was that of a tinker. He travelled the greater part of the year with a small donkey-cart, accompanied by the mother of his two children-for there was no evidence that this woman was his wife: and during the short and seyere days of winter, he lived in a small miserable hut, built upon the edge of a common, about five miles from my parish. Gubbens was a man of notoriously abandoned habits. He had never been seen in any place of worship. It was known that he could not read. He kept up no intercourse with any of the people in the neighbouring village, further than to purchase a few necessaries, and quantities of spirits at the public-houses. How he procured the money, or how he employed himself in the winter, nobody knew, and nobody dared to inquire; or how he obtained the means of subsistence. He never asked for alms, or endeavoured to throw himself on the parish. There was a mystery about him and his doings, which inspired such a degree of terror, that, as I have said, he was suffered to remain unmolested; and for the magistrates to have issued a warrant for his apprehension, would have struck dismay into the hearts of the bravest of our officers of justice. It was late in the evening of a cold bleak winter day, that I was informed that a fearful accident had befallen Gubbens. He had been returning on his donkey from a town at some distance to his hut, in a state of intoxication, and when near our village had fallen down on the road, and soon sunk into a profound sleep. Owing to the extreme darkness of the night, he was not discovered, and a broad-wheeled waggon went over both his legs, which were lying in a rut, and, of course, maimed him most frightfully. He had been carried, as I was informed, to the cottage of a poor labouring man at the extremity of the village, the nearest habitation to the spot where he had been found, and to which he had been carried by the waggoner in a state of great alarm. I immediately went to the cottage, where I found the wretched being in a state of utter insensibility. Mr., the surgeon, was endeavouring to do all in his power to minister to the necessities of the case, and had sent over to the neighbouring town for farther surgical aid. The spectacle was most awful. The wretched man now and then opened his eyes, and uttered most piteous groans, but he was altogether stupified. One ancle was nearly crushed to pieces. I need not enter into the details of that fear ful night, or state the precise operations performed on this miserable creature. Every thing that human skill could do, as far as the surgical strength of the neighbourhood could afford, was done for him; and great hopes were at one time entertained that he might recover, although he must, of course, be a cripple for life. These hopes were vain. Mortification took place. He died, after lingering for a few days, during the greater part of which time he was perfectly sensible, and I had frequent opportunities of seeing him. The first inquiry he made, when his senses returned, was for his children. Their mother had been dead of fever four or five months before; at least, so he said. Certainly, when he returned with his children to the hut for their winter abode, she was not with him. Some persons thought he had probably murdered her, but the truth was never ascertained. The children had been locked up by him in the hut, while he went to a neighbouring fair, and a person was immediately despatched for them. The wretched creatures were found in extreme misery: they had tasted no food since their father had left them the morning before. There was no vestige of fire in the hut, and they were nearly wild with terror. On their being brought to him, a tear started in his eye, the only evidence that I could discover of any approach to the common feelings of humanity; but he spoke little to them or of them, and he did not express any anxiety as to their future support. During the opportunities I had of calling upon him, I used every method I could devise of arriving at a correct knowledge of his state of mind, and of seeking to impart to him a saving knowledge of divine truth, as far as I understood it; for though I did not discover any sullenness or unwillingness to speak, I did discover such an ignorance of divine things as I could not have conceived existed in a Christian land. He seemed, poor creature, to have no notion whatever even of the existence of God. He had never thought upon the subject of religion, and had scarcely the notion that he had a soul. He looked upon death as the end of his existence. In fact, throughout the wide wilderness of heathenism, I do not think it possible that more utter ignorance could have existed on subjects of all others the most important, than in this poor man, born in Christian England, and whose whole life was spent within the sound of the Gospel-message of peace. What effect my conversation, under the divine blessing, had upon him, I presume not to know; he gave me no clue to arrive at a true knowledge of his state. He made no confession of having been engaged in any of the transactions which were imputed to him. Neither did his conscience seem to be burdened. Of this I am sure, that until I witnessed the scenes of his dying bed, I had not the most remote conception that such a case of deplorable ignorance could have been found in our own highly favoured land. On inquiring of the children their respective names, I found they were mere cant words. It was obvious they had not been baptised, nor, although one was apparently ten, and the other eight years of age, for they could give no account of themselves, had they, as might be supposed, any notions of religion. They were sent to the workhouse of the parish, where every attention was paid to them. They were speedily baptised, a subscription was raised in their behalf; and it may be satisfactory to know, that through the kindness of a neighbouring squire, they were, in process of time, apprenticed, and that both boy and girl have turned out extremely well. Bob Smith was indefatigable in giving them instruction. Perhaps it is not presumptuous to trace, in the removal of their father, a kind and a gracious purpose. We dare not scan the dispensations of unerring Wisdom: but, unquestionably, we are led to suppose, that had their father lived, he would have brought them up in his own vicious course of life. On searching the hovel, after the death of Gubbens, there was nothing found to throw any light upon his past life. There was no paper or document of any kind. He had been known in the neighbourhood for nearly fifteen years. It was supposed that there might be money discovered in the place, but the search for it was vain. The hovel was soon after removed; but, I have been informed, that even now the spot where it stood is viewed with a species of horror, from the supposition, probably, that many foul deeds were there perpetrated or concerted, which have as yet eluded the scrutiny of man. The question presents itself, Are there no such characters to be found among us as Brown Gubbens! Unquestionably there are. Whether or no he was a real gipsy it is difficult to say. In some of his habits he resembled that extraordinary people, in others he differed from them; but there can be little doubt that he was no uncommon instance of ignorance in those wandering families who are found encamping in our lanes, attending our wakes and fairs, imposing upon the credulous by fortune-telling, and generally com mitting petty depredations wherever they sojourn. And yet for the spiritual instruction, and for the moral amelioration of such persons, nothing effectual seems to be done. Efforts have been made, indeed, by a few benevolent individuals, perhaps, in their respective spheres, but nothing has been attempted on a scale commensurate with the object. And yet it is one which ought to be of vast importance in the estima tion of every true Christian. He need not look to the dark places of the earth for utter ignorance of God. He will find this ignorance fearfully manifested at home in his own beloved country. I am a warm friend to missionary exertions. I rejoice to hear of the ex tension of the kingdom of the Redeemer. I deplore that I have done so little to promote so great an ob ject as that of carrying to the remotest bounds of the earth the knowledge of a Saviour's name; and yet I cannot but think that the class of persons referred to deserve our commiseration as much as any other the fallen children of Adam; and that we are verily guilty of the grossest inconsistency, if, while we express an anxious desire to enlighten those who are in darkness in other lands, we seek not the amelioration of those at our own doors who are perishing for lack of knowledge. Assuredly the recollection of the wretched Gubbens will not easily be effaced from my memory. The spectacle which presented itself when I beheld his mangled limbs even now fills me with horror. Drunk. enness was the leading cause of his death; and yet the state of his soul was more wretched than that of his body. Truly thankful shall I be if these few remarks shall lead any brother in the ministry, or any private Christian, to seek to do what in their power lies to lead some such characters as that now brought before their notice to a saving knowledge of "the truth as it is in Jesus." The Cabinet. THE ARK OF GOD IN DANGER.-The people pro faned the ark [when it was carried by Hoplini and Phinehas to the camp of Israel, about to fight with the Philistines]. Who bade them send to Shiloh for it, and take it from its holy secrecy there into the tumult of a camp? The Lord had commanded Moses that it should be kept in "the secret place of his tabernacle;" but now, to answer their earthly purposes. the command of God is to be set aside, the sacredness of the holy of holies to be violated, a battle-field become the dwelling-place of the ark of God. And the priests of God consented to this. The two sons of Eli, who had the charge of it, seem to have carried it to the camp without the least reluctance. If, there fore, a time should ever come in England when our people or rulers shall care less for the Gospel than they care for their own glory or power; when God's Church in England shall be given up into the hands of those who hate it; when men, who ought to shield it from harm, and are pledged by their office and solemn oaths to do so, shall cast it to any who will take it, and allow them to do with it whatsoever they will-let such a time come, and then there will indeed be cause to tremble for the ark of God. It is undervalued, it is profaned, and God will not bear this: it is in danger of being lost.-Rev. C. Bradley's Series of Practical Sermons. THE CROSS. There are ever men, to whom all the ways of heaven are grievous; whom nothing pleases but the vain offspring of their own proud minds. To these, it is to be expected," the cross of Christ" will yet be "foolishness." From the doctrine of their depravity; from the mysterious nature of Christ; and from their own views of the character of the Deity, they will attempt to raise a scorn upon the sufferings of the Redeemer for our salvation. But shall our faith, which rests upon the fullest evidences of the truth of the Gospel, be shaken by the cavils of speculative men? Shall we, who have found, in the doctrines of Christ, that rest for our spirits which they need, quit it because it presents to us wonders which surpass our comprehension? There is, indeed, something in our redemption through the blood of Christ, which fills us with amazement. The apostle styles it, the "mystery" of the cross. And what is not mysterious with which we are acquainted? Can we more clearly discern the wisdom of the arrangements for our present subsistence; or the mercy of the Deity in the miseries with which the earth is filled? Badly, then, must it become us to doubt the expediency of the means which the Most High hath chosen for our salvation. Whether any other way might have been devised for man's deliverance; why the expiatory sacrifice was deferred to so late a period; whether the sufferings of the Saviour might not have been dispensed with, or diminished, it is not our business to inquire. It is enough for us to know, that those things which God had before shewed by the mouth of all his prophets, that Christ should suffer, he hath so fulfilled. Consider, then, ye doubtful, the evidences which encompass you; that "we are born in sin, and are the children of wrath." Reflect how imperfect, with all your efforts and attainments, is the purity and virtue of your character. Contemplate yourselves as going into the presence of the infinitely holy and awfully just God, and ask yourselves, if you have not need of a Mediator with him; of something more than your own merits to propitiate his favour. But turn from the Son, whom he hath set forth as your Redeemer, and to whom else will you go? Will you make atonement for your own transgressions? Ah! wherewith will you make it? Look back and see, everywhere, the indications which man has given of his sense of the need of an expiation of his guilt. See, in the thousand libations and the ten thousand sacrifices, with which he hath sought to propitiate his God, his want of something more than his own virtue to commend him to his Maker; his want of something more than his sorrow to turn away the wrath of the Most High. Rejoice, then, that God hath condescended to provide for the world a sacrifice, which would be acceptable in his sight, whose blood would be of sufficient value and efficacy to take away sin. Under your consciousness of the wounds of the serpent, for the healing of which, Jesus, by Divine appointment, is lifted up upon the cross, "look to him, and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth."—Bishop Dehon. THANKSGIVING.-Other duties of devotion have something laborious in them, something disgustful to our sense. Prayer minds us of our wants and imperfections; confession induces a sad remembrance of our misdeeds and bad deserts; but thanksgiving includes nothing uneasy or unpleasant, nothing but the memory and sense of exceeding goodness.-Barrow. SCRIPTURE DIFFICULTIES.-In places of dark and ambiguous meaning, it is sufficient if we religiously admire, acknowledge, and confess, maintaining neither side, reprobating neither side, but rather recalling ourselves from such bold presumption. To understand belongs to Christ, the Author of our faith; to us is sufficient the glory of believing. It is not depth of knowledge, nor knowledge of antiquity, nor sharpness of wit, nor authority of councils, can settle the restless conceits that possess the minds of many doubting Christians. Only to ground our faith on the plain, incontrovertible text of Scripture, and to wait and pray for the coming of our Lord,-this shall compose our waverings, and give final rest unto our souls.-Hales. Poetry. "THE ANCHOR OF HOPE"- AN ASPIRATION.* Hebrews, vi. 19, 20. THAT hope be mine! that anchor of the soul, And binds us to that blest and boundless shore, AUTUMN. RED o'er the forest peers the setting sun, And Echo bids good night from every glade : Is all their portion, and they ask no more. Soon o'er their heads blithe April airs shall sing,, A thousand wild flowers round them shall unfold; The green buds glisten in the dews of spring, And all be vernal rapture as of old. Unconscious they in waste oblivion lie,-In all the busy world of busy life around No thought of them; in all the bounteous sky No drop for them of kindly influence found. Man's portion is to die and rise again, Yet he complains; while these unmurmuring part With their sweet lives, as pure from sin and stain As his when Eden held his virgin heart. And haply half-unblamed his murmuring voice Might sound in heaven, were all his second life Only the first renew'd-the heathen's choice, A round of listless joy and weary strife. • From Grinfield's Sacred Poems. |