Hence, when a sinner feels the pressure of guilt on his conscience, and stands terror-struck lest the wrath of God should fall upon him, he looks by faith to Jesus Christ giving his life a ransom, and then a power is emitted which soothes his sorrows and allays his fears, and gives him joy and peace in believing. And when he arrives at the great crisis of his destiny, conscious that he is going from this world into the great world of spirits, what is it that braces up the nerves of his soul, now on the eve of becoming disembodied? what is it that gives buoyancy to his hope, and calmness if not ecstasy to his feelings? what is it that acts with such great power at such an eventful crisis?—it is a simple trust in the efficacy of the death of Jesus Christ. Hence you may often hear the departing believer saying, as his last audible utterance, Who loved me, and GAVE HIMSELF FOR ME; and his conscious assurance of this great fact disarms death of his sting, and he passes onward into the eternal world with a hope full of immortality."

After proving that he will maintain his celebrity through all future periods of time, and onwards for ever, both in the estimation of the saved and the lost—the saved will never forget him, or cease to feel the manifestations of his love; nor will the lost ever forget him, or cease to feel the terror of his righteous displeasure—he concluded his sermon as follows:—"Will those doomed spirits, who were his contemporaries during his earthly sojourn, and who distinguished themselves by their daring and unprovoked hostility, ever forget his appearance when they held him under their subjection, or his appearance now he has them under his own? Will Judas ever forget taking the sop, and then going deliberately away to receive the reward of treachery? Will he ever forget re-entering the garden, passing along its lonely pathway, followed by an armed force, and stepping forward in advance to give the appointed signal, by saluting him? Will he ever forget the tortuous question, which still vibrates on his ear—'Judas, betrayest thou the Son of man with a kiss?' Will Caiaphas, the high-priest, ever forget rending his clothes, and accusing him of blasphemy, because he admitted he was the Son of God? Or will any of his associates in the council ever forget that they once spat in his face, and buffeted him, and smote him with the palms of their hands? Will Herod and his men of war, now seeing him on his throne of majesty, ever forget setting him at nought, and mocking him, arraying him in a gorgeous robe, and dismissing him in derisive scorn and contempt? Will Pilate ever forget when the Lord of glory stood as a criminal at his tribunal? or when, after pronouncing his innocence, he ordered him to be stripped, and scourged, and then sent him forth to the death of torture and infamy? Will the man who placed the crown of thorns on his head, or the man who put the reed of mockery in his hand, or the men who nailed him to the cross, or the debased malefactor, whose last breath was spent in reviling him—or will any of the Scribes and the Pharisees, whose malignant spirit gave an impulse and a tone to the infuriated rabble, ever forget what they did and what they said against Him who now sits on the throne of majesty and of power, and the day of whose vengeance is come? Ah! no. He will be held in everlasting remembrance by celestial and infernal spirits, and by the saved and the lost, who once sojourned in this vale of tears."

"There is," said Mr. Roscoe, "I must confess, a power and an impressiveness in this style of preaching, as much superior to our cold and formal Tractarianism, as the beauty and the fertility of summer surpasses the icy chills and sterility of winter."

"The one," said Miss Roscoe, "is the empire of death; the other, of life."

"I long," said Mrs. John Roscoe, "for next Sunday, when I hope we shall hear, for the first time in our church, the glorious gospel of the blessed God."

The Sabbath dawned, and it was a lovely day. Public curiosity had been awakened by the suddenness and novelty of the change; the church was crowded, for the fame of the preacher had preceded him. The service was read by the Rev. Mr. Roscoe. His new curate entered the pulpit with graceful ease, his countenance betokening a deep sense of his responsibility to God and to the people, to act a faithful part in the ministration of Divine truth. His text was a very appropriate one, and it was announced with impressive distinctness, yet in a mild and rather pathetic tone: "Unto me, who am less than the least of all saints, is this grace given, that I should preach among the Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ" (Eph. iii. 8). After a very brief introduction, he said, "Here are two things to which I will now call your attention, first, the estimate which the apostle forms of himself; and, second, the commission he was engaged to execute." A few extracts from the second division of his discourse, may not be unacceptable to the intelligent reader. He first gave a graphic sketch of the impure and degrading mythology of the Gentile world, and the safeguards which were placed around it, by the sagacity of its priests, in conjunction with imperial authority, to protect it against any movements which might be made to subvert it, or bring it under the ban of popular outrage or odium. He then represented Paul taking a survey of it, meditating on its antiquity, its imposing and beguiling fascinations, its undisputed ascendency over the passions and prejudices of the people, exclaiming, in anticipation of its overthrow, But who is sufficient to do it? "His faith, brethren," said the preacher, "was as strong as his zeal was ardent; and while conscious that he was in himself less than the least of all saints, yet he knew he had received a commission to go forth and destroy this stronghold of Satanic impurity and crime, and he was to do this by preaching the unsearchable riches of Christ.

"1. The subject of his preaching was defined. He was to preach about Jesus Christ. He doubtless told the people that Jesus Christ was the Son of God, who had appeared on earth in the likeness of men; and then, after giving a sketch of his character, detailing some of his miracles, and repeating some of his sayings, he announced his ignominious and agonizing death. Had Paul been an impostor or a fanatic, and had Jesus Christ been, what our German infidels say he was, a mythical being, the apostle would have cast the myth of his death into the shade, under a full conviction that it was far more likely to elicit the expression of scornful contempt, than to awaken any poignant or sublime emotions in the souls of the people. But no; his death is the chief subject of the apostle's preaching—the magnetic power of a mysterious attraction, awakening morbid sensibilities, and stirring death itself into vigorous life; it is the fact of his extraordinary history on which he dwells with impassioned earnestness: 'For I determined not to know any thing among you, save Jesus Christ, and him crucified' (1 Cor. ii. 2). He does not dwell on his tragical death to excite popular odium against his murderers, nor to excite popular sympathy or admiration by a description of the calm self-possession and the moral dignity he displayed in his sufferings; but he dwells on it as a marvellous manifestation of Divine benevolence: 'For God so loved the world, that He gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life' (John iii. 16; Rom. v).

"2. The subject of his preaching was exclusive. He had, as modern preachers have, a great variety of subjects which he could have introduced in his public ministrations; and we know that on some occasions he did avail himself of them, as when at Athens he exposed the absurdity of the superstitions of the people; and as when, addressing Felix, he reasoned on righteousness, temperance, and judgment to come, making that licentious man tremble, in the presence of his courtiers, under the terror of his appeals; but in general, the pity and the love of Christ for perishing sinners, and his power and willingness to save them, constituted the leading theme of his simple and subduing eloquence. Yes, brethren, and this is the only theme which can render the ministrations of the pulpit attractive and impressive; because it is the power of God unto salvation. Jesus Christ, when on the earth, said, 'I am the way, and the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father but by me' (John xiv. 6). Paul believed this, and he preached it; and so ought we. Yes, we should enter our solemn protest against, and fearlessly denounce, all the false and delusive expedients which superstition and infidelity devise and adopt to conciliate the Divine favour; and boldly maintain that there is only one way of access to the Father for the forgiveness of our sins and for eternal life (Acts iv. 12).

"3. The subject of his preaching required no adventitious circumstances to make it attractive, or to render it successful. See 1 Cor. i. 21, 25. We have been gravely told by some of our Christian philosophers, who admit the Divine origin of Christianity, that she must be preceded by civilization, with its arts and sciences, or she will never gain any splendid triumphs amongst a rude and an uncultivated people. Then, forsooth, the agriculturist must know how to drain his marshes, and how to cast up his furrows; how to plant and prune his hedges, and how to construct his dikes; before his heart can receive the incorruptible seed of the truth, which liveth and abideth for ever. Then, forsooth, the sculptor must know how to convert, and by the most scientific process, the rough and shapeless block of marble into the human form, before his soul can undergo a new creation in Christ Jesus. Then, forsooth, the painter must know how to impress on the canvas the face of the blue heavens, its rising and its setting sun; the sombrous splendour of a starlight night, and the dark and fearful thunderstorm, before he can feel the moral attraction of the powers of the world to come. Then, forsooth, the rude barbarians of the island and the desert must be located in towns or cities, must abandon their wigwams, their caves, and their mud huts, for well-ventilated and ceiled houses; must give over the chase, and cease to pluck subsistence from the unpruned plants of the wilderness, and participate in the luxuries of high living; must have their museums and literary societies, their courts of judicature, and their halls of legislation, and their printing-presses, before they can be formed into Christian churches, to enjoy the communion of saintly brotherhood. This is what I call the poetry of scepticism; something to excite or soothe the sentimental, and to act as a barrier to arrest the progress of the faithful herald of salvation, who, like Paul, goes forth to preach amongst the Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ.

"We have another set of philosophers, who have not moral courage enough to reject Christianity as a sham or delusion, but who gravely tell us that she must submit to the operation of the law of progress, or she will never gain any conquests amongst our deep and profound thinkers, or our men of refinement and of taste. She must now, at the opening of this new epoch in her history—so say these semi-sceptical philosophers—come out of her antiquated forms and requisitions, and be moulded into a shape, and trained to a mode of argument and address, adapted to the intellectual attainments and delicate sensibilities of the age. A chaste and classical language must supersede the uncouth technicalities of the olden times; reason must now be admitted as the only standard of appeal and of judgment on all questions of belief; arbitrary dogmas must give place to new discoveries in the science of morals and of theology; and while a subdued respect and reverence is still cherished in the popular mind for the Bible, and the institutions which are upheld by its authority, yet there must be no limits prescribed to the spirit of free inquiry, nor must any coercive power or ceremonial arrangement trespass on the sanctity of human freedom, or on any of our civil or social habitudes. If we choose to dance at a ball; if we choose to bet at the race-stand or frequent the theatre; if we choose to shuffle the cards, or toss the dice, or strike at a billiard-table; if we choose to take recreative pleasures on a Sunday, rather than render obedience to the Puritanical law of its observance, and choose to offer our adorations and our orisons to the Deity beside murmuring streams or gurgling fountains, or on the tops of lofty mountains, in preference to a church consecrated to his worship; and if we should have a greater liking for the poetry of Byron or of Wordsworth than for that of David or Isaiah, and should cherish a stronger predilection for the novels of Scott or of Bulwer than for the dull prose of prophets or of apostles, we feel that Christianity has no moral right to interdict us. The day of absolutism in her history is past and gone. She may now ask to be received amongst us as a guest—she must not come as a despot or as a sovereign; she may advise, but she must not command; she may breathe the words of a soothing sympathy in the house of mourning, or in the chamber of death, but she must not presume to utter any denunciations, if we should say to her, what Felix once said to her heroic champion, 'Go thy way this time, when I have a more convenient season, I will send for thee.'

"And now, forsooth, we have a new set of philosophers[22] coming up within our own borders, men of learning and of taste, and of Oxford or of Cambridge training, who have recently discovered that Christianity is not, as hitherto believed by our great theological authorities, a remedial scheme of grace and truth, to recover man from the ruins of the fall, but a mere educational scheme, to develope his inner spiritual life, and train it to a state of perfection. Hence, they tell us that we are to regard Jesus Christ as a prophet and an example, rather than as a priest and a sacrifice; and that the basis of our hope of salvation is not his meritorious righteousness, imputed to us and received by faith, but his personal excellencies, which he displayed through the whole tenor of his life; these excellencies becoming inwrought in our souls by an assimilative process, conducted by our own unaided meditative musings. So then, according to the doctrine of this new school of Christian philosophers, if I meditate, under the mysterious charm of an approving sympathy, on the gentleness, the meekness, and the patience of Jesus Christ—on his benevolence, his heroic fortitude, and his calm endurance of suffering—on the graceful urbanity of his manners—on the amiability of his temper and spirit—and on the moral dignity of his character—I shall so inwork his personal righteousness in my inner spirit as to make it my own; and on this my hope must rest of being justified against all the charges of a violated law, and through this source I must look for peace with God and for final salvation.

"I will meet all these new discoveries and semi-profane speculations by one simple remark:—If the apostle had lived through all succeeding ages up to the present time, he would continue to write and to preach as he wrote and preached to the citizens of Ephesus and Corinth. He would have indulged in no vain speculations, nor would he have made any new discoveries. If he stood in this pulpit now, and if any of the departed spirits of Ephesus or of Corinth were raised from the dead to form part of his audience, they would see the same man and hear the same voice, and hear that voice giving utterance to the same truths, and in the same style and tone of proclamation. He would again tell them, as he told them when preaching to them, that by nature they are the children of wrath, even as others, and are saved by grace, through faith, and that not of themselves, it being the gift of God, 'not of works, lest any man should boast' (Eph. ii. 9). He would preach the unsearchable riches of Christ.

"Hence we perceive that the theme of preaching is to be the same throughout all ages, though the heralds of its proclamation may be different men, dying off in the progress of time, to be succeeded by others; but woe be to that herald who dares to substitute a vain philosophy, or any new discoveries, for the glorious gospel of the blessed God. Hear what Paul says: 'But though we, or an angel from heaven, preach any other gospel unto you than that which we have preached unto you, let him be accursed' (Gal. i. 8). He has, I know, been censured for using such awful words of denunciation, and held up to popular reprobation, as breathing a malignant as well as a dogmatic spirit. But, brethren, allow me to ask you one question. Do you think it possible for human language to embody that amount of indignant feeling which you would virtuously cherish against the monster who, on a dangerous coast, and for no personal advantage, would falsify the colours of the lighthouse, or who would shift the buoys on a rocky shore? No. If you could inhale the breath of the most scorching vengeance, you would breathe it forth against such an infernal being, who is willing to become a wholesale murderer, beguiling to danger and to death by the very signals which are appointed for life and safety. Hence heavy denunciations of woe on some special occasions are the utterances of pure benevolence. And this is strictly correct in reference to Paul. He knew that the gospel he preached was a true and faithful saying, the power of God to salvation; and consequently any gospel in opposition to it would be false and fatal: and hence he sends forth his warning voice, as you would send forth yours if you saw a man in the very act of changing the signals of safety for those of destruction and of death.

"In conclusion, brethren, ever remember that preaching is only the proclamation of mercy and of grace. It is an instrument of power; but it is nothing more. To you the word of salvation is now brought, and to you it has been delivered this night; will you receive it, or will you reject it? If you receive it in faith and in love, it will prove a savour of life unto life; but if you reject or neglect it, it will prove a savour of death unto death. On its reception or rejection your eternal destiny is dependent, and shall that destiny be endless happiness or endless woe? Decide; now is the accepted time."

The congregation listened with close attention, and appeared powerfully excited; a deep solemnity was the predominant expression of almost every countenance, quite unlike the apathetic indifference of former times. On passing away from the church, with Mrs. Roscoe and his niece, who were in an ecstasy of delight, one of Mr. Roscoe's most intelligent hearers said to him, "You have now, Sir, a curate who is an honour to your pulpit; he knows his work, and has given us a proof that he knows how to do it; he will very soon fill the church, for we need, and have long felt the want of a pure evangelical gospel. Under such a ministry we shall soon see some signs of spiritual life amongst us."

THE POPULAR DELUSION.

Rev. Mr. Ingleby.—"I was much pleased with our bishop; he is a commanding figure in the pulpit, with a clear sonorous voice, and very graceful action. I never heard a more natural speaker. But he has other, and still greater excellencies; he is a truly godly man—a spiritually-minded man; and he equals, if he does not surpass, both in purity of doctrine and impressiveness of manner, the most distinguished of our prelates."

Mr. Roscoe.—"It is to be regretted that our bishops don't preach as Paul and the other apostles preached—in season and out of season—anywhere and at any time; proving, by the multiplicity of their labours, that they are in earnest in their efforts to save souls from perishing."

Mr. Lewellin.—"There is some difference between our modern Episcopal bishops and the bishops of the New Testament, though they profess to be their lineal descendants."

Mr. Roscoe.—"Yes, the bishops of the New Testament were fishermen or tent-makers; men of a meek and lowly spirit, who coveted no man's gold or silver; they thirsted for no secular honour; in their own estimation they were less than the least of all saints; and the highest point of their ambition was to preach amongst Jews and Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ, regardless of the privations and sufferings to which this exposed them. But a mitre now adorns the brow of our Episcopal bishops; there is a graceful magnificence in their appearance, and they are in general men of a lofty bearing; their superb palaces are decorated with the skilful devices of sculptors and painters; they roll in carriages, and fare sumptuously every day; they may be seen occupying their seats in the legislative council of the nation, and on days of public audience Cæsar admits them into his august presence, and his princes and nobles do not hesitate to bow down and do them homage. What a striking contrast between the primitive and our modern bishops!"

Mr. Stevens.—"And you may add, Sir, between the primitive church of the apostles, and our modern Episcopal Church. The latter is distinguished by its wealth and splendour, the former by its extreme simplicity and purity. The Apostolic Church was founded for the edification and safety of its members, who were an incorporation of independent freemen, to whom the right of private judgment was conceded; the Episcopal Church is an ecclesiastical institution, established for the support of an hierarchical priesthood, who, like despots, admit of no interference from the people over whom their jurisdiction extends."

Rev. Mr. Ingleby.—"I must confess that I should like to see our church brought into a nearer resemblance to the Apostolic Church of the New Testament; but still I think we may look upon it, with all its faults, as a national blessing; and if we could get the Tractarians expelled, it would stand as a mighty breakwater against the drifting currents of Popery and infidelity."

Mr. Roscoe.—"But most of our bishops have a strong bias towards Tractarianism, because it is so favourable to their spiritual despotism; it increases and consolidates their power, and under its sway the lay members of the church are reduced to a state of abject submissiveness to the priesthood, similar to the condition of the members of the Church of Rome. The inferior order of priests rule the people, and the bishops govern the priests; the laity have no voice in the appointment of any of them; and if, as is sometimes the case, they object to their teachings as having a tendency to establish Roman Catholicism on the ruins of the Protestant faith, they can obtain no redress against such a fatal result."

Rev. Mr. Ingleby.—"But, happily, there are exceptions to this general rule, and our bishop is a very decided one. He is a good and faithful minister of Jesus Christ, imbued with a Pauline spirit; and the sermon which he delivered to his clergy was both appropriate and impressive. I was quite delighted with it, and so were some of my brethren, especially our pious and intelligent lay brethren. The text was taken from Rom. xiv. 17: 'For the kingdom of God is not meat and drink; but righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost.' The bearing of the discourse was to prove that the essence of religion consists in supreme love to God our Saviour, and uniform and cheerful obedience to his revealed will; and not in a mere conformity to ecclesiastical regulations, and the observance of ceremonial rites. And when addressing the clergy at the conclusion, he said, 'My beloved brethren, to whom is intrusted the ministry of reconciliation, you will not neglect to observe the rules which the church has laid down for the government of her clergy, nor omit to administer the sacraments of baptism and the Lord's supper, but ever keep in mind the sacred and imperative command of your Divine Lord and Master—"GO AND PREACH THE GOSPEL"—for it is the gospel which is the power of God to the salvation of the people. Preach it fully, clearly, and faithfully—in season and out of season—and with all the energy of your soul. Before you enter your pulpits to preach, retire to your closets to get your heart imbued with the unction of the Spirit; and when you return from your labours, withdraw to your closets to invoke the Divine Spirit to impress your message of grace and mercy on the hearts of the people. Ever remember you are in some degree responsible for their salvation.'"

Mr. Roscoe.—"Why, Sir, this was like an apostolic sermon. Did the clergy listen to it; and did they appear to like it?"

Rev. Mr. Ingleby.—"Yes, Sir, they listened, and some of them were delighted with it; but I fear the majority thought it savoured too strongly of the spirit of the evangelical school; they appeared rather restless."

Mr. Roscoe.—"I recently spent a few days with an old friend, when I was introduced to several Puseyite clergymen, with whom he keeps up a close intimacy. They are, in general, accomplished and intelligent, but bitter in spirit against Dissenters, and, if possible, I think more bitter against their evangelical brethren. They say the Dissenters are honest foes to the church, because they avow their hostility; but the evangelical clergy, they say, are sly, artful, and dishonest, who conform to betray—take the loaves and the fishes of the church, while they are labouring to destroy it."

Mr. Lewellin.—"Of what practical use, Sir, is your act of uniformity? The Dissenters have no such an act in their ecclesiastical statute-book, and yet, with the exception of a few Socinians, we agree on all the essential truths of the Christian faith, and our ministers preach in each other's pulpits without making any compromise, or giving any offence; but it is not so amongst the clergy of your church, even though they are under a legal obligation to believe alike. Why, Sir, it is Jew and Samaritan dwelling together in the land of promise, still refusing to have any dealings with each other, though they avow allegiance to the same prince."

Mr. Roscoe.—"Yes, Sir, our clergy are two distinct orders of men, subscribing to the same creed; yet the faith for which some contend, as the original faith once delivered to the saints, is disdainfully rejected by others as false doctrine."

Mr. Lewellin.—"The evil which you, Sir, and other stanch Churchmen see and deplore, without being able to correct it, takes its rise in this plain palpable fact—the reformation from Popery in England was not a thorough reformation; it was no plucking up by the root, as in Scotland; it was mere topping and lopping work. It was more like a transfer of the Papacy, a little changed and a little modified, from the Pope to the English monarch, to answer his ambitious purpose, than a transformation of the Papal superstition into the Protestant faith of the New Testament. Why, Sir, there is very little difference between a Tractarian clergyman and a Roman Catholic priest; they both claim the same high prerogatives, and arrogate to themselves the same submissiveness on the part of the people, restrict salvation within the pale of their own church, and assume a delegated power to discharge all the functions of their office, without any acknowledgment of their dependence on a supernatural agency. They are dogmatic, imperious, and intolerant—spiritual Ishmaelites, whose hands are against every man belonging to another order; they are, in temper and in spirit, a perfect contrast to the apostles of the New Testament, from whom they profess to derive their descent."

Mr. Roscoe.—"Your description is strong, but, alas! it is too true. I recollect one day, when there was a large number of Tractarian clergy at my friend's, being rather provoked by the Papal-like style of speech which prevailed amongst them, and availing myself of a favourable opportunity, I said, 'Gentlemen, I can hardly bring my mind to believe that you are the genuine successors of the apostles, as you assume to yourselves a self-sufficient power for the performance of your duties. The apostles spoke as men who were appointed to act ministerially, always acknowledging that their success depended on the concurrence of a Divine power; and when they were successful in their great work, they offered up their thanksgiving to God, to whom they ascribed the honour of their success, viewing themselves as mere inefficient instruments.'"

Rev. Mr. Ingleby.—"Did your remarks, Sir, elicit any reply?"

Mr. Roscoe.—"O no, Sir; I saw by their looks and their significant movements that they regarded them as beneath their notice, because they were the remarks of a layman. Infallibles will not stoop to discussion; they merely dictate like an oracle, or command like a despot."

Rev. Mr. Ingleby.—"Yes, Sir; our clergy who advocate high church principles talk like Papal priests, and breathe the same spirit; and, unless they can be checked, they will assimilate the Church of England to the Church of Rome. Regeneration and absolution, which the sacred writers ascribe to the grace of God, they pretend to effect by their own delegated authority and power; and, as a necessary consequence, they require the people to look to them as holding the keys of the kingdom of heaven. And some few of the order are gone so far on their way to Rome, that they require their penitents to enter the confessional and make a full confession of all their sins, before they perform the delusive act of absolution."

Mr. Stevens.—"One should suppose that the Papal-like extravagance of the Tractarian clergy would be so repugnant to the evangelical clergy as to keep them at an infinite distance from all adhesion to high church principles, and yet it has not this effect. They seem, with rare exceptions, as much attached to these principles as the priests are, whom they denounce as Papists in disguise. Hence they will allow no church to be a true church of Christ but the Episcopal Church of England, and no minister to be a true minister of Christ unless he has been episcopally ordained."

Rev. Mr. Ingleby.—"Yes, I regret to say these opinions are becoming very popular, and the clergy of both orders are endeavouring to impress them on the laity, and, I fear, with some degree of success. Indeed, high church principles, which used to be confined to the studies of the clergy, or merely lurked about amongst a few grave thinkers of the monkish order, are now becoming popular; they are finding their way into the light reading of the day, in hymns, in tales, and in memoirs; the female sex is captivated by them, and they are employing their powerful influence in propagating them amongst the poor, in Sabbath-schools, in workhouses, and wherever they can track the foot-treads of a human being. The advocates of these principles are displaying an ardent and an untiring zeal, a zeal worthy of a better cause. They employ the same argument amongst all classes, and with an equal amount of success; the intelligent and the sentimental, the uneducated and the uncouth, are alike ensnared by it. Ours, they say, is the true church, which Jesus Christ has purchased by his blood; enter and keep in, and you will have nothing to fear at death or the day of judgment."

Mr. Roscoe.—"And this belief is rising in popularity, and is becoming a national delusion. It is an instrument of great power in the hands of our Tractarians, as well as in the hands of the priests of Rome, and it is to the members of both churches a refuge of lies. The infatuated Tractarians reason precisely on the same data as the Papists, and arrive at the same deceptive conclusion—We are members of the true church because we are members of the Church of England, and therefore we are safe—as safe, they think, as the family of Noah in the ark when the door was shut; and no argument, however scriptural or powerful, can shake their confidence in the belief of their safety."

Mr. Stevens.—"Yes; and so inveterate is this belief amongst a vast majority of the members of the Church of England, that they will resent, as a personal insult, any reference to the possibility of their labouring under a delusion. An intimate friend related to me the following anecdote, which is illustrative of the facility of self-deception when under the power of high church principles.—He had been, in the early period of his life, a gay man of fashion, but he was now become a new man in Christ Jesus; and he had been a Churchman, but he was now a Dissenter. An old friend, with whom he had lived on terms of very close intimacy when they were both gay men of the world, came to reside in his neighbourhood, and he went to see him. On his second visit he took an opportunity of referring to the progress they were both making towards old age, and to the importance of being prepared for an entrance into the eternal world. His old friend abruptly terminated the subject of reference, by saying, 'I am not disposed, Sir, to do as you have done—change my religion. I am a member of the Church of England, as my father was before me; and I mean to live and die in her communion. I offer no opinion about what will become of schismatics; but we know that the members of the true church will be saved; and such is the Church of England.' Yet this man very seldom went to church. He was gay in his old age—passionately fond of gay company and high living."

Mr. Lewellin.—"This is the common cant apology which Churchmen offer in defence of their utter neglect of the great salvation. I had formed, some short time ago, a slight commercial intimacy with a gentleman; and on one occasion I ventured to call his attention to the solemn interrogation of Jesus Christ—'For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? Or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?' (Mark viii. 36, 37). He replied, with an off-hand pleasantry, 'I am not disposed, Sir, to change my religion.' He knew I was a Dissenter. 'Why, Sir,' I remarked, 'I did not know that you had any religion to change, for I heard you say, not long since, that you had not been inside a church for several years.' 'True, Sir, but I am a member of the Church of England, as my forefathers were as far back as we can trace; and I shall live and die in her communion. You know, Sir (so the apostle says), our Saviour has purchased the church, and He will not let go any part of it; and therefore I am safe. Our rector, who is a very learned man, preached a sermon on that subject the very last time I heard him; and he satisfied me that I have nothing else to do, to propitiate the Deity, than to keep within the pale of the church.'"

Mr. Stevens.—"Last winter I went to visit a very old woman, whose grandson is my groom; she has attended (so she told me), all her life long, the parish church in which the Rev. Mr. Cole does duty. When I asked her if she thought she was prepared for death, she replied instanter, 'Yes, I be, Sir. I keeps to my church. There I was married, there I was confirmed, there I was christened, and there I had the holy sacrament many times. There my husband is buried, and my father and mother, and all the rest of them that lived before them; and there I shall be buried when I dies. I ant changed my religion, Sir. It has been in our family for upwards of a hundred years. We have all kept to our church. The Lord rest our souls.'"

Mr. Lewellin.—"I suppose, Sir, you could not lead her into another way of thinking?"

Mr. Stevens.—"O no. Her unvarying note was, 'I keeps to my church—my blessed church.' I offered to read a chapter of the Bible, and pray with her; but she said she had taken the sacrament and made her peace with God, and did not want to be troubled with any fresh thing."

Miss Roscoe.—"These are most melancholy tales. Why, it appears that one great comprehensive scheme of delusion is extending its fatal influence both over the clergy and the laity of our church. One should suppose they look upon it as the very ark of God, transferred from the Levitical to the Christian dispensation. They make the church their saviour. I have recently had a most painful confirmation of this. I opened an epistolary correspondence, a few months since, with a young lady[23] with whom I formed an intimacy when I was moving amidst the gay scenes of fashionable life. She is both intelligent and accomplished, and of a most amiable disposition. Having adverted to the attention I was giving to the paramount claims of religion, I very delicately urged her to consider them, as life is so uncertain; alluding, at the same time, to give force to my remarks, to the death of Miss Denham, with whom I knew she sometimes exchanged letters. The following is her reply:—'I am delighted to hear that you are becoming religious. Our Maker has enjoined it upon us. I resolved, when I had finished my education, and before I made my debut in fashionable life, to become decided, and settle everything connected with religion, as I knew that when I had done so I should be more at liberty to give attention to other claims, and to derive gratification from other pursuits. Indeed, I may say I acted on the old maxim, "Finish one thing before you commence another." Therefore, having perfected myself in the Creed, the Lord's Prayer, the Commandments, and the Catechism, I passed through our curate's examination without any difficulty; and, in the following week, I was confirmed by the Bishop of London, along with several of my school-fellows. The next Sunday I took the sacrament; and I have taken it three times since. So you see, my dear friend, I am now a member of our pure apostolic church; and I am resolved to live and die in her communion. I do not think the Almighty can require anything more than this; and I think, if we keep steady and faithful to our church, we are sure to go to heaven when we die. I advise all my young friends to follow my example; but, I am sorry to say, some are too frivolous and gay to do so. It is too grave a subject for them.'"

Mr. Lewellin.—"It is appalling to listen to such tales as these; and yet we are all familiar with them. What myriads of Churchmen live, and die, and perish under this fatal delusion! What agony of surprise, what intense anguish of soul, must they feel on entering the world of spirits—on discovering the deception which has been practised on them, and which they so fondly cherished. The Papal and the Tractarian priests are the most successful agents which the devil employs to ruin souls. What terrible mental encounters will take place between them and their deluded victims when they meet each other in hell—and meet they will!"

Miss Roscoe.—"And how much is it to be deplored that the living victims of this popular delusion are so deeply intrenched in their superstitious belief, that the ordinary methods of conviction and recovery cannot get at them? O these priests, who are preparing their devotees for destruction! Pray, Sir," turning to the Rev. Mr. Ingleby, "what judgment do these Tractarians entertain of the Church of Scotland, which made such a noble stand for the faith against the encroachments of the Papal power?"

Rev. Mr. Ingleby.—"O, they unchurch it."

Miss Roscoe.—"And, of course, they are as unceremonious in their treatment of the Dissenters?"

Rev. Mr. Ingleby.—"Yes, they treat all alike, except the Papal Church, and that they admit to be a true church of Jesus Christ."

Miss Roscoe.—"This does not surprise me. They revere and love their parentage; this is a filial virtue. For this they are to be commended. But do they consign all to a state of future misery who do not belong to the Episcopal Church?"

Rev. Mr. Ingleby.—"Why, my dear, there is a diversity of opinion amongst them on this question. Some will take their belief to the full stretch of the tether of consistency, and, without hesitation, doom all to destruction who are not within the pale of their communion. Others are a little more charitable; they admit the bare possibility of their salvation, by assigning them over to the uncovenanted mercies of God."

Miss Roscoe.—"And pray, Sir, what do they mean by the uncovenanted mercies of God?"

Rev. Mr. Ingleby.—"They mean that God can save them, as he can save an infernal spirit; but he gives them no promise of mercy on which they can place any hope of salvation."

Miss Roscoe.—"What opinion, Sir, do the evangelical clergy who hold high church principles entertain on this question?"

Rev. Mr. Ingleby.—"Why, all of them would rather see the people within the pale of the church than on the outside, deeming it of the two, the safest spiritual locality; yet I never knew an evangelical clergyman express a doubt about the salvation of any one who believes and trusts in Jesus Christ."

Mr. Roscoe.—"Are high church principles held by any very considerable number of the evangelical clergy?"

Rev. Mr. Ingleby.—"I regret to say that, in the best and the most liberal, there is a strong leaning towards them; but the majority, I believe, are not only their decided but their zealous advocates. They know that the gospel they preach is preached with equal purity, and sometimes with greater power, in the pulpits of Dissenting churches and chapels; and hence, from motives of policy, I apprehend, they endeavour to enlist the sympathies of the lay members of the Establishment in favour of these principles, to prevent the possibility of their withdrawing from it. To what extent they succeed in imparting their spirit of exclusiveness and bigoted attachment to Episcopacy, amongst the enlightened and the pious laity, I have no means of judging; but I believe, from some few indications I have seen, that in liberality of opinion, and generous expressions of Christian feeling, these lay members of the Establishment are at least half a century in advance of their clergy. They were, a few years since, equally exclusive and bigoted, but, from the concurrence of various causes, they have improved most rapidly in the cultivation of charity and brotherly kindness—the prominent graces of the Christian faith. They are acting now as pioneers in the work of church reform, though that, I fear, is a forlorn hope."

Mr. Stevens.—"Then, Sir, we cannot calculate on any great accessions from the clergy of the Church of England to the cause of Christian union and fraternal fellowship, during the prevalence of these high church principles."

Rev. Mr. Ingleby.—"A few, who are ripening more rapidly than the average of their brethren for a removal to a purer world, gladly hail and accelerate the progress and the triumph of fraternal union of all denominations amongst the people of God; but they subject themselves to much obloquy and reproach, by overstepping the broad line of ecclesiastical demarcation which is drawn by these high church principles, to prevent any intermixing of the different denominations, even in ordinary social intimacy. They are marked men; deemed by their brethren ecclesiastical renegades, who sacrifice clerical consistency to gratify their vanity."

Mr. Roscoe.—"These high church principles, in their development and practical working, militate very strongly against the Church of England, and do more than any other cause to shake the confidence of the laity in her Divine origin; they make her more like the gaudy, intolerant, and exclusive Church of Rome, than the simple, meek, and loving church of the New Testament. She has now officiating at her altars a numerous tribe of Tractarian priests, who are subdivided into two orders—one prepared to fraternize with Papal priests, the other directly opposed to them—but both orders unite in denouncing their evangelical brethren, and with as much severity as they denounce Dissenters. The various tribes of infidelity watch the virulence and the progress of this internal contest with intense gratification, and its tendency is to increase their contempt for the Bible and Christianity. We know that the church has in her service a comparatively small number of clergymen who preach the pure gospel of Jesus Christ; but, unhappily, with few exceptions, even these are as much opposed to Dissenters as the Tractarian clergy, and consequently it would be utopian to expect any rapid progress in the cause of Christian unity and fraternal fellowship while these high church principles continue in the ascendant. What reaction may take place on the evangelical party from the tremendous efforts of the Tractarians to assimilate the Church of England to the Church of Rome, must be left to pure conjecture, but we may hope that, in process of time, they will be brought to see and to feel that the more nearly they are conformed in spirit, in temper, and in disposition to the Lord of all, the more brilliant will be their moral lustre, and the more powerful their ministry."

Rev. Mr. Ingleby.—"I should like to see the dove with the olive branch make its appearance, betokening the abatement of the elements of strife and contention; but I fear the day of its alighting on our altars is far distant. However, let it be our aim and our daily prayer to aid the progress of Christian union and fraternal fellowship, and then we shall have this testimony, that we please God our Saviour, and serve our generation according to his revealed will."

THE CHURCHMAN'S LAMENT.