: been, or are now making, to reclaim it from its guilt and degradation, is not painfully convinced that the church, as yet, is far from having any adequate views of the extent of her obligations, or possessing in any adequate measure, the spirit of her high vocation. If, with her numbers, her wealth, her political and social influence, and the facilities she now enjoys, for employing the means ordained of God, for the conversion of the world, the church possessed the same spirit of self-sacrificing devotion to the cause of her Redeemer, which distinguished her primitive members, how soon would she realize the brightest visions of prophecy respecting her future glory! Under the influence of this spirit, ambition and pride, and the love of worldly ease and pleasure would disappear. Wealth, now held with a miser's grasp, would be cheerfully consecrated to God. Talent and learning, now devoted to vain speculations in philosophy, and to the bitterness of unhallowed controversy, would be devoted to the affectionate and earnest preaching of the gospel, in the fullness of its blessings. Thousands, and tens of thousands of devoted youth, would come from the soul subduing contemplations of the scenes of Gethsemane, and Calvary, with hearts filled with the love of Christ, ready to part with all for his name's sake; to endure toil, suffering and death itself, if need be, to make known the provisions of eternal love to a perishing world. Then, from united and believing hearts, importunate supplication would continually ascend to the throne of God, for the interposition of his almighty arm, and the communications of his Holy Spirit. That arm would then be made bare for salvation; and that Spirit poured out from on high; and the earth would soon be filled with the knowledge and the glory of the Lord. III. In the third place: another attribute of this affection, which commends it, as peculiarly adapted to the missionary enterprise is, that in its greatest strength, and to whatever sacrifice it prompts, it is a reasonable affection. Though, as has been said, it is only when we feel deeply, that we act with energy; yet, in order to secure the permanency of such action, our feelings must be sustained by a sound judgment, and meet with an approving response from an enlightened conscience. These are their appointed arbiters; and there are seasons, of frequent occurrence, in every man's life, however borne forward by strong emotion, when they will vindicate their high prerogative, and sit in judgment on the character of those affections which excite and control their actions. Unless these affections meet with their decided sanction, there will be misgivings that will cool their fervor, repress their energy, and induce that hesitancy which must ever be fatal to the accomplishment of results embarrassed with difficulties. The Christian, and especially the Christian missionary, can have none of the excitements to effort which the world administers to its votaries. To him it is of the utmost importance, that the motives which induce him to enter upon his self-denying and often perilous career, should be sustained in those seasons of retirement, when thrown back on his own sober reflections, they undergo the scrutiny of a sound judgment, and an enlightened conscience. The love of power, and the prospect of earthly renown, feed the fires of unhallowed ambition, and nerve the soul with energy, in the prosecution of difficult and dangerous enterprises. The field of battle is the field of earthly glory. There, amid the perils of the conflict, are displayed those energies of mind, which, with stern composure, control the fury and direct the storm of war; and the proud and haughty bearing of the victor, shows that he is conscious of the world's admiration, though he has crushed beneath his feet every sentiment of justice, and every feeling of humanity. But the Christian toils in obscurity. He wastes his energies in unremitted efforts to do good, without attracting the notice of the world. He tears himself from home, from kindred, from the sympathies, and the privileges of Christian society; goes to unfriendly climes; seeks an abode among the dark and degraded heathen, and, exposed to the most imminent dangers, he toils, and suffers, and dies, that he may bring to them the knowledge of salvation, and direct them in the way of life. But no trumpet heralds his fame; no garlands are wreathed to deck his brow; no festive board is spread, as the tribute of admiration for his self-denying deeds of beneficence. Reproach, instead of honor; denunciation as a madman or a fool, are the only rewards bestowed . by an ungodly and a misjudging world. Even from the bosom of the church, where he had a right to look for that sympathy, and that encouragement, which are his sweetest earthly solace, he sometimes meets with a repulsive apathy, far worse than direct opposition. Thus is he thrown for support on his own deep and sober conviction of the reasonableness of the motive by which he has been actuated, and his confidence of its approval at the bar of God. This conviction, and this confidence, brethren, will not fail to yield their support if the love of Christ has been the constraining motive. In the hour of its greatest trial, and under the severest scrutiny, it will receive the sanction of reason, and meet with the approving response of conscience. The more calmly the Christian weighs the claims of his Saviour, the deeper will be the conviction of his obligation, and the more reasonable will appear that affection which constrains him to withhold nothing, but cheerfully to consecrate his all to his blessed service. In those seasons of sober reflection, it is not what is given, but what is withheld, that troubles an enlightened conscience. To be entirely relieved from perplexing embarrassments, and fears, and doubts; to enjoy the fullness of that liberty with which Christ blesses his people, the heart must let go its hold on every thing else, and cling to him in the strength of its love. Then, the conflict between the convictions of duty, and the power of selfishness and unbelief, ceases; and there is peace, quietness, and assurance, forever. Never was there a cup of cold water given, from love to him, without its reward; and the greater the sacrifice we make, the more will his consolations abound in the soul. There is no man that has left house, or parent, or brethren, or wife, or children, for the kingdom of God's sake, who shall not receive manifold more in this life, and in the world to come life everlasting. With what striking and beautiful illustrations of this truth are we furnished in the biographies of our missionaries. Sometimes, brethren, when I have thought of them, as far off, surrounded only by the darkness and the degradation of heathenism, suffering every privation, toiling from year to year under every outward discouragement, with no friendly voice to animate them, and no sympathizing bosom on which to repose their aching heads in the hour of despondency and gloom;-when I have thought of the delicate, the refined, the enlightened female missionary, the dew of her youth expended in ceaseless anxieties and unremitted toil-when I have followed her, in my imagination, to some secluded spot to which she is wont to retire, perhaps in the stillness of the evening hour, to think of her home, and to recall the looks, and the affections of those from whom she is separated until they meet beyond the vale of death, where parting is unknown; and when I have there witnessed the deep, convulsive throes of her heart, while the tears chase each other over her pale and care-worn cheeks-I have said, in my haste-It is too much-can, does God require it?-But when I have read of their love for their work, and how their consolations |