der delusive idolatries, passing in successive generations to the eternal world, 'untaught of life to come, unsanctified, unsaved.”” P. 448.

Slowly had Christian truth been making its way eastward, and in the progress of centuries various nations had acted upon various other nations involved in heathen falsehood and folly. But when it would approach to China, how should it make entrance? By fair reason and the simple display of its worth? No; China is wiser, superior to all peoples. By stealth? The Jesuits have tried it; and at last, in 1579, three Italians made entrance. Pricci, the most talented, after a few years' residence in Canton, made his way to Pekin, where, by such address as none but Jesuits cultivate, or care to exercise, he secured the favour and protection of the son of heaven' himself. And here we must stop to say, that the early Jesuits do seem to have been sincere and self-denying men, teaching much precious truth mixed up with their peculiar errors, with force, beauty, and ingenuity, and holding their faith so stedfastly as to suffer persecution, and even martyrdom for its sake. There are Romish communities in most of the provinces, and the government is indulgent towards native converts when they do not suspect the presence of foreigners. But this imperfect light is only as a dim lamp in a sepulchre. And after all the assumption of civilisation by the Chinese, this is the description given by one whose long residence among them, and clear judgment, entitled him to give an opinion.

With all their antiquity, and their literature, and their arts, and refinements, they are still infatuated idolators; they are still given up to what heaven regards as abominable idolatry, and to vile affections, working that which is unseemly. Not liking to retain God in their knowledge, they worship and serve the creature more than the Creator; they are haters of the true God, are filled with all unrighteousness, fornication, and wickedness. With all their civilization, still envy, malice, deceit, and falsehood, to a boundless extent, pride and boasting, a selfish, ungenerous, scarcely honest prudence, and a cold metaphysical inhumanity, are the prevalent characteristics of the people of China. Their well-known backwardness to assist persons in imminent danger of losing their lives by drowning or otherwise; the cruel treatment of domestic slaves and concubines in families; the tortures both of men and women before conviction in public courts; and the murder of female infants, connived at, contrary to law, are the proofs I offer of the latter part of my accusaTheir principles are defective, and hence their vicious practice. The philosophy of their celebrated ancient sage, Confucius, acknowledges no future state of existence; and concerning the duties of man to his Maker, presents a complete blank.'-Dr Morrison's Sermon before the Missionary Society, 1825, pp. 453-4.

tion.

Such was China at the opening of the present century; such had

it been with small variation for three thousand years. How shall a gap be made in its great wall? How shall a breach be made in its ramparts of pride, prejudice, and error? Who will come up to the help of the Lord against the mighty? Shall fleets and armies go forth to subdue, and form a secure seat for bands of the learned and wise, with all the libraries of Europe and Asia at their back? Not so; He who commissioned eleven simple men with his 'Go ye,' eighteen thousand years before, makes no change in his tactics; his instrumentality is still the same. There is a youth on the other side of the globe-simple in birth and education-a native of a little weaving town in Scotland, to whom, in all his early days, the name of China would be strange, and its geographical locality unknown. Well, what of him? Would you send a pilgrim to number the sands of the Arabian desert ? Would you direct a goatherd to dig down his own Alpine fastnesses? What is this youth from Dunfermline? Is he a Luther, to reap alone the harvest of a quarter of the globe? Oh, wonder not; God has kindled a fire in that youth's bosom, which burns and will not let him rest. It is destined to burn till he has accomplished the design for which it was ignited. Toil and danger cannot quench it; solitude leaves its flame still pure; persecution cannot make it waver; laborious nights, days uncounted, unhonoured, and uncheered by friendship, passed in exile among men to whom the secret of its ardour cannot be revealed, have no power against it. It burns on until, like the stone cut out of the mountain without hands, it has, unseen, unheeded, accomplished a great work, destined to break in pieces the brass, clay, silver, and gold of old standing, and erect a kingdom that shall never be destroyed.

Mr Morrison commenced his studies at the Independent College at Hoxton, but was removed to the charge of Dr Bogue at Gosport, with a view of preparation for missionary labour. When the acquisition of the Chinese language became his object, he removed to London. Our readers will enjoy the following anecdote. Joseph Butterworth, Esq., M.P., frequently visited the British Museum, and saw a young man deeply engaged in studying books in a language and character totally unknown to him. His curiosity being excited, he asked the student what the language was which engaged his attention so much. "The Chinese," he replied. "And do you understand the language ?" "I am trying to understand it," was his answer; "but it is attended with singular difficulty." "And what is your object?" continued his friend. "I can scarcely define my motives," he remarked; "all that I know is, that my mind is powerfully wrought upon by some strong and indescribable impulse; and if the language be capable of being surmounted by human zeal and perseverance, I mean to make the experiment; what may be

the final result, time only can develope." Twenty years afterwards, when Dr Morrison presented to the annual meeting of the British and Foreign Bible Society a copy of the Chinese bible, Mr Butterworth was present, and alluded to the subject.' Life of Morrison, vol. ii., p. 270. On the 20th of January 1807, the student left his native shores, the first messenger of mercy from Britain to one-third of mankind. He carried with him the patience that refuses to be conquered, the diligence that never tires, the caution that always trembles, and the studious habit that spontaneously seeks retirement.' P. 464.

His parting prayer, as his native land receded from his view, shows how full his heart was of those affections which in exile are ever in a state of suffering. The patriot Christian, carrying far off among the heathen the lamp which the Holy Spirit had kindled in his dear father land, thus pours out his heart. This is, in all probability, the closing prospect of a land I shall visit no more. O may the blessing of God rest upon it; the land that gave me birth; the land that till this hour has nourished me; the land of my fathers' sepulchres; a land I esteem most precious, for there I trust I was born again, and there the saints in numbers dwell. Happy land, may the light of the Gospel never be removed from thee! The prayers of a departing missionary are ended. Amen and amen!' P. 459.

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In November 1819, he was enabled to inform the directors of the Missionary Society, that, by the mercy of God, an entire version of the books of the Old and New Testaments into the Chinese language was this day brought to a conclusion.' P. 485.

A portion of this arduous undertaking was executed by Mr Milne, who cast his talents and zeal into the work some years later than Dr Morrison. The devotion of purpose necessary for the accomplishment of a great work was never more finely exemplified than in Dr M. His letters contain such remarks as the following:- Pray for my health of body and for my growth in grace. Still continue to cry to the Lord on my behalf. I long to be more engaged in the spiritual part of my work; but I look forward to lasting benefits in the church of Christ, it may be when I am no more on earth. I know that the labours of God's servants in the gloom of a dungeon have illumined succeeding ages; and I am cheered by the hope that my labours in my present confinement will be of some service in the diffusion of Divine truth among the millions of China. In myself I have no hope. I trust that all my expectation is from Jehovah, my God-Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.' P. 275.

Such was the man who exclaimed, I could have died when I had finished the Bible.' We give no list of the numerous other works that he was enabled to write and to translate into that unmanageable

language, as our wish is to incite to the reading of the history, and not to give the cream of it in a review.

Many remarks occur, in the course of reading, on the timid and unchristian policy of certain chartered bodies, who were always beforehand even with the cautious China-men, in suggesting difficulties and casting impediments in the way of Christian missionaries; and we feel but little gratification in the idea that their policy is enlarging under experience, fearing that it is worldly wisdom alone which rules their movements; and that they are more surprised than gladdened by the discovery that the missionary can, for Christ's sake, and for pity of souls, endure hardships, surmount obstacles, and open doors which the lover of gold shrinks back from or sinks under. We cannot but point out, also, what we have often noticed with feelings of deep mortification, that the messengers of peace from Britain have been indebted to the United States of America for the means of entering upon their stations. The eyes of the world are opening on this subject, and the period of monopoly, at least in our own country, is, we trust, approaching its close. We hail the coming day, when a free gospel shall be carried to the ends of the earth, without impediments from bands of chartered merchants, and with the zealous help of men whose business is on the great waters, and on many a far-off shore.

ART. III.-Life in Earnest, Six Lectures on Christian Activity and Labour. By the REV. J. HAMILTON. London: Nisbet. 1845.

Ir is the eternal lifetime that makes the lifetime of earth such a solemn thing. Sever the living here from the living hereafter, and man's longest being on earth is little more in importance than the flutter of a leaf,-his death but the falling of a blossom. But fasten on the infinite and the eternal to our present existence, and every thing in life becomes mighty, momentous, solemn. The pang that shoots through our frame and makes each fibre shiver, is such as even a weak woman might endure, -were it but for a moment,were it to die with us and be buried in the same tomb,-were there no capacity of eternal anguish in our nature, or no eternity in which that capacity might develope itself. The sting of a moment is a trifle, but the eternal stinging of the undying worm is terrific, beyond all utterance. In like manner the thrill of fresh joy which makes the whole man throb with delight, would be scarce worth either the having or the losing, were it only like the lightning, flashing intensely bright, and then quenched for ever. But a nature gifted

with faculties for infinite enjoyment, and with a whole eternity wherein these joyous buds shall expand themselves in undecaying beauty and fragrance, turns our whole life into a deep and awful reality. A flower that folds its leaves, and withers down at sunset, may be carelessly trodden under foot; but a star that shall roll round for ever on its orbit,-either effulgent in its brightness or dark in the gloom of its own chaos, is an object of wonder and awe.

Such is the life of man,-not of one man, or of some men, but of every man. By itself it may seem a plaything; in connection with the everlasting future, it becomes awfully real and solemn in its aspect. We may be poor, unlettered, obscure, hard-toiling men, still our life is an infinite reality,-no mere shadow, or rainbow, or vision, but an inconceivable reality in all its parts great or small.

name.

We must then live in earnest. No other kind of life deserves the Life is not life if it be not in earnest. Anything short of this is gross inconsistency,-an utter mockery of life. In truth, there can be no rational medium between flat infidelity and the most glowing fervour. If there be anything real in life, or anything real in eternity, we must be in earnest. If our souls have any value beyond the trees of the forest, we must be in earnest. If heaven be no fable and hell no dream, we must be in earnest. world as to give his Son for us, we must be in earnest. If Jesus died and rose again, and lives in heaven for us, we must be in ear'Whatsoever our hand findeth to do, let us do it with our

nest.

might.'

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If God so loved the

Gedenke zu leben,—think of living, is one of Goethe's thoughtful aphorisms. And Carlyle's commentary upon it is worthy of himself. Thy life, wert thou the pitifulest of all the sons of earth, is no idle dream, but a solemn reality. It is thy own. It is all thou hast to confront eternity with. Work then, like a star, unhasting yet unresting.'

There are some so-called Christians who never seem to work at all. At least they work none for Christ. They lay claim to the name of Christian as their undoubted birthright, and are blinded enough in their self-complacency as to fancy that they deserve it. But they work none for Christ. They speak none for Christ. They have never even sought to glorify him. His honour, his kingdom, his cause, are things or rather words of no practical meaning to them. As for self-denial or sacrifice for his sake, or in behalf of his people, they never thought of such a thing. And as for seeking to win souls to him, that is altogether out of their range of duty or circle of exertion. These are wells without water, trees whose fruit withereth, twice dead, plucked up by the root. Of a life in earnest they have no conception. Eternity is to their eye nothing but dis

tant vacancy,