A PERSUASIVE TO THE DUTY OF SAYING 66 No. I. BY THE REV. HENRY ARTHUR HERBERT, Curate of Eldersfield, Worcestershire. THE union of the two natures, divine and human, in the person of Jesus Christ, is not a more essential subject of our belief in order to satisfy us of the efficacy of his atonement, than to perfect us in all holy living. If on the one hand the shedding of no one's blood could have reconciled fallen creatures to the Almighty, save that of God "manifest in the flesh;" so on the other no one's example could have been so effectually proposed as his, who, though "in the form of God," was made in the likeness of men," and became subject to all their infirmities, sin only excepted. It was the observation of a celebrated heathen philosopher, that were virtue to appear on earth, she would excite in the minds of its inhabitants a marvellous affection towards her. Behold the very circumstance, that in his judgment should produce this desirable consummation, realized in the coming of the Son of God amongst us! In him, and in him exclusively, perfect, unalloyed virtue recommends itself to the admiration and imitation of the sons of men! What patterns of excellence ought we "in these last days" to be in consequence of being thus highly favoured! Unlike the unenlightened generation in which this heathen lived, who were carried to and fro in their belief and practice by the contradictory dogmas of self-willed teachers, we have only to cast our eyes upon the gospel, and there we find that we are commanded to perform nothing, but what a partaker of flesh and blood has performed already, "leaving us an example that we "should follow his steps." NO. CCXX. PRICE 1d. In illustration of this remark, I would direct the attention of my readers to the miracle of the four thousand and upwards, fed with 66 seven loaves and a few little fishes," recorded in the fifteenth chapter of St. Matthew. Doubtless on reading it yourselves, or on hearing it read by others, admiration and love have jointly possessed your hearts: admiration at one so powerful as to be able to more than satisfy the wants of so vast a multitude with such an adequate supply; love towards one so gracious as to perform all this of his own free will, no request being made, no hint thrown out to him to relieve their hunger; and in suffering your hearts to be thus doubly influenced you acted wisely; for what more likely method can we pursue in order to impress our minds with a full conviction of his ability and willingness to succour us in every time of need, than by meditating upon the marvellous works which he performed for the afflicted and distressed during his sojourn upon earth? But, I beseech you, stop not here: search into this narrative a little more closely, and you will rise from the investigation no less satisfied that Jesus Christ is well worthy your imitation as man, than you previously were that he deserved all adoration and praise as God. "And he took the seven loaves and the fishes and gave thanks." The circumstance of giving thanks is also mentioned by two out of the other three evangelists, who relate this and the corresponding miracle of the five thousand fed with five loaves and two fishes." In St. Mark we read, "He took the seven loaves and gave thanks." St. John speaks to the same effect: "And Jesus took the loaves, and when he had given thanks he distributed to his disciples." But why should all these three evangelists make a point of (London: Joseph Rogerson, 24 Norfolk-street, Strand.] U inserting this apparently unimportant clause? | With or without it their accounts of the respective miracles would have been equally complete; nay, the thread of their narratives is interrupted by it, and it obviously appears to have been introduced by design, to answer some useful purpose. Yes; they were well aware of the proneness of mankind to enjoy the daily gifts of God without thanking, without thinking of him: they witnessed (save St. Mark, who, however, together with his fellow-evangelist St. Luke, "had perfect understanding of all things from the very first"); they witnessed, I say, their heavenly Master acting very differently, thus at once shaming and instructing their erring brethren. The same portion of the gospel which presents the grandest view of the creating power of the Son of God, is made to exemplify, in the most striking manner, the humility of the Son of man! We observe the Lord omnipotent by whom all things were "created that are in heaven, and that are in earth, visible and invisible, whether they be thrones or dominions, or principalities, or powers," thanking his Father for bare necessaries; we hear him saying in the same breath to the loaves and fishes, "increase and multiply," and to God, "I thank thee in my own name, and in that of all here present, for these thy gifts:" we are involuntarily attracted by his piety in not permitting his followers, though ready to faint with hunger, to taste any food until the blessing of heaven had first been begged upon it. Then I would say "the disciple is not above his master, nor the servant above his lord;" neither is that conduct unbefitting the dependent, helpless sons of Adam, which God's "co-equal and co-eternal" Son thought it by no means beneath his dignity to pursue. If elsewhere the apostle teaches us by precept to give "thanks always unto God," here Christ teaches us by his own example to give thanks unto him, especially at our meals. But notwithstanding that this duty is enforced by so strong a sanction, many families, I fear, "who profess and call themselves Christians," disregard, or only occasionally perform it, and then in a manner so little reverential or so imperfect as greatly to lessen the complacency with which the Almighty would otherwise have viewed their conduct. I may therefore be permitted to bring the subject before the readers of this Magazine, hoping for a blessing on what I shall say. At the outset, then, I may observe that the act of saying grace is composed of two distinct forms of address to God, viz. praying to hir when we sit down to table, and thanking him when we rise up from it. These are thus briefly summed up by St. Paul, and are made by him the conditions on which it is lawful to use every kind of wholesome food without restriction. "For every creature of God is good, and nothing to be refused if it be received with thanksgiving; for it is sanctified by the word of God and by prayer.' The word of God sanctifies or guards from abuse our meals by the various directions it gives concerning them. It enjoins temperance in whatsoever we eat, and sobriety in whatsoever we drink. It asserts that the meanest and scantiest pittance, where piety and charity crown the board, is far more advantageous to man and acceptable to God than the richest and amplest entertainment defiled by irreligion, and embittered by disputes. "Better is little with the fear of the Lord, than great treasure and trouble therewith. Better is a dinner of herbs where love is, than a stalled ox and hatred therewith.” "Better is a dry morsel and quietness therewith, than a house full of sacrifices with strife." It bids us dread an indulgence in the creatures worse than death, by a strong figurative expression: "And put a knife to thy throat if thou be a man given to appetite" or excess. It recommends the rich to reserve out of their abundance somewhat considerable to "the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind," who "cannot recompense" them, rather than from an expectation of being entertained in return. On the other hand it commands the poor if they have but "food and raiment," or clothes to cover and a roof to shelter them, to "be therewith content," not to be craving after dainties, or envious of the enjoyers of them. Yet, alas! how prone is man to neglect or forget these divine injunctions! Few there are to whom, in some way or other, their table proves not a snare and stumbling-block. Scarcely a meal occurs from which we can rise not chargeable with a greater or less degree of discontent, uncharitableness, impropriety, or excess whilst taking it. How, I ask, has it come to pass that we have thus transgressed against the honour of God, the good of our neighbour, and our own comfort and advantage? We have not sincerely lifted up our souls in prayer before sitting down to meat. That our meals, therefore, may be farther sanctified or preserved from abuse throughout, it is absolutely necessary to beg an especial measure of God's grace at this hour when we so urgently require it. But when we "have eaten and are full," much more incumbent on us is it to return thanks unto him who has thus given us our "meat in due season." If the sense of the temptations we incur while satisfying our hunger be not powerful enough to prompt a prayer beforehand, yet surely it is most unnatural, whilst the taste of the good things we cisive testimony of living without God in the world-allege the unavoidable interruption which would hence arise to the effectual discharge of household duties; their domestics being obliged to be going out and coming in at the very times set apart for its performance. This plea, if "weighed in the balances" of an enlightened conscience, will soon be "found wanting," but "is altogether lighter than vanity itself" in reference to the form of prayer and praise which I have made the subject of our present consideration. It is so short, so seasonable, that I defy the lowest worldling to object that it interferes with his daily business; and yet a stranger, witnessing its religious observance, will be inclined charitably to hope that "God, of a truth, dwells here." Sanctified hereby, an ordinary meal becomes a spiritual sacrifice; and whosoever leads the devotions of those around the table is exalted for the time being into the character of priest. Biography. THE LIFE OF SIR NATHANIEL BARNARDISTON. (Concluded from p. 238.) THE least showy of all the performances of a Christian are those which he is called to discharge in the sound with a loud note the praises of any who perform, relative situations of life. The trumpet will never however perfectly, these duties; but they are always have just enjoyed still lingers on our palate, to withhold our gratitude from that hand which gave them-that which might have dispensed to us for differently. What though we may have earned our provisions by our labour, or purchased them by our wealth, yet had God disabled us by pain or sickness, or given our riches "wings to fly away," should we not have been reduced to the same level of destitution with thousands of our fellowcreatures? Are not thanks consequently due to him who maketh us thus to differ, especially as we are utterly undeserving of such distinguished favours? When Barzillai had_provided bread, and other necessaries, for David and his followers, who were "hungry and weary and thirsty in the wilderness," this act of kindness so deeply affected the exiled monarch, that, immediately upon his restoration to the throne, he offered his benefactor all the luxuries of his court for life. "Come thou over with me, and I will feed thee with me in Jerusalem." Now Barzillai had merely performed the bounden duty of every subject, and accordingly was entitled to no remuneration-an admission he himself made, nay advanced, as one reason for declining his Sovereign's offer;-"And why should the king recompense me with such a reward?" More enlarged sentiments actuated David than the Gileadite thought any mortal breast capable of conceiving; excess of gratitude constrained him to propose rewarding_services he had a rightful claim to, and all of us, if similarly circumstanced, would, I hope, copy his example. If then nature bids as a father. His paternal tenderness was shewn in us stretch a point, and make a return for an anxiety that his children might be brought up in what is properly not " of grace, but of debt," the "nurture and admonition of the Lord." His does not religion doubly bind us to present practice was, after giving them spiritual instructions, our humble acknowledgments to the Lord to take them into his closet, and there pray over of heaven and earth for condescending to them and for them. He made it a rule, whenever confer benefits? To his own free mercy it is any of them had displeased him, not to correct them, owing that our food is not withheld from nor so much as even reprove them, in his displeaus, or ourselves snatched away from it, yea, sure; but he would wait until he might be satisfied, in the very moment of enjoyment; and for from the length of time that had elapsed from his such undeserved kindness he merits, at least, first knowledge of the offence, that no anger was a few words of thankfulness and praise. That mingled with his feelings; and then he would not atheists who deny, or the irrational creation allow his displeasure to be discovered but by his which are ignorant of, his existence, should silence. From his great generosity of disposition, never bless the hand which feeds them, might he would always represent any acts of kindness which naturally be expected; but that firm be- he shewed towards them as springing from his wish lievers in this doctrine, yea, in that of his to encourage them, than as the fruits of his bounty; superintending providence, should be thus in-assuring them that "he took infinitely more satissensible, is indeed surprising. In addition to the separate arguments already adduced for praying to God before, and for thanking him after meals, I may mention one which respects both these branches of saying grace, viz. that the use of them serves as an excellent token whereby to distinguish Christian families from profane. Many, in excuse for the neglect of family worship-that other de principle of this gentleman was manifested in all the conscientiously attended to by godly men. The high relations of life which he sustained, and not the least faction in beholding one grain of grace, and evidence of the true renewal of their hearts, than if their posprosperity were to leave them profane, or only civil sessions were multiplied a hundred fold," if such ized persons, without the power of godliness. In his will he left ten pounds to the parochial minister, Mr. Fairclough, desiring him that "whilst he lived he would give good advice and counsel to his children." Alike exemplary was he as a Christian master. As he "walked within his house with a Their master re racter as one "that feared God and worked righteousness," was so much hid as to be only like the beams of the sun striking under a cloud; yet, in his public religious character, his graces seemed to have their "tabernacle in the sun," so that they shone with much lustre. His sanctification of the Sabbath may, first, be mentioned. On this day (though he rose early every day in the week) he roused his children and domestics in such good time, that they might tuary; and as respected his own desire to profit by the word preached, it may be truly said that he was "swift to hear," valuing and constantly attending the public ministration of the word; and, the first thing he did when he was within his own doors after leaving the church was to betake himself, at once, to his closet," to beg a blessed dew from heaven to water the seed sown in his heart that day." He also looked forward with gladness, aud prepared his spirits solemnly for the Lord's supper, reading, praying, and examining his spiritual condition. perfect heart," so he would not allow any "profane | person to stand in his sight," or to wait upon him. His eyes were ever fixed upon those that were faithful in the land, that they might serve him." His family, after a time, became the nursery of excellent servants; and it was said by one who was well acquainted with it, that "at one time he had ten or more servants of eminent piety," and that the house was a spiritual church and temple, in which were daily offered up the spiritual sacrifices of read-attend, without hurry, upon the services of the sancing the word, and prayer; and they had a habit of singing the praises of God after each meal, before any servant rose from the table. quired them to give an account of the sermon they had heard; accordingly, the head-servant used to call the others into the butler's apartment (the place of most disorder in many houses), and hold a rehearsal of the sermon, before they went, each, into their master's presence, to be questioned. And the personal devoutness of Sir Nathaniel was of a marked kind. He would pour out his soul three times, in secret, every day, and oftener, if he had the opportunity, in addition to his family religious service, "This I can and periods of special humiliation. testify," says his pastor, "from my own experience, that for many years together, when I was first acquainted with him, I seldom visited him, or he me, but he requested that we might not part before we prayed together. Nor was he more frequent in secret prayer, than regular in reading the scriptures, beginning and ending that exercise with the uplifting his soul for the blessing of God. When he had fed his mind with the literature of heaven, then, but not before, he would read other authors; which he did freely, having a good collection of books. Not long before his death, he took great delight in reading "Baxter's Saints' Rest," a taste which, after his death, was remarked upon as having been the gift of God, who led him to that book, rather than any other, as a guide to bring him Sir N. B. made a conmore speedily to that rest. science of his intercourse with others, that it might be such as should "adorn the doctrine of God his Saviour," and recommend religion to his associates. So strict was he in this respect, that it merits to be mentioned among the duties he discharged to God. Boasting and passion were put far away from him, and nothing heard but sweetness, and modesty, and "ministered grace love; his communications ever unto the hearers;" they were a pure stream from the purified fountain of his heart; and so far were they from containing aught of lightness or excessive mirth, that in thirty years together none ever heard one syllable from his mouth tending to ribaldry, or which could offend the most chaste mind or ear, but as the poet Milton, "His tongue dropped," &c. He considered all his time, even the most retired moments of it, unspeakably precious; and what an ancient Roman described as a trait of excellence in another, that he "was never less alone than when alone," was truly to be said of him, and in a far higher sense than that contemplated by the author of the sentiment, for God was his most abundant company. In his private duties, his nobility of cha But he deserves to be spoken of, since he shone brightly therein, in his capacity as a member of the church of God. To those pastors who were faithful and godly he manifested a warm and lasting affection. None of his rank was a more hearty friend and well-wisher to those who laboured to win souls; none so earnestly and often prayed for them; none prized their calling and labours as he did. He was fully of the mind of an excellent person who once professed, that "he had rather fall with the ministry of England (the ministers of religion, he meant) than stand in greatest power with their enemies." And when the gloomy anticipations of some persons led them-and not without reason— to talk of bloody times and dark days that were coming on, he would reply, that those would be accounted "black days indeed when the lights of the ministry were extinguished." It was said at his funeral-"Whosoever in the congregation have been losers by his death, we of the ministry have the greatest loss; if the hearers put on black, the preachers have cause to mourn in sackcloth." The anxiety he discovered in his grandfather's time to present to vacant livings men of holiness and ability, was shewn in a far higher degree, when the responsibility devolved upon himself as patron. When any benefice was vacant, he would pass many days in prayer to invite God's direction, and he used to say, that "his spirit trembled more to set his hand and seal to a presentation than to any other writing or deed whatsoever, lest," said he "I should thereby bring the loss of the souls of the people to be required of me or my posterity, through my negligence." Happy the parishes that had so conscientious a patron, who gave them fair play for their souls. As the birth of Sir N. B. was honourable, as his life was governed by divine grace, so his death was blessed. He prepared for it when it was at some distance. Several years before it came, but especially the last two years, he was ever thinking of it, with the calmness and serenity that a“ good hope through grace" could alone impart. In his will he discovered the "full assurance of hope." Even as though, like venerable Simeon, he had embraced the Lord Jesus in his arms, and whilst disposing of his property, he contrived to interweave so many heavenly counsels and instructions, relative to the heavenly inheritance of his posterity, that for spirituality it rather resembled our Saviour's testament, conveying the legacies of the covenant of grace, than any secular instrument to dispense only earthly possessions. His will being finished, though he "tarried the Lord's leisure," he was "willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord." Perceiving from certain bodily symptoms that his life would be brought into danger, he sent (from Hackney, where he then was) fifty miles for his minister to converse with him on the immortality of the soul, and the manner of its acting when it was separated from the body; of the joys of the other world, and of the vanity and emptiness of all things in this. He was so deeply affected in his spirit with what passed, that, at parting, he thus expressed himself to his pastor, "Sir, I now much wonder that any man that fully believes these things to be realities, and not mere notions, being in my condition, should be unwilling to die. For my own part, I will not be so flattered with any carnal content as to be desirous to live longer in this world, where there is little hope left that the Lord hath any more work or service for me to do, except it be to suffer for keeping a good conscience, in witnessing against the apostacies and impieties of the times, and now, it is a great favour of God to be sent for speedily." When he was afterwards removed to London, for having the readier attendance of skilful physicians, he avowed to several of his friends and visitors, that he desired "to be dissolved into Christ." One of the greatest trials he experienced was his inability to attend the house of God. Observing one Sunday morning, the people of the family he lodged in, preparing to attend public worship, he poured out his heart in weeping, with David, because, though he had ever in past days "gone with the multitude and led them to the house of God," he was now separated from that which his soul so much thirsted after. The day before his death, he admonished his children whom, like Jacob, he had called about him, to take heed of worldliness and vain glory, pointing out the difference between a godly man, a subject of divine grace, and a proud, earthly-minded man, both in the estimation of God and all good men. He urged them to unity, and besought them to tell each other affectionately of their failings, also to take heed of timorousness and sinking from the truth, by reason of the opposition of the times to the power of inward godliness, showing the danger of complying with men against God; and finally, he commended them to the "word of God's grace," and the word of God's grace unto them. He enjoyed to the last abundant peace. His son observing him grow faint, begged him to be cheerful. "Son," said he, "I thank the Lord I am so cheerful, that I could laugh while my sides ache." His eldest son asking him how he was, he prayed earnestly that the Lord would be pleased to give him a happy deliverance out of this life, and a glorious meeting with his Saviour. He left this world 25th July, 1653, hav'ng THE WESTERN HOME.t "EVERY thing goes wrong," exclaimed Walter Fleming, as he entered at twilight his richly fur nished dining-room. Impatiently laying aside his hat and cloak, he threw himself into a rocking chair and repeated." Every thing goes wrong, wife, every thing-we have been going behind hand for months, and the failure of Smith and Co., of which we have heard to-day, has given the finishing stroke to our embarrassments." "I feared that you were finding trouble in your worldly affairs, as you were not with us at dinner; but we are glad to see you now. Come, draw your chair to the tea-table, and forget for a while your perplexing cares." Forget them, wife! I cannot! Night and day I am distressed and anxious-every thing goes wrong, I say!" "It is only to those who love God,' that the promise is made that all things shall go right, my dearest husband. For such, although the clouds may for a while be dark and the prospect misty, there is always light in the distance." "I can bear implied reproof from you, wife," replied Mr. Fleming, as he affectionately took the hand of the gentle speaker; you are not one of those who say and do not; you are a living, speaking commentary on the religion you profess; I wish there were more like you." Alice Fleming was indeed a pattern of good works, She was one of those excellent beings That seem to dwell Above this earth-so rich a spell Floats round their steps, where'er they move She was heartily devoted to the religion she professed; her faith in Jesus Christ was a living principle, and her life was a mirror of the doctrines of the gospel, reflecting all those virtues and graces that should belong to a woman professing godliness. Her husband was an upright, intelligent, generous man-the best of husbands and the best of fathersready to lavish upon his wife and children all that he could earn by the most diligent application to a lucrative business; he was an excellent citizen and a faithful friend-but here his goodness ended--this world bounded his hopes, and his faith extended not beyond the narrow limits of the grave. It was the daily prayer of his wife that he might be brought into the fold of the Redeemer; in silence and secrecy, she besought the Lord to turn him, and so out of the ark of safety, the only drawback to her should he be turned. The knowledge that he was happiness-to see him in it, was the only thing needful to her earthly peace. She was herself consistent and stedfast in the performance of all her religious duties, but, near as were the spiritual interests of her husband to her heart, she never intruded the subject of religion upon him, or introduced it at unseasonable times. If at any moment she perceived that his feelings were made tender by some afflictive or prosperous occurrence, she endeavoured to speak that word in season' which the wise man has pronounced so good; and hushed evening hour, she would read some cheering sometimes as she sat with her open bible at the "Felix nativitas, felicior vita, felicissima mors." |