eyes that see not, ears that hear not, and a heart that will not understand. But let faith once cast the beam out of his eyelet the day-star from above arise-let him who caused the light to shine out of darkness, shine in his heart, and those truths which fell like blunted arrows from his soul, are now quick, and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword. They are not new truths: but they are seen by him with new eyes. They brighten into new light; and seem, as if by enchantment, transfigured into new existence. He believed before like one asleep, that there is a God. But now that blessed truth bursts like new day upon his soul; and seems to fill all nature round him, and all his soul within him, with an all-sustaining, all-cheering, everpresent God. He believed before, if indeed belief it could be called, in the immortality of his own soul. But he now feels a deathless principle within his breast. He feels congenialized to the eternal world. He feels the quickenings of a spiritual nature, and the throbs of immortality. He is assured that the life he now lives will know no end; that it is the morning of a never-ending day; that it is none other than the gate of heaven. He believed before, but without a heart, that Christ had shed his precious blood for him. But he now can trust him with his whole salvation. His soul magnifies the Lord; and his spirit rejoices in God his Saviour. On that altar where the atonement for his sins was made, he swears uncompromising allegiance, and devoted love. On that cross where his Lord, and Master bled, and died for him, all his earthly affections, and desires are crucified. He parts with, and casts for ever from him, the allurements, the vanities, the interests, and the friendship, of a vain, an unhappy, a perishing, and an ungrateful world.

Of the practical effects of a realizing faith this eleventh chapter to the Hebrews affords abundant instances. It was by the active power of this principle that "Noah, being warned of God of things not seen as yet, moved with fear, prepared an ark, to the saving of his house." Others were warned as well as he. The same deluge, was threatened to all. But in Noah's case alone, the revelation was mixed with faith, in him that heard it. Planting and building, eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, the bustle, the variety, the nearness, and the distinctness of present objects, effaced from that devoted generation all thought, or recollection of the impending ruin. But into Noah's mind the impression entered deeply. The evidence of things not seen as yet, was clear to his soul, as the daylight to his eyes. The horrors of the deluge-the vengeance of the Almightythese were present to his mind in all the terrors of real life, and certainty. He was moved with fear-he was influenced to action -he built his ark-he saved not only his house, but his soul, and became heir of the righteousness which is by faith.

By the same victorious principle, did Abraham leave his country, his kindred, and his father's house-his fondest recollections, the friends of childhood, the haunts of early innocence, and every earthly

tie that bound his heart-he left them all at the call of God, and duty. He went out, not knowing whither he went, that he might sojourn in a foreign land, and wander for the rest of his life, as a stranger upon earth. What, then, was his support? It was not a common, and languid belief, but a peculiar, animated, and divine persuasion, that there is another, and a better world. It was the substance of things hoped for. "He looked," says the Apostle, "for a city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God."

By faith also Moses, when he was come to years, when all that could fire ambition, or make temptation irresistible, glittered round him, refused to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter-to be introduced in that splendid court, as the centre of its interest, fashion, excitement, and attraction; "choosing rather," says St. Paul, "to suffer affliction with the people of God, than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season." And this choice be made, not as a painful sacrifice to duty, but with all the fulness of his heart, "esteeming the reproach of Christ greater riches than all the treasures of Egypt." And why? Because a glorious immortality, and a present God, were opened to his faith. "He had respect unto the recompense of the reward." "He endured as seeing Him who is invisible."

Of faith thus fruitful of all good, it is expressly stated, that without it, "it is impossible to please God." The fall of man has rendered him a stranger to the divine nature. And hence arises superstition in all its forms. Hence it is that God is every day offended, by impure worship, empty ceremonies, by prayers just uttered from the lips, by lifeless services, and dead works as if he needed any thing; as if he were vain, and could be flattered; as if he were a tyrant, and loved to see us cringe like slaves; as if he were some senseless image, well befitting all this stupid mockery. Perseveringly as the world would force, as it were, these services upon God, he everywhere, in Scripture, indignantly disclaims them. "To what purpose is the multitude of your sacrifices unto me, saith the Lord. When ye come to appear before me, who hath required this at your hands, to tread my courts? Bring no more vain oblations; incense is an abomination unto me; the new-moons, and sabbaths, the calling of assemblies, I cannot away with; it is iniquity, even the solemn meeting." Such is is the language uniformly addressed to those who "being ignorant of God's righteousness, and going about to establish their own righteousness, have not submitted themselves unto the righteousness of God." The main point of God's own revelation is that we cannot save ourselves, but that he is both able and willing to save us. The very essence of salvation is holiness and happiness dwelling in the soul. But who can make himself holy or happy? He may long for that blessed frame of mind, and dig for it, as for hid treasure: but what power has man at his control, which can expel the spirit of uncleanness from his soul; or say to the storms, and heavings of a troubled heart, "Peace be still?" No, my brethren, we cannot save our

Salvation

selves, but salvation to the uttermost is freely offered. from the guilt of sin, in the atoning blood of Jesus; and deliverance from the power of sin by the operation of his Holy Spirit. God has no design respecting us, but to make us happy. This was his object in creating us, and it is his object in redeeming us. All that he desires is, that we should accept his mercies without money, and without price; that we should receive the blessing from the Lord, and righteousness from the God of our salvation. And is it any wonder if the man who rejects these gracious offers; who meets with cold suspicion, such unspeakable generosity, and such unbounded goodness, and who transacts with God as if he were "altogether such an one as himself," and were incapable of doing good without some valuable consideration; is it any wonder that such distortion of mind, and heart, cannot be acceptable to the Divine Nature? Is it any wonder that without full and filial confidence we cannot be acceptable to that Being, all whose requisitions are briefly comprehended in this saying, namely, "My son, give me thine heart;" or, in other words, that "without faith it is impossible to please God?" Nay, is it any wonder that the Scriptures should declare, in still sterner accents, that without faith there is no salvation-that "he that believeth not shall be damned;" that "he that believeth not the Son, shall not see life; but the wrath of God abideth on him?"

And now, my brethren, these would be hard sayings, if faith were a gift partially bestowed, or capriciously denied. But it is not so: all shall have it, that will. The means are simple, and easy to be understood. Of these means, I shall briefly mention two, and then conclude. The first of these is, living up to the light we have; that is, conscientiously practising to the best of our power, what our hearts tell us, is our bounden duty. All is indeed, of divine grace. We can, in reality, do nothing of ourselves, but sin. Every good thought, and word, and work, descends from the Father of lights. But still, it is evident from experience, that God does, to all practical intents, and purposes, put much in our own power even before we fully feel the more immediate operations of his Holy Spirit. Thus, for instance, we may not be able to cast out the spirit of envy, or of unlawful desire from our souls: but we are able to control the outward actings of sin. We may not be able to love our enemies, after the similitude of the divine forgiveness but we can bless those that curse us, do good to them that hate us, and pray for them that despitefully use us, and persecute us. We may not from experience know all the pleasures of a Christian Sabbath and call it a delight: but we can remember the Sabbath-day, to keep it holy; we can abstain scrupulously from doing, or even talking of ordinary business; we can be punctual in public, and private duties; our whole deportment may show that we honor, and reverence the Lord's Day. Such are a few of those numberless instances in which every conscientious man can act, though he may not have his feelings at command. Let him thus patiently continue in well

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doing; and his labour will not be in vain. Let him be assured that God indulgently beholds the feeblest efforts, if they be sincere--that a cup of cold water given for his sake, will not lose its reward-that this obedience will brighten into a happy intercourse with God-that from being servants, we shall receive the adoption of sons, and become the children of God, by faith in Christ Jesus.

But the great means for the attaining that faith, which works by love, and bears every blessed fruit, is prayer. You perceive that I cannot mean by this, the going over some barren form of words, as the daily morning and evening task. But I mean the language of the heart: that importunity which men well know how to use when driven by distress to supplicate a fellow-creature; but which always finds in God, a mind and nature, prone to mercy, gentle and easy to be entreated; and whose delight it is to pity, to relieve, to give more than we can either ask or think. Enter, then, into your closet, and when, withdrawn from every other eye, you find yourself alone with God, pour out your heart before Him. These prayers may appear, for a time, unfruitful. But be patient, be fervent, be persevering, and the heavens will soften the clouds will pour down their genial showers-Christ will manifest himself to your soul-and faith, "the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen," will open all its treasures. Have you ever seen one of the captive fowls of the air, immured, and pining in imprisonment, when some door of escape is opened, dart like an arrow from its cage, that it may again sing among the branches, and drink in the breath of the pure heavens? So will you find that faith can emancipate the soul -call it forth from the bondage of flesh, and sin, into its connatural element, and native air-there to walk at liberty, and exult in the open day-light of eternity.

H. W.

THOUGHTS ON MEMORY AND HOPE.

TO THE EDITOR OF THE CHRISTIAN EXAMINER.

SIR-The following observations, written to employ an hour of leisure, were judged by a friend to be deserving of a place in the CHRISTIAN EXAMINER. Although this opinion was probably less that of the critic than the friend, I offer them for your consideration, in compliance with his wish: observing only that, had they been intended for your periodical, they should have appeared in a fuller and more expanded form.

G. H. W.

To one who considers how entirely our rational and moral existence is made up of recollections of the past and anticipations of the future, how completely we are creatures of memory and hope, and how much the dignity of our nature consists in our being so; speculations concerning the nature of these qualities cannot be otherwise than interesting. One of the most remarkable properties belonging to these faculties is the power which they alike possess of gilding with delusive splendour, and investing with a halo of their own creation the objects which they suggest to the mind. Why our retrospective and prospective powers should have been so constituted by the beneficent Author of our being, will appear evident to one who considers how necessary such an arrangement is to our welfare, and even existence, here below. Did hope cease to smile, and to beguile with faithless promises, exertion, energy, and interest in life would vanish: and he knows little of human nature who will not readily admit, that the only adequate incentive to toil and labour consists in expectations never to be realized.

But if illusions as to the future are thus necessary, not less so are those which relate to the past. If memory were deprived of her pleasingly deceptive powers, those of hope would vanish also. Our anticipations must ever be dependent upon our experience. Hope may erect aërial castles, and draw highly finished pictures. But the materials and the colours must be supplied by memory. And were the former less costly, and the latter less brilliant than they are, the combinations of hope would cease to allure.

And here let us pause to consider this admirable contrivance of our all-wise and all-merciful God. There is little apparent connexion between the imaginary colours with which memory delights to adorn past scenes and events, and the vigour and enterprise of active life. And yet the one is necessary to the other. In such moral adaptations as this, do we not trace the hand of an Almighty contriver as clearly as in the physical ones pointed out by natural philosophers?