such conduct, think of the omniscience and omnipresence of that Being whose eyes search, and whose eyelids try the children of men. Ask, am I in the presence of my Judge? Am I obeying his command, "Redeem the time?" Am I here laying up treasure in heaven, that I may have something to stay me upon when passing the Jordan of death, and to stand by me when ushered into the eternal world? or cellecting fruit to vex and annoy me in life, to enhance me in death, and to prove a gnawing worm beyond the grave? Do I appear amidst this gayety, mirth, and hilarity, like a rational creature tending towards eternity, and but an inch of time to prepare for the same? How is it? Am I here trifling with God, with my own soul, and with the souls of others, and sporting with eternal things, and that too in the view of heaven, angels, and men? Be astonished, O heavens and blush O earth! at such folly,-that one of thy offspring should hazard its all that is good or great, for the sinful gratification of a momentary pleasure! At the sound of the viol you will move. Then revolve in your mind that new song, sang by the forty and four thousand, and that which will be sung by all the redeemed, to Him who sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb for ever and ever. At the same time ask, shall I tune my song to harps of gold ?-On the contrary, have I not great reason to fear that songs of lamentation will be my portion, where there is weeping, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth, among devils and damned spirits; while the happy few, who have kept their garments unspotted from the world, will, with crowns of joy on their heads, and with palms of victory in their hands, celebrate the praises of redeeming love and saving grace, on the banks of deliverance, the blessed shores of the heavenly Canaan? How cheering the prospect of those who are washed, justified, and sanctified! O how happy are they who their Saviour obey! Behold the blessed of the Lord move upwards to possess the kingdom of God's dear Son! Behold, also, the wicked, driven away in their wickedness!! In what broad phalanx the latter precipitate themselves! headlong they go to reap the fruit of their doings. Alas! alas! their situation!--irretrievable, eternal death awaits them. When the refreshments of the evening shall be handed, ask, am I looking forward, anxiously and joyfully anticipating the time when I shall eat bread and drink new wine in the upper kingdom? If not, why am I here, amidst the worldly, fashionable, and gay? Why not sequestered? Why not upon my knees before God, supplicating for mercy to pardon, and for grace to help me in time of need? Why am I not, instead of following a phantom, a visionary object, seeking the one thing needful, the chief good? As you shall separate from your companions, reflect upon that time when Christ shall divide the nations of the earth, as a shepherd divideth the sheep from the goats. Think of the vast multitude who, owning their sentence just, will be constrained to call, but call in vain, upon the rocks and hills to fall upon and hide them from the wrath of the Lamb. Think too upon the lot of those, who, being found clothed in the righteousness of Christ, find not only a happy, but an honourable acquittal. Moreover, ask, how shall I abide the day of his coming? Should the Son of man summon me away, and say, "This night thy soul shall be required of thee," could I give in my account with joy, and not with grief? on the contrary, would it not be with fearfulness and trembling? How would the past of your life appear? How would you now find yourself upon close examination? Would you not be constrained to cry out from the bitterness of your soul, alas! too late! too late! I have sinned away my day of grace! I have trifled with precious time! I have grieved away the influences of the Spirit of God! and now, awful! heart rending thought! I have no reconciled God and Father in heaven to go to? no Saviour whose merits I can plead, for I have slighted him, and his offers! no Comforter in this disconsolate hour whom I can call my own! Where, where, O where shall I flee? heaven to me is brass, and the earth iron. All, all around is dismal! darkness sits brooding over my soul, and fiends are now ready to drag me-where ?-0! where ?-not to heaven--alas! no: but to hell-to hell for ever!Now, Have you made a pause at each sentence? What were your conclusions? Not to me, but to God and to your own conscience, reply. If you have resolved to go, and still persist in your resolution, shall I say, go? I dare not; for I see danger, yea poison lurks within the cup you are about to drink. But before you shall have tasted of it, you may be drinking one far, FAR more bitter. Shall I tell you, that the case of one was related to me, who, while in the act of preparing for a ball, was suddenly brought down and soon expired? It is true. And it was a female. Your best interests call upon you to desist. All heaven cries out stay! stay!! And the voice of your friend is, turn ye, turn ye, for why will you die? May you be saved, -may you be saved.-But, if not-if not, let me appeal to your heart and conscience, as in the presence of the great I AM, and ask, is not your blood far from the skirts of my garments, and will it not be required at your own hands? . . . Adieu. "YOUR WELLWISHER." N. B. It occurs to me that you may be influenced by your associates, and should you not comply with their requests you may think it would not meet their approbation. If it is thus, let me ask you, and ask you in reference to that time when the secrets of your heart will be laid open and made manifest, together with the actions of your life,--let me ask which you will secure, the favour of man, or the favour of God. Be assured that you cannot take along with you God and mammon together; No. And he that loveth the world the love of the Father is not in him." Then, as you value your precious immortal soul-as you ever hope to die in peace, and meet God in heaven, I say, beware! O! beware how you dance on the brink of hell! Again, adieu! Yours, &c. From the London Christian Guardian. ORIGINAL LETTER OF THE REV. RICHARD BAXTER. SIR,-It hath pleased the Lord, whose I am, to give me a sharp and plain summons to come forth of his vineyard, and leave his work. I confess I understood not that voice of the rod awhile: but it hath now spoke louder. Little cause have I to murmur as most men breathing, so long and frequent have his warnings for preparation been; so long and frequent mine opportunities of doing and receiving good, and all this ten years ago so unexpected, that I may conclude I have had a competent share. And, indeed, though unwillingness to die have all this while been my sin, my great sin, yet God hath made me somewhat more willing, though, alas! but somewhat. I confess, when I think upon poor Kidderminster, my heart bleeds, and I could gladly yet live. But the Lord must dispose. It hath been long my observation, when men, after trouble and unfittedness, begin to think of quiet and rest, they are near death; yet did not I promise my soul much ease in settling. O that you could help to quiet and comfort my dear friends of Kidderminster! I pray you, Sir, write one word to that purpose to my father, who, I fear, will bear with too little patience. O Sir! if you would die comfortably, be much with God; suffer not estranging easily; have promises at hand; be daily in heaven; bring faith, by daily exercise, to try all affecting apprehensions; be industrious, privately as well as publicly, for the recovery of souls; let slip no opportunity; let nothing silence you, but let Christ when he comes find you so doing. Be tender of the godly that differ in questionable things, without favouring their sin, or countenancing a toleration of open evil. In all these, I have too much failed. All my friends have left me, and here I am worse than alone, but that God is with me. I had so much sudden ease on the fast-day, that I was sensible of the benefit of prayers. I pray set one day apart privately for me with your godly friends. There is no other hope left. Physicians, nature, flesh, blood, spirit, heart, friends, all fail! But God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for Yet I know the God whom I serve is able to deliver, and hath delivered. But if he will not deliver, though he kill me yet will I trust in him, and I know whom I have trusted. ever. : I confess I was never yet near so low but I trust in Him who raiseth the dead. I know my Redeemer liveth, and that he hath not died in vain; for neither have I run or laboured in vain. Though mine iniquities sometime lie heavy on me, yet I have fought a good fight, &c. If I see your faces no more in the flesh, farewell till eternity; and the spirit and grace of Christ Jesus our Lord preserve your souls to himself for ever! Your languishing, decaying, yet believing, hoping friend," RICHARD BAXTER. This interesting relict is without date of time or place. It was probably written in 1657, when Mr. Baxter was seized with a bleeding at the nose, in so violent a manner, that he lost the quantity of a gallon at once, which obliged him to retire from the Parliament army, in which he had been chaplain, to Sir Thomas Rouse's, where he continued for a long time in a very languishing state of health. He afterwards returned to Kidderminster, and resumed the work of his ministry. SELECT SENTENCES. "Saving faith brings glory to God, because it brings nothing to him but poverty, want, and emptiness; other graces bring something. Love brings fire; repentance brings tears; obedience brings works, but poor faith brings nothing but a bare hand, and an empty vessel. The poorer any come to God, the more they glorify him."-Erskine. "If men hated sin as much in themselves, as they do in others, humility would be a very easy and common thing.”—Maclaurin. "Abraham's affection for his son Isaac, was extinguished by the more powerful flame of affection to the will and command of God.' -Charnock. "Sanctified afflictions are an evidence of our adoption; we do not prune dead trees to make them fruitful, nor those which are planted in a desert, but such as belong to the garden and possess life."Arrowsmith. "The Bible is the same to the inquiring soul as the Star to the Eastern Magi, it leads to the Redeemer." SPREAD OF THE GOSPEL.* "And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me." John xli, 32. WHILE thunder shook the frighted sky, With agonizing pangs, And aching head and temples torn, I saw him by the lightning flame! Tell me, sweet Jesus, tell me why, Clothed with that bloody vest? He answered not-but gave one look, My heart was pierced by that last glance, O crucified! I blush with shame! Then turn my falling tears to joy! See the bloody cross, ye dying men! By Him shall ye arise. A Hymn by the Rev. John Lawson, Missionary at Calcutta, and author of "Orient Harping," and "Women in India." Copied from the London Baptist Magazine. A NEW-ENGLAND TALE. E. White. REVIEW. Second edition. New-York: E. Bliss & 1822. 12mo. pp. 285. OUR readers have very much mistaken our character and feelings, if they have supposed us indifferent as to the number and quality of novels, which have of late been so constantly issuing from the American press. Even if we were not allowed to possess a sufficiency of talent and taste to be interested in the world of fiction, which seems emphatically to distinguish our day as an era of novels, yet we trust our hearts and sensibilities are not so deadened on the subject of religion, as to permit us coldly to view the shelves of every bookseller bending under a load of Romance, without ever inquiring what is to be the effect on the Church of God. The imagination of Walter Scott, or whoever may be the author of the Waverly Novels, has rendered this kind of reading so popular, that we have almost feared to make any remarks on the subject, lest humble prose and simple truth would find no readers. We have, indeed, often compared the drudgery of our own little magazine with the comparative light task of the novel writer; and so little were the results of the comparison in our favour, that had we thought our ta lents and disposition befitting, perhaps ere this we should have forsaken this dull road, and produced a novel ourselves. We think the novel writer must be one of the richest men living, for his materials are inexhaustible. Some have wondered how so many ponderous volumes could be so quickly produced by one writer; but for ourselves we think the problem very easily solved. Such a writer can sit in his elbow chair, and soon call around himself an ideal world, where golden harvests may at once be reaped from fields sowed only by fancy. This lower world, the planets, the stars, and even fate and destiny are completely under his control. The Indies pour out their riches, and Potosi its treasures; the moon shines at one moment, and is shrouded in clouds the next; the storms howl, the ocean heaves, mountains and forests spring into existence, years fly in the space of seconds, and even death ever stands at his elbow, ready to execute his errands, in any form or shape, against all the barriers of improbabilities, or impossibilities. Who, with materials so ample, could not produce something in the shape of a book? and who that considers all these facilities, will not cease to wonder that tomes of novels are issued almost as fast as newspapers? We consider every man as accountable for the improvement and influence of his talents. We are not merely so to live that life shall be barely outwardly innocent and inoffensive-not merely to pass through life, enjoying the luxury of being satisfied with ourselves for negative virtues. But we are to cultivate our active faculties for the noble purposes for which Heaven created them. We are to cultivate those faculties which restrain every undue thought and action; and we envy not the persons whose business it is to spread false banquets before their fellow probationers, and to create an appetite only to be |