months in some case, some years-into some of the pagan regions and languages. But then there are opposite points of view in which we can see how the event may be an advantage. 1. It will increase the fame of the Institution, and excite more attention to it. 2. It may impress the very heathens with a kind of belief that the thing is to go on. 3. The extraordinary aid to recover the effects of such a calamity, will animate the persons immediately concerned. 4. It will be a pleasing assurance that there is really such a spirit rising in the country as will be equal to any great and extraordinary occasion. But you see, all this takes for granted, that there will actually be the most zealous and generous efforts on this occasion. Such zeal may be stimulated by the consideration of the feelings and wishes with which several kinds of men would have beheld that fire-priests of the false gods-Mahometans-infidels-persons who declaim against enthusiasm, and will not believe that the proper season is come-persons who go for mere worldly gain to that country, and care nothing about the spiritual state of the people, and pronounce such care to be folly. Now, shall we gratify these? While we regret the loss by the devouring element, let us consider it as somewhat of the nature of a burnt-sacrifice, and reflect what a measure of property the Jews were required to lose by fire in their religion. Let us consider how zealous men are to recover other losses by fire-ships-fortifications-towns (Moscow). But! Drury-Lane and Covent Garden! Just once more. A man's spending of property for religion now, will be a great saving of it to his posterity. And do not the accumulators of riches look forward to posterity? Yes, they do; in planting oaks; in their care to have their houses so built, that they will far outlast their own lives. All exterior property is doomed to be consumed at the last day; it is desirable that as much of it as possible should have been as long as possible put in such employments as will produce results that will not suffer by the last fire. SPIRITUAL APPETITE. BY THE REV. CORNELIUS ELVen. "The full soul loatheth a honey comb; but to the hungry soul, every bitter thing is sweet." Never, perhaps, had professors such dainty appetites as in the present age, and it is a bad symptom; it shews that, like the members of the Corinthian church, "many are weak and sickly amongst us. Is it not written, "Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness; for they shall be filled." In order, therefore, that the readers of "The Church" may ascertain whether they are in spiritual health, we will point out some of the characteristics of a good appetite. 1. The man who has it will count of his meal time. Hungry people think of their dinner before it arrives; and so will the healthy christian anticipate the hour of prayer,-the sacred feast, the holy Sabbath. Reader, is it so with you? Can you say, "My soul longeth, yea, even fainteth, for the courts of the Lord ?" 2. He who has a good appetite will be in time for his meal. He will not keep the others waiting, nor rudely disturb them by being too late, nor suffer the first course to be removed before his arrival: he will lose no part of the feast. And how pleasing it is to see worshippers quietly seated in the sanctuary before the service commences, all looking up to the minister, and saying, "Now, therefore, we are all here present before God, to hear all things that are commanded thee of God." 3. The healthy man will not quarrel with the dish in which his food is served. If the provision is sound, though it be not brought in a silver or a china plate, he will "eat his meat with gladness and singleness of heart." Now-a-days, the gospel must be preached with "excellency of speech and with enticing words of man's wisdom," to tickle the sickly and capricious appetite of a degenerate age; nor shall we see better times till christians come to relish and love the gospel for its own sake, that "their faith may stand, not in the wisdom of men, but in the power of God." 4. A good appetite will keep a man from drowsiness over his meal. When did you hear of a hungry man falling asleep over his dinner? And will an earnest, healthy christian make the house of God a domitory? Not he! He does not go to the sanctuary to sleep, but to feed. If you were invited to dinner, it would not look well for you to be nodding and dozing at your friend's table; and it looks very ill for christians to do so in the house of God. 5. A good appetite will not always be craving for variety. But how many hearers now are saying, "We want something new.' Perhaps they think it classical to evince the Athenian taste, to gratify which, ministers need a new revelation, for the bible is deemed an obsolete book, and its good old truths are to such professors as "unsavoury as the white of an egg." No wonder they should cry, "Oh, my leanness, my leanness." They are lean enough, and need not proclaim it. And it is all for want of an appetite which, appreciating the "truth as it is in Jesus," would cry, "Evermore give us this bread." 6. The hungry soul will not be captious and quarrelsome with his fellow guests. "Oh, I am sure I cannot sit down at the Lord's table with such a one." "" Indeed! and so because in your fancy, or it may be in reality, some brother or sister has offended you, you mean to shew your resentment to all the rest of the family, and more than this, to disobey the Lord's command, "This do in remembrance of me." The truth is, some people are so waspish and irritable, they are always out of temper with somebody; and having no appetite themselves, they would fain spoil the peace and enjoyment of those who have. 7. A right healthy christian will not be frightened from his meal by the weather. Those who want an appetite for the word are easily detained from the house of God. If a cloud is seen in the heavens, it is not safe for them to venture out. If it should actually rain or snow, of course it is a settled point, their pews will be empty. Perhaps the weather was quite as bad on Saturday; but they could cloak up to go out for business or pleasure, because there was a will, and this is what they want for the service of God. Let them pray for an appetite; and then, though the way to the prayer-meeting or Sabbath services be through storm and tempest, they will wrap themselves up as they did to go to market, and sing, "I have been there and still will go, A good 8. The hungry hearer will be healthy; his soul will prosper. appetite, and good, plain, wholesome food will make a child of God grow "unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ." And such a one will be a comfort to his pastor,-a blessing to his family, an honour to the church, and a benefactor to the world. You will not hear him finding fault with every body and every thing as sickly people do; but with a smiling countenance, a warm heart, and a willing hand, he will be "strong in faith, giving glory to God." Bury St. Edmunds. THE PHILOSOPHY OF PRAYER. "Philosophy falsely so called." Whoever cordially accepts the Bible as his guide, can have no practical difficulty as to the metaphysics of prayer. He may be as unable, logically, to reconcile some conceptions of the divine nature and of his own nature, of the laws of creation and the laws of providence, with prayer, as he may be to reconcile the union of natures in the person of the Messiah, or what actually occurs under God's government, with the benevolence, justice, and omnipotence, which even Deism must ascribe to him. But if metaphysical difficulties are as abundant in inspired as in uninspired theology, the precepts and examples of the former place the afflicted believer as a confiding expectant suppliant before the throne of grace, that he may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need. The example of his Lord above all, and that too in the most solemn moment of his life, is a practical comment on the injunction whose spirit pervades the bible,"Is any afflicted? let him pray." "If it be possible," said our blessed Lord, "let this cup pass from me, nevertheless, not my will but thy will be done;" ascribing too, as a reason, "all things are possible unto thee." In few cases can we know the "cup" to be so decidedly appointed for us to drink, as our Lord did; yet with this knowledge he expressed to his God the human wish that it might be taken from him,-expressed it with the resignation which every one of his true followers feels to be an essential part of the spirit of prayer; but expressed it with the implication that but for a (moral) impossibility hindering, his request would be the ground of its being removed. Indeed, in one sense, we are told, in allusion doubtless to this scene, "that he was heard in that he feared;" he was delivered from death," although suffered to taste it. Our view from scripture is, that in all cases in which some unknown reasons to which the believer cheerfully bows do not exist, God can and does perform things for us in answer to prayer, which, but for prayer, he would leave undone. It is argued, however, especially in relation to physical, in distinction from moral blessings, that God cannot alter his laws for man. To do so, would be to work perpetual miracles. Hence physical disease, and physical calamity, must take its course; our only part is resignation. The laws of nature (creation) are as fixed, it is argued, in the things which seem fluctuating to us, as in those which seem certain; and it is no less absurd to ask that a disease may be removed, than that the sun should shine on us after sunset. We allow the facts as far as they go: we deny the inferences, because all the facts are not stated. For there is such a fact, it is indeed admitted by all religious men of every creed, as a moral government of God. Now, just this one great fact omitted, vitiates the certainty of all the inferences. Moral government necessarily implies a new feature altogether wanting amidst the material creation, it implies LIBERTY; freedom both on the part of the creature and the Creator. Freedom on the part of the creature to please or displease its Maker. Freedom on the part of the Creator to vary his treatment accordingly. Admit, now, that the moral ends of creation are God's chief ends. Admit that all his material creation was formed but as means to those higher ends, and, it may be, that the additional facts of moral government and moral liberty require that the Supreme governor should vary the workings of material causes, according to the varying requirements of moral behaviour on the part of his creatures. Not require him perhaps to create new physical causes, but to bid existing ones lying dormant to start into action,—to give greater intensity to this cause, to diminish the energy of that. He may retain the rudder in his hands, though he allows the tempest to rage on. He may retain the reins and modify the course, though he will not check the speed, of the infuriated steeds. He may thus superintend and modify the movements of the great material machine which he has made, in the government and interest of beings whom he has also made, and made far exalted above mere machines. He may proceed thus, quite as reasonably, as on the other hypothesis. And, unless the bible has hitherto misled almost all good men from the time of Moses till this day, he does proceed thus. But as perhaps many of our most thoughtful readers would expect, from our article last month, something a little more explicit on the subject which has perplexed so many devout minds of a speculative turn, we will offer our own view on the subject. We are, then, inclined to think that Philosophy, truly so called, feeble and uncertain at best as its light must always be when used to illuminate ultimate questions of divine government, strongly leans to the side of 66 our prayers making a difference in the divine conduct." The philosophy of the mind must always take its fundamental facts from our own consciousness. The awful example of Germany stands before us as a perpetual rebuke for trespassing beyond the bounds our Maker has assigned to mental science, and attempting to base it on anything else than the "appeal to consciousness." Now, the prominent fact in our moral consciousness, however unanswerable many questions pertaining to it may appear, is, that we are free, that our will is not necessitated; we feel that on this ground we are responsible, and that we are rightly called to account for volitions which are in our own power. So, to take another view of the same fact, we are conscious of obligation, of duty, of a moral nature; and we distinctly perceive that a moral nature implies liberty,-that there can be no obligation, no blame nor praise, unless we freely will what we ought, or freely refuse to will it. But what now does this moral consciousness, on our part, compel us to believe of our moral Governor? If we in any part bear his image, we feel that it is as creatures having moral powers; that on this account we are emphatically his offspring; and that the resemblance between our moral liberty, and our moral perceptions, and his, must be far stronger than that of any of our other powers to his natural attributes. Liberty in God is the corollary of liberty in the creature. If he has made us free from an all-controlling necessity, he enjoys the same freedom himself. So far from its being any impiety to feel that "our prayers make a difference in the divine conduct," it were impiety to disbelieve it; it would be to deny Him the liberty of which we are conscious ourselves. If, then, he ought to make a difference in his dealings with his creatures, we can scarcely conceive a greater reason for it than the difference between the creature asking, with resignation, the removal of an affliction, and the creature who wants the humility, the faith, or the love to do it. Earthly parents universally bestow many things fittingly at the prayer of their children, which they must otherwise deny. We can scarce conceive of a different relation between the believer and his God:-"Call upon me in the day of trouble, and (not be resigned, merely, but) I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me,' is in our view at once the promise of revelation, and the hope to which philosophy points. We are obliged, in a publication of the size of "The Church," to leave many objections and their appropriate replies unnoticed; but we write what we sincerely believe and feel to be most deeply essential to the very life and vigour of religion in the soul. We would no more strain philosophy, as an interpreter of the facts of nature (creation), than we would wrest scripture to our views; but we do think the voice of the former harmonizes with the indubitable teachings of the latter. We do need-we poor, tried, afflicted, tempted mortals-we do need the very God of the bible, not a "Deity," -a "Jehovah," a "God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ," a "Father of mercies," and not a "Divine Being." We want a God who "heareth and answereth prayer," if "all flesh," dependent feeble flesh, is to find its repose in his bosom. We like not the teaching which metaphysically adjusts such expressions as, "God's repenting him of evil,"—its "grieving him at his heart,"-his "not afflicting willingly," (in the original) "from his heart," &c., so well as the preaching which developes the heart-encouraging power of such humanized representations of "Him with whom we have to do." When speculation begins to lessen our relish for such language, we had better renounce it at once for the closet. We may safely philosophize after real prayer. F. CLOWES. CONSOLATION TO MOURNERS. BY THE REV. W. H. ELLIOTT, OF LONDON. Earth is a vale of tears, and man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward (Job v. 7). The most favourable circumstances cannot exempt him from anxiety, affliction, and distress. Where is the eye that never sheds a tear, and the heart that is never sad? Vanity is visibly inscribed on all our earthly enjoyments; the finest and most exalted of these cannot give that unmingled happiness which are desired and sought. Afflu ence, honour, and fame, are equally unsatisfying; and the pleasure we derive from the endearments of human friendship, is greatly diminished, and often mixed with a sigh, when we reflect upon the uncertainty and brevity of its duration. If the bond remains unbroken through life, it is at length burst asunder by the "last enemy," and the object of our fond affection is the cause of intense grief. The loss of property, blighted prospects, disappointed hopes, and pecuniary difficulties, disconcert the mind, and depress the spirits; but when those who are near and dear to us are snatched away by the hand of death, the stroke is most keenly felt; the tenderest sympathies of our nature are called forth, the spirit is wounded, and the eye bedewed with tears. How often does the loss of a parent, or a child, or a husband, or a wife, or a brother, or a sister, cause the surviver to exclaim in the language of the Psalmist, "Lover and friend hast thou put far from me, and mine acquaintance into darkness" (Psalm lxxxviii. 18). As death is the common lot of all men, so bereavements are experienced by all. To grieve for departed friends, when thus connected with humble submission to the will of God, is sanctioned by the examples of scripture. When Jacob yielded up the ghost, Joseph fell on his father's face, and wept over him (Gen. 1. 1). Look at the distress of David at the death of Jonathan; and how deeply did patient Job feel when bereaved of his children! The Son of Man himself felt as a man, and was not ashamed of nature's tears; at the grave of Lazarus, "Jesus wept !" (John xi. 35). · |