mission is prescribed, for two men already endued with the spirit of God. With such qualifications, and under such a command, to neglect the service in question would be nothing less than rebellion against the authority of heaven. Is this our model then? First ask, have we these credentials?

Think now of that other example mentioned in Acts xi. After the death of Stephen the whole church of Jerusalem became itinerant ministers; they travelled as far as Phenice, and Cyprus, and Antioch, preaching the word. Let it be carefully remarked here, that no ordaining touch had reached their heads, because, no special commission had been issued from the throne of Zion; and though no ordination service had sanctioned their going forth, yet "the hand of the Lord was with them, and a great number believed and turned to the Lord." Thus does it seem very clear that "the model churches" acted on the simple consciousness that they were stewards of grace for the world. Each member understanding christianity, and loving the souls of men, felt himself bound to use all his ability to proclaim its mercy agreeably to that high command:-"Let him that heareth say, come." Even women, if adorned in modest attire, were not refused the honour of this work. Paul mentions Priscilla and Aquilla as his fellow-helpers; and Persis laboured much in the Lord. On this principle of responsibility the two sections of methodism have acted; and their example, in this respect, has roused up the dissenting churches, and led them to similar exertions. Hence, what blessings have been brought from above and diffused over the length and breadth of our own land, by means of the unordained (but not the unauthorized) ministry. And beyond our own shores-far beyond them-behold, "with what lovely simplicity has the christian native paddled his skiff to the neighbouring isle to preach Jesus to its wild inhabitants."

If the foregoing statements are correct; if they carry upon them the stamp of truth, then do they throw out such inferences as these:

1. That the grace of God, united to other endowments essential to the power of public teaching, qualify any man to be a minister of the gospel, even apart from all ordination what

soever.

2. That ordination has been attended to under the divine * Hamilton on Missions.

smiles, and it may be omitted without incurring his displeasure. 3. That when attended to, it should regard a particular church, or a special mission; and that ordination to what is called the ministry, detached from such a charge or mission, is an ecclesiastical nullity.

In order to be quite understood upon this question, of no slight delicacy in these days of sacramental efficacy and apostolical succession, allow me to express my meaning in another form of words. When a christian people prevail on a gifted brother to give up himself to their religious edification, then from this voluntary compact, on both sides, there springs up the interesting relationship of the pastor and his flock. He, out of duty and affection, watches for their souls; and they, out of gratitude and justice, "esteem him very highly in love for his work's sake." He is anxious to do his work well; and recollecting that "the labourer is worthy of his hire," they take care (or ought to take care) that he is well supported in the doing of that work. On their part, at the commencement of this union, he is usually committed to the divine blessing by an act of public devotion. This is called ordination, which means, I judge, that the good man, like every other good creature of God, "is sanctified (that is to say, set apart) by the word of God and prayer." Thus do the people confer office, and create their minister. They place him "over them in the Lord, and submit themselves." If any idea beyond this is conveyed to the popular mind, or impressed on our own, by the ordination services which are common amongst us, it comes not I think from reflecting on the form of "the model churches."

DELTA.

THE UNHAPPINESS OF THE UNRENEWED

HEART.

Every one knows by experience, that an unsanctified heart is unhappy. The soul may be sunk near the state of the beast, it may live in an ideal world, it may revel in sin, it may fly from flower to flower, and from fountain to fountain, for peace and happiness, but cannot find it. It is unsatisfied, it is uneasy, it is unhappy. It must throw away thought, and be a mere trifler, or it is wretched. Every child has more or less of this feeling.

The restraints of conscience and the voice of conscience are now a burden. But having no clear idea of religion, (and can he have, before feeling its power?) he feels that religion will only increase the restraints of conscience, give her voice new power, and give her new fetters, and this is all! He thinks he shall have the same wicked heart after conversion as before, and all the addition he will obtain is, that conscience will have new power over him, and the clashings between his conscience and feelings will be seven-fold increased; consequently, that every addition of piety is another addition of gloom and of wretchedness. He has hitherto known nothing that looks so much like religion as conviction of sin, and he imagines that real religion is only adding to these convictions till the soul stops sinning, and this is religion! Is it any wonder, then, that there is naturally an aversion in the mind of all, whether children or adults, to religion? They conceive it to be only an accumulation of iron in the fetters, only an addition to the bad feelings which already fill the heart. How shall this difficulty be met and overcome? I would advise the teacher to become familiar with the workings of his own heart, and to become well acquainted with the religious experience of other christians. Let him learn the manner in which those who are now christians once looked at this subject, learn what misapprehensions and distortions their feelings and imagination gave them, and in this way learn to pour light into the heart that is darkened by sin, and that aches under a sense of its unworthiness. I illustrate this point by a conversation, which is similar to many which I have had since I have been in the pastoral office. Nothing is altered but the name of the individual.

"Mr. G., I am glad to see you of late at our evening meetings, at our Bible-class, and even out three times on the Sabbath. I have been long hoping that you would be brought into the fold, and that I should have the pleasure of seeing you a decidedly religious man."

"Thank you, Sir; but I am not certain that I shall continue to attend these meetings much longer. I have often thought I would have religion, but the more religion I obtain, the more gloomy and unhappy I feel."

"I am surprised, Mr. G., for I did not know that you had obtained' any 'religion! Do you mean to say, that you have

repented of your sins, forsaken them all, that you are now trusting in the blood of Jesus Christ, with a heart contrite for your past life, full of gratitude for mercy and pardon, and full of holy resolution for the future ?"

"Not exactly so; but I mean I have attended your meetings, and have heard all you have to say, that I have given my thoughts somewhat to religion, but the more I have done it, the more dark it seems, and the further I am from being happy. If conscience now gives me so little peace, what should I do, were I to give up all my thoughts to religion, and let conscience have full swing ?"

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My dear Sir, conscience will have 'full swing,' as you call it, to all eternity, even if you are lost, and have your portion with unbelievers and hypocrites. But this is not religion. Pharaoh and Judas had this kind of religion, and it drove them to madness."

"I don't wonder at it."

"You have mistaken the lashings of conscience for religion. It is true, that the more of such religion you have, the more wretched you will be. But have I not often explained to you, from the pulpit, that religion is something widely different from this ?"

"I don't know; you often seem to preach contradictions. I cannot understand why the very first movements of the soul towards religion should make me more and more unhappy. You tell me it is all gold, and when obtained it will render me happy. How can a great quantity of gold make me happy, when the first small piece I get renders me so miserable ?"

"Mr. G., you recollect, some days since you gave me an interesting account of your boy. You said he ran away from school, and spent three days in the company of vicious and idle boys. You recollect that you told me, that when you called him to account, you shut him up in the chamber without food, till he would acknowledge his sin, ask your pardon, and the pardon of the school. Am I right?"

"Yes, Sir; but I don't see what this has to do with the subject."

"Did you not tell me, that he held out for three days, and that every time you went to the door he seemed more stubborn and hardened ?"

"Yes."

"Do you suppose he was growing happy during this time?”

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No, he grew miserable; and my going to his chamber and asking him if he would submit, seemed almost to render him distracted."

"Was that submission to you?"

"No, to be sure not."

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Well, did he not grow more and more miserable and wretched till at last he was brought to submit, bow his will to yours, ask your pardon, and the pardon of the school ?"

"Yes."

"Well, he undoubtedly looked upon the feelings of submission, just as you do upon religion; the more he thought of these feelings, the more he dreaded them, and supposed that the feeling of submission would be intolerable to bear; whereas, you said that the moment he submitted, the cloud rolled off, and he was perfectly happy. So it is with you. God is coming and calling you to repentance; you are stubborn, refuse to repent, and dread to be a penitent, because you think your present unhappy feelings will continue, and the present agony be increased seven-fold! Sinners frequently think that a change of heart consists in nothing but an increase of their present feelings, till they become almost insupportable. That which your boy finally felt, and which we call submission, was not an increase of the feelings which he had when you shut him up, but an entirely new feeling. And if you ever do really obtain religion,' it will not be an increase of your present feelings, which you call 'religious,' but which in fact are awfully wicked, but feelings entirely new. It seems to me that God permitted your child to do as he did, that you might have a glass in which you could plainly see your own character. You are wading in miry waters in order to lay the foundations of your hopes, and complain that God suffers the waves to dash over you, to show you their bitterness, and their filth."-Todd.

A life of inaction is a disuse of talents and a perversion of faculties for which we are responsible; it is the inlet of temptation: our leisure days are the enemy's busy ones.