of our principles and strength. Other ends may ultimately present themselves to the assembled delegates. This is, however, the foremost and most obvious one. Those who, from the seclusion or great elevation of their position in the community at large, have never heard anything of voluntaryism, will perhaps be compelled for the first time to inquire into the matter; and those who have laughed at voluntaryism as an impoverished system, and derided its pretensions through a mistaken estimate of the number of its adherents, will perhaps for the first time be astonished at their own ignorance and folly.

For our part we can see no reasonable objection to such a demonstration as the one proposed. If our principles be worth maintaining; if they are, as we verily believe, scriptural; if their violation has, in our judgment, opened the flood-gates of error and superstition to an awful extent; if we hope to see the day when they will be recognised as "from heaven;" why should not every legitimate means of bringing them into notice be employed by those who have embraced them? We have hitherto acted too much as if we were ashamed of our own system. It may have been lauded amongst ourselves; but we have not liked to exhibit it in open day, and in the face of the world. Our light may have shone, but not sufficiently "before men." We have perhaps imitated too much the nervous individual referred to above-shrinking from public notice as if that would have a killing effect upon the principles we so highly esteem. And no wonder, therefore, that those who differ from us have learnt to think and speak of voluntaries, as men are accustomed to do of those who appear to shun the day. The compulsory principle is visible enough-in acts of parliamentdistraints for tithe-enforcement of church rates-visitation charges-diocesan gatherings-and other things innumerable. Why, we ask, should not the voluntary principle SHOW ITSELF?

THE LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN.

THIRD PERIOD-OR FROM HIS CONVERSION TO HIS

IMPRISONMENT.

Our limited space forbids our dwelling upon a deeply interestng period of Bunyan's history. We refer to his religious

experience from the first moments of conversion to the time when he found" peace and joy in believing." In general terms we alluded to this subject in our last: we cannot do more now. To do justice to Bunyan's character, and the various questions suggested by the remarkable record which he has bequeathed to the church respecting this matter, would demand a volume.

"Bunyan's conflicts" were such as few mortals have been called upon to endure. To a worldly man they wear an air of fiction; and one of Bunyan's biographers has treated them almost as such. Every regenerated man, however, can in some measure understand and account for them. Philip, in his Life of Bunyan, has grappled with the entire question. We thank him for the skill with which he has met the foes of evangelical truth, and the candour with which he has expressed his view of the whole case. The ignorance of Bunyan, the remarkable sensibility of his conscience, the vividness of his imagination which almost realized its own conceptions, and the superstitious views which he had derived from his age, account for much that he suffered. We do not enter into the question whether he was beset beyond other men by satanic agency. In all cases of temptation, it is difficult to say how much arises from the natural or acquired tendencies of the heart, and how much from the assaults of our "great adversary." Suffice it to say then, that Bunyan was for some time the subject of perplexities, doubts, fears, awful apprehensions, fits of depression and despair, such as scarcely any besides have experienced. But eventually he found "peace through the blood of the cross." Weeping endured for a night, but joy came in the morning. The lurid horizon, the pitchy sky broken in upon by fearful lightnings, and the quaking ground, were at last succeeded by the radiance of a glowing morn. He escaped Doubting Castle and Giant Despair, and "went on his way rejoicing."

In 1653, Bunyan joined Gifford's church in Bedford. Of this church the three women, who were instrumental to his conversion, were members. Much tenderness had been shown him, and doubtless his whole case was well known to the little flock. It was a Baptist church, and he was admitted in the usual way, namely, by immersion. But it is singular that the whole account he gives of his reception is in the following words: "After I propounded to the church my desire to walk with

them, I was admitted by them." We might have expected from one so ready with his pen a further detail of the whole transaction, and are somewhat disappointed. There can be little doubt, however, that he was admitted without difficulty, in consequence of the remarkable change which took place in his

demeanour.

Three years after this, or at the age of twenty-eight, he was called to the ministry. He shrank at first from an office involving so high a responsibility. For a long time he felt himself unable to comply with the pressing invitation. He deemed himself unfit for, and unworthy of, so sacred a work. He therefore declined the request made to him, at some of the more private meetings of the church, to expound the word to the people. Eventually, however, he yielded. His own account of the matter is as follows. "After I had been about five or six years awakened, and helped to see for myself both the want and worth of the Lord Jesus Christ, and also enabled to venture my soul upon him, some of the most able among the saints with us (I say the most able for judgment and holiness of life) did perceive, as they conceived, that God had counted me worthy to understand something of his will in his holy and blessed word, and had given me utterance to express, in some measure, what I saw, to others, for edification: therefore they desired me, and that with much earnestness, that I would be willing, at some times to take in hand, in one of the meetings, to speak a word of exhortation unto them.

"The which, though at the first it did much dash and abash my spirit, yet being still by them desired and entreated, I consented to their request, and did twice, at two several assemblies, (but in private), though with much weakness and infirmity, discover my gift amongst them; at which they not only seemed to be, but did frequently protest, as in the sight of the great God, they were both affected and comforted; and gave thanks to the father of mercies for the grace bestowed on me.

"After this, sometimes, when some of them did go into the country to teach, they would also that I should go with them; when, though, as yet, I did not, nor durst not, make use of my gift in an open way, yet more privately, still, as I came amongst the good people in those places, I did sometimes speak a word of admonition unto them also; the which they, as the other,

received with rejoicing at the mercy of God to me-ward, professing their souls were edified thereby.

"Wherefore, to be brief, at last, being still desired by the church, after some solemn prayer to the Lord, with fasting, I was more particularly called forth, and appointed to a more ordinary and public preaching of the word, not only to and amongst them that believed, but also to offer the gospel to those who had not yet received the faith thereof."

It was not long before he found great delight in the employment from which he at first shrank. He became increasingly happy in his master's service. His earliest sermons were filled

with the threatenings of the law; but as he grew in experience he connected with them, more and more, the "sweet discoveries" of the gospel.

"In my preaching of the word," he says, "I took special notice of this one thing, namely, that the Lord did lead me to begin where his word begins with sinners; that is, to condemn all flesh, and to open and allege, that the curse of God by the law, doth belong to, and lay hold on all men as they come into the world, because of sin. Now this part of my work I fulfilled with great sense; for the terrors of the law and guilt for my transgressions lay heavy on my conscience: I preached what I felt; what I smartingly did feel; even that under which my poor soul did groan and tremble to astonishment. Indeed I have been as one sent to them from the dead; I went myself in chains to preach to them in chains; and carried that fire in my own conscience, that I persuaded them to be aware of. I can truly say, and that without dissembling, that when I have been to preach I have gone full of guilt and terror even to the pulpit door, and then it hath been taken off, and I have been at liberty in my mind until I have done my work; and then immediately, even before I could get down the pulpit stairs, I have been as bad as I was before; yet God carried me on, but surely with a strong hand, for neither guilt nor hell could take me off my work. Thus I went on for the space of two years, crying out against men's sins, and their fearful state because of them. After which the Lord came in upon my own soul with some sure peace and comfort through Christ; for he did give me many sweet discoveries of his blessed grace through him: wherefore now I altered in my preaching, (for still I preached

what I saw and felt), now therefore I did much labour to hold forth Jesus Christ in all his offices, relations, and benefits unto the world, and did strive also to discover, to condemn, and remove those false supports and props on which the world doth both lean, and by them fall and perish. On these things also I staid as long as on the other."

Much good was effected through Bunyan's preaching. Crowds went to hear him, and many even of the vilest characters were impressed, convicted, and converted. It was indeed a rare thing to see and hear such a man. He had been notorious as a sinner. He was now notorious as a saint. The change struck every one who had known him, or heard of his name. As Philip observes-"It was not the novelty of a preaching tinker in Bedfordshire, any more than that of a preaching tentmaker at Corinth, that drew attention. It was his moral and spiritual transformation, that drew so many eyes upon him at once.” This was especially the case with the "common people”—the very lowest in the community—those with whom Bunyan had mingled in his sinful days. And, truly, if ever preacher was in earnest, he was. He sought to win souls. His singleness of aim and sincerity of purpose may be gathered from his own words, which he “did often say in his heart before the Lord'I would gladly be hanged up before their eyes presently, if that would be a means to awaken them.""

But Bunyan had not spent many years in this kind of service when he was called upon to endure a great trial. He lived in perilous times. Four years after his call to the ministry he was arrested and cast into prison, for he was one of those "of whom the world was not worthy."

THE EARNEST TEACHER.

I scarcely know a more interesting character than that of the teacher who is in earnest. As you pass down the ranks of the Sabbath school, your eye easily singles him out; and if you are at all impressed with the importance of the work in which he is engaged, the sight will prove a very feast to the moral sense. He is seated at the head of his class, and is evidently discharging no idle task. Benevolence lights up his countenance. His eye