whence you have derived your ideas of 'the prince of this world,' you will be able, perhaps, to trace their origin,-not to the Bible account of him, but to Milton's. That, however, is not the scripture account; far less are some of those given by the followers of Milton, who, without his religion, have imitated, and gone farther than he, in attempting to throw a species of sadness and interest over the character of the prince of fiends. The Bible uniformly describes him under characters of unmixed malignity, cruelty, and wickedness: A liar,-an accuser, a serpent, a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour,-a murderer,—a destroyer.' This is the enemy with whom our souls have to contend, powerful in comparison of us, because far higher in nature and capacity, and old in the experience of the depths of wickedness. But see him in the presence of God,see him in that scripture account, (and from scripture alone we derive all our

knowledge respecting him), on the occasion where he is represented as most bold, as an accuser *. He dare not, he cannot, injure a hair of the head of one of the redeemed servants of God, without his permission. See him when, for wise and gracious purposes, he receives that permission, and is suffered to indulge his horrid desires, and has gone to the last verge of his permission, and has spoiled Job of every thing but life,-still he has no power to introduce evil into his soul,-still the ransomed servant of God trusts, and loves, and clings to his Redeemer, even though the usual sense of his supporting presence is withdrawn, and Satan's malignant attempts only prove the power of the Almighty. See this mighty Satan, and all his powers of darkness, in the presence of the Son of God, when even veiled in humanity, foil

Job, Chap. i.

ed,—cast out,—made subject to Christ's fishermen disciples,-commanded to resign their power over men,-instantly obeying,―intreating not to be tormented, not to be banished into the great deep,'-asking permission to enter into swine, rather than be prevented from indulging their inconceivably debased natures. Regard Satan himself, the chief, and ruler, and wisest of them all, in his greatest effort, he has succeeded in seducing a disciple of the Son of man' to betray his Master. The Son of God' is bound, and standing before an earthly tribunal, where Satan reigns in each judge, he is condemned, scourged, led to Calvary, nailed to the cross, expires, and is laid in the grave.-Judas listens to Satan's continued suggestions, and destroys himself,-every plan has succeeded. The third morning dawns, and he discovers that he has only been fulfilling the determinate counsel of God,'

R

and opening a way of escape from his power to the whole human race.'

This answer satisfied me so far, but a new difficulty soon presented itself from my own experience. Travers constantly urged me to believe in Jesus Christ, to receive him as he was offered to me in the gospel, as a Saviour, a Guide, a source of newness of life. I said I could not, that I had no power to do so,that my reason must be convinced,-I must really see that he was all these, before I could believe him to be so. He urged me to pray for faith, saying that it was the gift of God, and that the objects of faith never could be perceived by reason alone. I said such language was contrary to reason, and argued in defence of the power and liberty of the human will. He seemed to find this an intolerably uninteresting subject, and left me that day sooner than usual. In an

hour or two after, he sent me Edwards on Free Will, with the following note:

6

Forgive me, dear Howard, for feeling impatient when you began to talk on the subject of free will. If you knew how I wearied out the patience of the beloved friend who was the means of leading me to the knowledge of the truth, by my endless cavils on this interminable subject, you would feel how little excuse I can have for feeling impatient with you; but in proportion to the difficulties it threw in my way, I think I now feel

it unimportant and uninteresting. I send you Edwards. I believe my opinions are the same as his; but perhaps not exactly, for I have puzzled over the subject, till I scarcely recollect whose ideas I have adopted. The amount of my belief on this point now is, I think, that liberty and necessity are, with respect to my own soul, the same. Could I be assured, that to-morrow God would