His prayer

in the Protestant Church, who hope that their suffer- | power and glory he would come again. ings will be available to lessen, or altogether to avert | plainly implies a knowledge which he could have acthe punishment due to sin in a future state; and quired from the Lord's discourses alone; and which he writers, to defend this gross absurdity, have not been could not even have acquired from them, had he not awanting. The thief was better taught; and even at been previously well instructed in the Old Testament the moment of enduring the most infamous and cruel Scriptures, to the types and prophecies of which these sufferings, he felt and acknowledged that these suffer- discourses make so constant reference. What now, we ings could avail him nothing before God, and there- may ask, becomes of the confidence with which the fore sought a Saviour's aid. case of the penitent thief is so frequently referred to as a proof of the efficacy of a death-bed repentance? We are not going to deny that such a repentance may be genuine,-may be the work of the Holy Spirit,— and may be connected with salvation. We will not limit the grace of God. We will not even deny that, speaking of a man killed by a fall from his horse, it may, for anything we know, be a possible thing, that Between the stirrup and the ground, Mercy was sought, and mercy found. But while we admit most readily, that a death-bed repentance may be truly a repentance unto life, we must maintain that while this is a possible thing, it is by no means a probable thing. And, omitting at present all the other considerations which should lead us to distrust a death-bed repentance, we maintain that the case of the penitent thief holds out no encouragement whatever to rely on any such desperate contingency. The principles which he manifested on the cross, were principles which were not then first implanted in his heart. The knowledge which he then displayed, it was impossible that he could have then for the first time acquired. The whole circumstances of the case render it obvious, that he had been carefully instructed in his youth, and had been neither an unfrequent nor an inattentive hearer of the Lord himself. And who can tell how near he might be to the kingdom of heaven, when he was hurred into crime, and to death?

Farther, the penitent's prayer implied a hope at least, if not a conviction, that his situation was not desperate. He was in circumstances that might have naturally led him to despair. Any expectation entertained by him might truly seem to be hoping against hope. Yet he does not despair of mercy. This is a farther proof of the care that had been taken of his early education. Men, when they become sensible of their guilt, do not naturally look upon God as a merciful being. On the contrary, they regard him as an inexorable judge, and all who know anything of the matter, know that nothing is so difficult as to convince the awakened sinner that God is merciful. That he has outlived the day of grace, and sinned beyond the reach of mercy, is the temptation into which he most naturally falls. The penitent must have been long familiar with the character given of God in Scripture, so contrary to that which a sense of guilt assigns to him, else he would of necessity have despaired.

And finally, the prayer of the penitent implies a conviction that his fellow-sufferer was such a Saviour as he needed,- -was in reality a divine person. There was unquestionably something peculiarly striking in the appearance of the Lord on the cross, and in the manner of his death.

The centurion was struck with

Does this case, then, bear any resemblance to that of the man who, while conscious of his need of re

it, and said, "Of a truth this man was the Son of God;" and the people were struck with it, for when they saw what was done, "they smote upon their breasts and returned." And the thief, too, amidst his own agonies, could see the glory of the Divinity shin-pentance, yet deliberately, and of set purpose, delays ing through the meanness and the sorrows of his fellow-sufferer, and made it his hope and his stay. What an affecting sight, to see a poor despised sufferer yet receiving worship, and hearing, and granting the prayer offered to him!

But it is obvious that he knew more of Christ than he could possibly learn by what he saw of him on the

cross.

He knew that Christ was going to the possession of great power, and that after his death he would still be able to save the souls of them that trusted in him. Now, this augured a more extensive knowledge, and more correct views than the apostles themselves at this time possessed. His death led them to despair. "We trusted," said they, in the language of despondency, "that it should have been he which should have redeemed Israel." The very last question that they asked before his ascension shewed a narrowness of view which the thief had escaped. "Wilt thou, at that time, restore the kingdom to Israel?" In fact, we cannot escape the conclusion, that this thief had been a frequent and attentive hearer of the Lord's discourses; and the miseries of his situation had led him to form a juster estimate of their true character than the apostles themselves had previous to the day of Pentecost done. He understood that, through sufferings, the Lord was passing into glory; and that with

seeking for that repentance till the approach of death shall compel him to admit that he can delay no longer? Or does it bear the slightest resemblance to any of those cases in which it is constantly referred to, and in which we are given to understand, that a man habituated to crime from his earliest years, has at last become a true penitent, when these crimes have doomed him to the scaffold? Far be it from us to deny that true repentance, and genuine conversion may be granted at the last hour of life, even to the man who has purposely delayed seeking repentance, while conscious of his need of it; or to him who has never in his life thought of repentance till the approach of death bas compelled him to think of it. But we repeat, that the penitent thief affords no example of either the one or the other of these cases, and in neither the one nor the other, does it furnish us with the slightest ground of hope,-much less does it afford ground for that unhesitating confidence which is so often drawn from it. Suffering may, and often does, awaken to the most active and beneficial operation principles that have long been dormant, or that have for a time been overwhelmed. This was the case with the penitent thief. But where good principles are wanting, no intensity of suffering can implant them. This was exemplified in the case of the impenitent thief. Could intensity of suffering

implant good principles, it is plain that he would have become penitent too. But his sufferings had just the opposite effect. And the opposite effect produced by the same sufferings on the two men, makes manifest the very wide difference between their characters,-a difference which assuredly existed long before it was thus manifested. The one was prepared by previous instruction, to profit by his afflictions. The other had been furnished with no such preparation, and his afflictions produced their natural effect, they drove him to blasphemy and despair.

Let us hear no more, then, of the confidence in the efficacy of a death-bed repentance, drawn from the case of the penitent thief. We again repeat, for we are anxious not to be misunderstood upon this subject, that while we do not deny such a repentance may possibly be repentance unto life, we do deny that the penitent thief is an example of this, or holds out the slightest encouragement to hope, that the man who has lived unacquainted with the principles of religion, and regardless of its precepts, is likely, by the dread of an approaching eternity, to become impressed with its importance, or to experience its power.

Again, each of these thieves may be considered as the representative of a class common among ourselves. The one, without any sense of the evil of sin, is anxious to escape from its consequences; and he says, "If thou be Christ, save thyself and us." The other seeks for no deliverance from a punishment which he feels to be just; and his mind is too much occupied with his future prospects to have a thought to waste upon his present sufferings, however severe. Now, there are many men

who would willingly accept of Christ as their priest,

to atone for their sins, and save them from punishment; but who have no wish to have any connexion with him as their king, to deliver them from the present power of sin. They say, with the one thief, save us from the penal consequences of sin; but they do not say, with the other thief, save us from sin itself, no matter for its present effects. Let our readers, then, consider, whether they be alike willing to accept of Christ in all his offices, and alike sensible of their need of him in them all; let them consider whether they be not anxious to experience his sin-forgiving power, without any de

sire to experience his soul-renewing power.

eternity must be spent. Can we find more interesting matter for a little serious consideration, than to try to ascertain which of them is the type of our character now, and will be our companion for ever?

DISCOURSE.

BY THE REV. JAMES GIBSON,
College Church, Glasgow.

"I said, I will take heed to my ways, that I sin not
with my tongue; I will keep my mouth with a
bridle, while the wicked is before me.
I was
dumb with silence: I held my peace, even from
good; and my sorrow was stirred. My heart was
hot within me; while I was musing the fire burn-
ed; then spake I with my tongue: LORD, make me
to know mine end, and the measure of my days,
what it is; that I may know how frail I am. Be-
hold, thou hast made my days as an hand-breadth,
and mine age is as nothing before thee: verily,
every man at his best state is altogether vanity.
PSAL. XXXix. 1-5.

It

THIS Psalm was composed by David. seems to be the result of feelings deeply agitated profane opposition of the ungodly, and then softwith contemplating the prospering insolence and ened and corrected by meditations on the shortness of human life and the vanity of all earthly grandeur, by hope and trust in God,—by reflections will of God; at the same time accompanied by on his own sinfulness, and by resignation to the an ardent, but humble and submissive prayer to God for his merciful interference.

and expressive. The style is highly figurative, and The language is simple, but strikingly beautiful the imagery expressive and forcible; and if we pursue, with attention and seriousness, the train of thought suggested by it, we cannot fail to have our faith and resolutions strengthened, our convictions of the vanity of earthly objects, and the importance of our eternal interests, more strongly excited, our trust in God increased, our humility improved, resignation to the will of the Almighty cherished, by having our affections raised above this world, where we are all strangers and sojourn

ers, as all our fathers were.

Verse 1st." I said, I will take heed to my ways, that I sin not with my tongue; I will keep my mouth with a bridle, while the wicked is before me."

The impenitent thief who reviled the Lord on the cross, will again meet that Lord when He cometh in his kingdom. We dread to think of the feelings with which he will appear before the tribunal of Him who The Psalmist had observed the prosperity of the once suffered along with him, and of the fearful bitterLess with which he will then curse his own folly, when wicked, and he had probably experienced how apt he sees the penitent thief taken into the kingdom of he was to murmur at the apparently unequal dispenGod, and himself shut out. But let us reflect that sations of Providence,-that the wicked flourishour opportunities of knowing the Saviour are greater ed as the green bay tree, enjoyed in abundance the than those which he possessed, and if we reject that bounties and blessings of this life, were successful Saviour our guilt is greater than his. It can avail us in their designs, rose to power, honour and wealth, nothing to say, that we have never reviled the Saviour, exulted in their greatness, and despised the rightas he in the agony of his sufferings did. If Christ cruci-eous, who were often exposed to difficulty and fed has been proclaimed to us in vain; if neither his instructions nor his sufferings have attracted our regard, then we must at last take our place by the side of the impenitent thief, and participating in his guilt, be content to share his doom. The one or the other of these thieves we resemble in the principles which we cherish, and with the one or the other of them our

hardship, to misery and oppression, and apparently neglected of God, whom they endeavoured to serve. In the pride of their hearts, the wicked attribute all their success to themselves,-give not God the glory, or conclude, at least, that their own character and efforts have deserved the success which God has given them; while the pretensions of

so

because they are insensible of their value, and instead of receiving them with pleasure, would look upon them as offensive, and be excited to rage and fury, and turn again and rend those who were so foolish as to cast before them what was so little suited to their tastes and natures. There are persons so little impressed with a sense of religion,— so little sensible of the value of divine truth, and the importance of their everlasting interests, irrational, earthly, and sensual, and so proud of their own attainments and ignorant of their moral wants, that, speak to them of the majesty, holiness and justice of God, the glories of immortality, the happiness of piety, the danger, degradation, and misery of vice, the sinfulness of our nature, and the necessity of a faith in the Redeemer, of regeneration by the Holy Spirit, or of devotedness of body and soul to God, instead of listening with pleasure or interest, like fierce and savage animals, they will give way to rage and fury, trample these precious pearls under their feet, scoff at the sacred truths you unfold to them, blaspheme religion, contemn their God and Saviour, and turn upon you, as enemies who insult their understanding and their virtue.

those who lay claim to greater sanctity and right- | our Saviour not to cast our pearls before swine, eousness, to greater love to God, and trust in his goodness, are evidently contradicted by the result, since, if they were the favourites of heaven, they would surely experience more of its protection and bounty. To justify this conclusion, they mark the failures of the righteous-invidiously set down their occasional faults as indubitable proofs of general insincerity, and congratulate themselves on their superior honesty, and freedom from the meanness and baseness of hypocrisy. The Psalmist, then, observing this state of things, and feeling its agitating effect upon his mind, in order to prevent any unworthy repinings against the justice and goodness of God, for permitting such apparently unequal distribution, and also that he may not give the wicked any just cause of speaking reproachfully against the conduct of the saints of God, he resolves to take heed to his ways, to order his conduct wisely, prudently and religiously before God and man; to obey the laws of God; to avoid all appearance of evil; to suppress every rising indication of impatience and discontent; and as, when under the influence of strong feeling, we are more liable to transgress by speech, and less able to restrain ourselves in that than in any other way, he resolves to be particularly watchful in this respect, to set a watch on the door of his lips, that he sin not with his tongue, to give vent to no bitter expressions against the injustice and wrong which he suffered from the wicked, and to be careful not to charge the wisdom, justice and goodness of the Almighty foolishly. He resolved even to keep his mouth with a bridle or muzzle, when the wicked were before him. That is, to keep the strictest restraint upon himself, when in the presence of those who would misrepresent his words, or catch at the excesses of his speech which he might imprudently suffer to escape him, and turn them to the dishonour of God, or the injury of piety and religion. Or it may be, that he resolved to keep himself under the strictest restraint when the wicked were before him; that is, in his thoughts, when he is considering their insolent and unjust conduct, and yet flourishing condition, lest he should be tempted to utter disrespectful and rebellious speeches against the government of the Supreme Being who sees the end from the beginning-knows the multiplied relations of all beings and events in the universe which he has created; and, no doubt, though we cannot comprehend them, orders all the arrangements of his Providence for the wisest and best purposes, and shall at the last day award to wickedness its due punishment, and to righteousness its due reward.

In pursuance of this resolution, he says, Verse 2d," I was dumb with silence: I held my peace even from good; and my sorrow was stir

red."

"I was dumb with silence."-This is a Hebrew form of expression, to denote perfect silence. He uttered not a single expression that could possibly he misrepresented. With this view he held his peace even from good, We are commanded by

In the presence of persons of this character, the Psalmist conceived it his duty to maintain the most perfect silence respecting the subjects he had been contemplating, and every thing connected with the religious dispensations and righteous government of God. But though his feelings were thus suppressed, and he avoided giving the adversary any just occasion of speaking reproachfully, yet his grief was not assuaged, but on the contrary, the more he reflected in secret on the obstinacy and perverseness of the wicked, and the more he restrained his speech from giving utterance to the feelings of his soul, the more strongly were his grief and vexation excited. And in

Verse 3d, he goes on to describe the progress of his feelings. "My heart was hot within me; while I was musing the fire burnt; then spake I with my tongue."

I gave

This verse has been interpreted by commentators as follows:-" While I was indulging my anger and grief, the fire burned; that is, my passions acquired more strength and violence, and encreased to such a degree that they could not be suppressed." "Then spake I with my tongue." utterance to my feelings in rash, impatient, and impetuous language." Taking the verse by itself, and unconnected with what precedes or follows it, this interpretation might be natural and just; but viewing it, as is most reasonable, in connection with the preceding and subsequent context, it seems, in this view, altogether insulated, and at variance with the resolutions expressed in the first verse, with the determined silence and quiet grief expressed in the second, and is certainly not a very natural introduction to the calm and contemplative prayer that immediately commences in the fourth verse. The whole Psalm, indeed, seems characterized by a sedate and chastened feeling, by

a spirit of deep and submissive devotion; and by explaining the verse literally, which is always the most desirable way, when it can consistently be done, the unity of the Psalm is preserved, and the consistency, connection, and natural train of thought continued throughout,

When under restraint, his sorrow was stirred. In the retirement of his own bosom he was agitated with grief-" his heart was hot,”—a -an expression as much characteristic, in original scriptural language, of sorrowful as of angry passion. He had been vexed with the opposition and profane ridicule of the ungodly, he pitied their short-lived prosperity and triumph, he dreaded falling into the same dangers and follies, or being envious of their prosperity; and in this state of pensive and thoughtful meditation, the fire burnt, did not increase in violence, but, as the word denotes, wasted and consumed away before him, and reminded him of the passing nature of every thing earthly-that the career of the ungodly might be bright, but was hastening, by its own activity, to a close-that the vexations they occasioned would soon come to an end, the agitations of grief would soon be stilled in the peaceful slumbers of the grave, the things which now concerned him so much, would soon have passed away, as though they had never been, and it was therefore useless to disquiet himself in vain. Then, as if his former passions were almost subdued by his resolutions of prudent caution and silence, and his train of pensive meditation, he turns in peace to God, the wise and gracious disposer and judge of all, and utters the following prayer, which is well calculated to remove every remaining feeling of discontent, to allay entirely every stirring of passion, and to soothe the bitterness of grief.

Ver. 4th. "Lord, make me to know mine end, and the measure of my days what it is, that I may know how frail I am." Thou, O Lord, who knowest all things, who remainest for ever the same through the lapse of time and the revolution of ages, unaffected by change, and unmoved by the confusion and trouble of this vale of sin and tears, who rulest Supreme in the armies of heaven and among the inhabitants of this world, who presidest over the destinies of the sons of men, in whose hands are the issues of life and death, "O make me to know mine end," impress upon my soul a deep and abiding sense of what is to be the result of all the pride and greatness, the anxiety and fear, the joy and exultation, the griefs and resentments of this passing scene, that it is to issue in the lowliness, corruption and silence of the tomb, where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest, where the voice of the oppressor is no more heard, where the tongue of the scoffer lies still, where hostile passions no more agitate, where those who once were foes, sleep peacefully side by side, like infants lulled to rest, where the idle storm rages unheeded, and the rank grass waves over their narrow dwelling in token of the profound and undisturbed repose that reigns below. Here is a contemplation that makes envy

at the prosperity of the wicked, discontent at the unequal dispensations of providence, and resentment at the opposition of the ungodly, appear in their true colours, vain, ridiculous and absurd.

ap

The Psalmist farther prays God to impress upon his mind the measure of his days, the little sum of that period which now assumes such mighty importance,-what it in reality is, not as it pears to our imaginations, a lengthened period of returning years, but as it is in the eye of God, of reason and religion, viewed in connection with the vastness of eternity, with the importance of the work to be done in it, viz.: provision made for our everlasting necessities, with the amount of the enjoyment which it affords, and the misery which it yields. And this prayer he offers up, that he may be convinced how frail, how transitory and shortlived he is, and how useless it is to be deeply concerned about any thing that has respect merely to this fleeting existence-for, Ver. 5th. "Behold thou hast made my days as an handbreadth, and mine age is as nothing before thee."

The shortness of human life is expressed in Scripture by a great variety of just, beautiful and striking images. It is spoken of as a sleep which is passed in a state of unconsciousness, and seems a mere blank in our existence ;— -as a dream of the night, which is characterized by alternations of hope and fear, joy and sorrow, ease and trouble, but all is the work of imagination, and is dissipated for ever by the light of day ;-as grass, which groweth up green and fresh in the morning, but in the evening is cut down and withered;—as a tale that is told, that has excited a variety of feeling and of interest, and has consumed some time in the recital, but is soon totally forgotten or comprehended by the reflection of a moment;—as a shadow that has no substance or existence of its own, which a passing cloud or an intervening object obliterates in a moment. The force of these images is perceived, not by looking forward to the time before us, which imagination magnifies in the distance, and hope gilds with bright and durable colours; but by looking back on the past reality, on the space that has already been trode, on the time that is gone, that has sunk into the abyss of past eternity, and has scarely left a trace behind it, which is comprehended by a single retrospective glance, and passes before the mind as a fleeting shadow which cannot be laid hold of, and which, when most lengthened, is soonest to escape from our view. In the Verse before us, the imagery is no less striking and expressive." Behold, Thou hast made my days as an handbreadth, and mine age is as nothing before thee; verily every man at his best estate is altogether vanity." As an handbreadth, a little span, compared with the vast immensity of space, so are the days of man compared with the boundless infinitude of eternity, so inconceivably disproportioned, that the mind in vain endeavours to form a distinct conception of the difference. So impressed was the Psalmist with this comparison, that he adds, "mine age," the