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precious seed with tears, a handful of believers at length | sprung up amid the snows of Greenland, the Moravians, "at their catechetical and other meetings, began to teach the Catechumens hymns in honour of the Saviour, which they learned with eagerness and sung constantly." A school was begun for the instruction of such as had any talent for singing, and as two of the brethren from Germany understood the science, they greatly assisted in training the young Greenlanders, who not only improved in vocal, but some of them became even tolerably acquainted with instrumental music.”

"A brother, one morning, very early going to let out their sheep, heard uncommonly sweet singing in a tent, and drawing near found it was the head of the family performing his morning devotions with his people. Beckoning to the others to come, we stood still (says the Missionary Diary) and listened to this sweet melody, with hearts exceedingly moved, and with eyes filled with tears, and thought these people were, no longer than two years ago, savage heathens, and now they sing to the Lamb that was slain, so charmingly that it strikes to the inmost soul." What! shall the voice of Psalms rise so sweetly from the tents of savage Greenland, amid their snow-clad rocks, and piles of eternal glaciers, and is it beginning to die away from the cottages and firesides of Christian Scotland?

Take one fact more. The missionaries were one year refreshed by a visit from Bishop Johannes de Watteville, who came to inspect the state of the Mission, and set in order what was wanting. "He bestowed much attention upon the hymns and the singing of the congregation, remarking that it appeared to him that the hymns proved a great blessing among strangers; for the factor told him that being once on a trading round, thirty leagues distant, he entered a tent that had been pitched awhile in their neighbourhood, and found the children prettily singing several hymns they had learned from the children of the settlement, which furnished him with an opportunity of useful conversation." What! shall heathen children, that know not the Saviour, be found, in the icy wildernesses of Greenland, imbibing the knowledge and love of Jesus, from the psalmody of the far distant Christians, and shall converted parents, in this land of education and piety, leave their unconverted children untaught to hymn the praises of Jesus, in those plaintive airs, "compared with which Italian trills are tame," those airs which are named from the sufferings of their martyr forefathers?

CHRISTIAN TREASURY.

Whom have I in Heaven but Thee?-That is, Thee I have, and none but Thee in heaven. I deny not that we have God many ways with us in this life, for we see him in his works, we hear him in his word, we taste him in the sacrament, we feel him by the motions of his Spirit within us, we touch him by faith, we draw pear to him in love, we rely upon him by hope, we have fellowship with him by prayer; yet all this is nothing to our manner of having him in heaven. A man can only be said truly to have a lordship, a manor, a living, when he entereth upon the fruits thereof, and receiveth the crop. The Lord is, indeed, our lot and portion even in this life; but we cannot reap the thousandth part of the profits and delights he hath in himself, and will afford us hereafter. They to whom He most imparteth himself and communicateth his goodness here, have but a taste only of the tree of life, a glimpse of the Sun of Righteousness, an earnest of their future reward; but such a taste, such a glimpse, such an earnest as they would not lose for all the possessions or enjoyments of the world. These the kingly prophet so exceedingly desired, that he compares the ardency of his affection to the thirst of the hart, either long chased, or after the sting of the serpent has set all his throat on fire. "As the hart panteth for the rivers of

water, so panteth my soul after thee, O God. My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God,-when shall I come and appear before God!" If we take such contentment in the contemplation of his image in a mirror, as we sometimes here find, how shall we be transported when we see him face to face, and be united to him, spirit to spirit? Can we desire larger possessions than immensity, a surer estate than immutability, a longer term than eternity, a fuller portion than Jehovah ?—— FEATLEY.

He

He is

Meditation on God.-I know that it is the greatest pleasure and the greatest indulgence to think of God. Think of any thing else, and you will find disappointment in it. Whatever you think of long together, will at last give you pain. It will shew you that you must be disappointed and mortified. Whatever man you think of, you will find in him some imperfection. Whatever kingdom you think of, you will find it is badly governed. Whatever sense you think of, you will find that you are met by ignorance and imperfection. But if you think of God, there is no imperfection. He is what he should be, perfectly perfect. He is perfect happiness, and is such a fountain of happiness in himself, that he has enough for all who will seek it. has so much power, that nothing can resist him. so good, that we may be certain every thing is for the best; there is no pain in thinking of these things; there is no pain in thinking of everlasting happiness. We know, indeed, that when the body is weary, it can no longer think of any thing, and after the most delightful thoughts, at last sink into sleep. But, if you meditate on any thing of an irritating nature, it is ten to one but your meditation disturbs you, and is rather an enemy to peace, and quiet, and repose; but if you think of God and his goodness, there is such a soft delight in it, that if the mind and body are not oppressed by sleep, you can continue to think of them longer, with delight, than you can think of any thing else; and yet, if the body be weary and wants sleep, there is such a softness in the delight of meditating on God, that the mind and body easily and delightfully fall into refreshing slumbers.-MAYOW.

He

Trifle not with Temptation.-Christ never wilfully exposed himself to temptation. Pure and sinless as he was, and all-powerful to resist it as he knew himself to be, Jesus did not go of his own choice into the wilderness to try his strength against the tempter. Whereever that event is mentioned, it is distinctly said, was led of the Spirit into the wilderness," an expression peculiar to those passages, as if on purpose to distinguish that act from every other of his life, and show us that he, even he, went not willingly to meet his Father's enemy, and listen to the language of seduction. What a lesson, what a reproof! We, predisposed as we are to sin, incapable of resisting it as we know ourselves to be, do we go boldly, and without necessity, where Satan keeps his court, where he spreads his blandishments, where we know we must meet him, and either defeat his wiles, or be seduced by them? Do we venture to say, that if our own principles are good, there is no risk to us in any company, in any place? Can we walk side by side with the enemies of God, and sit. in the counsels of sinners, without any danger of being seduced from our allegiance to God? Jesus was not thus bold, though he might have been. If we set one step into the wilderness of temptation without the leading of the Spirit, for the fulfilment of some known command, we follow not in the footsteps of our Lord. God took him there, that he might in all things be more than conqueror. God may take us there; if he does, it will be to conquer too. But of those who go there unbidden, to break a lance with the enemy for pastime, or, knight-errant like, to free the world from his enchantments, let no one think he does as Jesus did.-CAROLINE FRY.

and

SACRED POETRY.

THE MISSIONARY.

"He was the first that ever bore
Glad tidings to that desert shore."

My heart goes with thee, dauntless man,
Freely as thou dost hie,

To sojourn with some barbarous clan,
For them to toil or die.
Fondly our spirits to our own

Cling, nor to part allow;

Thine to some land forlorn has flown,-
We turn, and where art thou?

Thou climb'st the vessel's lofty side,-
Numbers are gathering there;

The youthful warrior in his pride,

The merchant in his care:

Hearts which, for knowledge, track the seas,

Spirits which lightly rove.

Glad as the billows and the breeze-
And thou the child of love,

A savage shore receives thy tread;
Companion thou hast none;
The wild boughs wave above thy head,
Yet still thou journeyest on;
Treading the tangled wild wood drear,
Piercing the mountain glen,
Till wearily thou drawest near

The haunts of lonely men.
Strange is thine aspect to their eyes;
Strange is thy foreign speech;
And wild, and strong is their surprise,
At marvels thou dost teach.
Thy strength alone is in thy words;
Yet armies could not bow

The spirit of these barbarous hordes
So readily as thou.

But Oh! thy heart, thou home sick man,
With saddest thoughts run o'er,

Sitting, as fades the evening wan,

Silently at thy door.

Yet that poor hut upon the wild,

A stone beneath the tree,

And souls to God's love reconciled-
These are enough for thee.

NOAH'S DOVE.

W. HOWITT.

BY THE REV. JOHN ANDERSON,
Minister of the Congregation of Original Burghers,
Helensburgh.

FORTH from the ark the dove has gone,
On pinions that outstrip the wind.
Day fades, yet, lo! she journies on,

If she a resting-place may find,
Where she may fold her weary wing,-
'Tween sea and sky, sole living thing.
Cease, bright creature, cease to roam :-
Burst the dark waters every where :
They roll above thy forest home;

For thee no resting-place is there.
Back to the ark, on drooping plume,
She hastens thro' the closing gloom.
Like thee I left my father's hearth-

Ark of my childhood's joyous hour-
This sin and sorrow-deluged earth,
Eager of foot, to wander o'er.

This "wandering foot," this " weary breast,"
Where shall I find a place to rest?

Bright bird, were mine thy wings of wind,

To cross that dark deep gulf, the Past; An ark, like thee, I yet might find;

There rest and refuge find at last.
Vain wish; Time is that fatal bourne,
O'er which no traveller may return.

To all, life is an onward track;
And tho' it is a changing scene,
This is unknown,-returning back

To be again, what we have been.
Time past has made us what we are,
No Time can make us what we were.
An arkless dove art thou, like me,

Of "wandering wing," of "weary breast:" Poor wanderer on life's stormy sea,

Pin'st thou for refuge and for rest? Tho' tempest-tost, tho' seaward driven, There is a RESTING PLACE IN HEAVEN.

MISCELLANEOUS.

Rev. James Hervey. This excellent man, writing to a friend, very shortly before his death, says, "Were I to enjoy Hezekiah's grant, and have fifteen years added to my life, I would be much more frequent in my applications to the throne of grace: we sustain a mighty loss by reading so much, and praying so little. Were I to renew my studies, I would take my leave of those accomplished trifles, the historians, the orators, the poets of antiquity, and devote my attention to the Scriptures of Truth. I would sit with much greater assi duity at my Divine Master's feet, and desire to know nothing but Jesus Christ and him crucified. This wisdom, whose fruits are everlasting salvation after death, this I would explore through the spacious and delightful fields of the Old and New Testament."

Colonel Gardiner.—It is said that Colonel Gardiner, after his conversion, devoted two hours every morning to reading the Word of God and prayer. He determined that nothing should rob him of his precious time for devotion. Hence, if his regiment had to march at six o'clock, he rose at four; and if he had to march at four, he rose at two.

Remarkable Preservation.-Dr Calamy, in his "Life and Times," tells us that he knew a captain of a ship, of the name of Stephens, who resided at Harwich, and was of good reputation, and who, with his crew, once experienced a very remarkable deliverance from drowning. between Holland and England. The vessel sprang a leak, and the water poured in so abundantly, that ail on board gave themselves up for lost. But on a sudden it stopped, and the water being pumped out of the ves sel, they arrived safely on shore. On examination they discovered that the leak had been stopped by a fish which had got so firmly wedged into it that they could scarcely get it out.

The EDITOR of the SCOTTISH CHRISTIAN HERALD begs it to be distinctly understood, that no attention is paid to anonymous Contributions of whatever kind.

Published by JOHN JOHNSTONE, at the Offices of the SCOTTIS CHRISTIAN HERALD, 104, High Street, Edinburgh, and 19, Glass ford Street, Glasgow;-JAMES NISBET & Co., and R. H. Moos, London; D. R. BLEAKLEY, Dublin; and W. M'COMB, Belfast: and sold by the Booksellers and Local Agents in all the Towa and Parishes of Scotland; and in the principal Towns in England and Ireland.

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THE

CONDUCTED UNDER THE SUPERINTENDENCE OF MINISTERS AND MEMBERS OF
THE ESTABLISHED CHURCH.

"THE FEAR Of the lʊrd, tHAT IS WISDOM."

VOL. I. No. 20.

SATURDAY, JULY 16, 1836.

THE PARTING SCENE AT TYRE. BY THE REV. ROBERT COWE, A. M., Minister of the High Meeting, Berwick-upon-Tweed. PRIMITIVE Christianity was distinguished by that ingenuous simplicity of spirit that so usually and amiably marks the spring-tide of life. Full of youthful vigour, and unembarrassed by those damping calculations of worldly expediency, which so unhappily impair the quality of devotion, and restrain the flow of religious feeling, wherever they prevail, it was not ashamed to show itself in its plain and native attire, or to give an honest expression to its sentiments and hopes. And, as the prevalence of hostile opinions did not deter the early Christians from a frank disclosure of their views, so the frowning aspect of ungodly habits was not sufficient to bar their performance of imIn this season of youthful fervour portant duties. they were not more candid than brave; the shame of the cross was their glory; they nobly honoured what the rest of the world despised; Religion, with them, lay near the heart; and to preach, vindicate, and practise it, they resolutely and cheerfully encountered every danger; their piety did not play like moonbeams on the surface of a lake, but shone steadily through their lives, with a brilliancy emanating from the central and heaven-fed light within. Accordingly, they entered warmly into the Lord's work, willingly lending to his followers the aid of their sympathies and prayers. To reflect his image was the surest passport to their favour; in those days, Christians loved each other because they were Christians; they saw in each other a family likeness, that drew their hearts together, producing mutual confidence and esteem. Of the influence of this ingenuous and affectionate spirit, we have a beautiful and an instructive illustration in the touching scene that occurred when Paul took leave of the Tyrian converts:"And they all brought us on our way, with wives and children, till we were out of the city, and we kneeled down on the shore and prayed." A residence of no more than seven days among them, had been employed with such prudence, zeal and love, as completely to win their favour. Though faithful in the discharge of his apostolic office, correcting errors and reproving sins, wherever

PRICE 1d.

found, by unfolding the mercy of God in Christ,
the beauty of holiness, and the power and excel-
lence of divine truth, he had effectually succeeded
in captivating their affections, and rendering them
ardent and devoted friends. He had resolved their
doubts, enlarged their spiritual knowledge, listened
with tender interest to the unburdened sorrows of
the penitent, and, by many kind words and deeds,
endeared himself to old and young. They had
worshipped God together in the name of their
common Saviour; their hearts had been warmed
in company by the same divine Spirit; their finest
sympathies had been awakened by sweet, devo-
tional intercourse; and how could they be unmoved
when the hour of separation arrived? They had
lived in amity, like brethren in the Lord, and
were they to part with the cold adieu of strangers?
Their farewell was not of an ordinary kind, not
the dictate of formality, but the spontaneous effu-
sion of piety and friendship. In the prospect of
parting from a spiritual benefactor, who had treated
them with the affection of a guardian and a father,
directing them by his counsel, and enlarging their
love by his prayers, they deplored their loss, while
they saw its necessity. When he rose to go away,
instead of exchanging the usual courtesies of fare-
well in their own dwellings, and allowing him to
depart alone with his companions, they flocked
around him with every mark of gratitude and
esteem-husbands, wives and children, were his
honourable escort from the city to the shore.
This was a body guard that royalty might envy, a
tribute of true affection, a warm expression of love
and regret.

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But how did the scene close? It closed in a manner worthy of the Gospel, and honourable to Paul and the Tyrians. Their work was divine, and, ere they parted, they made a solemn and harmonious appeal to Almighty God, commending each other, and the cause they had most at heart, to They kneeled down on the his fatherly care. shore and prayed." Under the broad canopy of heaven, they prostrated themselves, with the bare ground for their cushion; and the voice of supplication, blending with the murmuring of the waves, rose on the wings of faith to the Hearer of Prayer. They did not heed the scoffs of the bystanders; God looked on and approved, and that was en

couragement enough to them. Consulting their | own feelings, and their sense of duty, loving the praise of God more than the praise of men, inspired with more love to Paul, than fear of the heathen, they were not ashamed to pray with him openly, as well as pray for him secretly. It was a noble and spirit-stirring sight, a sight which it does the heart good to think of, and which must have soothed and ennobled those who were engaged in it. Even Paul must have been the better of such a parting, and must have often reverted to the scene with a grateful and refreshing remembrance in after days. It was, indeed, a rare and noble adieu, so fraught with benediction, so richly seasoned with Christian love. The cross triumphed more sublimely there, than ever martial hero did on a victorious battle-field. It was not a victory of death, but of life, love, and praise. The trophies were ransomed souls and grateful hearts. The shore on which they kneeled had been long the theatre of very different exploits; the hum of merchandise had been triumphantly heard there many a day; the choicest treasures of the world had been imported there when Tyre was in her glory, "when her merchants were princes, and her traffickers were the honourable of the earth;" but the gayest, most enterprising, and splendid sights that eye had ever witnessed there, even in the days of her highest grandeur, were infinitely surpassed by the simple and sublime scene of kneeling worshippers. The most richly laden vessel that ever sailed majestically into that port, contained nothing half so precious as the treasure of kindly feeling and heavenly aspiration in the hearts of that Christian circle. The wealth of no emporium could rival theirs. Love and godliness were in triumphant exercise, uncontrolled and unabashed by the adverse influence that prevailed around. The city, it is true, was not intoxicated with joy; the rich were not elated; the poor were not filled with admiration at the sight, but angels were approving spectators,-God bowed the heavens and came down, and his blessing was there.

arise from the loose hold Religion has of our hearts?
Were we thoroughly pervaded and leavened by
divine love, it would unostentatiously discover
itself in all the relations of life in which we should
be placed. It would season our friendship, as well
as every thing else, cementing it with the warmest
affection, and embellishing it with the sweetness
of the Christian spirit. If we are friends of the
right stamp, shall we confine our sympathy to
worldly interests, or bodily wants, or even mental
tastes; shall we not be most anxious for what is
most valuable, and, while wishing our friends well,
and contributing to their happiness in temporal
things, shall we not enter with a lively and deep
concern, into whatever pertains to their immortal
souls? Though the better our friends are, the
sadder is it to be separated from them; yet is it a
consolation to leave the shore on which they stand,
waving to us their last adieu, conscious of their
benedictions, sure that, when out of sight, we
shall not be out of mind, but shall be remembered
from the heart by them at the throne of grace.
We deprive ourselves of much help and comfort,
when we do not reciprocate such feelings; we re-
fuse to others, and withhold from ourselves, one
of those consolatory supports provided by the
goodness of God, and are not alive to that holy
brotherhood, whose tongue knows not how to be
silent, when it has the power to strengthen and
bless. Our prayers are a debt due to our brethren,
which it is unjust not to pay.

But that friends often bid a long adieu to each other, without any recognition of the love and guardianship of God, is not the only ground of complaint; it is painful to think, and deeply to be lamented, that parting scenes are sometimes debasing exhibitions of ungodliness and dissipation. Among some persons a foolish opinion prevails that it is cold and ungenerous to separate in a sober state of mind. Accordingly, the maddening influence of intoxica tion is courted as a kind of set-off to the long absence in prospect, as if eager to take revenge on the future by large draughts of ill regulated and Parting scenes are generally of a character very boisterous merriment. How dishonourable to hu different from this. How many members of the man nature, how symptomatic of a depraved moral same family, how many friends endeared to each condition, to consider this a rational or pleasing other by congenial tastes, and long, affectionate mode of spending the last hours that friends may intercourse, part, with little prospect of ever meet- enjoy together on earth! Are such scenes reverting again in this world, without the most distanted to with complacency on a death-bed, when the allusion to their eternal interests, in commending each other, in prayer, to the Preserver of Life. Precious hours of converse glide away, while the mind is taken up with things comparatively trifling, to the exclusion of those great concerns that should be dear to every heart. Compliments are sent to absent friends, but few breathe this request, "Commend me in prayer to God." And when the farewell scene is over, and time for calm reflection enjoyed, regret is often felt and expressed for forgetting to speak of something interesting to both parties; but how seldom does it happen that this has any relation to the grave demands of the eternal world? If God is not in all our thoughts in such interesting seasons, does it not

immediate prospect of eternity leads the mind to
a more correct estimate of the value of time, and
forces upon it the conviction of duties neglected,
and privileges misimproved? And how must it
sadden the remembrance of such a season, when
the person whose society we last enjoyed, under
these circumstances, is called to his account
a short time after his departure! Will it add to
the serenity of the mind, relieve the conscience of
rebuke, or render the recollection of that name wel-
come and delightful, to think that the last time w
were together we tempted him to sin, and left him
in a state in which we should tremble to die
Surely such interesting and important periods of
life may be spent cheerfully and happily withou

being spent sinfully, by the interchange of kind | compatible with due devotion to God; or fearing, at
feeling, uncontaminated by the gross appendages
of riotous iniquity.

The feelings, in the prospect of separation from those dear to us, are generally in a very susceptible #state, and therefore very accessible to religious impressions. Such periods constitute favourable seasons for distilling, in the feelings, the influence of piety, by dropping sentiments of a spiritual character, likely to insinuate themselves into the mind. The melting of the heart by the overflow of the tender sympathies, is a kind of spiritual tillage, which, by judicious management, may be rendered highly conducive to the reception of the good seed of eternal life. As the Egyptians cast their seed into the soil, while saturated with the waters of the Nile, so should the truth be cast into the heart, while it is softened by the springing up of those fountains of emotion which God has wisely and graciously lodged within us. Advice given, warnings uttered, allusions made at such a time, are frequently more memorable and efficacious than at They are affectionately retained, because they may be the last heard from the same lips, and are bound like chains around the neck. Such things approximate to the sacred character, associated with the last counsels of the dying, and the heart feels as if it would betray a delicate trust ever to forget them. These are not opportunities to be slighted, especially by parents, guardians, and friends; let the seal of divine truth, with the image and superscription of the King of heaven upon it, be applied to the soul in this melted state, and who knows but the likeness of God may be

other seasons.

left behind!

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In very many instances, especially in cities, where frequent pastoral visitation is impracticable, a pastor's intimacy with the families of his flock begins in the seasons of their distress. This circumstance, though it may create much painful embarrassment in the commencement of his intercourse with them, serves, I am persuaded, to give a deeper and more tender interest to its growth and continuance. The seed which falls into the moistened earth finds a deeper root, and shoots up into greater strength and luxuriance; and in like manner, those affections which are first awakened amid the softening influences of affliction, take a stronger hold, and ripen into more intimate and confiding friendship, than those which spring up and are cherished only amid he lighter and less trying scenes of life.

It was in the day of their deep affliction that I first became acquainted with the interesting family, whose nemorial I am now briefly to record. Mrs C. he widowed head of this family, had been in her early outh, as she told me, 66 very religious," at least, she as the subject of very strong and ardent religious imressicas, and, under their influence, continued for a ne in the diligent and delighted observance of her hristian duty. So inviting did God's service then pear to her, that she gave herself to it, as not only e chief, but the sole employment of her life. That thing might distract or diminish her attention to it, e formed a solemn resolution that she would never arry,—judging that the cares of domestic life were in

least, that, in her own case, they might ensnare her affections, and betray her into a neglect of her highest interests. Such a resolution, taken on such grounds, was not a good proof of the soundness of her piety, nor did it hold out favourable promise of its constancy. In many, a "necessity," as the apostle speaks, "not to marry," is the dictate of sound discretion and Christian principle. But the absolute purpose to forego the relations of social life, from the notion that they are hurtthe soul, cannot be referred to the same honourable ful or hazardous to the life and progress of religion in source. That notion impugns the constitution of nature; it counteracts the destinations of Providence; it distrusts or denies the provisions of grace; and as often as it is acted on, (we appeal to the history of Monachism for the proof,) it corrupts or withers those affecand annihilates or contracts those services of usefulness tions which it seeks unnaturally to purify and elevate, which it professes to multiply and extend. In truth, it is altogether the offspring of a romantic feeling, which soars above the humble realities of man's earthly condition, and forgets the proper nature and sphere of duty and discipline which God has appointed to him. Like and the purposes which it gives birth to are made all such high-flown feelings too, it is always short-lived, much oftener than they are kept, for they die away, or are borne down before the power of those stronger emotions which are awakened amid the changing circumstances of life. It was thus in the present instance.

Even

Miss
kept her purpose only till a temptation
prise any one who judges of the style of her Christi-
was presented to her to break it. And it will not sur-
anity by this specimen of it, to learn that, after her
marriage, she fell away from her Christian profession
and character, and, amid her cares fort he things of this
world, left off caring for the things of the Lord. Her
domestic circumstances, which were rather straitened,
have maintained in a higher style of comfort than her
and her rising family, which her ambition would fain
husband's income could afford, produced a crowd of
worldly cares, which seemed utterly to choke the good
seed of divine grace in her heart, and to make her un-
fruitful in the work of God. This result of her mar-
ried life, though realizing sadly all her early apprehen-
sions, must not, by any means, be considered as justi-
fying them. It is, indeed, but too true,-being evinced,
not merely by an occasional instance, but by universal ex-
perience, that in our natural hearts the tendency of
every care, and of every comfort in social life, is to
exclude God, and to fix down our thoughts and affections
upon the things which are seen and temporal.
in minds religiously disposed, which would recoil from
the indulgence of grosser sins, the love of kindred, of
husband, or wife, or children, is very apt to usurp
an unlawful place and power in them. The amiable
habits which it forms, and the delightful pleasures which
it yields, procure for it an easy ascendancy, and many,
many are the instances in which it comes to reign, to
the exclusion of the love of God, over those who, like
Mrs C- entered life with the serious purpose of
consecrating it to his service. But this is not the ne-
cessary consequence of the social condition. On the
contrary, that condition affords the finest scope for the
exercise of the best affections, and for habits of most
eminent usefulness to the Church and the world; and
there are many who, under the guidance and blessing
of God's Spirit, signally improve these advantages. The
opposite result proceeds from sinful neglect of their
duty, and their resources. They cease to watch and
to pray that they enter not into temptation. They thus
forfeit that promised grace, without which, every scene
and circumstance of life is, to our fallen nature, fraught
with the power of ensnaring and corrupting us; and
hence obey their downward earthly tendencies, and settle

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