vidual before us; there was in him no lethargy, no apathy, no indolence. He trembled from head to foot; the bed shook beneath him. My heart was rent with his lamentable entreaties for supplication on his behalf. He desired me not to pray for his recovery; he seemed afraid lest time should be wasted on such petition,time, which to him was now too short and too precious, to be spent in asking that which could not be obtained; but earnest were his beseechings to plead for the salvation of his soul. It was just a case in which one could have wished to forget every other call upon compassion, and to have kneeled by his bedside while ebbing life remained, helping him to pray; or to have gone from him only to “ weep in secret places," and plead with the merciful One, if haply his sins might have been forgiven ere his term of grace expired. It was cruel to be torn away, to be forced, by the wants of many others, to tear one's self from him who was most of all, perhaps alone of all, alive to his own wants. And such our separation literally was. When I rose to bid him a last farewell, he seized my hand in his long bony fingers, and trembling in every limb, besought me not to forget him at a throne of grace; nor would he let me go, till at length with great difficulty I extricated myself from his agonizing grasp. I had witnessed one of the most affecting scenes that the world presents,-an awakened sinner summoned into judgment; and doubly affecting to me, in the removal of an object of much solicitude, of mingled fear and hope. Had I seen him for the first time, I should probably have regarded him as a child of the kingdom encountering the last enemy under the hiding of his Father's face, and wounded by such "fiery darts of the wicked One," as for the moment he could not quench. Or had I learned his character, such as the world would have given it, I should have hoped that, having been a sinner, he was one saved in the eleventh hour, a death-bed penitent. And as it was, I cannot but cherish the persuasion that he may have been saved " yet so as by fire," and that in the last hour his prayer may have been heard,—his chain have been broken,-his spirit set free. Still, in so far as man could judge, his dying repentance was not different from the many repentances of his life, which themselves "needed to be repented of." He was indeed shut up as he had never been before; there was no future time into which his thoughts might run in vague resolutions of amendment; life was done, it was all behind, death and judgment were before. So situated, his convictions of sin were more distressing, his fear of punishment more overwhelming, his desire for deliverance more intense. But the effect was simply this, that his mind was more dreadfully distracted than ever, and he could not fix it for a moment on any one object of thought; yet the returning and prevailing emotion seemed to be "a certain fearful looking for of judgment and fiery indignation." His life declared that a thorough change of heart required to be wrought; that he had never truly discerned Christ and him crucified, nor trusted in him; that his repentance had been legal and self-righteous. "Sin would not have had dominion over him, if he had been not under the law but under grace." There was then this great transition to be made; the being born again; the being set free with the liberty of the children of God. His death gave no evidence that such a change had been produced; for any difference discernible between this and his former repentings, he might have risen from that bed the slave of sin as before. There was "no returning of the soul unto quiet rest," no becoming like a little child, no peace of conscience, no sweet and placid reliance on the Hope of Israel. His soul was still "like the troubled sea which cannot rest;" his sun set in gloomy darkness unbroken by one perceptible streak of light. In conclusion we subjoin these two remarks: 1. If we were better acquainted with the mental history of men, we should probably find that many sup- 2. We cannot conceive two characters more different, CHRISTIAN TREASURY. 66 A Fervent Appeal at the Lord's Supper.-O all ye inhabitants of the world and dwellers in the earth, come gather yourselves together unto the marriage of the great King. Hear, ye that are afar off, and ye that are near, the Lord proclaimeth salvation to the ends of the earth, the glory of the Lord is to be revealed. Tidings, tidings, O ye captives! Hear, all ye that look for salvation in Israel; behold I bring you tidings of great joy. O, blessed news! the Lord is coming down upon Mount Zion,-not in earthquakes and thunders, not in fire and burnings,-not in darkness and tempests, but peaceably; the law of kindness is in his mouth; he crieth, Peace, peace to him that is afar off, and to him that is near." Behold! how he leapeth on the mountains! He hath passed Mount Ebal,—no more wrath or cursing, he is come to Mount Gerizim to bless; he cometh clothed with flames of love and bowels of compassion, plenteous redemption and multiplied pardons. O, how pregnant is his love! Hearken, therefore, unto me, O, ye children; "for behold ye stand all of you this day before the Lord your God; your captains, your elders, your officers, and all the men of Israel, your little ones, your wives, and the stranger that is within thy camp, from the hewer of wood to the drawer of water," that you should take hold of this marriage covenant. For I am come this day to deal with you in a very peculiar manner, and am warranted to proclaim and make offer of this marriage to you, and lay the offer before you. I am allowed to be particular with you in this offer and invitation, and to put it home to you and every one of you. man,-will you, woman,-old and young,-parent and Will you, then, child, master and servant,-rich and poor,-learned and unlearned? take a nay-say, nor hearken to any shift or delay; it All is ready, O, come; I dare not must be now or never. O, then, what shall I answer Him that hath sent me? Surely ye can give no relevant reason why you will not, and, therefore, I can adınit of no reply, but "Behold we come." Will ye then come, or not? Shall I say that you will or that you will not ? | Ah! shall I go again to God and say, "Thy people now, even on a communion season, a high solemn Sab- | * handmaid: Thou hast loosed my bonds." And that is 66 "Whom have I in heaven but thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire besides thee !"-The translators might have retained the verb have in both members; but in regard of the deceivableness and uncertainty of earthly goods and possessions, they change the verb have, in the first member, into desire in the second,have in heaven, and desire on earth,-not desire in heaven and have on earth: for in precise truth there is nothing which a religious soul can desire, but she hath it in heaven, and, on the contrary, nothing not to be had, that is, firmly possessed and enjoyed, which she desireth on earth. Heaven is the place of having, the earth of desiring, or craving. When an old man, being asked of his age, answered in the Latin phrase, I have, or reckon four score years, a philosopher took him up, and said, "What sayest thou? I have or reckon fourscore years, just so many hast thou not!" For in numbering the days and years of our life, whose parts are never all come until they are all gone, we usually count upon those years only that are fully past, which therefore, we have not, because they are gone. Even as he that taketh a lease for a term of years, after he has worn them out, has no more terms in his lease; no more may any man be said to have those years good which he hath spent in the lease of his life. Much less may he be said to have those that are not yet come, because they are not, and he is altogether uncertain whether they may be at all, or no. For all that he knows, this day the lease of his life may expire,-this hour his last glass may be running, at this very moment and point of time, the thread of his life may be cut off. if we cannot be said truly to have any part of our time, how can we properly have any part in things temporal? If the lease of our lives, by which we hold all our earthly goods and possessions, be of so uncertain a date, let our lawyers talk ever so much of possessions and estates, of firm conveyances, and perpetuities, and various kinds of tenures, they shall never persuade us that there is any sure hold or any good tenure of any thing, save God and his promises: it is impossible that we should have any estate in things that are altogether unstable. Hereof it seemeth that Abraham was well advised: for though he was an exceeding rich man, yet we read of no purchase made by him, save only of a cave in Macpelah, for him and his heirs to hold, or rather, to hold him and his heirs, for ever. If any man ever knew the just value of all earthly commodities, it was king Solomon, the mirror of wisdom; and yet, after he had weighed them all in the scales of the sanctuary, he found them as light as vanity itself. If all things under the sun are vanity; therefore, the verity of all things is above the same, viz. in heaven.-FEATLY, Now SACRED POETRY. "NOT LOST, BUT GONE BEFORE." SAY, why should friendship grieve for those Their fainting spirits number'd o'er! They are not lost-but gone before. By sin and sorrow vex'd no more; Who are not lost-but gone before. To Zion's peaceful courts above, In faith triumphant may we soar, Embracing, in the arms of love, The friends not lost-but gone before. On Jordan's bank whene'er we come, And hear the swelling waters roar, Jesus, convey us safely home, To friends not lost-but gone before! THE BREAD FROM HEAVEN. Anonymous. BREAD of the world, in mercy broken! Look on the tears, by sinners shed; And be thy feast to us the token, That by thy grace our souls are fed! MISCELLANEOUS. it, and exhorted them no longer to resist the truth. They heard all this with attention, walked for some time before the house with their hands folded, and towards evening retired, without offering either violence or insult. Faith in Christ.-The Rev. Dr Simpson was for many years tutor in the college at Hoxton, and while he stood very low in his own esteem, he ranked high in that of others. After a long life spent in the service of Christ, he approached his latter end with holy joy. Among other expressions which indicated his love to the Redeemer, and his interest in the favour of God, he spake with disapprobation of a phrase often used by some pious people, "Venturing on Christ." "When," said he, "I consider the infinite dignity and all-sufficiency of Christ, I am ashamed to talk of venturing on him. Oh, had I ten thousand souls, I would, at this moment, cast them all into his hands with the utmost confidence. A few hours before his dissolution, he addressed himself to the last enemy, in a strain like that of the apostle, when he exclaimed, "O death, where is thy sting?" Displaying his characteristic fervour, as though he saw the tyrant approaching, he said, "What art thou? I am not afraid of thee. Thou art a vanquished enemy through the blood of the cross." Religious Melancholy.-David Hume observed, "That all the devout persons he had ever met were melancholy." On which Bishop Horne remarked, "This might very probably be; for, in the first place, it is most likely that he saw very few, his friends and acquaintances being of another sort; and secondly, the sight of him would make a devout man look melancholy at any time. A Bedfordshire Peasant. In the parish of the late Rev. L. Richmond, was a dissolute, thoughtless man, who bitterly persecuted religion in those who professed it. He had formed a secret resolution never more to enter the church. Circumstances, however, constrained him to alter his determination. Mr R. preached from Psalm li. 10; "Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me." Sharper than a twoedged sword is the Word of God; and in its application by the power of the Spirit to this poor man, it proved to be the hammer that breaketh the rock in pieces." He confessed, that immediately on his return home, be for the first time fell on his knees, and with crying and tears, poured forth the strong emotions of his heart in the language of the publican, "God be merciful to me a sinner!" death-bed, was for some time under considerable darkFinal Hope. The Rev. James Durham, when on his ness respecting his spiritual state, and said to Mr Carstairs," After all that I have preached or written, there is but one scripture I can remember, or dare grip : tell me if I dare lay the weight of my salvation upon it; 'Whosoever cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast Mr Carstairs very properly answered, "You out.' at hazard." Greenland Missionaries.-Soon after the Moravian brethren had commenced their zealous and disinterested labours in Greenland, a number of murderers, excited by the angekoks, or sorcerers, threatened to kill the missionaries, and entered their house for that purpose, at a time when all were absent excepting one, named Matthew Stach. When they arrived, they found him engaged in the work of translation, in which he went on, without showing any marks of fear, though uncertain as to their intention. After they had sat a while, their leader said, "We are come to hear good." "I am glad of it," replied the missionary, and silence being may depend upon it, if you had a thousand salvations obtained, he sang, prayed, and then proceeded: "I will not say much to you of the Creator of all things--you know there is a Creator ;"-to this they all assented except one." You also know that you are a wicked people." "Yes!" was the unanimous reply. "Now, then," resumed the missionary, "I will tell you what is most necessary to know." He then proceeded to declare the incarnation and death of Jesus; spoke of his resurrection from the dead; and assured them that he would be the final judge of all men. He then solemnly appealed to the leader of the banditti, as to the account he would render of his murders and other crimes at the last day, and entreated him immediately to accept the mercy offered him by the Lord Jesus. After he had done, a woman, whose brother they had murdered, spoke of the efficacy of the Saviour's atonement, told them she felt Printed and Published by JOHN JOHNSTONE, at the Offices of the SCOTTISH CHRISTIAN HERALD, 104, High Street, Edinburgh, and 32, Glassford Street, Glasgow ;-JAMES NISBET & Co., and R. H. MOORE, London; D. R. BLEAKLEY, Dublin; and W. M'COMB, Belfast; and sold by the Booksellers and Local Agents in all the Towns and Parishes of Scotland; also to be procured of every Bookseller in England and Ireland. Subscribers in Edinburgh and Leith will have their copies delivered at their own residences regularly, by leaving their addresses with the Publisher, or with John Lindsay & Co, 7, South St. Andrew Street.-Subscribers in Glasgow will, in like manner, have their copies delivered, by leaving their addresses at the Publishing Office there, 32, Glassford Street Subscription (payable in advance) per quarter, of twelve weeks, 1s. 6d.-per half-year, of twenty-four weeks, 3s.-per year, of fortyeight weeks, 6s.--Monthly Parts, containing four Numbers each, stitched in printed wrapper, Price Sixpence. Printed at the Steam-Press of Ballantyne & Co., from the Stere type Plates of A. Kirkwood, THE SCOTTISH CHRISTIAN HERALD, CONDUCTED UNDER THE SUPERINTENDENCE OF MINISTERS AND MEMBERS OF THE ESTABLISHED CHURCH. 66 THE FEAR OF THE LORD, THAT IS WISDOM." VOL. I. No. 11. SATURDAY, MAY 14, 1836. 66 PRICE 14d. HINTS ON SPIRITUAL DEPRESSION. to save, and exhaustion of mercy, and failure of proBY THE REV. WILLIAM MUIR, D. D., mises under his government of grace to sinners, are utterly dishonouring to his glory. And this Minister of St. Stephen's Parish, Edinburgh. is so readily seen, that the giving way to the senRELIGIOUS Melancholy, as it is usually called, is timents which originate from those views, may peculiar to the mind that despairs of obtaining an immediately be followed by a deep conviction of interest in the divine favour. It is a spiritual ma- the unreasonableness and impiety of indulging in lady, afflictive even in its lowest measures. On them. But even such a conviction, though salurising to the higher degrees, it becomes, in the tary, serves only, in the case now supposed, to very extreme, grievous. It not only interrupts aggravate the distress. The mind is painfully the common business of life, but destroys the struck with the sinfulness of having cherished and whole spring of laudable enterprise and urgent uttered what is so derogatory to the divine honour. daty estranges the heart from the claims, strong While its misery before sprang from unbelief of as they are tender, of the nearest relationships the mercy of God, there is now an increase of its and throws a gloomy suspicion over every thing misery, drawn from the thought of having ever with which the human lot, amid many evils, is yielded to the suggestions of that unbelief. As-till brightened. Under the distorted vision form-sured that the proposal of grace, conveyed by the ed by it, there is scarcely an object of contempla- " promise" of redemption, ought neither to be tion that does not seem revolting: our earth rejected, nor viewed as dubiously offered to human appearing as a prison-house, in which occasional acceptance, the mind is tempted to look on itself respite from pain is meant to make the after tor- as now most certainly "cast off" from mercy, on ture the more intense, the schemes of Providence account of the guilt of having questioned the truth appearing as a mass of contradiction, the throne or the freeness of the mercy. Having first been of heaven as the tribunal of vengeance, the angels harassed by agitating doubts, it next finds the as ministers of wrath,-and the world beyond cause of new harassment in the remembrance of death as a region crowded exclusively with images its sinful doubtings. Nay, the troubles may not of terror and anguish. The soul is wounded. cease here. And reflection on this second ground The arrow hath entered, the poison whereof of self-reproach may excite fresh anguish; and drinketh up the spirit." Every feeling, every thus the malady grows, and the symptoms extend thought is infected. In the feverish excitement into multiplied sorrows, in consequence of which, of disease, the mind rejects the application of a the soul, tossed as on a bed of thorns, is denied remedy. The past is a troubled fountain, that even a moment's repose. gives out only sorrowful remembrances; and no pleasing anticipation mixes with the stream for weetening its bitterness. The language of the Psalmist: "Will the Lord cast off for ever? Will he be favourable no more? Is his mercy clean gone? Doth his promise fail for ever? Hath he in anger shut up his tender mercies?" (Psalm lxxvii,) this language utters those inquiries of the heart, to which the answers returned by itself are negatives of overwhelming harshness. Happily for the author of the seventy-seventh Psalm, whose despairing language has been quoted, he was enabled to stop this afflictive circling of the thoughts, though not till after he endured for a season the agitations of spiritual distresses. His attempts to regain peace of mind were not at once successful. He "considered the days of old, and the years of ancient times," inquiring, it may be, for a parallel to his distresses, or for the methods by which trials similar to his own, had, in the experience of others, been met and relieved. He called "to remembrance his song in the night,” some occasion of personal thanksgiving, from which he might draw the motives to hope and en It is true, that even a little reflection on the language just quoted, (expressing so strongly despair of the divine favour,) will shew that the views which give rise to the mournful inquiries, detract from right notions of the character of God. Suspi-couragement. cions of changeableness in his character, of aversion And still, though he communed "with his own heart, and his spirit made diligent time, such as might have raised the fear of their being cut off, that his chosen people "were redeemed with his outstretched arm;" and that, though adversity be repeated on adversity in a mysterious course of trials, yet this procedure is not incompatible with the fulfilment of a wise and good end; because "the way" through which the Lord led his elect was deep, as " in the sea, and in great waters," while he was still guiding them with the tenderness and beneficence of a good shepherd. Now the blessed influence both of the Psalmist's meditation and prayer, in restoring to him peace of mind, (the return of which called forth his ardent thanksgiving,) may well intimate, that to speak of Religious Melancholy, meaning thereby that Religion is the cause of the melancholy, is to misapply language. It is true, the opinion prevails, that the whole evil is traceable to that cause. Multitudes in the world connect with the admission of Religion into the mind the thought of nothing but what is gloomy and depressing. And in proof of this, they refer to certain facts which are regarded by them as quite conclusive. Easy it were to shew them, that the native influence of Divine Truth is calculated to produce an effect the very opposite of that which they bewail and reprehend. But they dread to listen to a single statement on the subject. The very listening, they think, would bring them within the reach of contagion, and how wise, they infer, to avoid coming near the malady, or what may infect them with it! The facts, however, by which they defend their opinions and aversion, are drawn from instances where the mind is unhinged either through the prevalence of constitutional bias, or the shock of calamity: and where, coming to Revealed Religion, it carries thither its own morbid sensibility, and thus turns the bread of life into the very aliment of spiritual disease. search," the immediate result of considering the It is unreasonable to adduce these facts for the of disparaging the character and real tendency of evangelical faith. Wandering and wretchedness would have been found in such a mind, though it had never heard of the subject that is blamed for the aberration and suffering. Were it to receive the subject as a whole, what a blessing would the reception prove! The tendencies of the mind, if not thoroughly rooted out, would, at least, be corrected and trained. Affections, easily agitated, would be brought nearer to their due place and poise; and thus, the influence of heavenly faith, moving over the dark and troubled elements of nature, would allay its disorders, and compose and beautify it. But the tendencies of the mind in such an instance as has now been described, urge it to take partial views of Religion. Through timidity, the promises of the Bible are put out of sight, as what cannot, without sinful presumption, be looked at, while the threatenings alone are admitted and felt. is revealed in the Bible under the engaging characters of Father, Saviour, Protector, and Friend; clothed in every perfection, in goodness, as well as God |