So. of God. He firmly believes that God has assigned him his lot, "set him the bounds of his habitation." The fickle power of chance holds no place in his creed. So that his firm and unalterable persuasion is, that his condition in life, whatever it be, is of God's own appointment. Let his lot be exalted or humble, prosperous or adverse, it is God who has placed him in it; and he has some wise end to serve in doing so, either with respect to his own spiritual good, or that of others. Let me suppose what may be considered as the severest exercise of his faith in this regard. Say that he is placed in circumstances which, in his view, appear to be the most uncongenial with his temper and disposition-the most unsuited to his happiness, the most unfavourable to his spiritual interests-where all the faculties which God has bestowed upon him for the promotion of his glory seem to be lost and neutralised. And this is, perhaps, as trying a condition for the believer as can well be imagined. Yet, if faith be strong, it will, I am persuaded, check the murmurs of discontent. If he have the testimony of his conscience, that "in simplicity and godly sincerity" he has followed the leadings of Providence, and that he has not brought himself into this apparently spiritual wildernessthen, even there he shall enjoy, like Israel of old, manifestations of the Divine love and favour-refreshing streams of spiritual comThere too he shall learn lessons which he could not, perhaps, learn in any other way. There he shall learn lessons of submission to the Divine will-a knowledge of himself which he could not otherwise acquire. Yes, he may find that very place more favourable to his sions the real value and importance of earthly interests. It is utterly impossible for a man alive to the worth of his soul, and who feels that his best interests are secured, to be much at the mercy of outward events. The inward tranquillity, arising from the possession of a good hope through grace, lies too deep to be disturbed. The surface may be rippled, but the depths cannot be upturned. It is true, there are hundreds who speak as if this experience were theirs, and who, at the same time, too plainly evidence that speaking is one thing, and feeling another and very different. But if the mere profession does not secure this desirable and blessed end, it would be no argument against the reality of it doing There are numbers who do realise this frame of mind, and in whose view the interests of life, its riches, honours, pleasures, its cares and rivalries, appear of so paltry a nature, that they regard them with an indifference which is quite inconceivable to the man who follows in the track of the world. And, in truth, the man who can realise a near eternity, an unseen world, must, in the nature of things, acquire, from the circumstance, a dignity of mind, and an independence upon earthly things, to which no other can aspire. He may be inconvenienced by them; but it is only as the traveller on his way to a happy home is inconvenienced by the toils and privations of his journey. He cannot sink under them, for the thought of home supports him. And, my brethren, they only who are acquainted with spiritually-minded people, who know how they think and feel, they only can tell the degree to which those who are "walking after the Spirit," "perfecting holiness in the fear of God," can be independent of out-growth in grace than any other. And thus, ward circumstances. I am well aware that the cases are not of very frequent occurrence, in which Christians so eminently adorn the doctrine of God their Saviour in all things. I know it often happens that Christians, owing to a peculiar sensibility of mind, seem to feel acutely the trials of life; but their grief can never merge them, as it does the worldling, into gloomy discontent or sullen misanthropy. Their sufferings sweeten their spirits, for they are blessed to them; and there are so many secret supports given, that it may be truly said of them, "Though heaviness endure for a night, joy cometh in the morning." But there is another cause which ministers contentment to the believer, the power of which can only be appreciated by those who have actually felt it, which is, his strong persuasion and trust in an over-ruling Providence. He from the heart believes, what some deny, and what so many profess to believe, but do not-the particular providence fort. although he is placed, as it were, in a barren wild, where, far as the eye can reach, he can descry no limit; with one interminable prospect before him of waste, and dreariness, and stagnation; where every energy is crippled, every motive to exertion cut off,-yet the trust we now speak of will "establish his heart." God has led him hither: a “needs be" there is for it; and he durst not prescribe. The will of God may be suffered as well as done; and when he can do little in his cause, he may suffer in it. "It is good that a man should both hope and quietly wait for the salvation of the Lord." And how many can look back upon what at the time appeared to them the dreariest and most unprofitable part of their pilgrimage, as that in which a foundation was laid for the efficient and faithful discharge of duties to which God subsequently called them! There is one other cause most efficacious in the promotion of the spirit we are now considering, which is, the sense which the a brittle believer has of his own unworthiness. The | sion. You could not tell, nor could I, what abiding conviction of his heart is, that as a earthly blessing would make you permanently redeemed sinner, "saved by God's grace," happy. The realising of your fondest earthly he is unworthy of the very least of all the wishes certainly would not. It might fill the mercies bestowed upon him. And therefore | aching void, perhaps, for a little; but new the thousand daily benefits which are received sources of disquietude would soon open up as a matter of course by others, and which in a new quarter. No, brethren, we may rest awaken not an emotion of love or gratitude, assured, that out of the fold of that happy are noted down by him for grateful remem- flock, "on whom it is the Father's good pleabrance. And none but those who have kept sure to bestow the kingdom"-out of that fold, a record of the kind can imagine how the list abiding contentment is not to be found. The of favours bestowed will swell and multiply worldling's contentment is most precarious in in a short time. Many and many of the its tenure. It is suspended upon items which others pass by as if they did not thread. It continues merely for the time deserve notice or remembrance, are found being (so to speak) of the possession of the there inscribed in terms of the deepest grati- much-loved idol, whatever it be. But O tude: the enjoyment of health, of reason, what a change may a single year make! The of competence-if God has blessed him with robust frame, the quick and healthful flow of them; of friends and relatives; the comforts animal spirits, the vigour and elasticity of of domestic life--the social circle, the cheer- mind which seems to buoy one above the ful fireside, and the numberless sources of ordinary cares and griefs of humanity, may pleasure, and even of recreation, upon every be exchanged for broken spirits and shatone of which he can ask a blessing. He, un- tered nerves. The golden prospect of length like the heartless sensualist, who turns from of days, and growing influence and respectsuch blessings as tasteless and insipid, and ability, may be withered by the chill blast flies to the haunts of vicious excess for sti- of the destroyer; or the riches that are now mulants to minister to his vitiated taste-he so prized may "make to themselves wings, can derive from the temperate use of God's and flee away." So, that, even with all the creatures an enjoyment a thousand times richer means and appliances of contentment at hand, than that which is to be found by the votaries you perceive what a frail tenure he has of it. of sinful pleasure in any of their pursuits. Not so with him who has learned contentment in the school of Christ. The basis of his contentment cannot be shaken. Friends may fail, like the summer-brooks; and the unkindness and treachery of man may sorely grieve his spirit; but he has a Friend in the everlasting courts above, that "sticketh closer than a brother." And the storms which rage without only endear to him more and more the refuge and sanctuary where he has sought and where he has found his everlasting peace. The riches which "the rust and moth doth corrupt" may fail; the costly house must, perhaps, be parted with; the expenditure limited; the table curtailed of its wonted portion. But his heart and affections are already fixed upon the enduring riches; and what is left is enough to sustain him upon his pilgrimage to Zion. "He eats his meat with gladness and singleness of heart, praising God;" and the rich vouchsafements of spiritual strength and comfort which he receives impart a double relish and sweetness to it. And even should darker clouds gather round his path; should the prospect of leaving his wife a widow, and his children fatherless and destitute, awaken melancholy bodings, yet can he trust his God enough to leave to him his fatherless children and his widowed wife. But who, O who can speak the contentment of his spirit on the eve of his departure for that scene to which his earthly trials have long It is thus the Christian finds contentment in his estate. He who feels the humblest lot in which he can be placed to be better than he deserves, has that within which must check the murmurs of discontent (be his lot what it may), and which must therefore make him contented with that which God has given him. This, brethren, is a lesson which we have need, most of us, to learn. And till we learn it in the same school where the apostle learned it, at the feet of a Master who bore poverty and sorrow, and reproach and slander, with unmurmuring patience, whose heart ever glowed with gratitude to God, and from whose sacred lips the prayer of thanksgiving ascended even for the most common mercies of Providence-for the cup of water, or the humblest fare-He who could look abroad on nature, and behold on every side of him abundant matter to awaken the grateful recognition of the goodness of his Father in heaven, till we learn it at the feet of this Divine Being, who hath left us an example that we should follow his steps, and till we imbibe his spirit, we shall never realise the apostle's frame, "I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content." The secret reply of some, perhaps of many, present, may be, “ Were I rid of such a calamity, I should be contented. Were I in such a situation, I should be happy." But this is a delu | since turned his hopes and his fondest desires? | till it has urged them to "fix their hearts for he is on the border of that land where uni- there where alone true joys are to be found." versal contentment reigns, purer than ever Amen. fancy pictured amidst its imagined peaceful groves, and tranquil vales, and fields of everlasting repose. Here is the secret of the believer's contentment! It is in this way he learns, in whatsoever state he is, to be content. The soul, in search of it elsewhere, is like the wandering dove, hovering with wearied wing over the wide waste of waters, seeking a resting-place, but finding none. Till the soul has found rest in Jesus-laid hold on him by faith, made him its wisdom, righteousness, and relied on him for pardon and acceptance, light and life and glory, it has not entered "the peaceable habitation, the quiet resting-place." It is His voice alone which can hush the tumultuous tossings of the breast. "Fear not," he says, "for I am with thee." There is a virtue, a vital energy, in the word; a hidden power accompanies it. "Being justified by faith, he has peace with God." And from that hour he learns, in whatever state he is, therewith to be content." His best interests are secured and whatever cross is given him to bear, it is light, now that the heavy burden of his sin is taken off, and now that he has the sustaining grace of God to enable him to bear it. And thus, "Through all the changing scenes of life, his mind is preserved in a delightful equipoise, calm, cheerful, serene, more dead to the world than even the gloomy Cynic pretended to be-more raised above the power of outward circumstances than the proud Stoic ever boasted to be; and yet having a better, because a purer, relish for all that is best in enjoyment than he who lives but to eat and drink and be merry. It is a Such a frame of mind and spirit as this can only flow from a heavenly source. thing of itself: it stands alone: it bespeaks its divine origin. I address many who, I believe, have been led to seek their contentment in the source we have attempted to describe, and who can testify to the truth of these things. I would, then, in conclusion, only pray that all may be led to follow their example; and sure I am, that, considering the circumstances of others--those, I mean, who are strangers to the divine blessing of contentment, and who are still wavering between time and eternity, with the great question as yet pending, whether a heaven of glory or an eternity of misery awaits them-sure I am that the best prayer which I could offer up for them is, that the discontent and disquietude which they now feel may not leave them THE SANCTITY OF MARRIAGE. DIVESTING the marriage-contract of the sacred character hitherto associated with it in the minds of the people will, there is too much reason to apprehend, have a pernicious influence on national morals. Not only is it made lawful to register for the solemnisation of marriages buildings certified according to law as places of religious worship—a provision which, when we consider the facilities afforded for obtaining such certificates, might appear sufficiently ample to comprehend every case of marriage between Christians,not only in the form of words to be used by the parties entering into the contract is all reference to the sanction of Him by whom marriage was instituted studiously avoided ;—but power is given to celebrate marriage in the office, and in the presence of the superintendent registrar. Thus marriage may henceforward, at the option of the contracting parties, be degraded into a mere civil contract. I may be told, and high legal authority may be quoted in support of the assertion, that marriage has always been so considered by the law of England. But in no period of our history, up to the passing of the act of 1836, not even, as has been justly remarked, in the days of the Great Rebellion, was the ceremony altogether divested of a religious character. The parties, in plighting their faith, were always required to use words by which they called God to witness the engagement. I may be referred also to the example of Scotland, in which, though marriage is regarded in the light of a civil contract, yet the obligations of the marriage-tie are as religiously observed as in any country in Christendom. I believe, however, that even in Scotland, though marriages solemnised without the intervention of the minister of religion are valid in law, yet they are regarded as irregular, and subject the parties to ecclesiastical censures. Be this as it may, we should not be warranted to reason from one case to the other-to infer that no evil consequences will result from treating marriage as a mere civil contract in this country, because none have occurred in the northern part of the island. The Scotch reformers were enabled to accomplish that which a variety of causes concurred to prevent our reformers from accomplishing. They were enabled to establish an efficient system of ecclesiastical discipline; and thus to exercise a strict, or as it would be deemed in modern times, an inquisitorial control over the moral conduct of the lay members of their communion. Increasing wealth, and its constant attendant, increasing luxury, have doubtless weakened this control; but its effects on the habits of the people are still clearly discernible-public opinion still follows the impulse given to it at the Reformation, and supplies, as the corrector of public morals, the place of the censures of the Church. But in England the case is otherwise; here the inviolability of the marriage-union Extracted, by his lordship's permission, from "A Charge delivered at his Triennial Visitation in 1837, by John, Lord Bishop of Lincoln." London, Rivingtons. has been secured by the deeply rooted persuasion in the minds of the people that it is of Divine institution, and by the religious ceremonies with which it is contracted; by the pledge of mutual fidelity which God is called to witness, and the blessing pronounced in his name by the minister. Remove the religious sanction, and there is too much reason to fear that the engagement will soon cease to be regarded with the same feeling of reverence, and that men will learn to treat its violation as a comparatively venial offence. To unsettle principles which have acquired a sort of prescriptive influence over the conduct of the community, is at all times a rash and perilous experiment. The marriage-union is the source of all the domestic charities; and in proportion as it is held in reverence will those charities be diligently cultivated, and a pure and elevated tone be given to the general intercourse of society. We may therefore be excused for looking forward with some degree of anxiety and apprehension to the consequences of a measure which, by divesting the marriage-union of its sacred character, will too probably impair that reverence for it which is the best safeguard of national morals. Seeing, however, that it has pleased the legislature to enact that the sanction of a religious ceremony shall no longer be necessary, it is doubly incumbent upon the ministers of the established Church frequently to remind their congregations that marriage is a divine institution; to tell them that, whatever the light in which it is viewed by the law of the land, by the Church of Christ it has always been regarded as a holy ordinance; and that, in the first ages of Christianity, before the state became Christian, the consent of the Church was always obtained previously to the celebration of marriage between Christians, and the benediction of the minister was always pronounced upon the parties. Above all, it is incumbent upon us to point out to the female portion of our flocks, how deeply they are interested in the continued observance of the solemn forms with which marriage has hitherto been contracted. It is to the silent but powerful influence of the Gospel over the manners of society, and to the clear light which it has shed upon the relative duties of husband and wife, that the latter is indebted for the station which she fills in Christian countries; and she ought, consequently, to watch with jealous vigilance any change tending to disconnect marriage with those hallowed nites which impart to it what may be termed its Christian character. ORIGIN OF COUNTRY WAKES, AND THEIR BY THE REV. ROBERT ARMITAGE, M.A. To enter fully and minutely, in a circumscribed portion cf these pages, into the ancient and modern philosophy of country wakes or feasts, would be, however temptng, too lengthy and too unnecessary a task, especially when direct action is the virtue required for the gradual immediate removal of these unhallowed spots in the body social and religious. Still, it may be well briefly to remind an extensive number of intelligent readers of the ancient origin and primal intention of provincial wakes, as well as of their present institution and general condition. In the first place, the classical reader will at once call to remembrance how nature and common reason have prompted mankind in all ages and countries to dedicate altars, hills, groves, houses, temples, &c., however polluted these places afterwards became, to the service of their deities; and what costly edifices, of various orders of architecture, were raised by the Egyptians, Grecians, and Romans, one nation deriving the custom from another, to those gods enumerated in the books of antiquity, and with which the Roman calendar is filled. And these edifices, commonly called temples-for they were usually connected with the national religion, though some were of a civil nature -were appropriated and hallowed with a solemn ceremony, and festivals generally instituted and kept in commemoration of it. By the Biblical scholar, the erection of tabernacles, synagogues, and religious houses, and the solemn consecration of them by the Hebrews, will be recollected,as, for instance, the beautiful temple of Solomon dedicated by a sacred rite of consecration to divine use in the season of autumn, and the new temple of Zerubbabel in the spring; and by annual festival, kept in the winter season, the remembrance of the cleansing of the temple and consecration of the altar by Judas Maccabeus, after its defilement through the setting up of the idol of Jupiter by Antiochus Epiphanes, and which was known as the feast of dedica tion, celebrated for eight days together at Jerusalem by the whole nation; of the lawfulness and innocence of which we may judge from the fact of our Lord's presence at it. Josephus f† tells us, that the Jews continually, and with great solemnity, observed this latter feast, calling it by a name which might with propriety be rendered illumination (pŵra), inasmuch as the most conspicuous part of it was the lighting candles and lamps every evening, and setting them up at the doors of their houses, as tokens of rejoicing on account of their religion and liberty restored to them. By the way, it has been observed, that the fact of this feast of lights may shew that illuminations, used at this day all over Europe, are a very ancient sign of rejoicing; and more so, when we learn that Herodotus, who lived three hundred and thirty-three years earlier than this period (and this was B.c. 160), acquaints us that national illuminations were common among the Egyptians.‡‡ In the course of time's revolutions we arrive at the period when Christians dedicated their churches and chapels to the sole honour and service of their Lord and Master. And in this country the original cause and intention of parish wakes or feasts was to preserve in memory the dedication of the parish church, which was committed to the care of some guardian saint or angel. And here it may be stated, in order to avoid a common yet positive error, which imputes the origin of wakes to the celebration of the deaths of martyrs, and mainly to the period of the ascendancy of the Romish Church, that although it be true that these feasts were corrupted at such periods, and that though it is well known that festivals in honour of the protomartyr Stephen, and the apostles, as well as Polycarp and the subsequent noble army, were held in the earliest and purest ages of Christianity, and that the days of their deaths were remembered by the Church under the title of yevénia, or birthdays; and though it is true that it was the practice of the first antiquity to assemble at the monuments of martyrs, before churches were built, and that from such meetings most of the ancient churches had their beginnings,-yet the origin of the feasts of which we now complain, the feasts in these dominions, are • Herodotus, ii. 59. +1 Kings, viii. 1. 1 Ezra, vi. 16. Horne on the Jewish months. Maccabees. • John, x. 22, 23. + Referred to by Horne, vol. iii. p. 343. Herodotus, ii. 62. Candlemas. mainly, if not solely, derived from the custom of giving | an anniversary feast in honour of the saint and patron, not necessarily a martyr, of a church, which assemblies have been duly authorised by law, and are usually observed in the country on the Sunday next after the saint's day to whom the church is dedicated. It is a fact also known to our antiquaries, that some of our old churches, if any be now standing, were once heathen temples, and subject to heathen festivals; as it is supposed that the temple of Diana stood where St. Paul's cathedral is now erected; and the collegiate church of St. Peter's in Westminster was once the temple of Apollo. These temples and their festivals became gradually reformed, and converted from the service of the heathen deities to that of the living God; so that one original of our parish feasts seems to have been no more than the changing of a heathen custom into a Christian; for if the object be but changed, there can be no reasonable dislike to the pious festival. Some of these feasts of dedication were voluntarily begun and established by the people; and others were held by public command and authority, for they are found to be ordered by a particular canon law made in the reign of Edward III., which might be but a reenactment of an old canon made about eight hundred years before; the dedication of churches and the annual commemoration being mentioned as far back as the reign of Edward the Confessor, and probably ordered in the pontificate of Felix III., about A.D. 483. At first, such feasts were regularly kept on every day of the week on which the church was dedicated; but the number of holydays being complained of, as being a detriment to secular affairs, and also that the great irregularities and licentiousness into which these festivities were run by degrees, especially in the churches, chapels, and churchyards, brought no small injury to piety, virtue, and good manners,-therefore statute and canon law was made to regulate and restrain them; and by an act of convocation passed by Henry VIII., in the year 1536, their number was diminished, the feast of every church being ordered to be kept upon one and the same day every where-that is, on the first Sunday in October; and the church holyday, or saint's day to which the church is dedicated, to be entirely laid aside. This may shew us how it happens that our feasts usually begin on the Lord's day, and are commonly called Sunday wakes, although the more barbarous and cruel sports are, in some few places, deferred until the Monday following. An old writer, from whom much information is gleaned, deplores that wakes were ever fixed to take place on a Sunday at all; "for," he says, "although the first and principal design of it was to promote religion, yet so much is the world altered for the worse, that the devotion of it is now quite laid aside. Whereas particular prayers were formerly provided for the occasion in many British and foreign churches, of which I am told there yet remains an instance in one of the Protestant churches of Switzerland." This same writer, of more than a century ago, after shewing that he approves of the solemnity, and although no enemy to the recreations of the populace, yet cannot countenance" their vicious and indecent pleasures;" and although decidedly opposed to the wish of the Puritans for abolishing the sacred festival, yet proves that all devotion is laid aside,-sums up all by saying, "this perverting of seasons shews a depravity of manners, proceeding from a remiss execution or total neglect of the laws ; but is, in truth, no just reflection upon the prudence and piety, or at least innocence, of the institution. All things are liable to abuse; but the abuse of a thing is no good argument against the use of it, if capable of amendment. The primitive good intention and great antiquity of this custom may plead much in its defence. And yet I readily confess, from what I have seen and heard, it may now be high time for magistrates, and all proper officers, to awake out of their cold indifference, and, in their zeal for religion and virtue, as well as for public peace and common decency, to put themselves upon regulating these solemnities, and reforming their notorious abuses." To this will not every minister and magistrate of A. D. 1838, who have a regard for integrity in their respective duties, answer, Amen, and amen? Indeed, the question is now brought plainly to this-What is to be done as regards the annual celebration of wakes or feasts? And this may be asked of the ministers and magistrates alike; for both are alike conservators of the public peace and the well-doing of individuals. The first consideration, perhaps, should be, to restore the wake to its primitive intention, by opening the churches for prayer and preaching during each day; and if for such purposes the people would assemble, then, to any one who would abolish the keeping of the feast, we would emphatically say, God forbid! in God's name let us keep the feast. And this we may think, from a diligent perusal of those pious writers, would have been the opinion of Hooker, Hammond, Tillotson, and Jeremy Taylor. The former says generally of festivals, they should be kept," adorned with that which most betokens true, virtuous, and celestial joy." Dr. Hammond approves of the celebration of festivals, "so that this be done with that one great necessary caution of sobriety and thanksgiving, especially taking care that the season of acknowledging an eminent mercy of God," Christmas especially, "be also a remembrance of that eminent Christian duty of hospitality and charity to the poor; and, again, of a cheerful liberal reception of friends and neighbours to nourish Christian acquaintances," &c. &c. And Archbishop Tillotson, of preserving the memory of Christ's precious saints on festival-days, exhorts, "Let us imagine all those great examples of piety and virtue standing about us in a throng, and fixing their eyes upon us. How ought we to demean ourselves in such a presence, and under the eye of such witnesses! And how should we be ashamed to do any thing that is unworthy of such excellent patterns, and blush to look upon our own lives when we remember theirs! Good God! at what a distance do the greatest part of Christians follow those examples! And while we honour them with our lips, how unlike are we to them in our lives!" Jeremy Taylor writes, "The memories of the saints are precious to God, and therefore they ought also to be so to us; and such persons as served God by holy living, industrious preaching, and religious dying, ought to have their names preserved in honour, and God be glorified in them, and their holy doctrines and lives published and imitated: and we by so doing give testimony to the article of the communion of saints. The holyday is best kept by giving God thanks for the excellent persons, apostles, or martyrs, we then remember, and by imitating their lives." + The restoration, then, rather than the abolition of the feast, is the thing most to be desired; but since, in the present time, "the devotion of it is quite laid aside," and even the name of the patron saint or apostle is not sought for remembrance, we may, with too much painful propriety ask, Who is sufficient for these things? who will guide the cleansing stream through the Augean masses of impurity? who will overthrow their altars, and break their pillars, and burn their groves with fire, and hew down the graven images, and destroy the names of them out of that place ? Who, amid the oblations that are worse than I must be allowed, in this place, to refer the reader to my Discourse on Intemperance, published hy Hatchard, especially to pp. 9, 10, 11, with the Appendix in reference to festivals. I do so, because I have no room for more lengthened quotations from these excellent of the earth. Fifth book of Ecclesias. Pol. pp. 277, 284. Hammond's Resolution to Six Queries, p. 411, &c.; Tillotson's Works, folio, 4th edit. vol. ii. p. 147; Taylor's Holy Living, 23d edit. p. 227, of keeping festival days. Deut. xii. 3. |