A tale bearer revealeth secrets; but he that is of a faithful spirit concealeth the matter. IT is related by Quintus Curtius, that the Persians always conceived an invincible contempt of a man who had violated the laws of secresy. Such a man is deserving the Persian anathema. The vanity of being known to be trusted with a secret is generally one of the chief motives to disclose it; for however absurd it may be thought to boast an honour by an act which shows that it was conferred without merit, yet most men seem rather inclined to confess the want of virtue than of importance, and more willingly show their influence, though at the expense of their probity, than glide through life with no other pleasure than the private consciousness of fidelity; which, while it is preserved, must be without praise, except from the single person who tries and knows it. There are many ways of telling a secret, by which a man exempts himself from the reproaches of his conscience, and gratifies his pride, without suffering himself to believe that he impairs his virtue. He tells the private affairs of his patron, or his friend, only to those from whom he would not conceal his own; he tells them to those who have no temptation to betray the trust, or with a denunciation of a certain forfeiture of his friendship, if he discovers that they become public. Secrets are very frequently told in the first ardour of kindness, or of love, for the sake of proving, by so important a sacrifice, sincerity or tenderness; but with this motive, though it be strong in itself, vanity concurs, since every man desires to be most esteemed by those whom he loves, or with whom he converses, with whom he passes his hours of pleasure, and to whom he retires from business and from care. When the discovery of secrets is under consideration, there is always a distinction carefully to be made between our own and those of another; those of which we are fully masters, as they affect only our own interest, and those which are reposited with us in trust, and involve the happiness or convenience of such as we have no right to expose to hazard. To tell our own secrets is generally folly, but that folly is without guilt; to communicate those with which we are intrusted is always treachery, and treachery for the most part combined with folly. The confidence which Caius has of the faithfulness of Titus is nothing more than an opinion which himself cannot know to be true, and which Claudius, who first tells his secret to Caius, may know to to be false ; and therefore the trust is transferred by Caius, if he reveal what has been told him, to one from whom the person originally concerned would have withheld it and whatever may be the event, Caius has hazarded the happiness of his friend, without necessity and without permission, and has put that trust in the hand of fortune which was given only to virtue. All the arguments upon which a man who is telling the private affairs of another may ground his confidence of security, he must upon reflection know to be uncertain, because he finds them without effect upon himself.-The promises of friendship are, like all others, useless and vain, unless they are made in some known sense, adjusted and acknowledged by both parties. 142 TRANSLATION OF NEW TESTAMENT. MAY 14. If any man teach otherwise, and consent not to wholesome words, even the words of our Lord Jesus Christ, and to the doctrine which is according to godliness; he is proud, knowing nothing, NEXT in value to the gift of the gospel, is an authentic record of it. No pains should be spared in procuring a correct representation of the original Greek. The farther back we go for well attested manuscripts, the nearer we approach the original identity. A great search for these took place, and in 1796 Griesbach favoured christendom with an edition of the sacred text, bearing satisfactory evidence of unrivalled purity. This is now the standard through Europe and America. This then, all critics allow, to be the New Testament, and of course, what differs from this, is not the gospel. Our common translation is excellent, and every doctrine and precept necessary to salvation is plainly and properly represented in it. But additional manuscripts, more ancient than king James' translators possessed, have shewn that some texts are not properly translated. How desirable is it then, that we should have an exact translation of Griesbach's text! We should welcome it heartily; for why should Greek scholars enjoy the blessing of a pure authentic record of God's holy word, and all the rest of the world be deprived of it?-The sacred scriptures were a complete repository of christian doctrines, and the only perfect rule of religious faith.The original copies of these scriptures, that is, the autographs of the several authors, were the genuine scriptures; and every departure from them, whether by mistake or design, is, so far, a new bible, or rather is not bible. Liberal christians have uniformly maintained, that the true scriptures are the only admissible test of christian faith. They are also anxious that a perfectly correct translation of Griesbach's text should be received instead of all others.-If the original Greek was penned by inspiration, the inspiration ended surely with the original. Translations have been made by fallible men, with such knowledge as they happened to possess. An individual made the first translation in 1535-this was improved by another in 1539, and by another in 1568, and then by another in 1603, which is the one in common use.-But did the progress of knowledge in the learned languages cease with the age of king James ? No-Every succeeding age, and most especially the present, has advanced rapidly; and all the profane authors are allowedly better translated now than two centuries ago. Why neglect to use this increased light for the benefit of the christian religion? Is the lore of Greece and Rome of so much more consequence than the words of eternal life? We ought to welcome, I had almost said, as a divine gift, a faithful translation of Griesbach's text-first, because the text used by king James' translators was not so pure as that now possessed;— secondly-because classical knowledge has advanced rapidly for two centuries past ;-thirdly-because there is a constant progress of change in a living language, by which words gradually convey a different shade of meaning,-and fourthly-because in king James' time, the grammatical construction of the English language was not yet established.-Let us remember that all outward helps are worse than nothing, if they do not lead us to piety and holiness. PILLAR OF REMEMBRANCE. MAY 15. The word which ye hear is not mine, but the Father's that sent me. 143 ANCIENT usage has favoured the custom of erecting monumental pillars to distinguished worth and signal beneficence. Jesus Christ appeared in Jerusalem, dressed in the simple robes of a Jewish peasant. He began his ministry unaided by earthly power, or earthly aims, and in a short time published the perfect system of religion contained in the New Testament. In the midst of all former philosophers, moralists and prophets he stands unrivalled, unapproached. God has erected a monumental pillar for him, which will perpetually transmit his name and deeds. It is the gospel of our salvation. This is a pillar of remembrance, durable as the earth itself yes, commensurate with eternity. The gospel is the glory which encircles the Saviour's person, who himself is the capital figure in it. On this commemorative pillar are engraved the sacred inscriptions of religion; the holy precepts of the laws of nature, the encouraging offers of divine mercy, the inviolable requirements of justice, and the pledged promises of eternal life.-That great herald of eternal truth, who finished his work of love and salvation, has a name yet surviving, a name in value beyond all the prominent figures in the historian's page, or the poet's song. The gospel has its foundation in the elements of our nature, and Christ is identified with it. The name of Jesus is still fresh in the recollection, and still warms the hearts of thousands. The lapse of eighteen centuries has neither obscured its glory, nor diminished the interest which christians feel in it. The fair temple of his fame, built on the immutable foundation of the greatest personal dignity and worth, and reared by a series of services the most laborious, and of sufferings the most painful, to which, compelled, by no necessity, he generously submitted for the best interests of mankind, continues entire and unimpaired it has not been defaced by the rudest assaults of the tongues and pens of infidels, nor shaken by any of those convulsions which have agitated the world, and so often overthrown the firmest fabricks of human power, and the proudest monuments of human fame. His fame has, without a figure reached the skies. His name at this moment stands first in the list of celestials, for "God hath given him a name which is above every name." His unrivalled excellencies, and matchless achievements, are the wonder of the heavenly host, and his praises the subject of their sweetest and incessant songs. Though multitudes have never had opportunity "to hear his fame, or see his glory;" and though many to whom his name has been published have been so stupid as not to perceive, or so perverse as not to acknowledge, his high title to universal admiration and love; yet, blessed be God, many exist to whom "his name is as ointment poured forth;" who confess that "in all things he hath the preeminence ;" on the tablet of whose memories and hearts his precious name is engraven in indelible characters; and who would ten thousand times rather that skill should part from their right hand, and their tongue cleave to the roof of their mouth, than that they should ever forget their great benefactor, or cease to speak in his praise. His torch directs us to the sky, He bears our soaring souls on high. 144 REFLECTIONS AFTER A SEVERE SICKNESS. MAY 16. The things that are seen are temporal; but the things that are unseen are eternal.--It is good for me, that I have been afflicted. To him, who stands on the brink of the grave, and the verge of eternity, who retains the full possession of his reason, and who, at the same time, is disposed to serious contemplation, all the things of time become changed in their appearance. To the eye of such a man, their former alluring aspect vanishes, and they are seen in a new and far different light. A distinguished man once said, Like others of our race, I have relished several of these things, with at least the common attachment. Particularly, I may have coveted reputation, and influence, to a degree which I am unable to justify. Nor have I been insensible to other earthly gratifications; either to such, as, when enjoyed with moderation, are innocent; or, such as cannot be pursued without sin. But, in extreme sickness, all things were vanishing from my sight. Had they been really valuable in any supposible degree, their value was gone. They could not relieve me from pain; they could not prolong my life; they could not restore me to health; they could promise me no good in the life to come. What, then, were these things to me? A person, circumstanced in the manner which has been specified, must necessarily regard all the engrossing pleasures of the world. as hostile to his peace, and pernicious to his well being. In all his attachment to them, in all his pursuit of them, it is impossible for him to fail of perceiving, that he forgot the interests of his soul, and the commands of his Maker; became regardless of his duty, and his salvation; and hazarded for dross and vanity, the future enjoyment of a glorious freedom. It is impossible not to perceive, that in the most unlimited possession of them, the soul would have been beggared and undone; that the gold of the world would not have made him rich; nor its esteem honourable; nor its favour happy. For this end he will discover, that nothing will suffice but treasure laid up in heaven; the loving kindness of God; and the blessings of life eternal. The Let me exhort you, my young friends, now engaged in the ardent pursuit of worldly enjoyments, to believe, that you will one day see them in the very light in which they have been seen by me. attachment to them, which you strongly feel, is unfounded, vain, full of danger, and fraught with ruin. You will one day view them from a dying bed. There, should you retain your reason, they will appear as they really are.-At that crisis you will need a supportlet me tell you, that the mercy of God through Jesus Christ is what and what alone will afford you comfort. To trust on any thing else, you will feed upon the wind. There is no other foundation but the "Rock of Ages." Then you will believe, then you will feel, that there is no other. The world, stable as it now seems, will then be sliding away from under your feet. All earthly things on which you have so confidentially reposed, will recede and vanish. To what will you then betake yourselves for safety? Thou, Lord! art all in all--O touch the chord Better is a handful with quietness, than both hands full with travail and vexation of spirit. THE only fountains of human gratification, which send forth an immortal supply, are the contemplation of those perfections of Deity, of which, if we seek them, we shall find proof after proof forever and ever; the congratulation of that happiness of his creation, which we may be assured shall keep continually increasing-and that active pursuit of the welfare and improvement of mankind, in which whoever engages, with an eye upon the watch to discover, and a hand properly open to seize them as they arrive to it, shall find an everlasting flow of opportunities to promote it, in some way or other, in this world, and probably a more copious accession to them in that which is to come. Here, and here alone, at these springs of generous and pious pleasure, we may say "give, give," with an immortally prevailing voice; without finding any stop in the stream, that shall pour into our breast. If happiness is to be found in the proper exercise of the faculties and the judicious disposition of the affections-if it consists in ardent piety to God, and unobstructed benevolence to man, it becomes us to employ the wealth which is so wrapt up in the powers of our nature. But to advert to a common case. If it is asked-where is happiness to be found? where is her dwelling place? Not where she is generally sought. Happiness is a modest recluse, who seldom shows her lovely face in the dissipated, or in the ambitious world. She is the sister and companion of religious wisdom. Among the vanities and the evils which Solomon beheld under the sun; one is, an access of temporal fortunes, to the detriment of the possessor; whence it appears, that such prosperity is a dangerous thing, and that few persons have a head strong enough, and a heart good enough, to bear it. A sudden rise from a low station, as it sometimes shews to advantage the virtuous and amiable qualities which could not exert themselves before, so it more frequently calls forth and exposes to view those spots and blemishes of the soul, which lay lurking in secret, cramped by penury, and veiled with dissimulation. An honest and sensible man is placed in a middle station, in circumstances rather scanty than abounding. He has all the necessaries, but none of the superfluities of life; and these necessaries he acquires by his prudence, his studies, and his industry. If he seeks to better his income, it is by such methods as hurt neither his conscience, his constitution, nor his friends. He has friends and acquaintances of his own rank he receives good offices from them, and he returns the same as he has his occupations, he has his diversions also; and partakes of the simple, frugal, obvious, innocent, and cheerful amusements of life. By a sudden turn of things, he grows great, in the church, or in the state. Now his fortune is made; and he says to himself, The days of scarcity are past, the days of plenty are come, and happiness is come along with them. Mistaken man! it is no such thing: he never more enjoys one happy day, compared with those, which once shone upon him. He discards his old companions, or treats them with cold, distant, and proud civility. He lives ambitious and restless, and dies-rich. |