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the same cause, and probably with more earnest-
If, then, Christian reader,
ness than themselves.
there is one good habit more neglected than an-
other, and which I would urge you to cultivate,
it is this one of social religious conversation. Do
not be afraid, when in the company of those who
profess to "love the Lord Jesus in sincerity," to
speak of his holy cause; but rather strive to lead
whomever you may be conversing with away from
the mere dry barren subjects of earth's business,
or cares, or follies, into the more fertile pastures
where the sheep and lambs of Christ ought
to feed. It is far more easy to do this than
we think. But the opportunity is frequently lost,
and with it a whole train of serious thought, and
perhaps valuable conversation, either from timidity
or from fear of giving offence, or from a worldly
spirit pressing upon us at the moment.
timidity is not to be encouraged: we surely can-
not give offence to Christian professors by talking
of him they profess to love; and, of course, it is
our most positive duty to struggle against the op-
pression of a worldly spirit, though the contest
Let us guard
may be disagreeable and severe.
most watchfully against this strange inconsistency,
that, although we make a profession of religion, we
are afraid or unwilling to speak of it when we
ought to be most anxious to do so, both for our
own good and the good of our friends and


West Lexham, Norfolk.


They forget that it is easy to be useless, end that
it needs no talent to cumber the ground. But the
Lord Jesus knew that it is best for the world
when all are workers; and he conformed to the
good rule of Palestine, which required every
to pursue some employment.
instead of selecting a brilliant occupation, he gave
himself to one humble and common-place, that we
might learn how possible it is to do extraordinary
good in a very inconspicuous station.

And by this selection he left an example to
working men. Rough work is no reason for rude.
manners, or a vulgar mind. And, by choosing this
humble lot, the Saviour learned to sympathize with
penury. Whatever wealthy bards may sing of the
sweets of poverty, it is a painful thing to be very
poor. To be a poor man's child, and look through
the rails of the play-ground, and envy richer boys
for the sake of their many books, and yet be
doomed to ignorance; to be apprenticed to some
harsh stranger, and feel for ever banished from a
mother's tenderness and a sister's love; to work
when very weary; to work when the heart is
sick, and the head is sore; to see a wife, or a
darling child wasting away, and not be able to
get the best advice; to hope that better food or
purer air might set her up again, but that food
you cannot buy, that air you must never hope to
neigh-breathe; to be obliged to let her die; to come
home from the daily task some evening, and see
her sinking; to sit up all night, in hope to catch
again those precious words you might have heard
could you have afforded to stay at home all day,
but never hear them; to have no mourners at the
funeral, or even carry on your own shoulder
through the merry streets the light deal coffin; to
see huddled into a promiscuous hole the dust
which is so dear to you, and not venture to mark
the spot by planted flower or lowliest stone;
some bitter winter or some costly spring to barter
for food the clock, or the curious cupboard, or the
on which you prided
Henry's Commentary,'
yourself, as the heir-loom of a frugal family, and
never be able to redeem it; to feel that you are
getting old, nothing laid aside, and present earn-
ings scarce sufficient; to change the parlour floor
for the top story, and the top story for a single
attic, and wonder what change will be the next:
these and a thousand privations are the pains of
poverty. And in the days when the world's Re-
deemer occupied the poor man's home, he was fa-
miliar with sights the parallels of these. He noted
them. He entered into them. He shared them.
Even at the time he did somewhat to relieve
them. It was in such a scene that he let forth
the first glimpse of his glory. The scanty store
of wine had failed at a marriage-feast; and, to re-
lieve the embarrassment of his humble entertain-
ers, he created a new supply. And it was in a
similar scene that the second of his healing mira-
cles was wrought; and his entrance to Simon's
fishing-hut was signalized by restoring from a
fever his sick mother-in-law. And, not to dwell
on the miracles of mercy which restored to the
widow of Nain her only son, and to the sisters of
Bethany their only brother, it is worth while to
notice how many of his wonders were presents to
the poor. A weary boatman has swept the wave
all night, and captured not a single fin. Jesu
bids him drop the net in a particular spot, and in

I THINK it should be interesting to you, to re-
member the lot in human life which the Saviour
selected. He had his choice. He might have chosen
for his residence a mansion or a palace; but he
chose for his domicile, so long as he had one, the
He cast his earthly lot
cottage of a carpenter.
alongside of the labouring man; and, besides the
intentional lowlihood, there were other ends it
answered. It lent new dignity to labour. Some
silly people feel it a disgrace to work: they blush
to be detected in an act of industry. They fancy
that it is dignity to have nothing to do, and a
token of refinement to be able to do nothing.

From "The Happy Home." London: Bogue. This little tract is the first of a series written for the working peo


ple. It appears that, whereas twenty-seven millions of publications issue every year from the press opposed to religion, there are but twenty-two millions in behalf of the truth. becomes, therefore, right-minded persons to use every means of circulating wholesome books and tracts among our population. In order to promote Christian principles the author of this series has taken up his pen; and we give our approval, so far as we have examined, to the temper and principles of what he has written. But let us also give him an earnest admonition. If he would hope that his tracts should be widely read by the working-classes, he must altogether remodel his style. He must not write in long sentences (one we observe is just a page), or employ out-of-the-way words. Let him strive to produce good Saxon English, and eschew for ever such nonsense as "returnless portals," "intentional lowlihood," &c., &c.; else working men will never read him. If he will take this word of warning in good part, he may, by the divine blessing, be useful; and we shall wish him God speed.—We may here notice another publication we have received, intended for the amelioration of the working classes, viz., "The Drunkard's Children;" eight plates, by G. Cruikshank; with illustrative poem, by Dr. Mackay. The evils of intemperance are vividly depicted.-ED.


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stantly it welters with a silvery spoil. Again and again the eager throng hangs round him, till the sun is setting, and it is discovered that there are only a few small loaves among all the fainting thousands; but he speaks the word, and, as little loaves bulk out an endless banquet, the famished villagers rejoice in the rare repast. And, though he did not grudge his cures to centurions and rulers of the synagogues, they were usually the poor and despised who craved and got the largest share; the woman who had spent on physicians . all that she had; the impotent man at Bethesda; the Samaritan lepers; and Bartimeus, the blind gar. And thus would the kind Redeemer teach us that, if there are always to be the poor on earth, there will always be the poor man's Friend in heaven. He would teach those sons of toil who are his true disciples, that in all their afflictions he is afflicted; that he knows their frame and feels their sorrow. And, should these lines be read by one who is indigent in spite of all his industry, let him remember how it fared with the world's best benefactor when here below: let him remember that the Saviour himself had once nowhere to lay his head, and, asking for a cup of cold water, could scarcely obtain it. But, now that he has all power in heaven and earth, that Saviour is as tender as ever; and to you, O children of want and woe! he says, "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy-laden; and I will give you rest."

law recognized not only an immaculate deliverer but in all his ransomed company could detect no stain of sin, no spot of the old corruption; when it was pronounced that millions of plague-stricken beings were now so convalescent and so pure, that they might even pass the pearly gates and join the fellowship of angels, enough was seen to justify the self-denial, through that self-denial was the incarnation of the Son of God-enough to recompense the sacrifice, though that sacrifice was the death of a divine Redeemer.

But this was the simple fact. An Angel of beg-mercy, a Volunteer of pure compassion, the Saviour, assumed our nature, and visited our world. "The Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us." And, coming into the world, he came into a moral lazaretto. Young and old, rich and poor, every soul was smitten with sin's disgusting malady. None were holy: none sought after God. All were corrupt: all were, to God's pure eye, offensive; and all were sickening towards the second death. And by coming hither, and taking on the human nature, the Son of God committed himself to our woful case. He virtually declared that, unless he brought a convalescent company with him, he would return to heaven no more. But the balsam, which alone could heal this malady, was found to be very costly. It must contain, as an ingredient, something which could compensate for sin; something so compensating, that God would be a just God in forgiving the sinner. And nothing, it was found, could atone for guilt, save blood divine. But Jesus had counted the cost; and even this price he was prepared to pay. And he paid it. He offered himself as the propitiation for sin, and he was accepted. And, though amongst those whom he sought to save were atheists and infidels, murderers and liars, blasphemers and sabbath-breakers, thieves and robbers, drunkards and debauchees, that one offering was infinite, and more than sufficed. It finished transgression, and the Supreme Judge and Lawgiver proclaimed it to the world, "The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin." And, reappearing at the gates of paradise with his ransomed, "the gates lifted up their heads;" and, having long since returned from that errand of kindness, and rejoined the acclaiming celestials, already has the King of Glory been followed by many a trophy of his life-giving death and peace-speaking blood. Dear reader, will not you be another? Will you not entrust your soul to one so skilful to heal and so mighty to save? Will you not begin to sing that new song even here: "Thou art worthy; for thou wast slain, and hast redeemed us to God by thy blood"? And will you not, from this time forward, give a higher place in your affections to that adorable Friend, "who, though he was rich, for your sakes became poor, that ye through his poverty might be rich"?

But I hasten to notice the greatest boon which the Saviour purchased. Returning to an instance already mentioned: Had you seen the devoted missionaries pass into the leper hospital, along with admiration of their kindness you would have felt a grievous pang at such an immolation. To think that men in the height of health should thus be lost to the land of the living, that good men and generous should be buried quick in such a ghastly grave, it would have oppressed your spirit, and you could only have given grudging approbation to such a self-devotement. But, if at the end of a certain term they had appeared at the gate again, and along with them a goodly band of the poor victims restored to perfect soundness; if it turned out that they had not only been able to mitigate much suffering, but, in the case of every one who submitted to their treatment, had effected a perfect cure; and if, on examining the matter, the competent authorities declared that not only were these heroes of humanity themselves uninjured, but that those whom they brought with them were clean every whit, and might forthwith pass out into the world of the hale and the happy, you would be more than reconciled to the great price which purchased such a wondrous restoration. When Immanuel went into this world; when he first put human nature on, and in all his innocence identified himself with the fate of sinful men, we might almost imagine the anxiety awakened by this" mystery of godliness" in any celestial spirit who did not foreknow the issue. But, when that issue was developed ; when, with a multitude which no man can number, rescued and restored, the mighty Redeemer re-appeared at the gate of the lazaretto; when infinite purity and eternal justice and the holy

This refers to an account the writer had previously given of the Moravian missionaries; but his statement is not quite accurate.-ED.


THE APOSTOLICAL CHRISTIANS*. THE communication which you have made to me, that you do not possess the means of continuing your support to us, has occasioned us much sorrow, though it is alleviated by the assurance of • Extracted from the correspondence of the rev. B. Jettmar, D.D.

people on Easter-day. German-catholic flocks at Spandau and New Ruppin are preparing to join us. By God's grace, the band of true confessors of the Holy Trinity is thus gradually gathering in strength and numbers; tidings which must be welcome indeed to you and your brethren who have been moved to do so much for us*."-Berlin, April 20, 1848.

The Cabinet.

GOD OUR FATHER.-As by this word "Father” I am taught to glory of thee and in thee, and all that ever thou hast; for thou art wholly mine, my Lord, my God, and my Father; so by this word "our" I am taught to glory of all the good that all and every of thy servants that ever were, are, or shall be, had, have, and shall have. For now I am taught to believe that thou hast called me into the communion of thy church and people, whom hereby I perceive thou hast commanded to be careful for me as for themselves, and in all their prayers to be as mindful of me I am taught to remember and render my duty I owe as of themselves. Again, as by this word "Father" to thee-wards, faith, love, fear, obedience, &c., so by thy word "our" I am taught my duty towards thy people, to be careful for them, and to take their sorrow, poverty, and affliction, &c., as mine own; and therefore to labour to help them in heart and hand after my vocation and ability, utterly abhorring all pride, self love, arrogancy, and contempt of any.

your unswerving love for us, and of the warm in-
terest which you will not cease to take in our well-
doing. We shall feel, at all times, conjoined to
you in the love and faith of the Lord Jesus, and
rest our trust in him for wisdom, help, and
strength to maintain the warfare to which he has
called us. We need your earnest prayers that it
may be given to us to contend manfully against
the present wide-spreading contagion of infidelity;
and we thank God who prevented us from joining
hands with the dissemblers, who profess Christ,
but have not, alas! had the grace of Christian
convictions and awakening vouchsafed to them.
It is daily becoming more evident that the move-
ment, begun in Silesia under the name of German-
catholicism, is not Christian in its character, and
has originated, not in a desire to embrace a pure
and light-giving faith, but in the diffusion among
its adherents of those principles of irreligion,
rationalism, and deism, which are gaining such
deplorable ascendancy in the present day. It is,
however, very gratifying to us to know that there
are numbers among those that have renounced the
Roman church, who, seeing how sadly infidel opi-
nions are spreading around them, begin to feel
alarmed for the eternal safety of their households
and children. And we have solid grounds for
believing that there are many, whose hearts beat
in unison with our own, who have hitherto re-
frained from throwing off the yoke of the Roman
church, chiefly because they dread, and justly-Bradford.
dread, to be alienated altogether from the revealed
religion of our blessed Lord. For these reasons,
we consider the position which we occupy between
the superstition and self-righteousness of the
papacy, and the infidelity and proud self-
sufficiency of German catholicism, to be anything
but hopeless or uncalled-for; on the contrary, we
conceive it to be in the highest degree important,
and to be one which the Lord himself has assigned
us in this day of lamentable enmity to Christ and
his church. We will joyfully tarry and labour in
this work of his, in the full faith that he will raise
the seed which his hand has here sown, to grow
up into a healthy plant in the vineyard of his
church; hedewing it with his grace, and tending
and maturing it with his love. We pray, there-
fore, that all, who are united with us in him, may
aid us with their supplications, counsels, conso-
lations, and help, and be moved not to leave and
forsake us utterly! .... Our blessed Lord has
afforded us a new pledge of his gracious dealing
towards us in recent days of heavy visitation and
sanguinary turmoil. There was not a single indi-
vidual in my congregation who took part in the
late insurrection; neither was one family a sufferer
directly or indirectly, in his person or property, on
the occasion. In the midst of the sad declension
from the love and fear of God, and the back-
sliding from the faith of Christ, which I regret to
say amounts to an almost general contempt for the
Lord Jesus, it pleases him to bless me with the
constant increase of my flock: numbers have
come forward, and among them several Roman-
ists, to be admitted members of it. On Easter
Sunday I hope to confirm two very promising
catechumens at divine service, and on Whitsunday
several other coverts to the faith of the gospel.
Among the latter is the rev. M. Baer, lately a
German-catholic preacher, who is to preach to my

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No. XVI.

(For the Church of England Magazine.)

"The Son of man is come to save that which was lost."

MATT. Xviii. 11.

CHRIST is enough to banish sorrow's powert:
Christ is enough to fill the soul with joy;
To still the waves of woe, that would destroy
With their impetuous force each fleeting hour.
When o'er the veiled future shadows lower,

The mourner's breast feels in his love the peace
That calmeth woe, bidding all anguish cease.
Healing unto the heart, he came to pour ;
To save the lost, for whom he meekly wore

The crown of thorns upon his holy head;
And the sad anguish of the cross he bore,

Eternal mercy o'er the lost to shed.
His saving grace, his vast and boundless love,
To fallen man have op'd the gates above.

Llangynwyd Vicarage.

M. C. L.

Subscriptions in aid of the "Apostolical Christian Flocks" in Germany continue to be received at the banking houses of Messrs. Coutts and Co., Strand; and Messrs Barnetts, Hoare, and Co., Lombard-street-S. the sad heart happy).-ŎLD WELSH PROVERB. "Digon Crist trist yn llawen" (Christ is enough to make

and HUGHES, 12, Ave-Maria Lane, St. Paul's; and to be London: Published for the Proprietors, by EDWARDS procured, by order, of all Booksellers in Town and Country.


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(The Death of Absalom.)

THERE are few narratives of scripture history more affecting than the rebellion and death of Absalom.

David was an indulgent parent, and probably did not exercise sufficient control over his numerous family; at least we have little or no evidence that any of his sons, with the exception of Solomon, evinced real piety. They appear to have been luxurious, lustful, and self-willed. They scrupled not to take advantage of their position to indulge their wayward desires, and depended,


it is likely, on their father's fondness to screen them from punishment.

David had in the afflictions of his family the righteous retribution of his own sins. It was a sharp chastisement; but doubtless he found it eventually good for him to have been so troubled. He was led to deeper humiliation, to more fervent repentance, to more devoted reliance upon God. And the mournful events which attended the death of Absalom taught him, though sad, yet salutary lessons which otherwise he would have been slow to learn.

Absalom was a young man of great personal


beauty: his hair was very long and ornamental; and he seems to have cherished it with particular care. He was attentive to the outward adorning of the body he cared little for the inward beauty of the spirit, After his base revenge taken upon his wicked brother Amnon, he had been pardoned by his father, David; and it might have been thought that his parent's mercy would have bound him to devoted love to him. But Absalom had other designs: he aspired to the crown: he stole away the hearts of the people of Israel. He so far prevailed that David found it necessary to quit Jerusalem, and to concentrate his forces on the other side of the Jordan. Thither Absalom pursued; and a battle soon became inevitable. The king seems to have been fully assured that victory would be his; and he gave his generals charge in the hour of triumph to spare his rebellious child. All would have obeyed but Joab. Joab was as self-willed as Absa lom: he resolved, if he fell into his power, to put him to death. In this he was fulfilling the just purposes of God, but not with any right motive. And we see how the Lord makes use of wicked instruments to effect his righteous designs. They act according to the dictates of their own ungodly passions; but he overrules their sin to let punish ment fall where punishment is due.

The rebel army is defeated, and Absalom flies. His path lies through a thick wood; and the overhanging boughs intercept his course. His hair, before his pride, is now his ruin: it becomes entangled in the branch of a tree: the mule on which he rides hurries on, and Absalom is left suspended helplessly between heaven and earth. There he is found by Joab, who pierces him to the

heart, and slays him.

David's grief, when he 1 arned the catastrophe, must have been infinitely ag gravated by the recol. lection that his son was destroyed in the midst of fearful sin of his eternal state he could have no comfortable hope,

Let the lessons which th s melancholy history teaches be deeply engraven (n every heart. We see to what pride and vanity nd self-will will lead. Let our prayer then ever be "From all blindness of heart, from pride, vain-glory, and hypocrisy, from envy, hatred, and malice, and all uncharitableness, good Lord, deliver us!"



Incumbent of Butley, Suffolk.
No. I.

to the meeting-house, which I had been accustomed to attend ten or twelve years ago.

J. D.-I had hoped, Edward, that had you seen the duty and privilege of attending those means of grace which God has provided for you in your parish church. What can be your reason for pursuing this irregular and unsettled course? A man who is supplied with wholesome food at home cannot surely be acting either wisely or justifiably when he wanders to other places in quest of nourishment.


E, W.-I don't know any particular reason. took it into my head to visit the old meetinghouse again, and was so pleased with what I heard that I have regularly attended during the last six or seven Sundays.

J. D.-You had been so very regular at church during some years past, that I concluded your views on religious matters had become clear, and your principles more settled. I hoped that you had made up your mind to endeavour to be a consistent member of the church of England.

ought to go where we think we can get most good E. W.-Why, James, you must allow that we to our souls. I went to church, as you just now said, very regularly for a long time; but, at last, Į grew tired of hearing the same prayers over and over again, and therefore I went elsewhere for a change.

J.D.-If you went to church, Edward, merely to hear the prayers, I do not wonder that you became tired. Excellent as they are, they cannot be expected to benefit, and therefore to satisfy, those who do not use them properly. They are not only to be heard, but to be prayed. Although they are for the use of the congregation generally, yet they are also to be adopted by each individual as his own prayers. Owing to this dislike of hearing the ried because the scriptures were so often read at same things repeated, you were also probably weachurch. You did not consider that it is necessary wardly to digest" the word of God, in order to not merely to hear, but to "mark, learn, and inderive spiritual nourishment from it. Neither the prayers nor the scriptures will afford you any the great truths which they are constantly bringpleasure or profit, unless you feel an interest in ing before you. It is your wish to go, you say, where you can get most good to your soul. If that be your object, surely a church which supplies you so abundantly with instructions from God's word must be best adapted to your wants. Where do you find so much honour and value put upon the holy scriptures as in the church of England? They are used in every part of the service. The liturgy is composed almost entirely of scriptural passages. In attending, then, the service of our church, you are hearing, for the most part, not the words of man, but the declarations of the Lord our God. If God's word be "profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness;" if the holy scriptures are "able to make thee wise unto salvation, through faith which is in Jesus Christ;" if "faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the word of God" (2 Tim. iii. 14, 15; Rom. x. 17), then assuredly have you far more opportunites of getting good to your soul in your parish church than in any meetgoing-house whatever.

EDWARD WHITE, Good evening to you, James as I had to come this way on my return from M, I thought I would call at your cottage, and have a little conversation with you.

James Dowell.-I am glad to see you, Edward; for I began to think that you must be ill. I have not seen you in your old place at church for five or six weeks.

E. W.-That is very true: I had a mind to

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