Christian observer

              NEW SERIES. NO. 212
FOR TOE DIFFUSION OF TRUTH AND THE SUPPORT OF THE PamCIPl^oTr^E^ IN THE UNITED STATES
Southern ftilfgfous wuavixph-
A. CONVERSE, EDITOR:—134 Chestnut Street.
CHRISTIAN OBSERVER.
PHILADELPHIA, FRIDAY, DECEMBER 22, 1845.
VOL.XXII. NO. 51.
For the Christian Observer.
INDWELLING OP THB SPIRIT. NO. 1.
The influence of divine love on the
heart has a threefold operation—it ren¬
ders the Christian god-like, it forms be¬
tween him and his Maker, a bond of
strung and indissoluble union, and fits his
heart to be a divine and lasting mansion
of the Eternal Spirit. If we love God,
God dwelleth in us. A soul who is un¬
der this gracious influence, not only
lives with God and enjoys an unreserved
intercourse with him; but he even lives
in God and God in him, and this in such
an unspeakable and incomprehensible
manner, through the measure of faith re¬
ceived, as no mortal tongue can utter.—
And as love is the bond of perfectness,
lie is most intimately united with God.—
He is in God as in his original paradise ;
he lives and moves there as in his proper
element—he often sinks into God, and
through the influence of strong desire
and earnest longing of heart is so absorb¬
ed, that he is not only with God and in
God, but is one spirit with him. As the
soul is thus in God, God on the contrary,
is in the soul. He dwells there—is in it
as in his abode, the place of his resi¬
dence, his home—his temple where his
altar and his fire are, and where the pure
sacrifice and sweet incense are perpetu¬
ally burning. Thus united with the Lord,
he receives of his fulness—the soul is
filled with a sweet conscious sense ofthe
divine presence, which enters, as it were,
into its inmost recesses, and so shines
through its most secret chambers, as to
fill it with the sensible evidence of his
power and glory. There the divine spirit
dwells in the heart, not merely by the
operations of grace, but himself with all
his benign majesty and love, abides there
as in his choice habitation. For God
does not operate at a distance, but where
he works there he is, or as one expresses,
' God is in them of a truth.' Thus builded
together an habitation of God through
the Spirit, the kind promise is experienc¬
ed, "I will dwell in them and walk in
them"—so that every true believer may
bear the name once given to the New
Testament church, the Lord is there.
****r4*4*.4-4-4-****.
pravity can excite in man, intemperance
is its ally. It is fitted and capable of
bringing an immortal being, as near as it
is possible for immortality to be brought,
to the lowest reptile. Nay, we injure tbe
reptile by the comparison, for it fulfills
the law of its nature, and is guiltless, but
the drunkard is an angel that chooses the
lowesthell. The malignant and base pas¬
sions become more and more congenial
to the victim of appetite, and he for
whom Christ died, would become a loath¬
ed and scorned brute, did notthe heaven¬
ly charity which springs from the cross,
rush forward to save.
In another part of the discourse, he shows
that two principles on the subject are settled.
1. Those already temperate, must be
prevented from becoming intemperate.
2. The drunkard can be reclaimed.
The former of these principles has been
shown in the progress of the Temperance
Reformation, from its commencement;
the second has received its special and de¬
lightful illustration, in the Washingtonian
movement. The means by which these
results have been secured are simple and
beautiful. They are the associating to¬
gether in societies. . The pledge of Total
Abstinence from all that intoxicates. Ac¬
tive effort for and kind treatment of the
most abandoned drunkard, as well as the
respectable moderate drinker. But, it
will be asked, is not the gospel the di¬
vinely inspired remedy for all human
ills? To which we reply, certainly. Yet,
two or three considerations will show
that Religion and Temperance are not
antagonistic; but should be firmly united.
All that conduces to the improvement of
mankind, though sustained by the influ¬
ence of pure religion, and breathing her
atmosphere, are not accomplished by
her, directly. Colleges and common
schools are not built by the direct preach¬
ing of the gospel; nor British and Ame¬
rican Constitutions formed; nor libraries
founded; nor steam-engines invented;
nor wholesome laws made and exe¬
cuted; and yet Christianity is the basis
of all this, and a thousand other benefits.
Why, then, object to another auxiliary
for.good in Temperance Associations!
We give another extract—though extracts
cannot give the unity and full impression of
the discourse.
RELIGION AND TEMPERANCE UNITED.
The subject of temperance has been so oft¬
en and ao fully discussed during the last fif¬
teen years, that we no longer look for the at¬
tractions of novelty in appeals for the ad¬
vancement of its principles. Manly argument,
reared on the basis of experience and observ¬
ation, is not therefore powerless, because it no
longer wears the aspect of originality. The
discovery of new truths is not contemplated
in the progress of this cause ; but this is no
reason for silence. The well tried armor must
not be laid aside—the weapons of etherial
temper must be burnished and wielded with
renewed energy, if we would consummate the
Glorious Reform of the age. 	
These remarks are suggested by a season¬
able and able discourse to the Washingtonian
Temperance Society of York, Pa., delivered at
their request by the Rev. B. J. Wallace,
Pastor of the English Presbyterian Church,
in that Borough. Text—" Let your modera¬
tion be known unto all men. The Lord is at
hand." Phil. iv. 5. We subjoin a few extracts
of the sermon from the Democratic Press, in
which it has been published.
The object of the plan of salvation
through a crucified Redeemer, is to re¬
store man to his original unfallen condi¬
tion, and indeed to a condition in its ulti¬
mate consummation higher and more
glorious. Its object is to re-write the
image of God upon ruined man.
But intemperance plants itself in the
way of this enterprise. It destroys the
physical frame. Even pagans could see
that there is a connexion between the
lofty frame of man as compared with that
of animals and reptiles, which types the
elevation of the upright soul, and in the
expression of the countenance and form
of a man of virtue and integrity, do we
see something essentially different from
the furtive or sensual look, and the trem¬
bling and bloated form of him who has
sacrificed God's image to one debasing
appetite. It destroys intellect. The ex¬
citement stimulates to unhealthful action
|for a time, but gradually the sources of
-intellectual strength are dried up. The
treason is clouded and weak, the imagina¬
tion fitfully brilliant " runs to waste,"
|the argumentative powers become more
?;and more irregular and sophistical, the
llove of truth for its own sake becomes
feebler and feebler, and the strong man,
jHvho ere while laughed at the new cords
pand the green withes, has become weak
Sas a child. The finer parts of our nature
;are laid waste. The affections whose nu-
itnerous streams preserve the greenness
nbf the soul, one by one wither away or
Iturn to bitterness. Affection is founded
||ipon esteem.   When that is lost, it dege-
lerates to pit}\    And affection must be
mtual, or it cannot be permanent.   Wo
the husband and the father towards
|hom it becomes increasingly evident
it pity and sense of duty are taking the
fee of affection ! In that household we
ill soon find the man who ought to be
■ centre of all hearts, too imbecile or
»  furious   to love, and   the  night of
f-«Achedness will soon be perceived de-
Ming darker and  darker upon   the
Wling that was once a home'
Jknscience, God's vicegerent, is stu.
fed, bu   it is not destroyed.   It will
a«ce, not to pour through the soul the
djfehtful feeling which brings all ele
trt&hts within  us  into   harmony, but to
scourge the trembling wretch with agony
untold.   There does not seem for man,
aut of hell, any torture comparable with
the extreme cases ofthe drunkard's mad¬
ness, when a peculiar condition of men¬
tal and bodily torture attest God's ven-
Jgeance against the vice which stands so
fearfully in the way of his designs of
mercy to mankind.   And it is eminently
[worthy of observation, that,   in  these
■ cases, the agony often seems to take a
[moral direction. Devils are seen, hell is
[opened, and not unfrequently the mise-
■ rable being is strongly impressed by the
|terrible  conviction   that he is   lost for
ever.
Intemperance excites all the  coarser
iparts of our nature into savage ferocity.
In its essence it is the uncontrolled pow-
lerof appetite destroying soul and body.
But this appetite is nut alone.   If there is
a»y base and vile propensity, which de-
For the Christian Observer.
DINING PARTY OF FRENCH ILLUMI-
, NATI.
Let your moderation be known unto
all men, in regard to the place you give
to Temperance, and the stress you lay
upon it. Important as it is, it is not
piety. That a man should abstain from
all that intoxicates, will not save his soul.
An humble trust in a crucified Redeemer
alone will save. The blood of Jesus
Christ, the Son of God, shed for a sinful
world, is the alone ground of salvation,
and sincere repentance for sin, and an
appropriating faith in that blood, are the
conditions; and this Great Plan of Sal¬
vation the Holy Spirit must make effec¬
tual, by working in you a change of heart
through the Cross and its power. A holy
life must witness your sincerity. This is
religion, without which even Temperance
is but "the cleansing of the outside ofthe
cup and the platter." And, consider the
motive, by which the Apostle presses
upon you the exhortation of the text,
"the Lord is at hand." The action may
be right, but the motive may be fatally
wrong. "A sound heart is the life of the
flesh;" "whether we eat or drink, or
whatsoever we do, it must be done to the
glory of God." We must act from re¬
gard to His will; we must remember His
judgment; we must "have the testimony
that we please God." While, therefore,
you are temperate men, remember that
it is your duty to be men of God also.
* * * *
Let your moderation be evident in re¬
gard to those, whom you consider op¬
posed or indifferent to your cause. As
you could not yourselves be driven into
temperance measures, but came volunta¬
rily, so remember that they too are Ame¬
rican citizens. Light and Love : fight un¬
der this banner. Pour in the truth as
pointedly as you can, but let it be done
in a kind spirit.
Finally, remember that God's strength
strengthens every thing good ; and that
without it every thing is weakness. Your
pledges of amendment, your promises to
resist temptation, without Him will be un.
availing. "They that wait on the Lord,
shall renew their strength ; they shall
mount up on wings as eagles; they shall
run and not be weary; they shall walk
and not faint." "Trust in the Lord and
do good:" so shall you prosper; the
blessing of those ready to perish will
come upon you ; and she whose heart
was erewhile widowed will sing for joy.
. ■*.***.*4-4-4*4-*-***'—	
JONATHAN EDWARDS.
"The history ofour species may be
regarded as one vast progression, car¬
ried forward by definite footsteps.    This
is that doctrine of philosophical necessi¬
ty, whose ablest advocate is President
Edwards, of America; of whom we might
have feared that the depth of his philoso¬
phy would have spoiled him of the sim¬
plicity that is in Christ, did we not recol¬
lect that it is not against all philosophy
that we are warned in the Bible, but only
against vain philosophy; and of whom
we might have feared that his transcen¬
dent ability for science would have hurt
his sacredness, did we not recollect that
it is not all science which the Bible de¬
nounces, but only the   science that is
falsely so called.   And it does reconcile
us to the efforts of highest scholarship in
the defence and illustration of our faith,
when, looking to Edwards, we behold the
most philosophical of all theologians, at
the same time the humblest and the holi¬
est of men ; the most powerful in con¬
troversy with the learned, and yet the
most plain and powerful of address to the
consciences of a plain, unlettered con¬
gregation ; the most successful in finding
his way through the mazes of metaphy-
sic subtlety, and yet the honored instru-
ment  of many awakenings, the   most
successful in the work of winning souls."
 --****4-4*4>*4y4-4-**	
ANECDOTE OF WHITFIELD.
When preaching from the Text,—
" There is neither Jew nor Greek, there
is neither bond nor free,"—lifting up his
eyes toward heaven, he exclaimed, "Fa¬
ther Abraham, are there any Presbyteri¬
ans in heaven? No. Any Episcopali¬
ans in heaven! No. Any Baptists in
heaven? No. Any Methodists in hea¬
ven"! No. Any Christians in heaven 1
All Christians. We are all one in Christ
Jesus."
A CONVERSATION AMONG FRENCH  PHILOSO¬
PHERS, IN 1779.
Brother Converse:—I send you a trans¬
lation of this to myself very singular oc¬
currence—and you may do as you think
best in respect of its publication. It is
from the " Ouvres choisees et postumes"
of M. de La Harpe, formerly a member of
the French Academy, but who was subse¬
quently converted, and is said to have
died a happy death. His works were pub¬
lished in Paris, in 4 vols., octavo, by
Megiuree, 1806.
It seems to me as if it were yesterday,
and yet the facts occurred.as early as the
year 1778. We were all at table, with
one of the members of the Academy, a
worthy and intelligent man. The com¬
pany was composed of all classes—no¬
bles, judges, literati, academicians, &c.
The table was well set, and we enjoyed
it accordingly. After dining, the malva-
sier and champaigne began to do their
office, and gave loose to that kind of
freedom which we were not always care¬
ful to confine within the strictest bounds
of propriety. We felt that we had al¬
ready arrived at that point in the world's
improvement, when any thing might be
said which could raise a laugh. Champ-
fort had entertained us with a recital of
the most blasphemous and indecent sto¬
ries; and the noble ladies heard them
without even raising their fans. Here¬
upon followed a whole flood of blasphe¬
my and ridicule against religion. One
quoted a tirade from Peucelle, another
repeated that distich of Diderot, in which
he says, "May the entrails of the last
priest be made a halter for the neck of
the last king"—and all clapped applause.
Another rose, and said, "Yes, gentle¬
men, I am as well persuaded there is no
God, as I am that Homer is a fool;" and,
in fact, he was about as well persuaded
of the one as the other. Some of the
guests had just been speaking of both—
and had said some things in their praise.
The conversation now became more
animated. Some spoke with wonder of
the revolution effected by Voltaire—and
all agreed that this alone would lay the
foundation of his future fame. He had
already given a tone to this century; and
what he had written was read alike in
the palace and in the bed-chamber. One
of the guests ielated, with a laugh, that
his barber had said that morning, when
he powdered him, "You see, sir, if I were
a member of your wretched society, I
should have no more religion than any one
else." They all concluded that the revo¬
lution would certainly be completed, and
that superstition and fanaticism would
give way to philosophy. They even
went so far as to calculate the time when
it would take place. The old men la¬
mented that they could not flatter them¬
selves with the hope, and the young feli¬
citated themselves that they would likely
witness it. They congratulated the Aca¬
demy for preparing the way; and that, in
consequence, they must be regarded as
the authors, originators, and prime-mo¬
vers of the work.
During all this revel, one of the guests
took no part in the conversation—except
now and then, to throw in a pleasant gibe
at our exulting enthusiasm. This was M.
Cazotte, an estimable and original man,
who had unfortunately entered into the
dreams of illuminism. He took up the
conversation in a tone of earnestness,
and said, "Felicitate yourselves, gentle¬
men, you will all witness this great and
sublime revolution, on which you so
fondly doat: you know that I claim to
be somewhat of a prophet—I repeat it,
you will all live to see it." "Yes; but
we shall need no gifts of prophecy for
its accomplishment," was the general
answer. "That is true," replied he;
"but, perhaps, something more for what
I am about to tell you. Do you really
consider, gentlemen, what will be the
consequences of a revolution—such as
you contemplate, in which reason is to
triumph over religion ? Do you know
what will be the fate of every one who is
here present"! what will be the immedi¬
ate, undeniable, and acknowledged ope¬
ration?"
"Let us see," said Condorcet, with an
air of assumed simplicity—»a philoso¬
pher is not very anxious to apply to a
prophet."
"You, M. Condorcet, will be stretched
upon the floor of a prison, and there die,
die of poison, which you will swallow to
steal the march of the executioner—and
which, in that golden age, you will be
forced to carry about your person."
This speech excited great astonish¬
ment—but they immediatly concluded
that good Cazotte would soon awake out
of his dream, and they broke out in a
loud roar of laughter.—"M. Cazotte,"
said one of the guests, "the fate you as¬
sign us is not quite so agreeable as that
of le diable amoreux," alluding to a small
romance of the name, written by Ca¬
zotte, "but what has this to do with the
reign of reason 1" " That I was about to
tell you.—In the name of philosophy, in
the name of humanity, in the name of
reason, it will come to pass that you will
find such a fate, and then reason will
reign indeed, and have her own temple;
yes, then France shall have no other tem¬
ple but the temple of reason." " True,"
said Chompfort, with a malicious smile,
"there will be no need of priests in that
temple." "That I hope myself—but
you, M. Chompfort, will be one of them,
and you are right worthy to be. You will
open a vein with a razor, and will die
some months after."—Now they all look¬
ed up at one another, and laughed again,
—when Cazotte continued—"As for you,
M. Vicq'd Azyr, you will not open a
blood-vessel yourself; but you will em¬
ploy another to open it six times in a
single day, in an attack of the gout, in
order to make sure of the business, and
you will die in the night. As for you,
M. Nicolai, you will die on the scaffold.
And you, M. Bailly, will die on the scaf¬
fold. And you, M. Malsherbes, will die
on the scaffold."
" Thank heaven," exclaimed M. Rouch-
er, " it seems that all M. Cazotte has to do
with the Academicans, he has made a ter¬
rible havoc among them." " I, thank hea-
ven) i.—You, says M. Cazotte,will also die
upon the scaffold" " Hah;" quickly re¬
sounded from all parts of the room,—" a
wager that he has not sworn to root us
all out together.!* "No; it is not J that has
sworn it." " So then," returned they,
" we must all come under the Turks and
Tartars." "No less," says he, "I have
already told you, you will then be under
the reign of reason and philosophy.—
| Those who will so treat you, will be pure
philosophers,—they will employ those
same expressions you have uttered
an hour ago—they will repeat your fa¬
vorite maxims—they will quote the verses
of Diderot and Peucelle."
They now began to whisper among
themselves, that he had certainly lost his
reason, (for he still spoke quite earnest¬
ly.) " He is only jesting," said another.
" You know it is his way to mingle the
marvellous with the witty." " Yes," said
Chompfort; " but I confess, it is not very
agreeable—it seents too much of the ex¬
ecutioner,—and when shalfall this hap¬
pen?" Caz. "Not six years hence, and all
that I have said shall be accomplished."
" There are many wonders in the World,
(it was now myself that spoke, by M. de
la Harpe,) and do you say nothing re-
spectingme?" Caz. "Upon you a wonder
shall pass, that shall be no less extraordi¬
nary. You will become a Christian."—
Now there was a general exclamation.
"Well, I am satisfied," said Chompfort,
" if La Harpe will become a Christian, we
are all immortal."
"We, of the female sex," said the
duchess de Grammont, "are quite fortu¬
nate, that in the revolution we shall be
counted as cyphers; for I suppose, be¬
cause we shall take no part in it, we shall
of course be exempted." Caz. "Your
sex, Madam, will not be treated as such
treasures as they have been—and you
may yet wish you had never taken part in
it. You will be treated exactly as the
males—there will be no difference."
M. de G. " Why I declare, M. Cazotte,
you are preaching to us the end of the
world." Caz. " That I know not—but I
do know, that, though duchess as you
are, you will be led to the scaffold."—
M. de G. "In that case, I hope I shall
have a coach lined with black to convey
me." Caz. "No, Madam, more noble
women than yourself will be conveyed
there on a butcher's cart, with their hands
tied behind them." M. de G. " More no¬
ble! in what respect? you do not mean
princesses of the blood ?" Caz. "Still
more noble." By this time, an evident
agitation was observed in the whole com¬
pany—and the countenance of the Lord
of the house began to lower: indeed they
all felt that the wit had been carried too
far. Madam de Grammont, with a view
to scatter the clouds, in a tone of plea¬
santry, let fall another expression. "If
that be the case," says she, •• I presume
they will grant me the benefit of a con¬
fessor." Caz. "No, Madam, they will
grant it to none, much less to yourself-^
the last executed will be the only one
that shall enjoy that favor." Here he
paused for an instant. M. de G. "Well,
then, who is the favored one that shall
enjoy that peculiar privilege ?" Caz. «It
will be the only privilege that he shall
obtain, and that individual will be the
King of France."
Now the master of the house rose up
hastily from the table, and all followed
his example. He went to M. ;Cazotte,
and in a deeply affected tone said, "My
dear sir, this sad kind of pleasantry has
continued too long. You carry it to a
I length that will certainly endanger the
| society." Cazotte answered nothing, and
prepared to take his departure, when
Madam de Grammont prevented him, no
doubt with a view of taking off the serious
tone of the matter, and of restoring their
former hilarity. " Now Mr. prophet, you
have prophesied the fate of all—of each of
us, but what do you say of your own fate?"
Here he vvas silent for a moment—cast
down his eyes and then said: "Madam,
have you ever read the seige of Jerusa¬
lem in Josephus?" M. de G. "Most cer¬
tainly; who has not read it? but suppos¬
ing I had not read it, what then?" Coz.
" Why, Madam, during that siege a
young man went seven days successive-
lyupon the walls, and around the city in
sight of the besiegers and the besieged,
crying incessantly, ' Wo to Jerusalem!
Wo to Jerusalem!' On lhe seventh day
he cried, • Wo to Jerusalem ! Wo also to
myself,' and in that instant a stone from
one ofthe engines ofthe enemy dashed
him in pieces." After this last speech,
he politely bowed and departed.
 ***-4-4*.4*4^r*-*"'
particularly so in the slave-holding states
of the West. If the missionary is an
Eastern man, every eye is open, every
ear unstopped, to see and hear some¬
thing which they dislike ; and, if found,
as will invariably be the case, the labor
and commotion of the fabled mountain,
in bringing forth a mouse, can scarcely
equal the stir and excitement which is
made. Oh, how truly does the poor mis¬
sionary need the direction of our Sa¬
viour:—"Be ye wise as serpents, and
harmless as doves." Still there are some
good men and good women even here. Pious
people of a truth, but who need all in¬
struction, both in public and private du¬
ties; and, mingled with their want of
knowledge, is a vast amount of false
pride, which renders them suspicious,
captious, and fearful, lest the missionary
should see some fault in their ways and
customs.    Yours, truly, .
..****4******4-4-4-***".»
For Uie Christian Observer.
TRANSUBSTANTIATION IRRATIONAL.
The following remarks by Professor Stuart
on the Real Presence of Christ,in the elements
used in celebrating the Lord's Supper, deserve the
attention of all who are exposed to the illusions
which are propagated on the subject:
My first remark is that of no two sub¬
stances, or real concrete existences, dif¬
fering of course in- their attributes and
accidents from each other, can it possibly
be said with truth, that the one is the other.
When I say, God is a rock, I cannot say he
is one in a literal sense, unless indeed I
am a stupid heathen and believe a rock
in verity to be essentially divine. Of
course, in the latter case, I do not believe
that God is a Spirit. But so long as I do
believe that he is a Spirit, it is impossible
for me, as a rational man, to say that God
is a rock, and meiin any thing more than
he is one in a figurative sense, that is,
that he is an immoveable and safe bul¬
wark, and defence, or rather an adequate
protector and defender. I may well and
truly say, " John is a king, is a nobleman,
is a husbandman, is a mechanic, is a law¬
yer, a physician, a pastor," and the like ;
because all these are mere offices which
he holds, or qualifications which he pos¬
sesses. But I cannot say that John is
James, unless indeed I mean that he has
merely two names instead of one. And
so in every possible case. One substance
or person cannot be another substance or
person, for the plain and simple reason,
that two substances or persons are not one
person or substance. In all this I assume
merely that it is impossible for a thing to
be and not to be, at one and the same
time. This is so self-evident, that it is
even incapable of any demonstration, it
needs but to be stated, in order to be re¬
cognised and believed in the fullest pos¬
sible manner, even without the consent of
the will, if such a case were possible.
But if the sacramental bread is the actual
body of Christ, then is it two different sub¬
stances at one and the same time—a thing
souls? It is inconceivable, it is incredi¬
ble; it is quite impossible, unless the very
nature of God and man, and all religion,
be changed.
Once more: when the sacrament is ce¬
lebrated in all parts of the earth, at one
and the same time, (as it may be,) or in
Europe and Asia, how is Christ's human
body and blood to be present, and to be
literally eaten and drunk at the same
time? What kind of dimensions must it
have? and how can a human body be
ubiquitous? Or, if the glorified body
of the Saviour be meant, why should this
be resembled to some Typhceus of old in
fable and song? I speak, however, only
of his human body and blood; for these
are the very things which are asserted to
be eaten and drunk—but which, however,
cannot be eaten and drunk, unless they
actually exist.
-****4-4-*~*t**4*****-
PROVIDENCE.
[Extract from Dr. Chalmer's Lectures.]
" The great drama of a nation's poli¬
tics may hinge on tbe veriest bagatelle
that could modify or suggest some pro¬
cess of thought to the heart of a single
individual. The most remarkable in¬
stance of this, which I recollect, is, when
the pursuers of Mohammed, who follow¬
ed hard upon him to take his life, were
turned away from the mouth ofthe cave,
in which he had the moment before taken
shelter, by the flight of a bird from one
of the shrubs that grew at its entry—in¬
ferring, that, had he recently passed that
way, the bird must previously have been
disturbed away, and would not now have
made its appearance. It is a striking re¬
mark of the historian, that this bird, by
its flight on this occasion, changed the
destiny of the world—instrumental as it
was in perpetuating the life of'the False
Prophet,' and with him the reign of that
superstition which, to this day, hath a
wiser ascendancy over our species than
Christianity itself. Such are the links
and concatenations of all history. It is
well that God has the management; and
that what to man is a chaos, in the bands
of God is a sure and unerring mechan¬
ism."
-****4-44> 4-4-4******
THE SLANDERED PASTOR.
He must be one ofthe fortunate sons of
Levi who can get through a twelvemonth
without having somebody's tongue wag
unwisely against him. There are some
in every parish who are not a little given
to taking up a reproach against their
neighbors, and, if other objects are not at
hand, the pastor's character is always in
sight, and they can comfort themselves by
discharging their arrows in that direction.
In his movements among the people he
ascertains that an evil report is on the
wing, and the ill-omened bird is flying
about in all directions. What shall he do?
Shall he give it chase, and try to catch
it? Shall he stop his Master's work, and
j hasten here and there to discover the
absolutely impossible. Even the Roman- j sianderer? Had he better waste his ener-
For the Christian Observer.
LETTER FROM THE FAR WEST.
[Extract of a Letter from a Missionary in the
Western section of the State of Missouri.]
I live in the extreme West. Nothing
beyond me but savages. This whole re¬
gion of country is, truly, missionary
ground. Most of the people are really
ignorant, and not a few really heathens.
The sole object of emigration is to make
a fortune; and, under the influence of
this idea, thousands are willing to deprive
themselves of every present comfort,
convenience, and usefulness, and to live
not unlike the brute creation, in order to
treasure up, for some far distant period, a
few rusty dollars. But the whole motive
which noW actuates the people is futile,
as well as degrading. Far most come
here with nothing—and there being no
market for the luxuriant crops which the
farmer might raise, the improvement in
external circumstances even, is scarcely
perceptible in any, and in most there is
none at all. Therefore they live and toil
on, from year to year, in filth, in mental
imbecility, and in rags.
To this melancholy view, there are
some feW exceptions—and gradually, but
slowly, these degraded and wicked sons
of men sell out their claims to some
more opulent ind refined settler, and
move still farther from the advance of
civilization. To that numerous class I
have mentioned, the gospel presents no
attraction. They will, not comAnd list¬
en to it, nor receive it wherWaken to
their doors.. Many are addicted to the
lowest vices, such as intemperance, blas¬
phemy, Sabbath breaking, &c. There is
just as much hope of the reformation of
the poor Indian, as of these.
Then, again, he who would preach the
gospel to this Western people, must adopt
their manners and customs, or they will
reject him and his message. Probably,
there is not, in the whole range of mis¬
sionary effort, a spot where more is re¬
quired, in labor, or talent, or more diffi¬
culties to encounter, or more sacrifices
to be made, (except leaving one's native
land,) than out here in the West; and
ists see and endeavor to avoid the absur¬
dity of this; for they aver, that after the
consecration it changes its nature, and
becomes what it was not before, namely,
the body of Christ. But what is the evi¬
dence of this ? All our senses decide
against it, and how can they deceive us
in such a matter? They may deceive us
in some things, for a little while, and re¬
peated trial may be necessary for full
confirmation. But here the conclusion
remains the same after trials repeated
ever so often. We cannot force any of
our senses to recognise flesh and blood
in the bread and wine of the sacrament;
and how can we bring ourselves, then, to
discredit what they do testify.?
The Lutheran idea of con-substantiation,
that is, that the body and blood of Christ
are on, in, and under the bread and wine,
does not much help the matter. Do our
senses recognise the presence of body
and blood? They do not. What is the
evidence, then, that such is the fact? It
is, say its advocates, the assurance of
Christ, that his body and blood are on,in,
and under the bread and wine. But where
has Christ so said? I can find no passage
like this in all the Scriptures. The Ro¬
manists are, in fact, nearer to his words
here than the strenuous Lutherans. This
is my body; this is my blood; such, it must
be confessed, are the words of Christ in
the Gospel. If a literal interpretation
now must be given, the Romanists come
the nearest to it. But how can they make
this out? If the elements be veritably
a human body and human blood, the
breaking with the hands and the pouring
put from the cup are neither of them pos¬
sibilities. For a body to be broken and
blood to be poured out, in such a case, it
would be necessary that instruments of
violence and of death should be em¬
ployed. The fact of the breaking and the
pouring out shows of itself, that the ele¬
ments are in reality bread and wine still,
even after the consecration. And to show
that Christ's body and blood are on, in,
and under the elements, one must give a
sense to the words which is neither literal
nor figurative. But what meaning is that
which belongs to neither of these classes?
This, however, is not all, When Christ
and his apostles first celebrated the ordi¬
nance, he was not yet crucified. His
body therefore was not yet broken, nor
his blood poured out. But it is the broken
body of Christ, and his blood poured out,
which the bread and wine are said to be.
If, then, we construe this literally, we
make out a direct contradiction to facts.
We make a thing to be and not to be, at
the same time, we make out a broken
body before it was broken, and blood
poured out, before it was poured out, all
this, now, is plainly and absolutely impos¬
sible. We are forced, then, to consider
the bread and wine as symbols, merely, or
else to give up the fundamental princi¬
ples of human reason.
Nor is even this all. We may well ask, and
we are bound to ask—What is the moral
use or fitness of a literal eating of human
flesh and blood? Tbe Jewish legislator
had the greatest horror of human sacri¬
fices. The Bible every where exhibits a
horror of it. And is the most sacred and
sanctifying of all rites, then, to consist,
under the mild and god-like dispensation
of the gospel, of eating real human flesh
and drinking human blood ? Is this act of
cannibalism, (forgive me, for what else
can I name it,) then, the way of nearest
approach to an all-perfect and glorious
Redeemer? The literal act of eating hu¬
man flesh and drinking human blood—is
this to be our highest and noblest act of
acceptable devotion, and to sanctify our
gies in beating the bush after such a bird?
" He will defend his good name," he
says. " He will not have his reputation
sullied. He is an injured man, and he
will bring the injurious to justice." But
he must catch the snake before he can
kill it. And he that undertakes to find the
father of an evil report against himself,
has got to fish in a deep sea. He would
like to find the man who has slandered
him. But who is to confess himself the
parent of that calumny ? If it is a lie, foul
and black, who is going to be so stupid as
to admit himself the author of it? Will
the archer who sent the arrow, stand
forth with his bow in his hand, and say,
"here am I?"
Most likely the slander is a joint pro¬
duction. The raw material appeared—no¬
body in the creation knows where it
came from. It was spun; the warp by
one, the filling by another, woven by a
third ; a score had to do with the colors
in the fabric, and as many more have giv¬
en the fabric each a jog, in its journey
round the parish. There have been so
many fingers in this work, that the idea
of identification of an individual is ridi¬
culous. Each did so little about the mat¬
ter, that they do not know, nor does any
body else, that they did any thing. Ask
them. Did you utter this calumny? One
is grieved at the insinuation—another
scowls in resentment. Knock at every
door in the parish—the slanderer is not
there. He is not here, nor yonder. All
the energies of legs, wings, and steam,
cannot catch him.
But suppose you do catch him. Sweat¬
ing and weary, you are yet triumphant
at last. You have traversed every sea,
threaded every break, and you have at
last the slanderer before you. You will
not beat him; that would not be very
ministerial; besides, you prefer "clean
hands." You will give him a terrible
rebuke likely. You will pour a running
tide of indignant eloquence upon him.
You expect to see him quail before you.
But he was an outrageous slanderer,
vvas he ? And think you then he has any
conscience for you to assail? Think you
he has any sensibilities that you can
arouse? More, if his tongue was once
a sharp sword against you, your rebukes
may cause it to leap out of its scabbard
again. You are not a match for him. He
can bespatter you faster than you can
him. He is more used to it. In catching
him, therefore, you may not have made
a very desirable prize.
Besides, before you make sail in chase
of every pirate upon your good name,
consider whether you can find good
scriptural example for it. The good men
of the Bible lived, some of them, in a
very hurricane of calumnies. There is
Paul, for example. If every slander had
carried awaythesmallestpieceofhisflesh,
he would have been a perfect skeleton
before he had been preaching a twelve¬
month. They said every thing about
him. He has given a specimen or two—
drops out of an ocean—just to let us see
that Apostles had enemies. People had
tongues in those days, and the man that
stirred up their guilty consciences as oft¬
en as Paul did, was not the man to es¬
cape their virulence. There was not a
vile or malignant thing which a corrupt
heart could generate, or an envenomed
tongue utter, but was charged upon him.
Well, how did he manage the matter?
Did he go puffing about the streets to find
out who slandered him? Did he give
chase to wicked reports, and drive into
palaces and cottages, highways and by¬
ways, to see who was the father of them?
He could not stop for that.   He had too
much to do, and much better business.
He let them reproach him that liked the
business. He did not make after them
with the sledge-hammer of the law, or
with a committee of friends who had the
care of his reputation. " Being reviled, we
bless." This was economy of time, for a
man can bless his slanderers most cor¬
dially in much less time than he can hunt
through the parish after them ; and eco¬
nomy of moral feeling, too, for it is a
much happier state of mind to pray for a
persecutor, than to chafe one's spirit
about how violent hands shall be laid
upon him, and he get as good as he gave.
Let the slandered pastor consider, then,
that the game, in catching the author of
an evil report, is notworth the chase; and
that, should he be captured, he is likely ,
to be any thing but a precious prize. Let
the pastor have so much of his Master's
great work on his hands, that he cannot
find any time to pursue his defamers.and
so much of his Master's spirit toward the
vilest of them, that he shall love to pray
for and bless them. If he will take care
of his Master's work, his Master will take
care of his character. He need not divide
his time between them. Good care ofthe
high trust committed to his hands, will
secure for him all the reputation he
needs, to shine as a light in this world,
and to shine in the everlasting beauty
and holiness of heaven.—Boston Recorder.
FAMILY WORSHIP.
Various are   the  considerations   that
might be urged to engage your faithful
attention to what we now recommend.
We would have you consider the benefi¬
cial influence it will have on your own
minds, and the help it will afford you in
the spiritual life.   It will greatly aid you
in the cultivation of a gentle, benevolent,
and affectionate spirit, and in maintain¬
ing a conscience void of offence.   It will
prove a channel through which will flow
to you grace to exhibit a life of piety be¬
fore your family, and wisdom to govern
all its affairs.  It will extend its influence
throughout   the   entire   day,   seasoning
your conversation as with salt, and in¬
ducing you to keep a strict watch over
your words and temper.   As you pros¬
trate your soul before God, and open
your mouth in prayer, on behalf of your¬
self and others, you will feel an increas¬
ed obligation to maintain  a consistent
Christian deportment, that the offence of
others be not occasioned.  This religious
exercise will tend powerfully to strength¬
en every pious, resolution, to awaken a
lively sensibility to every irregularity,
and to fortify the mind with the most
wholesome restraints.  In this respect it
has advantages which do not pertain to
the devotion of the closet, that it identi¬
fies us with the interests of godliness, ex¬
acts from us a pledge to abstain from
every appearance of evil, exhibits vivid¬
ly the obligations we are under to our
families, and convinces us of our habi¬
tual dependence on divine grace.  These
are the advantages which we all need,
and which we cannot forego without se¬
rious injury to our growth in piety.
Consider the happy influences which
the devout observance of this duty will
have on your children and others of your
family. It will diffuse peace, love, and
harmony, through the family circle, tend
to allay every rugged passion, strength¬
en every affectionate feeling, and make
each house a little heaven. •« Train up a
child in the way he should go, and when
he is old he will not depart from it," is
both the command and the promise of
God. And in how many instances in
which this command has been obeyed,
has the promise been fulfilled! How
many children have been led to the Sa¬
viour in answer to the prayers offered on
the family altar! Remember, we entreat
you, how much the eternal happiness of
your children depends on your attention
to what we now urge. Your reward may
be given you, in the speedy return to
God of those for whose souls you labor,
but if the seed should lie a long time bu¬
ried beneath a barren soil, "be not wea¬
ry in well doing, for in due time you
shall reap if you faint not." In a multi¬
tude of instances, the constant and edify¬
ing observance of family worship, under
the blessing of God, has proved the means
ofthe conversion of children, years after
leaving the homes of their infancy, and
long after their parents had entered into
the joy of their Lord. The recollections
of childhood have a controlling influ¬
ence over the mind. What is more pow¬
erful than the remembrance of the past?
Connect the worship and service of God
with every tender association of home—
with the recollection of pious, affection¬
ate parents, and beloved kindred, and
you throw around youth a barrier more
secure than a thousand virtuous maxims;
you bring into exercise a principle more
powerful than the firmest resolutions.
Those, who, from youth, have been
taught to pay even an outward respect to
the service of God, to honor his name,
and revere his word, cannot easily es¬
cape the conviction ofthe importance of
the world to come. But if your children
finally fall under the condemnation of
Heaven, let it not be attributed to your
want of faithfulness—let it not be traced
to your want of care for their souls. Shall
it be said in eternity, that, under your
roof, they first learned to forget God?
Will you be the means of eternally un¬
doing their immortal souls?
—*****4*4*4>.^
A REMARKABLE DISCOVERY.
A writer in the London Intelligencer
has discovered in an independent expres¬
sion of opinion by an American bishop,
touching the ecclesiastical acts of a Pu¬
seyite, an alarming tendency to Roman¬
ism!!   He says—
"The Bishop of Ohio has shown his
tendencies to Romanism by taking up
the official acts of the Bishop of New
York, and in his place in the Convention
ofthe diocese of Ohio, discusssing them
and condemning them, and encouraging
his Convention to pass resolutions ofthe
same objectionable character. Here is
the beginning of practical popery in
America, a blow at the purity and inde¬
pendence of diocesans, which would be
matter of real alarm, if it came from a
quarter where extent of influence, or ju¬
risdiction, or power, could give it much
importance. What steps the bishops may
take in securing themselves against the
encroachments of this popery, is not yet
known. The Bishop of New York will
not probably notice it."