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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."
Object Description
Title | Christian observer |
Replaces | Southern religious telegraph ; Southern Christian sentinel |
Subject | Newspapers Pennsylvania Philadelphia County Philadelphia ; Newspapers Pennsylvania Philadelphia. |
Description | A Presbyterian paper from Philadelphia, Pa., which was both anti-Catholic and against Tractarianism, also known as Puseyism, a movement started in Oxford which attempted to bring the Presbyterian faith closer to the Roman Catholic. Issues from May 14, 1840- Dec.28, 1850, though not all issues are present. |
Place of Publication | Philadelphia, Pa. |
Contributors | A. Converse |
Date | 1843-12-22 |
Location Covered | Philadelphia, Pa. ; Philadelphia County (Pa.) |
Type | text |
Digital Format | image/jp2 |
Source | Philadelphia Pa. |
Language | eng |
Rights | https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/ |
Contact | For information on source and images, contact the State Library of Pennsylvania, Digital Rights Office, Forum Bldg., 607 South Dr, Harrisburg, PA 17120-0600. Phone: (717) 783-5969 |
Contributing Institution | State Library of Pennsylvania |
Sponsorship | This Digital Object is provided in a collection that is included in POWER Library: Pennsylvania Photos and Documents, which is funded by the Office of Commonwealth Libraries of Pennsylvania/Pennsylvania Department of Education. |
Description
Title | Phila-Christian_Observer12221843-0201; Christian observer |
Replaces | Southern religious telegraph ; Southern Christian sentinel |
Subject | Newspapers Pennsylvania Philadelphia County Philadelphia ; Newspapers Pennsylvania Philadelphia. |
Description | A Presbyterian paper from Philadelphia, Pa., which was both anti-Catholic and against Tractarianism, also known as Puseyism, a movement started in Oxford which attempted to bring the Presbyterian faith closer to the Roman Catholic. Issues from May 14, 1840- Dec.28, 1850, though not all issues are present. |
Place of Publication | Philadelphia, Pa. |
Contributors | A. Converse |
Location Covered | Philadelphia, Pa. ; Philadelphia County (Pa.) |
Type | text |
Digital Format | image/jp2 |
Source | Philadelphia Pa. |
Language | eng |
Rights | https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/ |
Contact | For information on source and images, contact the State Library of Pennsylvania, Digital Rights Office, Forum Bldg., 607 South Dr, Harrisburg, PA 17120-0600. Phone: (717) 783-5969 |
Contributing Institution | State Library of Pennsylvania |
Sponsorship | This Digital Object is provided in a collection that is included in POWER Library: Pennsylvania Photos and Documents, which is funded by the Office of Commonwealth Libraries of Pennsylvania/Pennsylvania Department of Education. |
Full Text | 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." |
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