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THE DEAD SPEAK.

The Dead speak to us from the page of history. The archives of nations have a moral which stands out in bold relief for the benefit of generations yet unborn. Actions speak, whether the actors be still figuring in the drama of life, or lying in the silent tomb. One tells of the instability of earthly greatness,-another, of the impotence of human power,-a third, of the unsatisfactory nature of worldly pleasure. "Vanity of vanities-all is vanity," is the testimony of all.

The Dead speak in biography. The minutiæ of men's lives teach a lesson as useful as their more prominent and public deeds. The unmasked character, delineated by a faithful hand, has a voice of peculiar force. Virtues personified speak to the heart with greater energy than mere precept, and the teachings and warnings of evil actions have a no less powerful effect.

The Dead speak in the works of art. The sculptor, who has chiselled the marble into such a life-like form, that it almost breathes and moves,-the painter, who has animated the canvass,-the architect, who has planned the stupendous fabric,-the mechanic, who has exercised his ingenuity for the well-being of his fellow-men,-these speak, and will continue to speak, whilst their achievements exist.

The Dead speak in their writings: and great is the responsibility attending the sounds thus uttered. The productions which propagate falsehood, immorality, and impiety, are of terrific magnitude: they aid in urging onward those who listen to them to a fearful end. But the pen used in furthering the growth of virtue and piety, will tend to the improvement and happiness of mankind through every succeeding generation. These may truly be termed imperishable thoughts.

The Dead speak to us as they lie in their silent graves. They tell us that death is the fate of the whole human race-being the penalty of sin. They tell us that the worm will one day riot on our flesh, as it riots on theirs, and that the lovely form of youth, alike with decrepit age, will be its prey. "Dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return!"

And shall the Dead speak to us by all these means in vain ? Shall we turn a deaf ear to the truths they teach, and thus rob ourselves of the profitable lessons their experience may afford? The Past is a vast

seminary in which the wise of every age have been instructed, and we of the present generation have the united testimony of nearly six thousand years. The Dead-the unnumbered Dead of that period speak to us; and if we refuse to hear them now, we shall see them in the great day of account, and they will then be so many living witnesses to our condemnation.-A. M. Sargeant.

"GIVE WISELY."

One evening, a short time since, the curate of B. " a small village in the north of France, returned, much fatigued, to his humble dwelling. He had been visiting a poor family who were suffering from both want and sickness; and the worthy old man, besides administering the consolations of religion, had given them a few small coins, saved by rigid self-denial from his scanty income. He walked homewards, leaning upon his stick, and thinking, with sorrow, how very small were the means he possessed of doing good and relieving misery.

As he entered the door, he heard an unwonted clamour of tongues, taking the form of a by-no-means harmonious duet-an unknown male voice growling forth a hoarse bass, which was completely overscreeched by a remarkably high and thin treble, easily recognised by the placid curate as proceeding from the well-practised throat of his housekeeper.

"A pretty business this, Monsieur !" cried the dame, when her master appeared, as, with flashing eyes, and left arm a-kimbo, she pointed with the other to a surly-looking man dressed in a blouse, who stood in the hall, holding a very small box in his hand. "This fellow," she continued, "is a messenger from the diligence, and he wants to get fifteen francs as the price of the carriage of that little box directed to you, which I'm sure, no matter what it contains, can't be worth half the money."

"Peace, Nanette," said her master; and taking the box from the man, who, at his approach, civilly doffed his hat, he examined the direction.

It was extremely heavy and bore the stamp of San Francisco, in California, together with his own address. The curate paid the fifteen francs, which left him possessed of but a few sous, and dismissed the messenger.

He then opened the box, and displayed

to the astonished eyes of Nanette an ingot of virgin gold, and a slip of paper, on which were written the following words:

"To Monsieur the Curate of B

A slight token of eternal gratitude, in remembrance of August 28th, 1848.

Charles F, Formerly sergeant-major in the -th regiment; now a gold-digger in California."

On the 28th of August, 1848, the curate was, as on the evening in question, returning from visiting his poor and sick parishioners. Not far from his cottage he saw a young soldier with a haggard countenance, and wild, bloodshot eyes, hastening towards the bank of a deep and rapid river, which ran through the fields. The venerable priest stopped him and spoke to him kindly.

At first the young man would not answer, and tried to break away from his questioner; but the curate fearing he meditated suicide, would not be repulsed, and at length, with much difficulty, succeeded in leading him to his house. After some time, softened by the tender kindness of his host, the soldier confessed that he had spent in gambling a sum of money which had been entrusted to him as sergeant-major of his company. This avowal was made in words broken by sobs, and the culprit repeated several times, "My poor mother! my poor mother! if she only knew”

The curate waited until the soldier had become more calm, and then addressed him in words of reproof and counsel, such as a tender father might bestow on an erring son. He finished by giving him a bag containing one hundred and thirty francs, the amount of the sum unlawfully dissipated.

"It is nearly all I possess in this world," said the old man, "but by the grace of God, you will change your habits, you will work diligently, and some day, my friend, you will return me this money, which, indeed, belongs more to the poor than to me."

It would be impossible to describe the young soldier's joy and astonishment. He pressed convulsively his benefactor's hand, and, after a pause, said:

"Monsieur, in three months my military engagement will be ended. I solemnly promise, that, with the assistance of God, from that time I will work diligently." So he departed, bearing with him the money and the blessing of the good man.

Much to the sorrow and indignation of Nanette, her master continued to wear

through the ensuing winter, his old threadbare suit, which he had intended to replace by warm garments; and his dinner frequently consisted of bread and soupe maigre.

"And all this," said the dame, "for the sake of a worthless stroller, whom we shall never see or hear of again!"

"Nanette," said her master, with tears in his eyes, as he shewed her the massive ingot, whose value was three thousand francs, "never judge hardly of a repentant sinner. It was the weeping Magdalen who poured precious ointment on her Master's feet; it was the outlawed Samaritan leper Our who returned to give Him thanks. poor guest has nobly kept his word. Next winter my sick people will want neither food nor medicine; and you must lay in plenty of flannel and frieze for our old men and women, Nanette!"

HAVE A PLACE FOR PRAYER.

We do not need to enter the closet to find the Lord. He is ever near to us. But we enter in order to escape distractions, and in order to regain those associations, and, it may be, to surround ourselves with those mementos, which we formerly found helpers to our prayers. One who has great powers of abstraction may take refuge from surrounding bustle in the depths of his own spirit, and pass along the crowded streets in the perpetual hermitage of his own selfseclusion, undiverted and undistracted by all that is whirling round him. But few have this talent of inward sequestrationthis power to make a closet of themselves; and, in order to find for their thoughts a peaceful sanctuary, they must find for their persons a tranquil asylum. It little matters where or what it is. Isaac went out into the field, and Jacob plied his night-long prayer beside the running brook. Abraham planted a grove, and, in the cool shadow of his oaks, at Beersheba, he called on the name of the Lord. Abraham's servant knelt down beside his camel; and it would appear, from some of his psalms, that a cave, a mountain fastness, or a cavern in the rocks, was David's frequent oratory. Peter had chosen for his place of prayer the quiet and airy roof of his sea-side lodging, when the messengers of Cornelius found him. It would seem that the open air-the noiseless amplitude of the" solitary place"-the hillside, with the stars above, and the shadowy world below-the fragrant stillness of the

garden when evening had dismissed the labourers, were where the Man of sorrows loved to pray.

It was in the old church of Ayr that John Welsh was wont, all alone, to wrestle with the angel of the covenant; and we have stood in the wild rock-cleft where Peden found frequent refuge from his persecutors, and whence he caused his cry to ascend "unto the Lord most high." It does not need four walls and a bolted door to make a place of prayer. Retirement, and silence, and a sequestered spirit will create it anywhere.

By the shore of the sounding sea,-in the depths of the forest,-in the remoteness of the green and sunny upland, or the balmy peacefulness of the garden bower,-nay, amidst the dust of the dingy ware-room, or the cobwebs of the owlet-haunted barn,-in the jolting corner of the crowded stage, or the unnoticed nook of the travellers' room, you have only to shut your eyes, and seclude your spirit, and you have created a closet there. It is a closet wherever the soul finds itself alone with God.

Correspondence.

OUGHT THE BIRTH AND DEATH
OF CHRIST TO BE MADE THE
SUBJECTS OF ANNUAL RELIGI-
OUS COMMEMORATION?

To the Editors of "The Church."
Gravesend, 7th March, 1851.

My dear Sirs,

I have a class of young men who meet for mutual improvement once a week. Most of them are in the shops of this town. At one of our meetings the accompanying essay was produced by a young man in a grocer's shop, and I thought it would be suitable for the pages of "The Church." I think you will unite with me in opinion, that it is sufficiently valuable to claim insertion.

I am, my dear Sirs,

Yours truly,

E. S. PRYCE.

The spirit of enquiry is now abroad as to what the Romanist church is, and what she intends to do; and while the masses are busily employed in memorializing the Queen, and petitioning Parliament, to take steps for the immediate extirpation from the country of the "Cardinal Archbishop," there are other courses open, which may profitably employ the hearts and hands of those who, not having been seized with the mania, cannot join to swell the "No-Popery" cry. One of these is, carefully to guard against Romish innovation, in either the spirit or form of our worship, and, with christian jealousy, to subject our present

systems to a rigid scrutiny, to see if they retain any of the leaven of Romanism. It is in this spirit we come to the question:"Ought the birth and death of Christ to be made the subjects of annual religious commemoration ?"

I take as the basis of a few remarks, in defence of the negative position on this question, the grand Protestant principle, that Holy Scripture is the only rule of faith and practice. I presume that by most of the readers of "The Church," this principle will be readily admitted; therefore I need not stay here to say anything in demonstration of it, but shall take it for granted, and upon it will rest the argument I have to bring forward.

The course I shall pursue, I will state in a few simple propositions.

1. The Saviour, when he founded the christian church, anticipated, or foresaw, the wants of that church.

2. As the result of this anticipation, he established institutions, means, for the supply of those wants.

3. Any addition to such institutions can be neither more nor less than a reflection on the great Head of the church, as not having provided sufficient means for the welfare and happiness of his people.

4. The annual religious observance of a day, in commemoration of the birth and death of Christ, is an addition to such institutions. Therefore,

5. We ought not to observe such days. Let us now proceed to examine these points in order.

First, the Saviour, when he established the christian church, anticipated, or fore

saw, its wants. To those who admit the divinity of Christ, this proposition needs no defence. The foreknowledge, the omniscience, the omnipresence, possessed by the eternal Father, are enjoyed equally by the Son; and He who could say to his sorrowing disciples, "Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world," had passing in review before his mind the course his church would take,-the particular trials, persecutions, temptations, and sorrows, to which she would be exposed in her onward path, not only collectively as one great body, the church, but individually as members of himself. All the wants of every individual believer were anticipated, and were graciously provided for, by the kind Redeemer. It was part of the work which He accomplished in his earthly mission, to provide for the sustentation, the continuation, and the progressive development of the chrstian life; and this brings me to my second proposition.

Secondly, that Christ, seeing and knowing all this, established certain institutions— means of grace, if you like the term better -to meet and to satisfy these wants. Every institution in the christian church is, more or less, directly or indirectly, connected with its Head; but there are some which more especially act as memorials, as remembrancers of Christ, which point directly to him. I will call your attention to two, the one being an institution appointed by Christ for the specific purpose of a memorial; the other being an institution of former dispensations, brought out in a new light, and placed in a somewhat different position, incorporating an ancient religious privilege with a memorial of the great Head of the christian church.

The first of these you will immediately perceive is that institution which we call "the Lord's Supper." Now, there are more ends than one to be answered by this ordinance; but taking it as it stands in Holy Writ, with the words, "This do for my memorial," falling on our ears, it is evident that while there may be many collateral ends to be secured, yet the one grand, prominent idea is that of a memorial, a remembrancer.

Then with regard to the other institution, I refer to the christian Sabbath, is not this like a finger-post pointing us to the Saviour? I am fully aware that for the change from the seventh day to the first as the Sabbath, we find no express com

mand; but from the fact that from the day that Christ arose, the disciples regarded the first day of the week as a peculiar day, that they met for christian worship, and for the observance of the Lord's Supper on that day, and that the christian churches continued to observe that day during the lives of the apostles, we take it for granted that it was agreeable to the will of Christ, at any rate, if not in exact obedience to his direct command: more than this, he sanctioned the practice by meeting with them, time after time, on the first day of the week. Why, then, the change? simply because we should have in the changed day a memorial of Christ. I think we frequently fall far short of forming a proper estimate of the christian Sabbath, because we lose sight of this great characteristic: we look upon it merely as a religious institution, without thinking so much as we should do of those great and glorious facts which it commemorates; for while the institution of the Lord's Supper brings to our minds the "love even unto death," the christian Sabbath bids us rejoice in a perfect and complete salvation, in a conquering and triumphant Saviour.

Should it be said that we have nothing to commemorate the birth of Christ, and that we need something for this purpose, I reply, first, that what Christ has himself instituted, will best contribute to the welfare of his people. We may, in regard to this, safely adopt the axiom, "Whatever is, is best;" but even our poor finite minds can observe the law of fitness admirably working here. That which is in itself inferior, is subordinated to the superior. The birth of Christ is to us a matter of deep interest and delight; but how much more intense is the interest and delight with which we contemplate his resurrection: his birth is comparatively of little moment, when placed side by side with his resurrection; in fact the interest with which his birth is invested is borrowed, in a great measure, from its relation to his resurrection; for if, on the third day, the mighty Conqueror had not arisen but slept calmly on, the subject of death and decay, his birth would not be of such value to us as it now is; and though the halo of glory around the manger of the inn of Bethlehem be bright, yet the halo resting upon the brow of the Conqueror, when, having "entered the iron gates of death, he tore the bars away," is far more beautiful and re

splendent. I say, then, we see here the law of adaptation; the things we are called upon to remember are those of the highest moment. But, secondly, I contend that we are called upon to look at the resurrection, not so much as an isolated fact, but as being the finishing-stroke of the work, as an epitome of the Saviour's whole career, this one fact including all other previous facts in his history. I say, then, that the Sabbath, by reminding us of his resurrection, carries with it the whole life and work of Christ; and I close my remarks here with those beautiful lines of Dr. Watts (using, in reference to both these institutions, the sentiment he adopted for one) :

"He knew what treach'rous hearts we have,
Apt to forget his lovely face;
And to refresh our souls he gave

These kind memorials of his grace." Thirdly, I come now to the proposition which is the turning-point of the argument, the key-stone, so to speak, of the arch, and needs a careful consideration. Any addition to such institutions can be neither more nor less than a reflection on the great Head of the church. Bear in mind, that the point in question is not whether this annual religious observance is an addition; that we shall take up presently; what I now contend for is, that any addition is a reflection on the Head of the church. By making an addition, we virtually say that there is something wanting; something does not exist which needs to exist. Now, if we need any memorial which is not already established, then I think we are bound to admit, that the founder of the christian church was ignorant, forgetful, or unkind; that he did not know what his people would need; that he was forgetful or careless in reference to their wants; or that he was unwilling to provide efficient supplies for their wants. There are few who would like to admit any one of these conclusions, when put in so many words; but I think that those who contend for the opposite side of the question, are fairly shut up to the adoption of one of them, when their practice is submitted to a careful analysis. It now remains for me to prove,

Fourthly, that the commemoration of the birth and death of Christ, by an annual religious observance, is such addition. Scripture is entirely silent in the matter. We approach with reverence the sacred oracle of truth; we submit our enquiry; but

the oracle is dumb, there is no voice, and we turn away empty even as we came. We trace the words of Christ through the evangelists' writings; but in reference to no birth-day, or in anticipation of no day of death, do we find the words, "Observe these days for my memorial." We trace the writings of the apostles, and review the practice of the early churches; but we can nowhere find, directly or indirectly, any such observance referred to. Could we read, "And when Christmas-day was fully come, they were all with one accord in one place;" or hear Paul exclaim, "I must needs be at Jerusalem on Good-Friday,"that would alter the case; but no shadow of a proof exists in Holy Writ, to shew that these days were observed. How is this? Just because they considered the institutions of Christ's own appointment sufficient. How, then, came we by the observance of days for this purpose ? We find a very ancient feast-day observed in England, called Yule-day, prior to the introduction of christianity into this country by the Romish church. When christianity was thus in-. troduced, that church seems to have grafted, so to speak, this religious observance upon the established national custom of a feast. We derive, then, not only the day, but the principle itself, from the Romish church.. Now, I would not set it down as bad, neces-sarily, because it thus comes to us from the Romish church; but I place it there, side by side with the hosts of saints' days, &c., which are observed by that church. We find that even in the apostolic age, the principle was in existence; for Paul, when writing to the Galatians, expostulates with them for this very thing. "Ye observe days, and months, and times, and years; I am afraid of you, lest I have bestowed upon you labour in vain " (Gal. iv. 10, 11). Now, that which, springing up so early in the church of Christ, met with the rebuke of the apostle, ought not surely to be indulged in by us, although it has been more fully developed, systematized, and reduced to working order by the priesthood of a corrupt and degenerate church. We do repudiate the idea of observing saints' daysgenerally; but we tolerate and admit these,. simply, I apprehend, because of the person identified with them. Now, I think, that if we admit the principle to be bad in the one case, it is equally so in the other; only that, being identified with Christ, furnishes it with a flimsy covering, by means of which

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