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PICTURE OF THE FLOOD.

people walk in the liberty of truth and holiness or do they bow down under a superstition to which little more than the name of Christianity belongs? We shall endeavour to reply to some of these questions in our next paper.

PICTURE OF THE FLOOD.

'| (From “Sacred Mountains,” by Rev. J. T. Headley.) NOAH, whose head was whitened by the frosts of six centuries, laid the foundation of his huge vessel on a pleasant day, when all was serene and tranquil. The fields were smiling in verdure before his eyes; the perfumed breezes floated by, and the music of birds and sounds of busy life were about him, when he, by faith alone, laid the first beam of that structure that was to sail over a buried planet. When men, on inquiring the design of that huge edifice, were told its purpose, they could hardly credit their senses; and Noah, though accounted by all a very upright and respectable man, became a jest for children. As the farmer returned at evening from the fields, and the gay citizen of the town drove past, they christened it Noah's Folly." Those more aged and sober shook their heads wisely, saying, "The old man is mad." Even the workmen engaged upon it laughed as they drove the nails and hewed the planks, yet declared they cared not, as long as the foolish old man was able to pay. Still the ark went up, and the day's wonder ceased to be talked about. When it was finished, and curiosity satisfied, it was dismissed from the mind as a passing folly.

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one falling sheet of water, and the inhabitants could no longer stir from their doors. The rich valleys that lay along the rivers were flooded, and the peasants still the water rose around them, till all through the had sought the eminences around for safety. Yet valley nothing but little black islands of human bei ings were seen on the surface. Oh, then, what fierce struggles there were for life among them! The mother lifted her infant above her head, while she strove to maintain her uncertain footing in the sweeping waters; the strong crowded off the weak, as each sought the highest point; while the living mass slowly crumbled away, till the water swept smooth and noiselessly above them all. Men were heard talking of the number of lives lost and the amount of wealth destroyed, and that such a flood had not happened in the remembrance of the oldest man. No one yet dreamed of the high grounds being covered-least of all the mountains. To drown the world, it must rain till the ocean itself was filled above its level for miles, and so men feared it not, and sought for amusement within doors till the storm should abate. Oh, what scenes of vice, and shame, and brutality, and revelry did that storm witness in the thronged city; and what unhallowed songs mingled in the pauses of the blast that swept by!

But at length another sound was heard that sent paleness to every cheek, and chained every tongue in mute terror. It was a far-distant roar, but faint and fearful, yet sounding more distinct and ominous every moment, till it filled the air. The earth trembled and groaned under it, as if an earthquake was on its march, and ever and anon came a crash as if the "ribs of nature" were breaking. Nearer, and louder, and more terrible it grew, till men, forgetting alike Yet I have sometimes wondered what people their pleasure and their anger, rushed out in the thought when they saw the beasts of the field and the storm, whispering "The flood! the flood!"-and lo, forest, and fowls of the air, even the venomous serpent a new sea, the like of which no man had ever seen and the strong-limbed lion, coming in pairs to that before, came rolling over the crouching earth. ark. This must have staggered them amazingly, and Stretching from horizon to horizon as far as the eye made the ark for a while a fresh topic of conversation. could reach, losing itself, like a limitless wall, in the At length, the patriarch with his family entered-the clouds above, it came pouring its green and massive door was shut in the face of the world, and he sat waters onward, while the continual and rapid crash down, on the strength of a single promise, to await the of falling forests, and crushed cities, and uptorn issue. That night the sun went down over the green mountains, that fell one after another in its passage, hills beautiful as ever, and the stars came out in the and the successive shrieks that pierced the heavens, blue sky, and nature breathed long and peacefully. In rising even above the deafening roar of the on-rushthe morning the sun rose in undimmed splendour and ing ocean, as city after city, and kingdom after kingmounted the heavens. Deep within the huge strucdom disappeared, made a scene of terror aud horror ture, Noah could hear the muffled sound of life with-inconceivable-indescribable. "The fountains of the out. The lowing of herds came on his car, and the song of the husbandman going to his toil, and the rapid roll of carriage wheels as they hurried past, and perhaps the ribald shout and laugh of those without, as they expended their wit on him and his ark together. To say nothing of the improbability of the event, the idea was preposterous that such a helmless, helpless affair could outride a wrecked world. Thus day after day passed on until a week had gone by, but still the faith of that old man never shook. At length the sky became overcast, and the gentle rain descended-to Noah the beginning of the flood-to the world a welcome shower. The farmer, as he housed his cattle, rejoiced in the refreshing moisture, while the city never checked its gaiety or the man of wealth his plans. But as the rain continued day after day, and fell faster and fiercer on the drenched earth, and the swollen streams went surging by, men cursed the storm that seemed determined never to break up. The lowlands were deluged; the streams broke over their banks, bearing houses and cattle away on their maddened bosoms. Wealth was destroyed and lives lost, till men talked of ruined fortunes, famine, and general desolation; but still it rained on. Week after

week it came pouring from the clouds till it was like

great deep were broken up.”

But the last cry of human agony was at length hushed-ocean met ocean in its flow, and the waves swept on without a shore. Oh, what a wreck was there! the wreck of two thousand years, with its cities, its cultivated fields and mighty population. Not shivered masts and broken timbers, the wreck of some gallant vessel, were seen on that turbulent surface, but the fragments of a crushed and broken world. It was a noble wreck-splendid cities and mulated wealth and luxuries of twenty centuries towers, gorgeous palaces, gay apparel, the accustrewing the bosom of the deluge, like autumn leaves

the surface of some forest stream.

But amid the sudden midnight that had wrapped the earth, and the frenzy of the elements, and utter overthrow and chaos of all things, there was one heart that beat as calmly as in sleep-one brow over which no breath of passion or of fear passed; for in the solitary ark that lifted to the heaving billows, the aged patriarch knelt in prayer. Amid the surging of that fierce ocean his voice may not have been heard by mortal ear, but the light of faith shone round his

aged form, an the moving lip spoke a repose as tranquil as childhood's on the bosom of maternal love.

The patriarch's God ruled that wild scene, and Noah felt his frail vessel quiver in every timber, without one tremor himself. Upborne on the flood, the Heavenprotected ark rose over the buried cities and mountains, and floated away on a shoreless deep. Like a single drop of dew this round sphere of ours hung and trembled-a globe of water in mid-heaven. have often wondered what the conversations were during the long days and nights that lonely ark was riding on the deep. As it rose and fell on the longprotracted swell, massive ruins would go thundering by, whole forests sink and rise with the billows, while ever and anon an uptorn hill, as, borne along by the resistless tide, it struck a buried mountain, would loom for a moment like some black monster over the waves, then plunge again to the fathomless bottom. Amid this wreck and these sights, the ark sailed on in safety. How often in imagination have I pictured it in the deluge at midnight! To a spectator, what an object of interest it would have been. Round the wide earth the light from its solitary window was the only indication of life that remained. One moment it would be seen far up on the crest of the billow, a mere speck of flame amid the limitless darkness that environed it, and then disappear in the gulfs below, as if extinguished for ever. Thus that gentle light would sink and rise on the breast of the deluge, the last, the only hope of the human race. Helmless, and apparently guideless, its wreck seemed inevitable; but the sea never rolled that could extinguish that star-like beam that told where the ark still floated. Not even the strong wind that the Almighty sent over the water to dry it up, driving it into billows that stormed the heavens, could sink it. Though it shook like a reed in their strong grasp, and floundered through the deep gulfs, it passed unerringly on to the summit of that mountain on which it was to rest; and at length struck ground and ceased its turbulent motion. Noah waited a week, and then sent forth a raven to explore the deep. Though the waters still swept from mountain to mountain, the myriad carcasses that floated on the surface furnished both food and resting-place, and he returned no more. then sent forth a dove. It darted away from the place of its long confinement, and sped on rapid wing over the flood, now turning this way and now that, looking in vain with its gentle eye for the green earth, and at last turned back towards the ark of rest. tap of its snowy wing was heard on the window, and the patriarch reached forth his hand and took it in. The fierce pantings of its mottled breast, and its drooping pinions, told too well that the earth gave no place of repose. But the second time it was sent abroad it returned with an olive leaf in its mouth, showing that the earth had risen from its burial, and was sprouting again in verdure. Then the patriarch went forth with his family, and stood on Mount Ararat, and, lo! the earth was at his feet, but how changed! Cut into gorges, which showed where the strong currents swept, and piled into ridges, it bore in every part marks of the power that had ravaged it. Noah and his family were alone in the world; and he built an altar there on the top of the solitary mountain, and lifted his voice in prayer, and the Almighty talked with him as "friend talketh with friend," bidding him go forth and occupy the earth. And as the flame of the sacrifice rose from the mountain top, bearing the patriarch's prayer heavenward, the promise was given that the earth should never again be swept by a deluge, and, lo! God's signet-ring appeared in the clouds, arching the man of God, and shown as a warrant that the covenant should never be broken.

He

The

Baptized by the flood, consecrated by the altar, illumined by the fine fresh rainbow, Mount Ararat stood a sacred mountain on the earth.

WHY SHOULD I WISH TO DIE?

"For I am in a strait betwixt two, having a desire to depart, and to be with Christ; which is far better."PHIL. i. 23.

WHY should I wish to die?

'Tis true, the heav'nward way is roughThorns round my footsteps lie

But is not Christ's imparted strength enough? And shall I grudge the tear

Wrung forth by sorrows here,

When soon, how soon! His hand shall wipe it off?

Why should I wish to die?

Is there no work for me to do? Swiftly the hours pass by

For the great task my moments seem too few; Then shall I wish them o'er,

Since I can ne'er restore

One parted day, and bid it dawn again? Why should I wish to die?

This is my only time to prove
Faithful to One on high---

Lifting the cross to show him how I love;
For he will ne'er demand
Such evidence at my hand

When I repose beneath his smile above.

Why should I wish to die?

Would I so soon from conflict flee? My thrice repeated cry

Still meets the word: "Is not my grace for thee?

'Tis all to bring thee low

To prove thee-make thee know

Thou art undone, unworthy but for Me."

Why should I wish to die?

True, death's a calm untroubled thing; But long I thus may lie

Ere life revisit me as dew of springEre resurrection-light

Break lustrous on my sight,

And Jesus bid my dust "awake and sing." Oh! it is not to shun

The thorns that hedge the heav'nward way— No wish my task were done,

That makes me long dove-like to flee away!— No sickly sigh for rest

On earth's soft, dreamless breast

That makes me watch the closing of the day;

But my heart-love is gone

To Him whom yet I have not seen;

Whose glory I have known

On whose meek breast e'en now I fondly lean; And I would see his face,

And, sinless, taste his grace,

Where flesh and weakness come no more between.

His smile makes earth look dim-
There's none that I desire beside;
And though 'tween me and him
Dread Dissolution rolls its sullen tide,

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FRAGMENTS FROM A MINISTER'S DAY-BOOK.

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to me.

THE BACKSLIDER.

SHE seemed to be first awakened when only about fourteen or fifteen. She had been a very regular and attentive Sabbath scholar for two or three years. During that period there had apparently been no spiritual impressions-nothing save attention and a quiet, modest deportment. Her appearance was winning and gentle, and many noticed and loved her. She was first aroused, I believe, under some sermon, but both the text and the substance I have alike forgotten, though I think she mentioned them Her convictions seemed sharp and deep. Sometimes, when she came to speak with me, she would shake all over with a sort of nervous tremor. She spoke simply, and though perhaps not very freely or fully, yet she said enough to let me into the state of her soul at that time. She was neither ignorant nor stupid, and seemed to understand what she said. I have no reason to suppose that there was the slightest wish to profess what she did not feel; in truth, she had no temptation to do so. She was a member of a very ungodly family, from whom she met with no encouragement, but the most profane opposition. She had nothing to gain by coming to me and professing what she did; and, besides, her conduct at that time was altogether consistent, and marked by sincerity and simplicity. Many things about her tended to make her case an interesting one.

I remarked also, at this time, that she was anxious about the souls of others. One striking fact of this kind I remember well.

There was an orphan girl, poor, uneducated, ungodly, who stayed in the flat immediately below. One | afternoon Mary had persuaded her to accompany her to church, where she was very deeply impressed. That same evening they spent some time together in prayer. A day or two after Mary brought her to me as being concerned about her soul-seeking rest and finding none. She seemed very much in earnest, and told me of the dreadful thoughts she had of a coming hell and a coming eternity on that night when she was first awakened. I spoke to her and prayed with her, but what has been her conversation since that I know not, as she soon left. I fear her goodness was as the morning cloud and the early dew. She w s in earnest at the time, but earnestness is not conversion; anxiety about the soul is not coming to Christ.

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It is not said, If you be in earnest you shall be saved; neither is it said, If you be anxious about your soul you shall inherit the kingdom. No: except ye be converted, ye shall in no wise enter the kingdom. It is the coming to Christ that saves us-not the mere wishing or desiring to come. How many stumble at this point! How many perish at the very threshold of the city gates! With how many is conviction only like the lightning-flash at midnight, which leaves behind it a deeper gloom than before!

For some time after this Mary continued much the same as hitherto-quiet and consistent. I never had full evidence of her really being in Christ, though there were many striking things which gave me much hope. She never became a communicant; and I did not urge her to this; for she was still young, and, besides, I was not fully satisfied of her conversion.

It was not long, however, till I noticed a change for the worse. She began to absent herself from the Sabbath school. Her attention in church was not what it used to be. Once or twice my eye caught her trifling with some companions who were sitting beside her. Then I noticed a change in her dress. Formerly she was neat, but nothing more, in this respect; now she was gay and showy. Her deportment also changed. Instead of quiet modesty, there was boldness and forwardness in her look and manner, which proclaimed the sad change which had taken place. She never came to see me any more, but kept most studiously aloof from myself and her teacher.

But I could not allow her thus to backslide without an effort to reclaim her. I sought her out. I went to her house. Once or twice I could not find her. But once I did find her in her own house, and twice I met her in the street. Her gay dress saddened and shocked me. But I at once addressed her on the sub. ject of her apostasy. The first time she was considerably melted, and promised to come again and call upon me with a book of mine, of which, for a long time, she had had the loan. This promise she never fulfilled. The second time I met her she was much more hardened. She was quite civil, and did not appear to take ill the words of solemn warning which' I spoke to her; but she was evidently unmoved. Every trace of her former impressions had faded away. "She refused to be ashamed."

After that I heard of her several times, but the accounts were all sad. She went from sin to sin; and I believe she is now a wretched wanderer in the streets of E. May she yet be plucked as a brand from the burning! May the Seeker of the lost yet seek and save her! She is yet young. She cannot be above nineteen or twenty. May she have days given her to repent, and not be cut off in her iniquity!

But what a warning! O that those who are impressed under the hearing of the Word would lay such a case to heart! See how far one may go and not be converted; see how near one may come to the gates of the kingdom, and yet never enter in; nay, see how one may go up to the gates of the kingdom, and look in, and be moved with the sight of the surpassing glory, and yet turn round, go back, and hasten down to hell! Some years ago, I remember a young woman came to speak with me about the things of

are referred to in the trust-deeds of the chapels, as containing the standard doctrines of the Connexion. And it may be observed here, that perspicuity was one of the most distinguishing characteristics of John Wesley's style, both in preaching and writing; so that no reader of ordinary intelligence who fairly examines his

eternity. She was a stranger. Her agony of mind seemed overpowering. Her whole body trembledher voice shook-her tears ran down. Her fear was lest she should miss the way and come short at last. In her anguish, she laid her head down upon the table by which I was sitting, and as she sobbed aloud, she cried out in a tone I cannot forget, "I've gone to the kirk, I've gone to ministers, I've gone to prayer-works, can be at a loss to know his meaning. meetings, and maybe I'll not get to heaven after all."

Awake, thou that sleepest! Up and run! It is for thy life-it is for eternity-it is for heaven! No lingering-no halting-no looking back! "Seek the Lord while he may be found." Make sure of Christ. Make sure of an entrance into the kingdom!

NOTES ON WESLEYAN-METHODISM. BY DR JOHN B. BENNETT,

Editor of the "Watchman,” London.

II. THE DOCTRINES AND THE DEVOTIONAL SERVICES OF THE WESLEYAN-METHODISTS.

MR WESLEY repeatedly declared, that the doctrines which he held and taught were those contained in the Articles of the Church of England; for, with many others, he understood the 17th Article in a sense compatible with belief in the redemption and possible salvation of the whole human race. It may be enough, then, to state, generally, that the WesleyanMethodists agree in the common faith of orthodox Protestant Churches respecting such truthis as the inspiration and supreme authority of the Holy Scriptures, and the right of every man to read them and judge of their meaning for himself; the existence of three co-equal and coeternal persons, Father, Son,* and Holy Ghost; in the unity of the Godhead; the true Divinity and real humanity united in the person of Christ; the properly sacrificial and atoning character of his death; his exaltation, and abiding priestly intercession and kingly rule; the certainty that he will come again to judge the quick and dead; the resurrection of the body; and the eternity of the torments of the lost as well as of the happiness of the saved. We shall thus have a little more room to state the Wesleyan views on some points on which they are, or are thought to be, peculiar. There is no difficulty in ascertaining them. They are to be found in recognised publications, especially in Mr Wesley's fifty-three Discourses (first published in four volumes in 1771), which, together with his Notes on the New Testament,

*It is well known that Dr Adam Clarke, although a firm believer in the Deity of Christ, yet denied that the title "Son" had reference to his divine nature; and, indeed, conceived that in restricting its application to "the holy person or thing born of the Virgin by the energy of the Holy Spirit," he was erecting a bulwark against the Socinian and Arian heresies. But a safeguard against the promulgation of this opinion from Wesleyan pulpits has been provided. Every candidate for the Wesleyan ministry is now, in the course of his examination on doctrines, distinctly questioned as to his belief in the Divine and Eternal Sonship of the Lord Jesus.

It is only by supposing that such fair examination has been neglected, that we can account for the strange misconceptions of his opinions which have sometimes been entertained.

1. ORIGINAL SIN, AND HUMAN DEPRAVITY AND HELPLLESSNESS.-The views on this subject held and taught by the Wesleyan-Methodists, cannot be more clearly stated than in the following extract from one of the Catechisms (No. II.) published under the direction of the Conference.

Ques. Wherein consists the sinfulness of that state into which man fell?

Ans. It consists in the want of original righteousness, and the corruption of his whole nature, which is commonly called original sin, together with all actual transgressions which proceed from it.

into which man fell? Ques. In what consists the misery of that state

Ans. All mankind being born in sin, and following the devices and desires of their own corrupt hearts, are under the wrath and curse of God, and so are made liable to the miseries of this life, to death itself, and to the pains of hell hereafter.

And Mr Wesley was accustomed to express his views in such language as this: "In Adam all died-all human kind-all the children of men who were then in Adam's loins. The natural consequence of this is, that every one descended from him comes into the world spiritually dead-dead to God, wholly dead in sin, entirely void of the life of God-void of the image of God-of all that righteousness and holiness wherein Adam was created. Instead of this, every man born into the world now bears the image of the devil, in pride and selfwill; the image of the beast, in sensual appetites and desires."+ ." The Wesleyans, then, hold that fallen man, thus totally depraved, is utterly unable to move towards God and Christ, or to take any step towards his recovery, "without the grace of God preventing him, that he may have a good will, and working with him when he has that good will."

2. THE ATONEMENT, ITS EXTENT AND CONSEQUENCES.-The Wesleyan doctrine is, that the atonement was co-extensive with the fall; not merely that the sacrifice of Christ was sufficiently meritorious to be, had God so willed it, a full and complete propitiatory offering for all the sins of the whole world, but that it truly and actually was offered for every human being. Christ thus becoming, as Mr Wesley expressed it, "another common head of mankind, a second general parent and representative of the whole human race." This they call free grace, as extending freely to all. They believe that, through

• Sermon on "The New Birth."

NOTES ON WESLEYAN-METHODISM.

the atonement and mediation of the Saviour, a measure of grace-grace enough to enable him successfully to seek for more grace-is given to every man; but that this grace may be resisted, and is resisted, until it is quenched, by all who persevere in sin and unbelief. This leads us to notice the Wesleyan doctrine on,

3. MORAL LIBERTY.-Here we shall avail ourselves of the statement of Mr Wesley's views given by his friend and fellow-helper, the Rev. J. W. Fletcher of Madeley :

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either past, future, or spiritual. Justifying faith implies not only a divine evidence or conviction that God was in Christ reconciling the world unto himself,' but a full reliance on the merits of his death-a sure confidence that Christ died for my sins-that he loved me, and gave himself for me. And the moment a penitent sinner believes this, God pardons and absolves him." With reference to the origination of this faith, Mr Wesley affirms, "that it is the gift of God. No man is able to work it in himself. It is a work of omnipotence." And again, he says, "No merit, no goodness in man precedes the forgiving love of God.”

Distinct from justification, and in order subsequent to it, yet conferred at the same time with it, are, according to the Wesleyan theolgy, the blessings of adoption and regeneration.

As a consequence of the doctrine of general redemption, Mr Wesley lays down two axioms, of which he never loses sight in his preaching. The first is, that all our salvation is of God in Christ, and therefore of grace; all opportunities, invitations, inclination, and power to believe, being bestowed upon us of pure grace, grace most absolutely free. And so far I hope that all who are called Gospel ministers agree with him. But he proceeds further, for 5. ADOPTION AND THE WITNESS OF THE SPIRIT. secondly, he asserts with equal confidence that, ac- -The Catechism defines adoption as 66 an act cording to the Gospel dispensation, all our damnation of God's free grace, whereby, upon the foris of ourselves, by our obstinate unbelief and avoidable unfaithfulness; as we may neglect so great salva-giveness of sins, we are received into the tion," desire to be "excused" from coming to the feast of the Lamb, "make light" of God's gracious offers, refuse to "occupy," bury our talent, and act the part of the "slothful servant;" or, in other words, "resist, grieve, do despite to, and quench the Spirit of grace" by our moral agency.

4. JUSTIFICATION.-The definition in the authorized Catechism already referred to, is: "Justification is an act of God's free grace, wherein he pardoneth all our sins, and accepteth us as righteous in his sight, only for the sake of Christ." This justification, Wesleyans assert, is by faith alone. It must, indeed, they say, be preceded by repentance, which is described in the Catechism as "a grace of the Holy Spirit, whereby a sinner, from a sense of his sins, and apprehension of the mercy of God in Christ, doth, with grief and hatred of his sin, turn from it to God, with full purpose of, and endeavours after, future obedience." But although a sinner must be a penitent in order to liis acceptable exercise of justifying faith, yet it is not repentance, in whole or in part, but faith, and faith alone, that justifies. Mr Wesley is very explicit, both in his assertion of the doctrine of justification by faith, and in his description of the faith which justifies. "That justification," he says, "whereof our Articles and Homilies speak, signifies present forgiveness, pardon of sins, and consequently, acceptance with God, who therein declares his righteousness or justice, and mercy, by or for the remission of sins that are past (Rom. iii. 25), saying, 'I will be merciful to thy unrighteousness, and thine iniquities will I remember no more.' I believe the condition of this is faith (Rom. iv. 5, &c.); I mean, not only that without faith we cannot be justified, but also, that as soon as any one has true faith, in that moment he is justified. Faith, in general, is a divine, supernatural evidence or conviction of things not seen, not discoverable by our bodily senses, as being

number, and have a right to all the privileges, of the sons of God." The justified man, then, being adopted into the heavenly family, it is his privilege, the Wesleyans hold, to have the testimony of the Holy Ghost, as the "Spirit of adoption," bearing a clear and unequivocal testimony to this all-important fact, and so filling him with peace and joy. They regard this witness not as an indirect or reflex evidence, afforded by the man's experience of the "fruits of the Spirit", in his heart or life, but as directly borne, and as necessarily antecedent to the testimony of the believer's own spirit, inasmuch as before we can have a consciousness of loving God, we must really love him; before we can really love him, we must be assured that he loves us; and the assurance of his love can be communicated only by the Spirit. . . . . Of the nature of this "witness," which is made so prominent in Wesleyan preaching, Mr Wesley says: "It is hard to find words in the language of men to explain the deep things of God. Indeed, there are none that will adequately express what the Spirit of God works in his children. But, perhaps, we might say (desiring any who are taught of God to correct, soften, or strengthen, the expression), by the testimony of the Spirit' I mean an inward impression on the soul, whereby the Spirit of God immediately and directly witnesses with my spirit that I am a child of God; that Jesus Christ hath loved me and given himself for me; that all my sins are blotted out, and I, even I, am reconciled to God. I do not mean hereby," Mr Wesley adds, "that the Spirit of God testifies this by any outward voice; no, nor always by an inward voice, although he may do this sometimes. Neither do I suppose that he always applies to the heart, though he often may, one or more texts of Scripture. But he so works upon the soul by his immediate influence, and by a strong, though inexplicable

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