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MANY travellers and historians have informed us of the remarkable resignation under calamities which the Moslems habitually manifest, and which is in some respects well worthy the attention and imitation of those who call themselves Christians. Such writers have, however, for the most part, failed to penetrate the real motive of this exemplary submis

sion to what is judged to be the will of God. They
refer it to a true practical belief in predestination:
and this is true, so far as it goes; but there is some-

thing more than this. Their view is, that affliction
is one of the principal means by which God purifies
the soul, and renders it meet for paradise; and that,
consequently, he who is the most afflicted in this life
is in the highest degree the object of divine favour.
There is, in fact, much in their view of this matter
which brings to remembrance many sentences in that
very portion of Scripture, Heb. xii. 1-11; and in
particular the
"Whom the Lord loveth he
chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he re-
ceiveth. If ye endure chastening, God dealeth with
you as with sons; for what son is he whom the father
chasteneth not? But if ye be without chastisement,
whereof all are partakers, then are ye bastards, and
not sons."-Verses 6-8. The author of Islamism could,
however, grasp only part of the Christian idea of the
uses of adversity; but he added another use for it,
which Christianity knows not, but which enters
largely into the views which influence his followers
under sufferings and trials.

Mohammed was too sagacious not to feel the great difficulty under which he laboured in making out how man might be justified before God, under a system which refused to acknowledge Christ as the Saviour of the world. He made a strange patchwork of it, consisting in part of a sort of faith, partly of works and partly of sufferings. Thus sufferings are made a ground of justification. They are regarded as expiating sin, and as giving a man a claim to the blessings of the world to come; and the claim is held to be greater in proportion to the intensity or long continuance of the afflicted condition. In practice, this feeling is very common among the uninstructed poor of our own country; but to the Moslem it is a dogma-an active and influential article of faith.

The following dicta of Mohammed, and anecdotes concerning him, will corroborate and illustrate these particulars:

Some one asked him, who were the most unfortunate of men? He answered, "The prophets, and next to them those who approach the nearest to them, in proportion to their eminence. And according to the difference of their degrees, for every one of them there is a calamity. Man is afflicted according to the proportion of his faith, in which, if he is perfect and firm, his misfortunes are severe; but if he is remiss in his religion, misfortune is made light and easy on him, in order that he may not be impatient, and let slip the cord of his faith." This reminds one of Matt. xxiii. 34; 1 Cor. iv. 9, x. 13; Heb. xi. 37, and similar passages.

On another occasion he said: "Verily, the greatness of rewards is with greatness of misfortune; that is, whoever is most unfortunate and calamitous, the when God loves a people, he entangles it in misforgreater and more perfect the reward. And verily, tunes: therefore, he who is resigned to the pleasure of God, in misfortune, for him is God's pleasure; but whoever is angry and discontented with misfortune, for him is the anger and displeasure of God." This is not unlike Prov. iii. 12; Amos iii. 2; Heb. xii. 6-3;| James i. 2, 3, 12; Rev. iii. 19.

misfortune in the world, will say, on the day of resurAgain: "Those who are free from calamity and rection, when rewards are given to the unfortunate, Would to God that our skins had been cut in pieces with scissors in the world which we have left." Which suggests a reminiscence of Rev. vii. 14.

All this is very well, and suggests curious coincidences and comparisons. But in the following the erroneous and yet highly-influential view of affliction comes more clearly out. The prophet mentioned diseases, and said: "Verily, when a Mussulman is taken ill, after which God restores him to health, his illness has been a cover to his former faults, and it is as an admonition to him of what comes in future

times: and verily, when an hypocrite is taken ill, and afterwards restored to health, he is like a came! the camel did not know, for want of discrimination, which has been tied up and afterwards set free; then why they tied him up or why they let him loose. Such is the hypocrite; but, on the contrary, a momin (believer) knows that his sickness was to cover his faults." To the same effect, but still inore improper, is the following: "When a believer's faults are

many, and he has no good actions to cover them, God
sends him affliction, in order that his faults may be
hidden thereby."

these peculiar views; and is interesting from the
The following beautiful passage is not limited by
direct and striking illustration of Psalm xxxii. 35, 36,
with which it concludes: "The condition of a Mussul-
incline to the ground, and then return: they throw
man is similar to green corn, which winds cause to
erect. Such is a Mussulman: sometimes he is thrown
them down once, and again they become straight and
down by the misfortune of sickness and weakness,
and then again health and strength make him straight
and right, till the time of death comes.
state of the hypocrite is like that of the pine tree,
by winds or calamities, until it falls to the ground all
which is fixed firm in the ground, and not affected
at once. Such is the hypocrite-always in health
and vigour, without sickness or weakness-till of a
sudden he falls and dies."



And the

DESCENDING and leaving the Jericho road, we came quite suddenly upon Bethany, called by the Arabs Azarieh, from the name of Lazarus. We found this have imagined it. It lies almost hidden in a small ravine ever-memorable village to be very like what we could of Mount Olivet, so much so, that from the height it cannot be seen. It is embosomed in fruit trees, espe


cially figs and almonds, olives and pomegranates. The ravine in which it lies is terraced, and the terraces are covered either with fruit trees or waving grain. There are not many houses (perhaps about twenty) inhabited, but there are many marks of ancient ruins. The House of Lazarus was pointed out to us-a substantial building, probably a tower in former days, and selected to bear the name of the House of Lazarus by traditionists, who did not know how else than by his worldly eminence such a man could draw the special regard of the Lord Jesus. They did not know that Christ loveth freely. The sepulchre called the Tomb of Lazarus attracted more of our attention. We lighted our tapers, and descended twenty-six steps cut in the rock to a chamber deep in the rock, having several niches for the dead. Whether this be the very tomb where Lazarus lay four days, and which yielded up its dead at the command of Jesus, it is inpossible to say. The common objection that it is too deep seems entirely groundless, for there is nothing in the narrative to intimate that the tomb was on a level with the ground; and besides, it seems not unlikely that there was another entrance to the tomb farther down the slope. A stronger objection is, that the tomb is in the immediate vicinity of the village, or actually in it; but it is possible that the modern village occupies ground a little different from the ancient one. However this may be, there can be no doubt that this is "Bethany, the town of Mary and her sister Martha, nigh unto Jerusalem, about fifteen furlongs off." How pleasing are all the associations that cluster around it! Perhaps there was no scene in the Holy Land which afforded us more unmingled enjoyment: we even fancied that the curse that everywhere rests so visibly upon the land had fallen more lightly here. In point of situation, nothing could have come up more completely to our previous imagination of the place to which Jesus delighted to retire at evening from the bustle of the city, and the vexations of the unbelieving multitudes-sometimes traversing the road by which we had come, and perhaps oftener still coming up the face of the hill by the footpath that passes on the north of Gethsemane. What a peaceful scene! Amidst these trees, or in that grassy field, he may often have been seen in deep communion with the Father. And in sight of this verdant spot it was that he took his last farewell of the disciples, and went upward to resume the deep, unbroken fellowship of "his God and our God," uttering blessings even at the moment when he began to be parted from them. And it was here that the two angels stood by them in white apparel, and left us this glorious message: "This same Jesus which is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen him into heaven." go



Master with a kiss. The road to Bethany passes, by the foot of the garden, and the more private footpath up the brow of the hill passes along its northern wall. Looking across the Kedron the steep brow of Moriah and sombre wall of the Haram with its battlements, and the top of the Mosque of Omar, shut in the view. At evening, when the gates of Jerusalem are closed, it must be a perfect solitude. Our blessed Master must have distinctly seen the band of men and officers sent to apprehend him, with their lanterns and torches, and glittering weapons, descending the side of Moriah, and approaching the garden. By the clear moonlight, he saw his three chosen disciples fast asleep in his hour of agony; and by the gleam of the torches, he ob served his cruel enemies coming down to seize him and carry him away to his last sufferings; yet "he was not rebellious, neither turned away back." He viewed the bitter cup that was given him to drink, and said, "Shall I not drink it ?" We read over all the passages of Scripture relating to Gethsemane, while scated together there. It seemed nothing wonderful to read of the weakness of those three disciples, when we remembered that they were sinful men like disciples now; but the compassion, the unwavering love of Jesus, appeared by the contrast to be infinitely amazing. For such souls as ours, he rent this vale with his strong crying and tears, wetted this ground with his bloody sweat, and set his face like a flint to go forward and die. "While we were yet sinners Christ died for us." Each of us occupied part of the time alone, in private meditation; and then we joined together in prayer, putting our sins into that cup which our Master drank here, and pleading for our own souls, for our far-distant friends, and for the flocks committed to our care.

It is probable that Jesus often resorted to this place, not only because of its retirement, but also because it formed a fit place of meeting, when his disciples, dispersed through the city by day, were to join his company in the evening, and go with him over the hill to Bethany. And this seems the real force of the original words, “ Πολλάκις συνήχθη ὁ Ἰησοῦς ἐκεῖ μετὰ τῶν μαθητῶν αὑτοῦ — “Jesus ofttimes rendevoused at this spot with his disciples."— Bonar and M'C', jne's Narrative.

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ETERNITY! O ETERNITY! IMMORTAL men! are you to spend an eternity in heaven or in hell? and are you losing yourselves among the vanities of this world? Will you never awake? Sleep on, then, and take your rest. know you that the mists of death will soon gather around you. You will be laid upon a dying bed. Geth-Time is gone and eternity has come. I see you lying there without a friend to help you in heaven or earth. I see you cast back your eyes on mis-spent Sabbaths. -on murdered privileges-on wasted time. You remember the calls you once rejected. I hear you cry, "I had a soul, but prized it not, and now my soul is gone. Ten thousand worlds for one more year ten thousand worlds for one more Sabbath in the house of God!" I look a little farther, and I see the perturbations of the troubled sky. The sign of the Son of Man appears in heaven. The last trumpet sounds. That body which had been committed to the grave is organized afresh. It opens its eyes on the strange commotions of a dissolving world.. It. is forced to ascend. The judgment-seat is set in the clouds of heaven and the books are opened. I hear

Early one morning two of us set out to visit semane. The sun had newly risen; few people were upon the road, and the Valley of Jehoshaphat was lonely and still. Descending the steep of Mount Moriah, and crossing the dry bed of the brook Kedron, we soon came to the low rude wall enclosing the plot of ground which for ages has borne the name of Gethsemane, Clambering over, we examined the sacred spot and its eight olive trees. These are very large and very old, but their branches are still strong and vigorous. One of them we measured, and found to be nearly eight yards in girth round the lower part of the trunk. Some of them are hollow with age, but filled up with earth, and most have heaps of stones gathered round their roots. The enclosure seems to have been tilled at some recent period. corner some pilgrim has erected a stone, and carved upon it the Latin words, "Et hic tenuerunt eum," marking it as the spot where Judas betrayed his

At one

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you cry to rocks and to mountains to cover you; but rocks and mountains are sunk in the general ruin. The books are opened, and on a black page are spread out all the sins of your life. That page is held up before a frowning universe. The judgment ended, the Judge prepares to speak. God of mercy, save me from that hour! Eternal justice lowers upon his awful brow. His right hand grasps ten thousand thunders. With a look before which heaven and earth flee away, he turns full upon his foes: "Depart, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels." But I return, and, blessed be God, I still find myself on praying ground and my dear hearers about me. This is not the judgment day. But, my beloved friends, I expect soon to meet you at that bar and give an account of my labours among you to-day. It is in full view of that awful scene that I am speaking thus to you. I would not have you perish; but if you perish, I would clear my garments of your blood."-Dr Griffin.



LORD, I do discover a fallacy, whereby I have long deceived myself-which is this: I have desired to begin my amendment from my birthday, or from some eminent festival, that so my repentance might bear some remarkable date. But when those days were come, I have adjourned my amendment to some other time. Thus, whilst I could not agree with myself when to start, I have almost lost the running of the I am resolved thus to befool myself no longer. I see no day but to-day; the instant time is always the fittest time. In Nebuchadnezzar's image, the lower the members, the coarser the metal; the farther off the time, the more unfit. To-day is the golden opportunity, to-morrow will be the silver season, next day but the brazen one, and so on, till at last I shall come to the toes of clay, and be turned to dust. Grant, therefore, that to-day I may hear thy voice. And if this day be obscure in the calendar, and remarkable in itself for nothing else, give me to make it memorable in my soul, hereupon, by thy assistance, beginning the reformation of my life. -Fuller.

DO YOU GO REGULARLY TO CHURCH? In view of what trivial causes do members of our

Churches often stay away from the house of God! If they are only suffering a little fatigue or bodily indisposition, or if the weather is slightly inclement, or if the distance to the place of worship is such as to require some exertion on their part in order to get there, how readily do they endeavour to quiet their consciences, in neglecting one of the most sacred appointments of Heaven! That professed Christian is too unwell to worship God with his people; but he would not be too unwell, if it were any other day of the week, to perform his customary labour. The Sabbath is a stormy one; but you will see him on other days far more inclement driving from one part of the town to the other. The distance is considerable; but propose to him on Saturday or Monday some plan that promises to advance his temporal interest, and distance, like the state of the weather, will at once be forgotten. Are these men really serious in their profession? Do they manifest the holy sincerity, the

pious zeal, that distinguished the saints in primitive times? Can they be said to worship the Lord in truth, who plead such reasons for neglecting his worship as they would not urge in connection even with their secular affairs? Speak, Consistency; speak, Conscience; speak, Oracles of God! I would be far from intimating that circumstances may not be such as to render a person justifiable in being absent from public worship on the Lord's-day. If an individual is confined to his room by a broken limb, or to his bed by a fever, it is manifestly not his duty to go out; and the same is of course true if he is so seriously indisposed that he would be in danger of increasing or prolonging his distemper. It is evident, also, that drenching rains in summer, and drifting snows in winter, may sometimes render it hazardous for persons in health, especially females, to leave their homes on the Sabbath. Wisdom is profitable to direct; and it was never intended that one duty should interfere with another. The Sabbath was made for man; and the service of God is in all respects a "reasonable service." Still, it is not every slight complaint, it is not every threatening cloud, or fog, nor even every considerable fall of rain or snow, that can excuse us from waiting upon God in his house. If we would, week-day, and for a worldly purpose, the excuse is without hesitation, expose ourselves as much on a vain. O that men would be honest on points in regard to which, although they may indeed deceive themselves, they never can deceive their Maker! If they had that longing for the courts of the Lord of which we read in the Scriptures, they would not be detained at home by trifles; they would lose sight of not a few supposed difficulties, and overcome even many real ones, in order to be present at the sanctuary.


THE cat having a long time preyed upon the mice, the poor creatures at last, for their safety, contained themselves within their holes; but the cat finding his prey to cease, as being known to the mice that he was indeed their enemy and a cat, deviseth this course following, namely, changeth his hue, getting on a religious habit, shaveth his crown, walks gravely by their holes, and yet perceiving that the mice kept their holes, and looking out, suspected the worst, he formally, and father-like, said unto them: Quod fueram non sum, frater, caput aspice tonsum-"0 brother, I am not as you take me for no more a cat; see my habit and shaven crown." Hereupon some of the more credulous and bold among them were again, by this deceit, snatched up; and therefore when afterwards he came, as before, to entice them forth, they would come out no more, but answered, Cor tibi rest at idem, vix tibi præsto fidem"Talk what you can, we will never believe you; you bear still a cat's heart within you." And so here the Jesuits, yea and priests too; for they are all joined in the tails, like Samson's foxes: Ephraim against Manasseh, and Manasseh against Ephraim; and both against Judah.-Speech of Sir E. Coke, Lord Chief Justice of England, in Roscoe's British Lawyer.




A Sermon.*


"I sleep, but my heart waketh: it is the voice of my being fuller and fuller, as she proceeds, till she loved that knocketh, saying, Open to me, my sister,

my love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night,"

&c.-SONG v. 2, to the end.

THE passage I have read forms one of the dramatical songs of which this wonderful book is composed. The subject of it is a conversation between a forsaken and desolate wife and the daughters of Jerusalem.

1. First of all, she relates to them how, through slothfulness, she had turned away her lord from the door. He had been absent on a journey from home, and did not return till night. Instead of anxiously sitting up for her husband, she had barred the door, and slothfully retired to rest: “I slept, but my heart was waking." In this halfsleeping, half-waking frame, she heard the voice of her beloved husband: "Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled; for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night." But sloth prevailed with her, and she would not open, but answered him with foolish excuses: "I have put off my coat; how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet; how shall I defile them ?"

2. She next tells them her grief and anxiety to find her lord. He tried the bolt of the door, but it was fastened. This wakened her thoroughly. She ran to the door and opened, but her beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone. She listened—she sought about the door-she called-but he gave no answer. She followed him through the streets; but the watchmen found her, and smote her, and took away her veil; and now with the morning light she appears to the daughters of Jerusalem, and anxiously beseeches them to help her: "I charge you, if ye find him whom my soul loveth, that ye tell him that I am sick of love."

3. The daughters of Jerusalem, astonished at her extreme anxiety, ask: "What is thy be loved more than another beloved?" This gives opportunity to the desolate bride to enlarge on the perfections of her lord, which she does in a strain of richest descriptiveness-the heart fill• Preached after the communion; and from a volume of Sermons, by the lamented author, now in the press. No. 3.-*

says: "This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O ye daughters of Jerusalem!" They seemed to be entranced by the description, the search after this altogether lovely one: and are now as anxious as herself to join in « Whither is thy beloved gone, O thou fairest aside, that we may seek him with thee?" among women? whither is thy beloved turned

Such is the simple narrative before us. But you will see at once that there is a deeper meaning beneath-that the narrative is only a beautiful transparent veil, through which every child of God may trace some of the most common experiences in the life of the believer. (1.) The desolate bride is the believing soul. (2.) The daughters of Jerusalem are fellow-believers. (3.) The watchmen are ministers. (4.) And the altogether lovely one is our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.

I. Believers often miss opportunities of communion with Christ through slothfulness.

1. Observe, Christ is seeking believers. It is true that Christ is seeking unconverted souls. He stretches out his hands all the day to a gainsaying and disobedient people-he is the Shepherd that seeks the lost sheep; but it is as true that he is seeking his own people also that he may make his abode with them-that their joy may be full. Christ is not done with a soul when he has brought it to a forgiveness of sins. It is only then that he begins his regular visits to the soul. In the daily reading of the Word Christ pays daily visits, to sanctify the believing soul. In daily prayer Christ reveals himself to his own, in that other way than he doth to the world. In the house of God Christ comes in to his own, and says: "Peace be unto you!" And in the sacrament he makes himself known to them in the breaking of bread, and they cry out: "It is the Lord!" These are all trysting times, when the Saviour comes to visit his own.

2. Observe, Christ also knocks at the door of believers. Even believers have got doors upon their hearts. You would think, perhaps, that when once Christ had found an entrance into a poor sinner's heart he never would find difficulty in getting in any more. You would think March 13, 1846.


table is the most famous trysting-place with Christ. It is then that believers hear him

that as Samson carried off the gates of Gaza, bar and all, so Christ would carry away all the gates and bars from believing hearts. But no; knocking-saying: "Open to me." How often there is still a door on the heart, and Christ stands and knocks. He would fain be in. is not his pleasure that we should sit lonely and desolate. He would fain come in to us, and sup with us, and we with him.

is this opportunity lost through slothfulness It-through want of stirring up the gift that is in us-through want of attention through thoughts about worldly things-through unwillingness to take trouble about it !—

3. Observe, Christ speaks: "Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled." O what a meeting of tender words is here!—all applied to a poor sinner who has believed in Christ. (1.) “My sister;" for you remember how Jesus stretched his hand toward his disciples, and said: "Behold my mother and my brethren; for whosoever shall do the will of my Father, the same is my brother, and my sister, and my mother." (2.) "My love;" for you know how he loved sinners-left heaven out of love-lived, died, rose again, out of love for poor sinners; and when one believes on him, he calls him "My love." (3.) My dove; " for you know that when a sinner believes in Jesus, the holy dove-like Spirit is given him; so Jesus calls that soul" My dove." (4.) "My undefiled" -strangest name of all to give to a poor defiled sinner. But you remember how Jesus was holy, harmless, and undefiled. He was that in our stead—when a poor sinner believes in him, he is looked on as undefiled. Christ says



My undefiled." Such are the winning words with which Christ desires to gain an entrance into the believer's heart. Oh, how strange that any heart could stand out against all this love!

4. Observe, Christ waits: "My head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night." Christ's patience with unconverted souls is very wonderful. Day after day he pleads with them: "Turn ye, turn ye, why will ye die !" Never did beggar stand longer at a rich man's gate, than Jesus, the almighty Saviour, stands at the gate of sinful worms. But his patience with his own is still more wonderful--they know his preciousness, and yet will not let him in their sin is all the greater, and yet he waits to be gracious.

5. Believers are often slothful at these trysting times, and put the Saviour away with rain excuses. (1.) The hour of daily devotion is a trysting hour with Christ, in which he seeks, and knocks, and speaks, and waits; and yet, dear believers, how often you are slothful, and make vain excuses! You have something else to attend to, or you are set upon some worldly comfort, and you do not let the Saviour in. (2.) The Lord's

"I have put off my coat; how shall I put it on?

I have washed my feet; how shall I defile them?" Doubtless, there are some children of God here, who did not find Christ last Sabbath-day at his table-who went away unrefreshed and uncomforted. See here the cause-it was your own slothfulness.

Christ was knocking; but

you would not let him in. Do not go about to blame God for it. Search your own heart, and you will find the true cause. Perhaps you came without deliberation-without self-examination and prayer-without duly stirring up faith. Perhaps you were thinking about your worldly gains and losses, and you missed the Saviour. Remember, then, the fault is yours, not Christ's. He was knocking-you would not let him in.

II. Believers in darkness cannot rest without Christ.

In the parable we find that, when the bride found her husband was gone, she did not return to her rest. Oh, no! her soul failed for his word. She listens-she seeks she calls. She receives no answer. She asks the watchmen, but they wound her, and take away her veil; still she is not broken off from seeking. She sets the daughters of Jerusalem to seek along with her.

So is it with the believer. When the slothful believer is really awakened to feel that Christ has withdrawn himself, and is gone, he is slothful no longer. Believers remain at ease only so long as they flatter themselves that all is well; but if they are made sensible, by a fall into sin, or by a fresh discovery of the wickedness of their heart, that Christ is away from them, they cannot rest. The world can rest quite well, even while they know that they are not in Christ. Satan lulls them into fatal repose. Not so the believer-he cannot rest. 1. He does all he can do himself. He listens-he seeks he calls. The Bible is searched with fresh anxiety. The soul seeks and calls by prayer; yet often all in vain. He get no answer -no sense of Christ's presence. 2. He comes to ministers-God's watchmen on the walls of Zion. They deal plainly and faithfully with his backslidden soul-take away the veil, and show him his sin. The soul is thus smitten and

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