as a glance, when the design of their being pre- "Nor casts one longing, lingering look behind." "Let fools for riches strive and toil, My God, to heaven and Thee!" is no new peculiarity, belonging only to the Gospel economy. How writes Paul respecting the ancient patriarchs? (Heb. xi. 13-16.) How writes he of Moses himself, the divinely commissioned founder of the Jewish system? (Heb. xi. 24-26.) And how did the people of God, under that system, give expression to their feelings and desires? (Ps. iv. 6-7, xvii. 14, 15, lxiii. 23-26; Hab. iii. 17, 18.) I have said, that all this proceeds on calcnlation; that it is the result of a deliberate examination of the comparative value of the "seen" and the "unseen." There is one reason here assigned for the preference of the latter to the former, and for the settlement of the desires and affections-a reason which of itself is sufficient to justify both-" For the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal." 2. While there is a decided preference of judgment, there is, along with it, the supreme and settled desire of the heart. This has followed, or accompanied, the decision of his understand-rituality, this heavenliness, of mind and heart, ing. His affections have fastened upon new objects-objects recommended by his enlightened and renewed mind. His treasure is now in heaven, and his heart is there also. Formerly his affections and desires were all earthly. Even if, eschewing the grovelling indul. gences of sensuality and vice, he addicted himself to the pursuits of science and literature whether physical, moral, or political-and thus delighted to range in the loftier regions of mind; yet still, in comparison with those objects on which his heart has now been set, even the worthiest of these pursuits are felt to have been unworthy. God was not in them. Heaven was not in them. Eternity was not in them. They were still "of the earth, earthly." The believer rises above them all. He has seen and felt the unsatisfactoriness of every thing, and of all things combined, whether pertaining to body, or mind, or estate, that are bounded by the world and time. God and Christ, and heaven and eternity, have arrested and fixed the interests of his mind, and the desires of his heart. Before, he was the subject of those low and narrow conceptions of his capabilities of enjoyment that belong to the unilluminated, unemancipated, worldly mind. Now, he has come to know their real amplitude. What “the world, and the things of the world," were formerly deemed quite sufficient to satisfy, he now feels he can be satisfied with nothing short of God himself. He has risen to the true dignity of his being. He spurns earth as his portion. It cannot now fill his enlarged and elevated desires. Heaven is now in his eye, with its "fulness of joy." His song now is Some possibly may be disposed to allege, that mere perpetuity of continuance does not imply superior intrinsic excellence; that a thing may last for ever, and yet itself be little worth. But this would be a sad mistake very wide of the truth. The conclusion would proceed on a very partial view of the case. The case stands thus. The "things that are not seen" are the things included in the provision which the blessed God has made for the eternity of our existence-the existence for ever of rational creatures. Now, we are sure, from all that we know of the Infinitely Wise, that such provision must, in its nature as well as its duration, be suited to the nature for which it is made. The Being who provides for the immortality of men, provides for that immortality according to the capabilities possessed by BASLE. the immortal creature. A nature which God has endowed with immortality, must be a nature that is worthy of being immortal. The irrational natures of the brutes are limited to time. They stand thus in contrast with the rational nature of man-"Who knoweth the spirit of man that goeth upward, and the spirit of the beast that goeth downward to the earth?" (Eccles. iii. 21.) For the spirit which thus "goeth upward," which thus "returns unto God who gave it" the provision made must be a provision adapted to its intelligent and undying nature. It can consist in nothing that is low, little, and trifling. Between everything of such a character and eternity, there is an unimaginable incongruity. It is inconceivable-it is impossible that the infinitely wise God could destine to an eternity of existence a nature in itself mean, contracted, and grovelling in its capacities, and requiring for its enjoyment in its eternity of being only an everlasting provision of littleness. The grandeur of an eternity of being must have a corresponding grandeur in the provision made for it. Nor is this, indeed, the only, or even the principal evidence of its grandeur. What must be our conceptions of this provision, when we reflect on the means by which it has been secured-on the cost at which it has been obtained? Oh! what must heaven be what must the blessedness of the redeemed be-when we think of the price of their redemption to the enjoyment of it" not corruptible things, such as silver and gold, but the precious blood of Christ, as a lamb without blemish and without spot!" This redemptionprice stamps a value beyond all computation on "the things that are not seen." But, still, the point brought immediately before us in the apostle's words, is the eternity of these unseen things, contrasted with the temporary duration of those that are seen. This, however, must be reserved for notice in another and concluding paper. BASLE. (From Alexander's "Switzerland and the Swiss Churches.") IN the cloisters behind the minster most of the former notables of Basle lie interred. It is open to the public; and as during my stay in Basle the weather was very wet, I frequently betook myself thither when I wanted a quiet and meditative stroll. Excepting the inscriptions on a few of the tombs, I did not discover in it any object of peculiar interest; but the place was sheltered and solitary, and besides, it was classic ground. Here Erasmus was wont to walk in meditative solitude, or surrounded by a chorus of congenial spirits, with whom he indulged in sportive colloquy, or in earnest and high-seasoned debate. 509 Here, too, Ecolampadius delighted to study, than whom I know not that any of the Reformers bears a more spotless and honourable name. And here, too, have many besides, of great mind and stout heart, in the days that are gone, pondered, and conversed, and prayed. It is a place where high thoughts and firm purposes might well be born and fostered. Dimly lighted-seldom frequented-with no sounds penetrating it, save the monotonous rushing of the impetuous Rhine, heard from a distance, or the solemn caw of the steeple-haunting rook-and tenanted only by the remains and the monuments of the dead, it is a place from which the giddy and the profane will flee, but where those who have learned to commune with their own hearts and with God, will find it pleasant and profitable to resort. Ecolampadius, and in which he died. Near to the minster is the house inhabited by It is now occupied by my excellent friend the Rev. J. Linder, archidiaconus of Basle, whose acquaintance I had the happiness to make, and to whose kindness I am and information received. The room in which he under many obligations, both for pleasure enjoyed studies, is that assigned by tradition as the deathroom of the Reformer. Opposite the door of entrance to this room are two windows, on the left hand the wall is pierced by a door, on the right the wall is unbroken from end to end. Against this latter wall, I judge, was placed the couch of Ecolampadius; and at these windows entered those morning rays* amid which his spirit passed away. It is a brave and hallowed story that of the death-bed scene of Ecolampadius! As night gathered, and the rumour spread that the Reformer would not live till the morning, the ministers of Basle, to the number of ten, hastened to his presence. Already on a former occasion he had given them his dying charge, beseeching them to be men of light and men of love; now he said but little, as he desired to remain calm and still. "Do you bring any tidings?" exclaimed he to a person of rank who entered the room; the answer was in the negative. A feeling of self-reproach seemed to cross his mind for asking such a question at such a moment, and he said hastily, "But I-I shall soon be with my Lord." By-and-by, one asked him whether the light of the lamp did not annoy him; laying his hand on his heart, he exclaimed, "Here, here is where I have enough of light." At length the day 51st Psalm; and then heaving a sigh, he said, began to dawn; in a feeble voice he chanted the 66 Lord Jesus, come to my help." He spoke no more, but quietly breathed his last. The sun now poured his rays into the chamber, but they fell on that inanimate corpse, and on the pale and weeping friends who, with uplifted hands, were kneeling around his couch. Does it not seem striking that one who, answerable to his name, had been such "a bright and shining light" in the world, should, in the last words he addressed to his fellow-men, have spoken so firmly and joyously of that light which was within hima light in which thousands had rejoiced to walk, and which calumny has not been able to darken, nor death itself to extinguish? Striking, too, that one whose life had been a long and earnest protest against darkness, should thus wait for the morning light ere he passed away to be for ever with Him who dwelleth in light, and in whom there is no darkness at all! The country around Basle is pleasing; and there are in the environs many agreeable walks between hedge-rows full of wild flowers, some of which are very pretty, while others fill the air with a pleasing fragrance. The wetness of the weather during my stay there, at this time, prevented my enjoying much in this way. One afternoon, however, I had an extensive and refreshing stroll; on my return from which, as I was approaching one of the gates of the city, I saw a churchyard, into which I turned, attracted by the somewhat singular appearance it presented. Instead of grave-stones or monuments (with the exception of a few monuments to persons of note, among which I observed that erected to the memory of the excellent Blumhardt, late principal of the Mission Seminary), it presented to the view a multitude of upright iron rods, each supporting the figure of an open book, on which are inscribed the name, &c., of the deceased, followed by a verse of Scripture, or a few lines in verse. Some departures there are from this ungraceful and monotonous fashion, but they are very few. Among these I was struck with one little monument, to the memory of an infant. It consisted of a short square pillar, on the top of which was a spiral wire supporting the figure of a butterfly with outspread wings. Thus placed, the butterfly moved, and, as it were, fluttered with every breeze. As the butterfly was the ancient emblem of the soul (Psyche), this fanciful device recalled to my recollection Blair's lines on the grave: 'Body and soul must part: Fond couple! linked more close than wedded pair, On the square pillar were inscribed some lines, the simplicity of which deeply affected me (perhaps because I too had stood by the grave of a darling babe "my first propine to heaven," as good old James Melville has it). These, along with some others which I found on a grave close by, I transcribed, and on my return to my hotel amused myself by turning them into English, endeavouring to preserve the metre, and as much as possible the simplicity of the original: "Haste, darling babe, ascend the skies; There angels shall receive thee; Of Jesus' folded lambs above." It is true the harp-tone of the poet is not here; but is there not a heart-note, to which the feelings of those who have tasted kindred sorrows will vibrate in sympathy? LOUISA-A SKETCH. In the summer of 1832, I visited a family at their sca-bathing quarters in the beautiful west bay of Gourock. There were a number of young people. While the others looked healthy and happy, I observed that Louisa, a sweet girl about ten years of age, was very quiet and thoughtful; she was much changed from the time I had seen her-had grown tall and slender, and had got a very delicate look. When I remarked this to her mama, she said she had no complaint, but that she did not appear to enjoy herself like the others, and was more inclined to sit at home, while they were at play, and taking their walks. Again I saw this drooping flower. There was no improvement in health, and she had a more pensive and delicate look. The Lord was preparing the dear child for himself. The blessed Spirit was at work in her heart. As yet she had not found rest; but his Word was proving "quick and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, a discerner of the thoughts and, intents of the heart." Her parents had become alarmed about her, and soon after they returned to Glasgow. I felt much interested in Louisa, and hearing that she was worse, I went to Glasgow to see her; she was by this time confined to bed. Mrs. S- came to me in the parlour; she told me that Louisa was very ill, but quite happy, and that she would be glad to see me. I asked her when she had attained such peace. As far as I can recollect, her words were: "Louisa continued thoughtful, and at times appeared much distressed-was often found reading her Bible, and sometimes weeping. One night in particular, when at family worship, the 21st chapter of Revelation was read, she wept bitterly. After prayer, when I asked her why she was so disstressed, she said, 'Oh! mama, I fear I am never to enter the New Jerusalem.' I asked her, 'what made her think so." She said, 'she had been very sinful, and had told a lie,' and in that chapter it is said, 'And there shall in no wise enter into it any thing that defileth, neither whatsoever worketh abo mination, or maketh a lie.' I told her that the blood of Christ cleanseth from all sin, and that if she believed in Jesus, and prayed to God for forgiveness for his sake, all her sins would be pardoned; and that she should now go and pray.' She retired to her own room, and after some time returned with a smile upon her countenance, saying, 'Mama, I be lieve now that God, for Christ's sake, will forgive me. From that time she was cheerful and happy, and had no fear of death." ་ Mrs. S had left Louisa asleep, and asked me to go into her room, and wait till she awoke. Upon enter ing the room I almost started; the appearance of the dear sufferer was so ghastly and death-like, I would almost have thought she was gone, had I not seen that Mrs. S- was composed. She had got accus. tomed to her appearance. Louisa awoke with a look of anguish, as if she were suffering. As soon as she cast her eyes on me her countenance changed to a most beautiful smile. She had fine eyes, full, with long, dark eyelashes, and now they looked so large and lustrous, that she seemed something more than human. In the course of conversation, some remark about the change in her appearance, the sleeve of her sleeping-gown being loose, she stretched out her emaciated arm to draw my attention to it, looked at it herself, and smiled, as much as to say, "I am not to be long in this world." Evidently she was not able to speak much. Before leaving, I said, “Tell me what portion of the Bible is sweet to you, that I may think of it when I leave you." She gave a look of great satisfaction, and said, in a feeble, faltering voice, "In my Father's house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you." She could proceed no further. I This was my last interview with dear Louisa, and it was a very impressive scene. It was perfect peace. The sting of death was taken away. So little dread of | the grave had she, that one day she stretched herself to her full length on the bed, and said, "Look, mama, how much longer my coffin will require to be than little Walter's was!" Her little brother had died rather suddenly during her illness, and she spoke of him as having gone to their heavenly home before her. repeated the two following verses, which seemed to kiss that it is most in danger. Men might come forth 'give her great delight. with swords and staves against it; but unless they were headed by a disciple who could betray it to the enemy, their assault would be unavailing. Religio nunquam, nisi inter reverendissimos, periclitatur—and we are now to trace the history of one who did more to injure the religion and oppress the people of Scotland than any of its persecutors-we mean James Sharp, who betrayed the truth he had undertaken to defend; and now stands detected by history as one of the most notable Apostates of modern times. He was the son of William Sharp, sheriff-clerk of Banffshire, whose father had been a merchant in Aberdeen. James was born in the Castle of Banff in May 1613; and after studying at the University of Aberdeen, he went to England about the beginning of the civil wars, where he visited both the universities, and formed an acquaintance with some eminent men of that age. On his return, he was made a professor of philosophy in St. Leonard's College, St. Andrews; and soon thereafter was appointed minister of Crail. He was subsequently promoted to the office of Professor of Divinity in St. Mary's College, St. Andrews; and for a considerable period he was the coadjutor of David Dickson, Robert Douglas, George Hutchison, and other worthies, in conducting the affairs of the Church in those troublous times in which their lines had fallen. Not long after I heard of dear Louisa's death. Her papa wrote to me, that she had continued in the same happy state of mind, comforting them all; saying she was sorry to leave her dear friends, but "to be with Christ was far better." The following year this family was again visited with bereavement. Marianne, a gentle little girl seven years of age, was taken from them. She also died happy. She had not that deep conviction of sin that her sister had had, but seemed to have been drawn "by the bands of love." She was delicate in the spring, and it was thought that she might derive benefit from being removed to the country, and that there might be some place where the air would be milder than Gourock. Her sisters and some young companions were talking of different places, and saying which they would prefer; they weres urprised by Marianne, saying, "I know where I would like to go." Some of them asking where that was. At first she would not say, but afterwards told them it was to heaven. They asked her, if she was not afraid to die? She was able to give a reason of the hope that was in her, and to tell why she was not afraid to die. She became gradually worse, and was not removed till she was taken to her heavenly Father's home, where she desired to be. One Sabbath-day, when her father came home from church, he found her very weak; and going into the bed behind her, he supported her drooping head. "I shall soon be better now," she said, "when you are kindly supporting me." "My dear," he replied, 'you will soon not require my support-you will soon be beyond my care." "What do you mean, papa? Do you mean that I shall die?" Yes," he mournfully replied, "O how delightful!" was her joyous answer. These were her last words; and in a little, without a struggle, she fell asleep in Jesus. 46 66 "Blessed are the dead, who die in the Lord from enceforth: yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labours, and their works do follow them." ARCHBISHOP SHARP. Ir is a fact established by clear experience, that the chief danger of the Church of Christ originates in the views and conduct of its pretended friends. Avowed enemies are comparatively harmless-nay, an attempt has been made, and with some success, to prove that our religion has derived benefit rather than suffered injury from undisguised assailants-it is when the truth is, like its Author, betrayed by a In November 1659, when the kingdom was in a heaving and unsettled state, General Monk proceeded from Edinburgh to London, to put matters in train for the restoration of Charles II., who was then at Breda. The Scottish ministers confided in Monk, and proposed to send Sharp for a time to London, to attend to their interests, and confer with the General. The minister of Crail accordingly proceeded on his mission, carrying instructions from the ministers, and recommended to Dr. Calamy, Dr. Manton, and other eminent preachers of that day. From the period of his arrival in London, early in the year 1660, his letters evince the warm interest which he felt or feigned,in the cause of truth. "The public covenanted interest" is referred to in letter after letter-its prosperity rejoiced in, and its reverses deplored. Advice is communicated for the right guidance of the Scottish interests; and though subsequent events may enable us now to see in some of his expressions, the language of a cautious trimmer, there is little in them to suggest suspicion to men of such large and generous minds as were the ministers with whom Sharp corresponded in Scotland. At one period it was resolved to call him to the ministry in Edinburgh; but he wrote again and again from London, humbly declining the appointment. At another time Sharp refers in his letters to meetings with some of the Prelatic party to which he had been invited, but refused, to attend: for which he is careful to say he was deemed a rigid Presbyterian" adding, "For my part I am afraid that something elɛe is like to take place in the Church than rigid Presbytery. This nation is not fitted to bear the yoke of Christ; and for religion, I fear it is made a stalking horse still." Nor was he satisfied even with this: hel subsequently said, "The Lord having opened a fair door of hope, we may look for a settlement on the 66 grounds of the Covenant, and thereby a foundation laid for security against the Prelatic and fanatic assaults." It is obvious, however, as one peruses his correspondence, that the divine has left his proper sphere and element he has ventured into an infected atmosphere, when he is planning treaties, or studying the temper of elections, or conferring with statesmen regarding State proceedings. His letters become more and more engrossed with these things; and though he does say, "I fear the interest of the Solemn League and Covenant shall be neglected; and for religion, I smell that moderate Episcopacy is the fairest accommodation which moderate men, who wish well to religion, expect," it is obvious that his mind is vacillating-any portion of principle that he ever held is manifestly forsaking him. On the 28th of April 1660, Sharp mentioned in a postscript to Douglas, that General Monk had proposed he should visit the king at Breda to attend to the interests of Presbytery. On the 4th of May, he sailed for Holland, and the Scottish ministers forwarded to him a letter of instructions for his guidance. Since the course of events has in some measure opened up the secret springs of those proceedings, it is by turns amusing and revolting to notice the simple-minded confidence, on the one hand, the deep designing, on the other, of the agents in those eventful times. The ministers in Scotland hoped that Sharp" had managed his being with his majesty for the interest of Christ;" but subsequent events will show that the crafty minister of Crail was " seeking his own things, not the things that are Christ's." Douglas tells us that he did not suspect Sharp more than he suspected himself, or than the apostles did Judas. Yet he had subsequently discovered, that when Sharp went to Breda he was the bearer of credentials to the king, which testified that he was a Preletist at heart; and consequently false to the party which he professed to represent. In corroboration of his opinions, Douglas has put on record several incidents which show that Sharp was actually plotting his own aggrandizement during all his correspondence from London, and his pretended zeal for the cause which his friends in Scotland valued beyond their lives.* | What he himself calls "his tickling vanity," was not proof against the blandishments of Charles, or the beauty of a mitre in the distance. "The magnificence and gallantry of England," as Sharp saw them at the Restoration, might have upset principles of firmer texture than his. He professed to keep 66 an even way with all who mind the good of Kirk and country;" but at heart he was plotting the overthrow of the one, and, without designing it, the misery of thousands upon thousands in the other. Strange that he who speaks with contempt of " Cassock men," (his own title for the Prelatic party), should all the while be preparing to enlist in their number, or even to become a High-Church Quixotte. He might still from time to time" pray the Lord to keep them from the Service-book of Prelacy," or express a wish to be "taken home to his charge." "I can do no good here," he exclaims, "for the stemming of the current * See Wodrow's History, vol. i. p. 28, edit. 1829. of Prelacy, and long to be home;" yet is he ever and anon dropping hints like the following: "Some leading Presbyterians tell me they must resolve to close in with what they call moderate Episcopacy." He artfully dissuades Douglas from resorting to London, and gradually waxes bolder and bolder in defending the trimming course which it appears he had pursued during all his negotiations, smothering all over with the aphorism, "Our task is to wait on God, who hath done great things we looked not for, and can make these mountains plain." On a review of his whole conduct in London and at Breda, we cannot but conclude, with Wodrow, that there seems ground for suspecting that Sharp, Leighton, Sydeserf, and others at London, were concerting the overthrow of the Church of Scotland, while Sharp was writin his letters, waiving and decrying the applications made to him from home. It is not difficult now to see that as religious men were then, as ever, too apt to bite and devour each other, "they were sent to the furnace to be united." When Sharp returned, he brought with him a letter from the king to the ministers of Edinburgh (August 1660), designed to prepare the way for carrying into effect the joint machinations of Charles and Sharp. It was subtle and guarded; capable of such a meaning as circumstances might render needful; and was supposed by some to be the production of Sharp himself. Subsequent events furnish a commentary on that epistle, written in the best blood of Scotland; and if the judgment-day shall show that Sharp was indeed its author, it will then appear that neither Jesuit nor Inquisitor ever acted with more consummate duplicity in effecting a diabolical purpose. As the minister of Crail had already showed himself a supple and accomplished courtier, he gradually advanced in boldness in defence of the schemes of Charles. Asserting that the ministers of Scotland were in favour of a change in their ecclesiastical system, he easily persuaded willing men in high places, that such was really the case; and in 1661, a scheme was openly proposed by him, in concert with several noblemen, by which some of the most eminent ministers-Douglas, Baillie, Dickson, Fergusson, and others were to be consecrated as bishops. He even had the audacity to visit Robert Douglas, and, as from the king, to offer him the archbishopric of St. Andrews. Sharp "insisted and urged;" but the stanch old Presbyterian declined; and when the visitor withdrew, Douglas accosted him thus: "James, I see you will engage: I perceive you are clear-you will be Bishop of St. Andrews; take it, and the curse of God with it." Oliver Cromwell publicly declared that Sharp was an Atheist; he certainly was not scrupulous. The reward of his caution, cunning, dissimulation, and perseverance, was the primacy of Scotland, as Douglas had predicted. Sharp was made Metropolitan in the month of November 1661. In the following month, he was ordained deacon and presbyter, and consecrated bishop. From this period to the time of his death in 1679, Sharp is known chiefly as the instigator and presiding spirit in the persecutions of that terrible period. |