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THE BELIEVER'S POWER, &c.

reason, the tenderest entreatics, the most appalling terrors, unmoved even by demonstrations of power, which are moving all around it. So was it in the days of Christ's flesh with the vast multitude of the Jewish people. All nature showed its readiness to obey him, but the hard and stubborn heart of man. Diseases of every form gave way when he spake the word commanding them to do so; the very demons quitted their usurped possessions at his bidding. But the beings for whose spiritual instruction and everlasting welfare all this was done, remained still in their natural alienation; though he spake to them as never man spake, yet they would not hear; though he stretched out his hands, they would not regard. So that while he proved himself by many mighty works to be the Son of God with power, there still was a region, the higher region of mind, which no demonstration of power, then given, seemed able to reach; when he went about doing good, yet immensely the highest kind of good, the regeneration of souls to God, had scarcely begun to show itself. The whole result of his ministrations, in this point of view, was a small and feeble band of followers, themselves but half enlightened in the truth, and utterly incapable of enlightening and converting others. Such being undoubtedly the position of Christ's cause on earth, at the time of his departure, had it not been truly of divine origin, and connected with other powers than those of this world, it must inevitably have gone backwards and soon vanished into nothing. But how different an appearance does everything concerning it immediately present? The little flock, whom he left behind, so ignorant, fainthearted, and forlorn, become presently enlightened in the whole mysteries of redemption, and enabled to speak the word of truth, not only without fear, but with such astonishing success also, that the hearts of multitudes bowed under their teaching, and thousands of converted sin ners flowed into the kingdom. As far as the end is above the means, and the recovery of lost souls to the favour and image of God is both a more difficult and a more blessed work than any change effected to the better upon the members of a diseased body or the disordered elements of nature, so far did the works performed by Christ's believing disciples surpass those performed by himself in the kingdom. Nor was it then only that such greater works were to be done. The promise is for all times and places. He who believes on Christ, and has the gifts necessary for using aright the means placed at his command (which must, of course, be understood), may count upon a kind and measure of success to his spiritual labours, which his Master sought for in vain. And there is not, perhaps, an individual who, since the commencement of the Gospel, has brought to the work of the ministry anything like Christ's faith and love, zeal and devotedness, without

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leaving behind him a harvest of spiritual good from among his fellow-men, such as Christ himself was not permitted to reap during the days of his flesh.

The very circumstance, that Christ should have pointed the expectations of his disciples to these spiritual results as the greatest things to be done in the kingdom, is a sublime proof of the heavenly bent and elevation of his mind. It showed how little he himself looked, and how far he was from wishing them to look, to mere outward doings or appearances-to what might fill the minds of men with an idle wonder or a glaring astonishment. Things of that sort he had already done almost to superfluity; but with what result? He had put to silence, indeed, the ignorance of foolish men, and provided ample materials for an humble faith to rest upon; but that faith itself, where was it to be found? The conquest of souls, for which alone he had come into the world, was yet to be made; he had yet to show that the higher region of mind was as much under his control as the lower region of matter. And this, he gave his disciples to understand, he would do through their instrumentality, and specially by endowing them with those gifts of grace which should enable them to work directly upon the, soul, and lead sinners to the knowledge of salvation. The more, therefore, they possessed of this direct sway over the minds and consciences of men, the less should they plainly need of a supernatural power to perform wonders on the outward elements and operations of nature. For, when the kingdom began to wield those purely spiritual influences, it no longer needed the help of what may be called the grosser, the more outward and carnal, means of working. It rose then to a higher sphere of action. It made itself known as emphatically a kingdom within men-not, therefore, coming with observation, but silently establishing itself in the region of the inner man, and bringing all these under the powers of the world to come. though the first disciples of Christ, having to give the world a substantial proof of their divine commission, and of the reality of Christ's exaltation, did require to do some works the same in kind with those he himself had done; yet it was chiefly by their capacity for doing the greater works referred to, that the kingdom was to grow and prosper in the world. That Popery should be so incessantly calling to its aid external wonders, and holding these up as her greater works for accomplishing the world's conversion, only proves how thoroughly ignorant she is of the true genius of the Gospel, and how much more she delights to work with the lower than with the higher elements of power. The proper season for such wonders was the day of small things, when as yet Christianity was struggling for an outstanding existence in the world. But when resorted to after this had been attained, and its greater works have had

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time to develop themselves, as they are then manifestly out of place, so they cannot be of God-they must be lying wonders. Hence it is that the Man of Sin finds his only coadjutors in this field the wildest fanatics, who have sometimes, in the fever of spiritual intoxication, tried to produce such wonders, while all enlightened and sober-minded Christians are at one in the conviction, that it is through other and higher weapons, that the Gospel is to win its triumphs over the ignorance and wickedness

of men.

But are we quite sure that our Lord, when speaking of the greater works which his disciples had to do, had respect to the divine power which was henceforth to accompany the preaching of the Gospel, and the blessed effects that were to grow out of it? We may certainly conclude this from the reason he assigns for what was to take place: "Because I go to my Father." In what respect was his going thither to bear on the affairs of his kingdom? In this respect especially, that he was to get "the promise of the Father"-the gift of the Spirit, whose power and presence were to be of such mighty and blessed efficacy in the Church, that he could even say to his sorrowing disciples, "It is expedient for you that I go away; for if I go not away, the Comforter will not come unto you; but if I depart I will send him unto you." And as the sending of this Comforter sending him in another manner than he had ever been sent before, with a fulness of blessing and a largeness of power hitherto unknown in the Church-as this was the immediate purpose in the dispensation of the kingdom for which Christ went to the Father; so the advantages he gave them reason to expect from this descent of the Spirit were entirely of the kind already described. The Spirit was to come that he might lead them, and enable them to lead others, into all truth-that he might glorify Christ by taking of his things and showing these to them-that he might convince the world of sin, righteousness, and judgment. In short, the proper sphere, as all Scripture testifies, of this Spirit's influence and operations is the soul; to enlighten its understanding, to renew its will, to establish it in the life and blessedness of God, and endow it with a fitness for all spiritual services in his kingdom: this is the purpose for which the Spirit was to come and work there; and the materials with which he was to work were the things furnished to his hand by the perfected redemption of Christ; so that he should have no separate interest to drive, no independent work of his own to prosecute, but only to take up and carry forward the work of Christ by bringing it home in living power to the experience of each individual. Hence, the Spirit could not be fully given, the dispensation of the Spirit could not properly commence, till Christ was glorified; for then only were all things ready

for his efficient working. And hence, too, from the very nature of the case, it is the inward field of mind, not the outward field of matter, which is the proper scene of the Spirit's operations; he is the noblest instrument of the Spirit and the doer of the greatest works, whose success is largest in removing the mountains, not of sense, but of ignorance, unbelief, and corruption; and if replenished with power for the performance of such works, he would, comparatively, be going back to weak and beggarly elements, were he to have recourse to natural wonders, instead of wielding that ethereal armoury of the Spirit, which alone is mighty to the pulling down of strongholds, and the building up of souls in righteousness.

Let the Church, then, know where her real strength lies, and by what kind of working it is that she is to advance the interests of the kingdom. Everything in a manner depends, as to the great objects she should aim at, on the presence or absence of the Spirit. The first care of all her members should be to acti so as to secure that his grace shall not be restrained, but flow freely forth in connection with the ordinances of divine appointment. And the kind of weapons they are to employ, as the fittest in his hands for carrying forward the work of the kingdom, are not such as may strike the outward senses, but those which tend to bring light and conviction to the inner man of the heart. But with such large encouragement as this promise affords for success, as well as diligence, in these peculiar works of the kingdom, why, it may be asked, is so little, comparatively achieved? Why, for the most part, do we see so few of "the greater works," which Christ pledged to his people the power of performing? At many periods, and in many different fields of labour, the promise has since then been gloriously fulfilled; but why not always and everywhere? Is not Christ still with the Father, ready to send the Spirit as he may be required; and the Spirit himself ever disposed to glorify the Son by showing his things to the souls of men? Such, unquestionably, is the case; and, therefore, the failure, in so far as it manifests itself, must be traced to the Church herself to her carnality in cherishing within her bosom the works which grieve the Spirit or, her lack of faith in laying hold of the word of promise concerning his gifts of grace. or her languor of desire and remissness of prayer in seeking their bestowal. "O thou that art named the house of Jacob, is the Spirit of the Lord straitened?" or is the Lord "slack concerning his promise?"-" Be not faithless, but believing." Arise, call upon the name of the Lord; plead with him that he may verify his own word; and "give him no rest till he establish, and make Jerusalem a praise in the earth."

Salton.

P. F.

THE LOST.

"MUCKLE KATE."

(From the New England Puritan.)
DURING the administration of the Lord's supper,
and while the pastor was in the midst of a powerful
appeal to the unawakened, the bellman was heard in
the street. The minister paused, as the description
of a youthful fugitive was given in clear tones by the
crier; and then, seizing the thought, he exclaimed:
"A child is lost! A child is lost! What if some at-
tending angel, witnessing this communion season,
and wondering at the rejection of the Saviour by the
proud heart, should now give audible testimony of
his grief, and, beholding some sinner here making
his election for a hopeless eternity, should startle us
with the cry, A soul is lost! A soul is lost!"

Why on our holy service steals
Alarum of the bell?

A child is lost!-that cry reveals
The agony too well.

A child is lost! and with the blow

A father's heart is stirred;

The mother-who may scan her woe?
Felt, but unknown to word!

A child is lost! and ready feet

To seek and save are out,

And lane, and court, and crowded street,
Are searched with call and shout.

The gen'rous toil is not in vain;
Success succeeds alarms-

The little fugitive again

Has bless'd its mother's arms.

And, for this wanderer, speechless fears
Were felt, that mocked control;
And for its loss fell heavy tears-

What if it were a soul!

A soul, for whom no 'larum rings,
Kind rescuing to call-

For whose redemption never springs
Hope, that yet comes to all!

Oh, smote but now the startled ear
As smites that warning bell,
One note of the despairing fear

That fills the vault of hell-
To seek, who would not quickly fly?
What realms would not be cross'd-
Urged by the lamentable cry,
"A soul, a soul is lost!"

"MUCKLE KATE."

A TRADITION OF LOCHCARRON.

BY THE REV. T. M. FRASER, YESTER.

THE name of Mr. Lauchlan M'Kenzie, the eminent minister of Lochcarron, though little known in the south, is pregnant with spiritual interest among the Highlanders of Ross. Throughout the four northern counties, indeed, there are very few of the Gaelic-speaking

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population to whom "the great Mr. Lauchlan" is not more or less known as a godly though eccentric divine; but it is within the district of Wester Ross-among the hills where he was born and lived, and laboured and died-that the savour of his name is sweetest, and that the recollection of his weighty words and deeds is most vividly preserved. I have no doubt. that were a properly qualified person to devote himself for a few weeks to the task, during a personal residence in Ross-shire, he might easily expiscate from the Gaelic-people anecdotes sufficient for the compilation of a most interesting volume. From the numerous traditions which I have heard respecting "Mr. Lauchlan," I give the following, on the authority of a late eminently godly minister in Ross, who was an eye. witness of the principal scenes, but has since been taken to join his brother, to rejoice in his glory, and to share his reward.

Not far from the manse of Lochcarron, there lived a wicked old sinner, who was supposed to have been guilty of every crime forbidden in the decalogue, except murder. Owing to her masculine dimensions, this woman was commonly known by the name of "Muckle Kate." "She was an ill-looking woman," Mr. Lauchlan used to say, "without any beauty in the sight of God or man." It is not surprising to hear that such a character never entered a church, and that every effort on the part of the minister failed in inducing her to give even an occasional attendance at the house of God. Plan after plan was tried, but in vain; entreaties, tears, innumerable visits, and appeals to her conscience almost without end, all failed to move the heart of one who seemed to have reached that fearful point spoken of by the apostle, when he declares respecting those who have been wholly given over by the Spirit, that they "cannot cease from sin." At length, "Mr. Lauchlan" adopted a plan which could have occurred only to an original and eccentric mind, but which sets before us in the strongest light the intense desire of the devoted minister to save an immortal soul.

It was customary among the Highlanders, during the last century, to assemble at nightfall in each other's houses, and spend the long winter evenings in singing the wild old Gaelic melodies, and relating to each other the legendary stories of the district. This practice is not yet extinct in some parts of the country, though, like most of the other old Highland customs, it is gradually wearing away. The women brought along with them each her distaff and spindle, while the men were sometimes employed in mending their brogues, or weaving baskets and creels. This is called "going on kailie," and Kate used to devote herself to the practice with all the eagerness of an old gossip.

Well acquainted with Kate's evening habits
I give the word as an English reader would pronounce it.

The true spelling, however, I understand,

[graphic]

"Mr. Lauchlan," who had a great turn for poetry (or rather rhyming), composed a Gaelic song, in which all Kate's known sins were enumerated and lashed with all the severity of which the composer was capable. This song Mr. Lauchlan set to music, and privately sending for some of the young persons who were known to" go on kailie” with Kate, he took great pains to teach them the song, instructing them to sing it in her hearing on the first opportunity. It was a strange, and, as some may perhaps think, an unwarrantable way of attempting to win a soul; nevertheless, it was successful. The appeal went home to the old woman's conscience, backed with all the force of astonishment; the suddenness of the stroke, coming as it did from so perfectly unexpected a quarter, gave both point and poignancy to the blow; the shaft had found the joint in the harness, and, driven hard home by the Spirit's own hand, it sank deep, deep down into that old and withered soul which had hitherto resisted every impression.

Kate's conviction was now as extreme as her careless hardihood had once been. Her agony of mind was perfectly fearful. The bleak scenery of Lochcarron was in strange unison with her feelings. Among the dreary mountains of that lonesome western wilderness runs up the small estuary from which the parish derives its name; and as the long Atlantic billow breaks upon its shores, and the brown hills stretch on behind in one interminable sea of heath, the traveller scarce knows whither to turn that he may relieve his painful sense of solitude-to the waste of waters that stretch before him, till shut in by the frowning heights of Skye, or to the lonely moors that undulate behind him, dark, and desolate, and bare. It was among these dreary wilds that Kate now spent the greater portion of her time. And why did she seek these wilderness retreats ? "She sought," like Joseph, "where to weep." The solitudes of Lochcarron were heard to resound for hours together with the voice of wailing, and well did the inmates of the lone bothies amid the hills know from whose lips those cries of agony were wrung. They were uttered by the solitary mourner of the moors-the once hardened "Muckle Kate." She had looked on Him whom she had pierced, and now she mourned for him as one mourneth for his only son, and was in bitterness for him as one that is in bitterness for his first-born.

A long and fiery ordeal was appointed to the reclaimed profligate. Deep as her conviction was, it never seemed to subside; weeks, months, and even years passed away, and still the distress of the convicted sinner was as poignant and fresh as ever. "Never breathed a wretch like her; there might be hope for others, but O there was none for Muckle Kate!" This was wonderful, indeed, in one whose age was between eighty and ninety at the time of her conviction;

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for those who know anything of human nature are aware, that of all spiritual cases, the most utterly hopeless is that of one who has grown old in sin, whose conscience has become impervious to the truth, and whose whole soul is unimpressible by either the Gospel or the Law. To awaken feelings that have been dried up by age and sin requires a miracle in the world of grace. Kate's was, indeed, a special case; she was wonder to many"-a wonder to her neighbours, a wonder to unbelievers, a wonder to the Church, a wonder to her astonished minister, and, most of all, a wonder to herself. But all has not yet been told. Are my readers prepared to hear that she wept herself stone blind? Yet this was actually the case, without exaggerating by a hair-breadth-she wept away her eye-sight! Poor Kate! Those sightless eyeballs weep no more: the wail of thine agony no longer rings amid the solitudes of thy native hills; for God himself hath wiped away all tears from thine eyes: and when the green graves of Lochcarron shall have disgorged thy blessed dust, thou shalt tune with ecstasy thy voice to the harp of God, as thou standest on that crystal sea in the place where there shall be no more pain, neither sorrow nor crying, for the former things shall have passed away.

The excellent minister on whose authority I relate this story, stated that he was called on to assist in dispensing the Lord's-supper at Lochcarron on one occasion during Kate's long period of darkness. While walking with | Mr. Lauchlan among the moors, he heard at a distance the moanings of a female in great distress. "Hush!" said the stranger minister," do you hear that cry? What is it?" Mr. Lauch-' lan knew it well. "Never mind," replied he,' "that woman has cost me many a tear; let her weep for herself now." He kept his eye on her ever afterwards, however, and was exceedingly kind to her, watching like a father over every interest of the old woman, for time as well as for eternity.

During one of her visits to the manse kitchen, while waiting to converse with the minister, it is said that her attention was attracted by the noise of a flock of ducklings which drew near the place where she sat. Not aware of the presence of any other person, the poor blind woman was heard to exclaim, "O my poor things, ye're happy, happy creatures-ye have na crucified a Saviour like me; it would be well for Muckle Kate to be a duck like you: for O then she would have no sin to answer for no sin, no sin!" The anecdote may appear frivolous, if not ridiculous; not so the feeling which it expresses; for many is the awakened sinner that has shared in blind Kate's desire, and would gladly have exchanged being with a dog or a stone, for then he would have had "no sin to answer for-no sin, no sin!"

In the third year of her anguish, Mr. Lauchlan was exceedingly anxious that she should sit

"PUSH IT ASIDE."

down at the Lord's table, and accordingly urged every argument to induce her to commemorate the dying love of Christ. But nothing could prevail upon her to comply. "She go forward to that holy table! she, who had had her arms up to the shoulders in a Saviour's blood! Her presence would profane the blessed ordinance, and would be enough to pollute the whole congregation! Never, never would she sit down at the table; the communion was not for her!" The minister's hopes, however, were to be realized in a way that he never anticipated.

The Sabbath had arrived, the hour of meeting drew nigh, but Kate's determination still remained unchanged. I am not acquainted with the exact spot where the Gaelic congregation assembled on that communion Sabbath; the tables were, however, spread, as is usual on such occasions, in the open air among the wild hills of Lochcarron. Did any of my readers ever witness the serving of a sacramental table at which there sat one solitary communicant? yet such a sight was witnessed on that longremembered day, and poor Kate and Mr. Lauchlan were the only actors in the scene.

The tables had all been served, the elements had been removed, the minister had returned to "the tent," and was about to begin the concluding address, and all were listening for the first words of the speaker, when suddenly a cry of despair was heard in a distant part of the congregation-a shriek of female agony that rose loud and clear amid the multitude, and was returned, as if in sympathy, by the echoes of the surrounding hills. It was the voice of "Muckle Kate," who now thought that all was overthat the opportunity was lost, and would never more return! The congregation was amazed; hundreds started to their feet, and looked anxiously towards the spot whence the scream had proceeded. Not so the minister; Mr. Lauchlan knew that voice, and well did he understand the cause of the sufferer's distress. Without a word of inquiry he came down from the tent, stepped over among the people till he had reached the spot; and taking Kate kindly by the hand, led her through the astonished crowd to the communion table, and seated her alone at its head. He next ordered the elements to be brought forward, and replaced upon the table; and there sat that one solitary blind being, alone in the midst of thousands-every eye of the vast multitude turned in wonder upon the lonely communicant-she herself all unconscious of their gaze. O for the pen of Bunyan or of Boston, to trace the tumult of feelings that chased each other through that swelling, bursting breast! The secrets of that heart have never been revealed; but right confident am I, that if there be one text of Scripture which more than another embodies the uppermost emotion in her mind during that hour of intense and thrilling spiritual excitement, it must have been the sentiment of one who knew

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well what it was to have been humbled in the dust like Kate: "This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I AM THE CHIEF.”

The words which Mr. Lauchlan chose as the subject of his address, were well-nigh as extraordinary as any part of the occurrence; they were the words of Moses to Pharaoh (Exod. x. 26): "There shall not an hoof be left behind”– a manifest accommodation of the sentiment, "Those that thou gavest me I have kept, and none of them is lost." I regret that I cannot furnish the reader with any notes of that wonderful address, in which, however, the speaker obtained most singular liberty. But the leading idea was, that all who had been given in covenant by the Eternal Father to the Son, were as safe as if they were already in heaven, and that not one soul should be forsaken or left to perish-"No, not so much as Muckle Kate !" This extraordinary service was ever afterwards known as "Muckle Kate's Table," and it is said, that by that single address no fewer than two hundred souls were awakened to spiritual concern, which ripened in many instances into deep and genuine piety. The minister to whom allusion has been made was himself acquainted with nine of these inquirers, who traced their earliest impressions to that table service, and all of whom were, at the time of his acquaintance with them, eminently godly characters. "Muckle Kate" herself lived about three years after her first communion, possessed of that "peace which passeth all understanding," and manifesting all the marks of a close and humble walk with God.

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"PUSH IT ASIDE."

"Pus it aside, and let it float down stream," said the captain of a steamboat on a small western river, as we came upon a huge log lying crosswise in the channel, near to a large town at which we were about to stop. The headway of the boat had already been checked, and with a trifling effort the position of the log was changed, and it moved onward toward the Mississippi. On it went, perhaps to annoy others as it had annoyed us-to lodge here and there until it becomes so water-soaken, that the heavier end will sink into a sand-bar, and the lighter project upward," thus forming a sawyer," or a snag." It would have taken a little more effort to cast it high upon, the land, but no one on board appeared to think of doing that, or anything else, save getting rid of it as easily as possible, for it had not yet become a formidable evil. By-and-by, if a steamboat should be going down the river, and strike against it, causing a loss of thousands of dollars, if not of life, hundreds will ask the old question, if something cannot be done to remedy such evils, without stopping to inquire whether they cannot be prevented.

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Now this is the way in which some of us work, who profess to have a better knowledge than that

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