THE CHRISTIAN TREASURY. 589 THE BELIEVER'S AFFLICTIONS; HIS PROSPECTS; THE INFLUENCE OF THE ONE UPON THE OTHER; AND THE STATE OF MIND REQUISITE TO THE EFFICACY OF THAT INFLUENCE. BY RALPH WARDLAW, D.D., GLASGOW. Continued from page 509, and concluded. THERE was one point, which, had space ad- he, poor man, is all unconscious. What are they mitted of it, should have been noticed at the to him? They attract and fix the admiring eyes close of last paper, namely, the reason assigned of survivors; but he, borne along, shrouded, for the believer's preference in judgment, and and coffined, cold and insensible, knows noin desire, of" the things that are unseen" to thing of it. All that he had, he has no longer. the "things which are seen." It is contained It is no more his. It has passed to others. in the words-"For the things which are seen "The things that are seen are temporal." They ARE TEMPORAL; but the things which are not all end with life.-"But the things which are not seen ARE ETERNAL." And is not the reason seen are eternal." All that pertains to the unconclusive? Is not the ground of preference seen world—the world beyond the grave--has rational and satisfactory! "The things that are divinely impressed upon it the stamp of perpeseen are temporal." The expression may be under-tuity. Nothing there is temporal. All, whestood in two senses. It may refer to the dura- ther of enjoyment or of suffering, of blessing or ion of the world itself; or it may refer to the of curses, on the light or on the dark side of the duration of each individual life. The world impassable gulf, is to last for ever. It is to the shall have an end. Its days are numbered. | light side that the passage under review directs Its last is fixed. "The day of the Lord will our attentions. The blessings of that invisible come as a thief in the night; in the which the world to which, by the eye of faith, believers heavens shall pass away with a great noise; and "look," are blessings which are to be coeval the elements shall melt with fervent heat: the with their own future being; and that being is earth also, and the things that are therein, destined, by Him who has given it, to be coeval shall be burned up." (2 Pet. iii. 10.) But that with his own. It is everlasting; not, indeed, like day may be distant. There is to each of us a his own, by any necessity of existence, but nearer day, and a shorter period. "The things (which, in point of certainty, is the same thing) which are seen are temporal." How long soever by the determinate counsel of his will; by his the world may continue to exist after we have sovereign appointment, whose will and whose left it when we do leave it, we have done power there is nothing in the universe to conwith it. The time of our stay in it can, even trol. He wills the eternity of our being, and the at the longest, be but short. And, short as it is, eternity of the world in which it is to be passed; it is every moment uncertain. The present and that ensures both. "ETERNAL!" O how moment is no security for the next. And when utterly beyond the grasp of our most enlarged the last moment comes, when the latest breath conceptions the duration expressed by that s drawn, the world to us is at an end. We re- word! Had we a proper impression even of turn to it no more. Nothing remains to us what we can take in of its unlimited meaning, but the results of our character and conduct how little, how trivial, how unworthy of the while in it. All that it has yielded to us of en- eager pursuit with which we are prone to seek joyment, of whatever kind, and in whatever them, of the trembling solicitude with which degree, is over-finally and for ever. How we retain them, and of the poignant regrets strikingly and touchingly simple, yet how irre- with which we part with them, would all things sistibly conclusive, are all the representations that are merely temporal appear! In God's of the divine word on such subjects! "We estimate of the happiness of an immortal creabrought nothing into this world, and it is certain ture, the estimate formed by infinite wisdom, we can carry nothing out." No. Men may talk the whole extent of that creature's existence is of dying rich. Who dies rich? Death strips necessarily taken into account. It is impossiall. The richest man dies as poor as the poorest. ble to imagine it otherwise. So, then, ought it "When he dieth he shall carry nothing away: his to be in ours. If it is not, our very admission glory shall not descend after him." Even of that in that of infinite wisdom it is and must the cost and splendour of his funeral obsequies be, is an admission of our own folly. Yet thus No. 50* foolish we all were, before we were taught of God: and thus foolish are the multitude of our fellow-men around us. Alas! for the wretched infatuation! "What will they do in the end thereof?" If, to them, time comes to a close before they have any provision made for eternity: if, having "looked at the things which are seen," they have nothing else and nothing more in possession when they come to die, and when, at death, possession must end; no blessings remaining which they can carry with them; nothing the property of the deathless soul, to be borne away by it in its flight from earth! O how "poor, and miserable, and wretched, and blind, and naked," will they feel themselves, when "The world recedes and disappears!" And when, instead of feeling themselves delightfully free of all its bonds, in a cheering anticipation of a "hope that maketh not ashamed," they strive in vain to keep their hold of it, and, clenching it with their latest grasp, the convulsive grasp of death itself, are torn away from it by the resistless power of the "king of terrors." "O that men were wise, that they understood this, that they would consider their latter end;" and "choose the good part that shall never be taken away from them!" 66 But we must now notice very briefly.— 3. The necessity of the state of mind described to the salutary influence of the believer's afflictions. This seems evidently expressed by the connection of the 18th verse with what precedes. The light afflictions" are represented as "working for us the far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory, WHILE WE LOOK not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen." The afflictions have no such natural tendency and necessary effect in themselves. There is a 66 sorrow of the world," of which our apostle elsewhere speaks as "working death." True, in the connection in which that expression stands, it refers more immediately to that description of sorrow for sin in which there is nothing truly spiritual or gracious, but which is inspired solely by the thought of the penal consequences which sin draws after it; a sorrow which would instantly vanish and leave the sinful indulgence to be persisted in with all possible avidity, could the assurance but be given that there was no hell: yet may the words, in their full emphasis, be applied to that worldly sorrow for the ills of life which arises entirely from the ills themselves; in which there is no concern for sin as their cause, nor for the divine displeasure indicated by them; and whose only effect is that of dissatisfaction with the divine procedure, "fretting against the Lord," the spirit of insubordination and rebellion; and which thus "works death," by augmenting guilt and aggravating condemnation. Our afflictions have the effect which the text ascribes to them, “while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen;" that is, they have it, when the mind is in a duly spiritual frame, spiritually impressed, spiritually exercised. If the mind is "looking at the things which are seen," if it is fixing its thoughts and its desires upon the world and the things of the world, then those afflictions, which take away the objects doted upon, and overwhelm the spirit with the feeling of irreparable loss of a blank which nothing else can supply-might have no other effect than that of drawing forth the discontented and irritated complaint of Micah, " They have taken away my gods, and what have I more?" or the fretful sullenness of Jonah, when he lost his gourd, and said, even to God himself," I do well to be angry." The lesson is, that it requires the exercise of a spiritual frame of mind, duly to profit by afflictions, to derive from them their full measure of intended benefits. I am very far from meaning to say that afflictions may not, by the Spirit of God, be made the instrument of re-producing this very frame, when there has been a yielding to worldly influences, and it has become low, languishing, and dead. Many a time has affliction had this resuscitating influence. But what I mean is, that, in order to the full efficacy of the afflictive discipline, this spiritual frame of mind requires to be in exercise. First of all, "looking" heightens estimation, and quickens desire. The objects are so inexhaustible, that it is not by any hasty glance we can appreciate their value; and such is their surpassing excellence and glory, that the desire after them can never be excessive. Now we are all sensible from experience, that it is when we gaze in fondness on the object of our heart's love, that the fondness grows in tenderness and intensity. And so it is with the contemplation of heavenly things. It elevates admiration, and draws forth desire. The more we "look" at them, the more are our them; and the more our affections are set upon them, the more earnest and persevering becomes our pursuit of them. We "count all things but loss" for them. Then, further, the "looking," the contemplation, has an assimilating effect upon the mind. Alluding to the affections set" upon 66 THE BELIEVER'S AFFLICTIONS, &c. lustre of the face of Moses, when he came down from Sinai, after his secret communings with the God of Israel, when it had caught the radiance of the glorious symbols of the divine presence, the apostle says: "We all, with open (unveiled) face, beholding, as in a glass, the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image, from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord." And just as by dwelling mentally on the moral beauties—the glorious perfections-of the divine character, we grow in likeness to Him whom we contemplate, receiving and reflecting the light of God; so by our looking at the things which are unseen and eternal," by contemplating them in the fixedness of mental vision, and spiritual meditation, we lose our earthliness-we become more spiritually-minded and heavenly-we draw down the spirit of heaven into our souls-we become increasingly" meet for the inheritance of the saints in light." And lastly, the apostle here teaches us, that such is, in a special manner, the case, when we are so engaged in seasons of affliction. In such seasons, we have the lesson before our eyes, and we have it impressed upon our minds by deep-felt experience, of the precarious, changeful, unsatisfactory character of all earthly things: and this is brought into contrast with the substantiality, the preciousness, the security, the permanence of the unseen, the heavenly, the eternal. The contrast deepens the impression, and thus gives the greater efficacy to the transforming influence. There arises in the soul a longing desire after the future blessedness, and after the "living fountains" from which it is to flow. And this hope and longing desire necessarily produce a corresponding and proportionate eagerness after those fountains, as far as they are accessible, in the present life; so that from that which we expect to be the spring of our perfected happiness above, we look for our true, though still imperfect, happiness below. If we anticipate perfect happiness to spring from perfect holiness hereafter, the sincerity of that anticipation cannot fail to evince itself in our seeking our happiness from holiness now. Such is the lesson taught us by John, when he say's, "It doth not yet appear what we shall be; but we know that when He shall appear, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is: and every man that hath this hope in him, purifieth himself, even as he is pure." (1 John iii. 2, 3.) The vanity of the world, when rightly felt (and it is one of the designs and effects of affliction to awaken and deepen the feeling), 591 makes us seek the more earnestly the blessings of the "kingdom which cannot be moved:" and the nature of those blessings, and the character of that kingdom, duly impressed upon our minds, must necessarily incite us to seek now the qualifications for the enjoyment of them, so far as they are now attainable. In all this, what a motive to stedfast, unflinching perseverance? And such is the use which is here made of it: "for which cause we faint not." Elsewhere he says, "We are saved by hope." The hope sustains, animates, invigorates us. Under its influence, we bear up, and we press on. When our afflictions abound, our consolations abound. Our afflictions themselves, though in their own nature "not joyous, but grievous," are yet, by their salutary influence, converted into blessings. The love, of God is in them. And for the full and eternal enjoyment of that love they contribute to prepare us. In that they shall all end. In that they shall all be swallowed up and forgotten. Surely, both now and hereafter," blessed are the people that are in such a case; yea, blessed that people whose God is the Lord." My space is already filled. I cannot, however, close these papers, without, for a few moments, pressing upon fellow-believers the inquiry, whether, in their general deportment, the distinctive feature of the Christian character here specified, and associated with the happy influence of affliction, be sufficiently marked and apparent "looking not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen?" Is the line of demarcation between believers and the world sufficiently broad and manifest? There ought to be no difficulty in knowing a Christian from a man of the world. Is it so? Is there any such evident difference, in the keenness and the solicitude with which "the things that are seen" are pursued, in the use that is made of them when acquired, and in the regrets experienced and expressed for them when they are lost, as to make it apparent, in regard to the Christian, that they are not his portion-not the objects at which he "looks," which in his mind he prefers, and which in his heart he supremely desires? Is there, among professors of the faith, a sufficient amount of that lofty spirituality of mind, that " deadness to the world," that "crucifying of the flesh," that "setting of the affections on things above," that "laying up for themselves of treasures in heaven," and, because the treasure is there, "having the heart there also," of which the Bible ever speaks as being essential to the cha racter of the child of God and the heir of heaven? Do Christians bear, in sufficient prominence and distinctness, the impress of heaven? Do they appear before the world, as strangers and pilgrims on the earth," who "have here no continuing city, but are seeking one to come?" who are regarding and anticipating, as their inheritance, "the better country?" Is the difference such that the world can be at no loss to see it? Is it manifest to them, my fellow-Christians, that you do not, like them, consider the present world as your world, but the world to come? Is this quite apparent, as it ought to be, in your whole general bearing? Is the spirit of "godliness" so thoroughly infused into all your domestic arrangements; all your mercantile transactions, your company, your conversation, your entertainments; the objects about which you take an interest, and which, by your generous liberality and zealous activity, you seek to promote; as that those with whom you intermingle in life "take knowledge of you that you have been with Jesus?" that you have learned his lessons and imbibed his spirit? Or is there, on the contrary, such a general assimilation of your conduct to that of worldly men; such an absorption of your thoughts and anxieties, your time, your talk, your plans, your aims, your efforts, your pleasure when you succeed, and your disappointment, dulness, regret, and grief, when you fail, as that the men of the world must be at a loss to discern the distinction between you and themselves, and would smile in sarcastic surprise, were they to hear you making use of those strong Bible terms in which the preference of things spiritual and eternal is breathed, with such fulness and fervour of heart, by the writers themselves, or the class whom they represent? if they were to hear you, for example, speak of" counting all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Jesus Christ your Lord," of this world "not being your rest," of "the Lord being the portion of your inheritance and cup?" if they were to hear you use the words of the Psalmist: "From men of the world deliver me, who have their por tion in this life: as for me, I shall behold thy face in righteousness; I shall be satisfied when I awake with thy likeness?" if they heard you praying earnestly in the morning, that the world might be crucified to you, and to the world," and then, in following you in your course through the day, should see the prayer answered in the entire immersion of your whole soul in the world, and nothing but you | the world? and day after day the same-amassing just as they do; and, as the hoard accumulates, pushing still the more eagerly, just as they do; spending as they do, and saving and grudging as they do; giving to self and family, to house and establishment, to a name for wealth, and for all that wealth can command, the first place; and, while expending largely for such objects, contributing stintedly, and by solicitation, for purposes of benevolence, and even for those spiritual and eternal interests which are connected with the kingdom of Christ, the salvation of men, the glory of God! pouring out floods for the one, while scanty driblets are, with difficulty, drawn off for the other? Fellow-believers, there is need, on this subject, for great searchings of heart; if we really are of those who "look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen,"-let us show it:-let it appear that this world is not that on which our hearts are set; but that we have higher aims, to which all that we can acquire of it is subordinate and subservient. Let us be consistent. Let us not profess one thing and do the contrary. Let us beware of making ourselves at once a laughing-stock and a stone of stumbling to the men of the world, by giving them reason to say, "What do ye more than others?" and putting into their lips the taunting proverb, "Physician heal thyself!" NO TIME TO THINK. "CAN you spare five minutes-only five?" "Well, what is it, Mr. H-?” "I am desirous to say a word to you on business of some interest." . Business, Mr. H- -! why, I have business enough on hand for a dozen men, with twenty pair of hands." have had ever since I knew you. Have you "I know you have, Mr. A—, and always' made your will?” “ My will, Mr. H—! are you serious?” "Never more so. You are yet in the prime of life, to be sure, but men die every day; and as there is no prospect of your ever having any keep your house in order.' You look surprised,' leisure in this world, it would not be amiss to Mr. A- but listen a moment. The last time I spoke with you (some six weeks since), you admitted that you had some doubt of your being a child of God-it was your duty, you allowed, to have full assurance of a saving interest in Christ, but, though you had been a professed not that evidence of being a child of God, which follower of Jesus some twenty years, you had you knew you ought to have, and which you thought some did possess.' Permit me to ask, THE THEFT AND THE LIE. have you taken any decided measures to remove all doubts in the matter of such immense importance? I anticipate your answer. You have been incessantly occupied, night and day, ever since we parted, harassed with conflicting duties no time to think, or for reading, but on the Sabbath. The daily papers you are obliged to con, but as for new books and common periodicals, you take them all for the benefit of your family, but don't pretend to read them. You must confess, things don't go on just right with your children; you have some misgivings whenever the question arises, whether you are bringing them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord; but then you can't get time to look at these matters. Now, Mr. A-, what shall be the end of these things? By-and-by, you must find time to die; and when you come to lie upon your death-bed, and I come in to pray with you, I shall pray, to be sure, that God would put beneath you his everlasting arm, and that "Jesus would make your dying bed As soft as downy pillows are;" but shall say to myself all the while, it's almost impossible, for he is resting on thorns. His reflections can only be such as these: 'Death!heaven!-what are they? I have had no time to think. What will became of my wife and children? I have had no time to think. Are my children Christians? I have had no time to think. Some of them are professors-I hope my wife is a Christian. Have I done all I could for them! Why, yes-no, not exactly; I am a poor miserable creature to have had the care of immortal souls; but then, I might have taken time, and studied their wants; where there is a will there is a way."" But enough. Reader, "time is the warp of life, O weave it well." Possibly you are erring from the narrow way. Look well to your misgivings. Examine well your hopes of heaven. -Monitor. THE THEFT AND THE LIE. GEORGE was only a little younger than his eldest brother. He was a well-behaved child, and generally obedient to his parents. But George had one fault- he was cunning. Some boys think this shows smartness, but it is very hard to be cunning and truthful at the same time. George could not see this; his parents tried in vain to convince him that the little tricks, by which he outwitted his companions, were all founded on deceit, and partook of a lie. So it came to pass, that though the school-boys all thought George very smart, they called him a slippery fellow. True, there is great probability that the character a boy has at school will go with him as long as he lives. Pray, then, children, that you may begin right. 593 When George was almost nine years of age, he was sent to a neighbouring shop for some thread, which was wanted in the family. When he went in there, he found two or three persons who were to be served before him. As he was looking about, he saw a nice, double-bladed knife on the shelf. It was just what he wanted; he had been wishing for such a knife a long time, and the price was only twenty-five cents. He had exactly that sum in his hand. His brother John would have been likely to have bought the knife without thinking, and then run home to tell all about it; but George never did things in John's way. He did not forget that he had been sent for two hanks of thread, but he looked at the handsome knife, till he could not see anything else. You know that we can think very quick; it was but a little while that he stood by the counter, but many thoughts passed through his mind. First, he thought, I do want that knife; then conscience said, You must not buy it with this money, for it is not yours; then an evil thought came, I can tell mother something; said conscience, That will be lying as well as stealing, wait and save your spending-money. George was almost persuaded by this last thought, and was turning away, when his heart suggested to him, perhaps the knife would be gone before he could get money enough, so he asked the clerk to let him see it. Conscience is a faithful friend, but if we will do wrong, it will stop warning us. George bought the knife; but after he had put it in his pocket it felt as heavy as lead. how he wished it was in the shop again! Why, said he to himself, why do people hang things up to tempt us?-if only I had never seen it! Many a one has asked this question before George. But we must be tried; how else shall we know what we are? If this boy had remembered God's holy commandment, and prayed to him for help to keep it, the desire of having the knife would have gone out of his mind. Oh "My son, you have stayed long," said his mother; "why, what is the matter?" for George was pale, and trembled. "Oh, mama, you know the old shed at the corner of the fence-as I was going past, a drunken man came out, and ran after me, and made me fall down, and the money dropped in the sand, so I lost it." "Oh," said the servant girl, little thinking that she was helping George out with his lie, "that must be the same man that I saw asleep under the fence this morning." George felt relieved; but so far was he from enjoying his dear-bought knife, that he put it away in the bottom of his box, whence he might not see it. He could not help thinking of it, however. The Bible says, "A lying lip is but for a moment;" and again, "Be sure your sin will find you out." So it fared with our cunning boy. To make his story more sure, he had said to |