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The second inference, that the Jews occupy a remarkable place in the economy of God's dealings with mankind. But this very fact has been repeatedly urged as an argument against all interference with the Jews, that the place which the Jews occupy is so remarkable, that it is assigned to them by heaven, that their hardships as well as their "blindness" are judicial, that at the worst our progenitors were only instruments in the hands of the Almighty to do his pleasure, that by our sympathies with Judah's offspring, and our efforts to convert them, we may 66 haply be found to fight against God." How faithless, how selfish, how heartless this reasoning is, let scripture and experience shew. Was Judas, who betrayed his Master, justified? Was conscience-stricken Pilate guiltless when he pronounced the unjust sentence on the Lord of life? Both were bringing about the everlasting purposes of God. Let the horrid end of the one and the self-convicting language of the other declare. Was the relentless, selfish, murderous conduct of Henry VIII. held harmless in the sight of heaven, when by his cruelty he advanced the blessed reformation? Were those who chained the martyr to the stake, and fanned the flame which agonized him, quite blameless, because "the blood of the martyrs was the seed of the church?" Every religious persecution was mercy when compared to the conduct of the Gentile church towards her elder and afflicted brother; her members have "stood on the other side and looked on their brother Jacob in the day that he became a stranger." And, if they have done so, they are guilty of fratricide, and their "brother's blood crieth from the ground." We have seen the desolation of Jacob, and the children of God's friend left with "neither root nor branch;" and, whether we regard the scene of their exile, their feelings, or their remembrance of Zion, we must mourn over their degradation, their injuries, and their sorrows, and devoutly acknowledge that they have peculiar claims on our sympathy, on account of the remarkable place which they occupy in the economy of God's dealings with mankind.

We have monopolized the blessings which give the Jews peculiar claims on our gratitude.

We have accumulated their miseries which have a demand upon our sympathy.

How deeply then must we be anxious to restore them to their privileges, which we have withheld, to alleviate the sufferings which our forefathers inflicted! We have the first, best age of the church for our guidance; and from the premises of scripture which we have adduced, "the sum of the whole matter" is this, that the Jews have peculiar claims on our gratitude on account of the great spiritual blessings which we have received through them; and that they have peculiar claims on our sympathy on account of the remarkable place which they occupy in the economy of God's dealings with mankind.

Prophecies may encourage, but not instruct us how to act. In treating of the Jews we would urge commands, rather than insist upon prophecy. In the New Testament we have a rule for our conduct. For comfort we may refer to promises of prophecy, such as the following:-" Thus saith God, I will lift up my hand to the Gentiles, and set up my standard to the people, and they shall bring thy sons in their arms, and thy daughters shall be carried on their shoulders, and kings shall be thy nursing fathers, and their queens thy nursing mothers." And doubtless God is "lifting up" the hand of his providence, and pointing us Gentiles to Israel. Persecution has well nigh ceased to hunt them: their feelings to Christians are less hostile. The power which Turkey once exercised against them now admits them to Zion. The holy city hails her sons: the rabbinical influence is losing ground. England, the guardian of the Christian religion, is now at peace. Twice has the tempest

of war swept over Syria from Egypt within the last forty-three years, and twice has the invader been driven back within this period; and mainly by a part of Britain's navy, apparently inadequate to the purpose, especially in the recent victory before the walls of Acre-Acre, the key of the Holy Land, so famous in the crusades under Richard 1. for a siege of two years, in which three hundred thousand Christian soldiers perished, before the banners of England and France were seen floating in triumph on its walls. Buonaparte was unconquered and irresistible, till discomfited by the land defences of Acre.

Sidon, and Tyre, and Mount Carmel are abandoned to the friends of Israel. So that we may pass over "that ancient river," Kishon, with the bible in our hand ; we may advance and see Jerusalem stretched before us, and look upon the "Mount of Olives," and panse in the garden of Gethsemane; or, stand by "The Brook Cedron," and view a thousand interesting objects of this hallowed land. God had declared that Egypt should be the basest of the kingdoms, and that it should "no more rule over the nations." And so the event: Egypt has been subject to the Babylonians, Persians, Romans, and Saracens, and is now confirmed in the integrity of the Ottoman or Turkish empire. That Egypt will be the scene of Israel's return, we infer from the eleventh chapter of Isaiah; therefore solemn are the interests involved in the results of the late war in Syria, announced at Jerusalem on the 5th November, 1840, in favour of the sultan. In short, mountains of difficulty are melting down before the standard of the cross. The very depth of that gloom which has been thickening for ages, is the harbinger of "the day-spring from on high." The first faint streaks of gospel light are already stealing through the distant horizon, and bringing on the dawn to gild the long neglected and benighted hills of Judah-the brightening prelude of the "Sun of Righteousness." Cheered by this prospect, we may contemplate with sacred delight the first stone of a Christian church which, in February 1840, was laid on Mount Zion. The building has been partially raised, and materials collected. Here you may behold the church of the Redeemer rising from that very spot consecrated by his blood, and destined to be the splendid scene of his universal triumph. The psalms of David, as they fell from his own inspired lips, will once more awake the sweetest echoes of God's holy hill.

The church of England, with all her fulness of catholic doctrine and evangelical truth, will minister in filial homage to the church first planted at Jerusalem, "which is the mother of us all." If it "is more blessed to give than to receive," will you not help us to send back that faith once delivered to the saints of Jerusalem, and handed down to our fathers and to us? Thus you may associate, as it were, the history, the labours, and the blood of the primitive yet strictly protestant martyrs, "who counted not their life dear unto them." Yes, my dear brethren, "Ye that make mention of the name of the Lord, keep not silence, and give him no rest, until he make Jerusalem the praise of the whole earth;" that so, O Lord, thy word may not only be a light " to lighten the Gentiles," but also "the glory of thy people Israel;" thus "the redeemed of the Lord shall return, and come with singing unto Zion, and everlasting joy shall be upon their heads ;. they shall obtain gladness and joy, and sorrow and mourning shall flee away."

THE CHAOS:

A Sermon

(For New Year's Day)

BY THE REV. JOHN MATTHEWS, M.A., Curate of Langley-Burrell, Wilts.

GEN. i. 2.

"And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters." THE ending of one year, and the beginning of another, are events calculated to bring many profitable reflections to our minds, and that more forcibly than most other periods of time; owing, perhaps, to these circumstances: that a year is the longest division of time, and that few of them happen in our lives; that, when a year has just ended, one large portion of our existence is passed into eternity; that the beginning and the end of the year in this hemisphere happen in a dreary season, and at a time when nature appears least lovely, wearied and exhausted; that we are accustomed to look forward to the end of the year as a time of deadness and darkness and suffering, but to the beginning of the new that, as soon as its first morning dawns upon us, we may then begin to lift up our heads with joy, cheered with the promise of returning spring, and with the fond expectation of warm, bright, and lengthened days. Hence, on the one hand, at the dying away of the old year, we may be led to more spiritual reflections, to think upon the langour of old age, the approaching days of suffering and death, and more especially upon that solemn period of time when the awful will of God, declared by his angel in Revelation, shall be accomplished: "Who sware by him that liveth for ever and ever, who created heaven and the things that therein are, and the sea and the things which are therein, that there should be time no longer." There shall then be no severe return of winter, no sweet return of spring, no change of day and night; but all shall be swallowed up in eternity eternal darkness and eternal suffering shall rest upon the dwellings of the ungodly; but eternal light and warmth and joy upon the habitation of the just.

For, as the ending of the year leads to these reflections on the one hand, so, on the other hand, entering on the new year, with spring and summer before us, is strongly calculated to encourage us in looking forward to a new and heavenly life, to an eternal spring, eternal summer, an eternal day in heaven, where darkness cannot dwell. But it is not less suited to lead our reflections back to the beginning of time, to the first day when God arose to form and adorn the worlds, and to appoint the returns of day and

night, of years and seasons, for the use of mortals.

The text is easily divided into two parts: first, the earth was without form, and void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep: second, the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.

I. The first subject then for our consideration is the state of the world in the beginning of time. The earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep: that is, the earth lay a hideous, barren, and desolate heap; as a waste, howling wilderness, earth and sea mingled together-" the earth standing out of the water, and in the water," without order or control; the wild roaring waters dashing over the mountains and sweeping through the plains; now overwhelming one part, now another, and rendering all useless. Not a single tree, not a single plant, not a blade of grass was to be seen upon the whole of the earth's surface; not a single living creature had yet moved or existed, either in earth or sea: all was empty, barren, and desolate. Added to this, the blackest darkness covered the whole: "and darkness," says the text, 66 was upon the face of the deep." The sun and moon and start were not yet created; nor was there light from any other source, till God commanded, There was therefore the most awful confusion and desolation, buried in horrors of the thickest gloom; the world appearing like one vast and gloomy cavern, the womb of darkness. The blackest and most miserable night of the desolate winter may assist in bringing the scene to our imagination, though it may be but a very faint resemblance. Now think for a time on this comfortless scene of things: bring it to your imagination: set it before your eyes. How short and wretched must have been the existence of creatures, if God had doomed any to dwell in such a state!— how utterly impossible would it have been for them to fix a comfortable habitation, or to remedy one even of the existing evils! Where should we have made our pleasant homes and warm fire-sides? Could we "have commanded the morning, and caused the dayspring to know its place?" Could we have driven away the darkness? or "have shut up the sea with doors," and have said unto it"Hitherto shalt thou come, but no further; and here shall thy proud waves be stayed?" As well might we now attempt to place ourselves on some barren rock in the midst of the sea, and say, "Here shall be my resting-place for ever; here will I plant me vineyards, and build me a quiet dwelling, and the waters shall not come near." The returning tide would perhaps put an end to all our hopes, and also to our existence.

1. Here then we are led to reflect, first, upon the wisdom and goodness of God manifested in his gracious design in the creation. God had no design to form creatures for misery, but for happiness, as the apostle declares when speaking of the Christian dispensation: "God hath not appointed us to wrath, but to obtain mercy by Jesus Christ." So here he had determined to make man; but to make him, not a child of sorrow, but a comfortable and happy creature: he therefore first begins, with infinite goodness, to prepare him a pleasant and goodly dwelling-place. But which among the angels would have supposed that he would form it from this gloomy chaos, this miserable and barren spot we have been considering? They had no such power themselves, not the mightiest of them; and it is probable they did not yet know the almighty power of God, or, at least, that they had not seen it so marvellously displayed. When, therefore, he fixed the foundation of the earth, and formed the world, he tells Job that then "the morning stars sung together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy:" they sung of the mighty power and glory of God: they shouted for joy at the goodness and wisdom of their everlasting Father, here displayed so gloriously. And who, my brethren, when he hears and considers for a moment the declaration of the text, and then casts his eyes around, above, and beneath him, upon the wonderful change which God has wrought upon the beauty and order and usefulness of all things, who can refuse or avoid bowing in deepest adoration before him who by his Spirit has also gathered together the great and the wide sea, wherein are creatures innumerable, supplying food for this life; "and there go the ships," now winging their way on its bosom, with the food that never perishes, heralds of the gospel of peace, where once they were only as furies of war, thirsting for blood?

And, as the Spirit composed and regulated the waters under the firmament, so did he the waters that are above. "By his Spirit," says Job, “he hath garnished the heavens:" therefore the beauty and grandeur of the clouds adorning the heavenly canopy; their convenient station and usefulness, either to protect the tender herb with mantles of snow, dove-like emblem of his own pure love, or to enrich the earth with their showers, or to screen us from the burning sunbeam: this was the work of the Spirit of God. And doubtless these words of Job are designed to teach us that he also set forth the stars in their courses, and clothed them with living brightness. Thus, when we consider the works of the Holy Spirit, how lovely does he himself appear to us!-how worthy of our

highest adoration and gratitude! Indeed, when we meditate upon the separate works of the three divine Persons of the blessed Trinity, we know not which to love and adore the most; and arrive reasonably at the conclusion, that all are equally glorious, equally to be loved and worshipped.

But, further, the word here translated "moved," literally means settled or brooded, and it is understood by some to express that act of the Holy Spirit by which he imparted life and activity. This is the peculiar office of the Holy Spirit, "it is the Spirit that quickeneth," saith our Saviour: "the Spirit giveth life," says St. Paul: it was the Spirit that "raised Jesus from the dead :" it is the Spirit that shall breathe upon our dry bones, that they may live; for in like manner it was the Spirit of God that entered Adam, and man became a living soul. And here, in the text, we are to understand that by moving upon the waters he imparted vitality to the innumerable creatures that swim in the depths of the seas, and equally so to whatsoever moveth upon the face of the earth. To this Holy Spirit of God then we are indebted, not only for our own life and preservation from day to day and from year to year, but for all those living creatures which increase and multiply to supply us with food and clothing, and many other comforts. As often, therefore, as we use them, should not our hearts be grateful to him who is the author of them, and take heed not to abuse them?

Now, my brethren, we have considered the state of this world before the word of God and the Spirit of God began their operations upon it. You have seen its disorder and confusion, its barren, empty, and useless condition, and the utter darkness in which it was buried. You have seen also what the word and Spirit of God have been able to effect: you see around you in earth, and sea, and skies, what goodness and blessedness is imparted to the whole creation. You have seen, then, an exact representation of the fallen state of man, and what the word and Spirit of God, and these only, can do for him. The whole soul and body of man without these is without form, and void: his heart is a misshapen, hideous, and disordered mass of empty, unprofitable, and good-for-nothing matter; and, when the Holy Spirit of God enters it, he finds it lifeless, dark, and barren, and, like the unrestrained and troubled waters, all ruinous and in wild disorder, as in chaos. That this is the state of man, and that therefore he is fit for nothing else but destruction, except he is rendered "fit for a habitation of God through the Spirit," holy scripture very clearly declares: we are, it says, while unrenewed, "sitting in darkness and the

shadow of death:" our hearts are like "the | his heavens with such creatures: think not troubled waters, which cast up mire and that he will suffer the holiness and harmony dirt;" for "there is no peace," saith God, of heaven to be interrupted by unsubdued, "to the wicked," nothing but trouble and deformed man: let us not suffer ourselves to confusion: we are inwardly "like whited be deceived by such a vain hope: a change sepulchres, full of dead men's bones;" "dead must be wrought in us, and it must be an enin trespasses and sins:" "there is no life in tire change, like the world from chaos. So There is, as in chaos, a continued strife thoroughly must the change be wrought, that, of elements within us, a continual war and in the language of holy scripture, we are said confusion among 66 "our lusts, which war in to be "born again"-to become new creaour members :" we 66 are full of uncleanness," tures," or 66 a new creation:" so that, if truly ungodliness, intemperance, and sin: while converted and truly renewed unto God by the ungoverned waters struggle for a vent, his word and Spirit, we know ourselves altoand rage and swell, the earth is rent and torn gether different from what we once were; asunder, and at last overwhelmed; and thus, our thoughts, desires, and pursuits, directed while one desire, one lust, one inclination in to an end directly opposed to what they would our frame rages, and is indulged, another part be, did we know nothing of the word of God. of us is convulsed and disordered, and at last We have new desires, new objects of pursuit; perhaps "sudden destruction comes upon us." namely, following after godliness, usefulness, This is the description which scripture gives and goodness towards man and towards God. us of our natural state; and is not this correct? We now have respect to all God's commandDo not we ourselves know that this is indeed ments: we regard Christ as our only Sathe case? Are we not then a miserable viour, through the atoning blood of his cross, chaos? Whatever, therefore, are we good our example and our guide. Our passions for, or what can we naturally expect, but de- no longer lead the way: they are kept within struction? and yet we have souls which can due bounds: the deeds of the flesh are mortinever be destroyed, souls which can suffer fied and subdued: order and consistency is eternally; and of ourselves we cannot escape established in our hearts: "darkness is past; this: "we can do nothing;" nay, we have the true light now shineth"-the light of divine brought just destruction on ourselves, because grace in our souls: the peaceable fruits of we have sinned against God. righteousness-"love, joy, peace, temperance," are implanted in us; and thus, by the power of the word and by the adorning, composing, and renewing of the Holy Spirit, as at the creation, our bodies are rendered meet for the temple of God, are useful to men, and a praise to their Maker; and while we learn to adore, and ascribe all the glory to, the everlasting Trinity-for it is thy doing, and thine only, O Lord-God can now again say to us," Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it."

Here then we see the free mercy of God towards us, in his willingness to rescue us from this chaotic state. Here too we see the power of the Word of God, Christ Jesus, and of the Spirit of God, in accomplishing a change in us; the absolute need we have of them; and how precious we ought to consider them for they and they only can do it. May we never be guilty of slighting the commands and instructions of the one, or the influences of the other; nor cease to seek them till our whole body is full of light, and renewed in holiness.

And O, my brethren, that this sight of ourselves could teach us, with Job, to "abhor ourselves;" and, with Isaiah, to consider ourselves as "unclean things," and humble us in the dust before God. For in the beginning it was not so: God made man perfect, harmonizing with the rest of his glorious works, and pronounced him good. But our own wickedness has defaced this goodly work, has introduced all this confusion and darkness within us, has attempted to mingle heaven, earth, and hell together; ruining all things that God made lovely; and the human frame is now too easily become the habitation of devils, and of all uncleanness.

It is plain, then, that a change must be wrought in us if we would be saved: for think not, my brethren, that God will pollute

This change then, my brethren, from darkness to light, from barrenness to fruitfulness, from confusion to peace, from sin to holiness and loveliness, and happiness, in short "from the power of Satan unto God," this change is needed in all, and none can be saved without it; and it is the work of the word and Spirit of God: none other can do it: none other has any part in it. I say it is the work of the word and Spirit: not the word alone, nor the Spirit alone; but it is the work of the two conjointly. And, like as the Spirit first brooded upon the waters before the word was heard, when the works of creation came forth so beautiful, just so must the Spirit of God first brood upon our hearts, to prepare them for receiving the word, before the word can take effect. We must therefore pray, in the only name through which our prayers can be heard, namely, in the name and through the merits

and precious blood-shedding of our only and
blessed Redeemer, we must pray for the gra-
cious influences of this Spirit; and though we
are altogether worthless, yet God has gra-
ciously promised, by and through his Son
Jesus, that he will give his Holy Spirit to
them that ask him:" and if we cease to op-picion that her end was so near.
pose him by our own depraved will, if we
submit our will to his, and yield a ready obe-
dience, we shall soon perceive in ourselves a
new and delighted creation, and shall rejoice
before God with joy unspeakable and full of
glory, like as when, at the formation of the
material world, "the morning stars sung to-
gether, and all the sons of God shouted for
joy." Amen.

living about half a mile distant, lay at the point of
death, and desired above all things to see me, and to
give the last testimony of her faith in the Redeemer.
The story was calculated to rouse even a careless
clergyman, and such I certainly was not; but it
made only a slight impression upon me (though I
did not altogether disbelieve it), because I had seen
the woman two days before, and entertained no sus-
My mind also being
otherwise occupied, I contented myself with telling
the boy that I would come to his mother by-and-by.
The poor fellow appeared exceedingly disappointed,
but made no reply. I remembor that, after about

THE WARNING*.

WHETHER we receive each special circumstance which befals us in the light of a particular providence exclusively our own, on which subject I do not propose to argue here, or whether we regard the common or uncommon incidents of life merely as manifestations of those fixed laws by which God governs the world, no doubt ought to exist that they demonstrate equally the being and the care of a superintending power; and when such incidents partake of the character of warnings which impress the mind with much alarm, or of strange and unexpected preservations, or of chastisements, or misfortunes apparently unsusceptible of solution as of cause and effect, and (as men term them) out of the ordinary course of nature, we are the more easily induced to discern and to acknowledge a hidden source, a power which oversees and governs all things. But this indefinite principle will not satisfy reflecting minds. The design must be fathomed. Now the design, however manifest it may be, is only practically illustrated by the issue: not of course that the issue will always reveal the design to every observer, for God does not expose his system to the carnal eye of man; but the issue does commonly so illustrate practically the design, as that many persons can draw a tolerably just inference respecting it, and all persons are led, if they will follow the divine leading, to "consider their ways."

I was very emphatically called on about this time to consider mine. I had been recently collated to a

the lapse of a minute, I happened to turn round, not well knowing why. My young friend still stood as I had left him; merely his face was bent towards home, and not looking after me, as might have been supposed. The circumstance soon ceasing to attract my attention, I continued my walk, and forgot it and the message together.

An hour had scarcely expired, when the boy came again. He was sadly distressed, and in tears. He prayed me to accompany him without delay. His mother, he assured me, was on the point of death. "She is going fast, very fast indeed, sir," sobbed the disconsolate youth," and desires to see you for one moment before the breath leaves her." When he delivered this message I was sitting, with my head uncovered, upon the steps of the front door of the house. "I will get my hat," said I, and come presently." "Shall I wait for you, sir?" asked, hesitatingly, the weeping lad. Piqued by the implied distrust, I desired him, with some impatience of tone and manner, to go home.

He obeyed; but as he retired, looked back several times to see whether I followed him. I retained my sitting posture, determined-poor weak creature that I was not to change it till he was out of sight. While thus wilfully offending against duty and conscience, I heard a rumbling noise, proceeding I could not tell from whence. At first I supposed it might be the rolling report of a signal gun from one of the ships of war in the harbour, about five miles distant; a conjecture which the next moment dissipated. It was, as I have stated, a lovely afternoon; not a breath of air disturbed the perfect calm which reigned around hence the fact which I shall relate is the more remarkable. The rumbling sound which I had heard was occasioned by a slate of the roof above me, which, suddenly detaching itself, rolled down the slope, and, before I was aware, fell edgeways upon my unprotected head. Happily I had bent forward in the attitude of listening, and consequently presented an oblique surface to the descending mass. Had Provitably been cloven asunder. From such a fatal issue dence not so ordained it, my skull must have inevithe Lord preserved me; but the sharp substance penetrated to the bone, and prostrated me with exces

benefice, my probationary period as a curate having
terminated. This professional advancement was in a
great measure the means of maturing, or at least of
accelerating, my intentions relative to forming a
matrimonial alliance, from which the principal happi-sive violence upon the earth.
ness of my life has been derived. It is hoped that
the engrossing character of the emotions which my
state of mind yielded to, may explain, and in part
extenuate, the misconduct I here proceed to relate.
It was on the afternoon of a fine Sunday in June,
when, having concluded divine service in the parish
church of
I was walking slowly and alone
towards the house wherein I at that time sojourned,
the parsonage being in progress of repair. Scarcely
had I proceeded above a hundred paces, when a boy
of fourteen or fifteen years of age overtook me.
was quite out of breath from running and the heat
of the day, and remained for nearly a minute unable
to speak from agitation. At length he hastily an-
nounced that his mother, the wife of a blacksmith,

I was quite stunned, and bled profusely. But O! how was I moved, when, recovering my senses, I perceived amongst the most active of four or five persons who had come to my relief, the very boy whose entreaties I had so unfeelingly disregarded!

It was he indeed who had given the first alarm, for he had seen the slate fall, and instantly ran back. While he staid beside me, rendering such services as he could, his sister, a child of ten years of age, came crying up the avenue, sent to make a last appeal to the procrastinating minister. He

From "Pastoral Annals." By an Irish Clergyman. 8vo. London: Seeley and Burnside. 1841.

Alas! the time was

gone by when that appeal could be responded to― "The harvest was past, the summer was ended”—the poor woman remained without a pastor. To the child, whom her brother signed to hold her peace, I could give no answer; to the mother I had denied the consolation which it was no longer in my power to bestow. My spirit accused me with justice of a fla

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