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he covered his face with his hands, and knelt beside his pulpit apparently lost in inward and intense prayer. The storm passed rapidly away, and the sun, bursting forth in his might, threw across the heavens a magnificent arch of peace. Rising and pointing to the beautiful object, he exclaimed, "Look upon the rainbow, and praise Him that made it. Very beautiful it is, in the brightness thereof. It compasseth the heavens about with glory; and the hands of the Most High have bended it!" On another occasion, he was illustrating some spiritual subject by a poor old beggar, led by a dog, in a dark night, through cold, rain and tempest, the poor wanderer," said he, "wends his way till at last he reaches the edge of a fearful cliff. He does not know of the danger beneath! He does not know that death is there! His dog is not faithless but he is lost. He does not know his way. The night is very dark, and the dog has taken the false step. He is over the cliff! But this poor man holds on. Another step-another step." At this moment up rose a Rustic in the congregation, crying in a scream of distress, "Good heavens! He's gone! Save him, Whitfield!" Does not this far surpass Sheridan's great effort at the Impeachment of Warren Hastings?

The time would fail us, to record the triumphs of Massillon in this field. To Saurin, the Protestant minister of the Hague, of whom it is said, that when he was preaching on one occasion, a military officer rose up and inquired whether it was a god or a mortal that he heard, we can only just allude; as also to Philip of Narnine, of whom we read, that when he preached in the pulpit of Rome, his hearers when going from beneath the sound of his voice, audibly exclaimed, as they passed along the streets, "Lord have mercy upon us!" The immediate effects of that Minister's eloquence were such, that two thousand crowns are said to have been expended in one week, in the purchase of ropes for the formation of whips to inflict the laceration of a self prescribed penance. Nor were the effects of this great master's eloquence confined to the lower orders. When he preached before the POPE, to the Cardinals and Bishops, he represented the evils of non-residence, in so frightful a manner, that from thirty to forty Bishops immediately betook themselves to their neglected dioceses, and when he preached before the University of Salamanca, his eloquence moved 800 students to renounce the pleasures, pomps, and honours of the world, for the monasteries that were open for their reception. How grand a display of oratory must that have been which was signalised by such prodigious effects? What equal number of cases can be cited from the Bar and Senate, to be compared in their effects with the cases now brought before you?

THE MUSTARD-SEED ERA.

Professor Hackett tells us that, when crossing the plains of Akka in Palestine, he saw before him a little grove or nursery of trees. On coming nearer they proved to be a grove of mustard! Some of the trees were full nine feet high, with a trunk of two or three inches in circumference, throwing out branches on every side. He wondered whether they were

strong enough for the birds to "lodge in the branches thereof." Just then a bird stopped in its flight through the air, alighted down on one of the limbs, which hardly moved beneath the weight, and began to warble forth a strain of sweetest music. Professor Hackett was delighted at the incident. His "doubts were charmed away." The "least of all seeds” was actually grown into a substantial tree.

Reading this pleasant incident in Professor Hackett's Eastern Travels not long ago, we fell to thinking how the Church of Christ, and every noble enterprise of Christian love, has had its mustard-seed era. Small beginnings-mighty results; this is the brief epitome of God's kingdom on earth. We look into an upper-chamber in Jerusalem. A little band are gathering. They are mostly obscure people from the out-of-the-way portions of the city. There is not a grandee, or millionaire, or a high official among them. Some of them have just been out to Olivet, to bid a sorrowful adieu to their ascending Master. And now they gather in-a bereaved band-to a chamber which may have been the very one in which the Last Supper had been eaten a few weeks before. There they plant the seed of the Apostolic Church. Peter is there, with his rash, intrepid spirit; and incredulous Thomas, and sagacious James, and the beloved John. The women are there too, not a few. For where was there ever a good enterprise launched without female voices to cheer it, and female hearts to give it aid? Among them is Mary, the mother of the departed Christ.

The first thing they do is to pray. They get the influence of heaven as the pervading element into their souls. Hand in hand they gather round the mercy-seat, and continue with one accord in supplication. Here they knit their souls in fraternal love. Here they plead for the promised Spirit to consecrate the movement. Here they lay the foundations of that church, which will yet plant its outposts at the farthest limits of a redeemed world. What a tree has sprung from that "mustard seed!" Its boughs have gone out over oceans! Its leaves are bright biographies of Christian lives; its flowers emit the fragrance of the King's garden; its fruits are the myriads of the white-robed in Paradise.

So it is with every holy undertaking since the Apostolic age. An "upper room" can hold the germ; but a whole nation or continent cannot contain the outcome of it. The Sixteenth Century Reformation was at one time "the least of all seeds," to human appearance. When Rome was at its highest and its worst, a hooded monk was studying, praying, groping, and struggling in Erfurth Convent. Young Ulric Zwingle was musing over the Scriptures among the waterfalls of Wildhaus. Luther and Zwingle were humble seeds to grow such a giant tree from. But it did grow nevertheless, a magnificent Banian, striking its branches downward, and sending its roots beneath the seas, to spring up on distant shores! All manner of singing-birds have made music "in the branches thereof.

The Puritan movement for colonizing America was once a mustard-seed, floated over in the hold of the Mayflower, and planted under a freezing sky among rocks and ice. At Henry Thornton's house on Clapham Green, Wilberforce and Clarkson nursed the germ of African Emancipation; from that prayer-consecrated dwelling they went forth with the watch-cry of Liberty, to arouse a stiff-necked Parliament and gainsaying people.

It

Every individual church has a mustard-seed era. It was at first small. Perhaps it was born (under God) in some one devout loving heart; or in two or three hearts fired with zeal for Christ. It began in anxiety for souls. It began with prayer and self-denial. It grew by hard work. drew its life from heaven. It spread forth its boughs. The conference of a few warm hearts expanded into a church. That church gave birth to other churches, which in turn will drop their mustard-seeds into new soil, and germinate. What an incentive this is to church-extension, and to aggres

sive work for God and humanity! Reader! you never know what may be the after history of the mustard-seeds your holy zeal may plant. A traveller through a dusty road Strew'd acorns on the lea,

And one took root and sprouted up,
And grew into a tree.

Love sought its shade at evening time,
To breathe its early vows,

And age was pleased, in heats of noon,
To bask beneath its boughs.
The robin loved its dangling twigs,
The birds sweet music bore.
It stood a glory in its place,
A blessing evermore.

So, a thinker dropp'd a fruitful thought,
'Twas old and yet was new-

A simple creature of the brain,
But strong in being true;

The thought was small-its issue great-
A watch-fire on the hill,

It shed its radiance far adown,

And cheers the valley still.

O germ! O light! O word of love!
O thought at random cast!
Ye were but little at the first,
But mighty at the last!

T. L. C.

GODLINESS VIEWED IN CONNEXION WITH
TEMPORAL THINGS.

No. II.

We have seen that Godliness is a preservative of that which is an important accession to human happiness, viz: good health. We have found that by enjoining upon us conformity to the physical laws, under which we are placed, it promotes our welfare, physically.

We intend now to view the influence of Godliness under another aspect. We shall endeavour to show its value in promoting our welfare,

Mentally. We ought to remark, that we use this term in a limited sense. It is not our intention now, as might be supposed, to refer to the stimulating and beneficial influence which it exerts upon those faculties of the mind usually designated "the intellectual powers."

The reader will perceive, as we advance, that we simply refer to the state, and not to the powers, of the mind. We do this, because rightly to estimate the value of Godliness in connexion with temporal things, it is necessary that we should view its influence in this aspect. For in order to enjoy temporal things, as we are all aware, it is absolutely necessary that the mind should be free from anything like anxiety, doubt, or fear. Without a peaceable mind we could not retain the former blessing of good health (the connexion existing between it and the body being so intimate). Supposing however that it was possible to do so, we should remain strangers to happiness and full enjoyment. Clothe a man in "purple and fine linen." Let him "fare sumptuously every day." Grant unto him every temporal blessing that the earth could afford, except the one we have named, and in vain would be your attempts to make that being a happy man. Many a crowned head with a disturbed mind, would willingly have

changed places with the most menial of his subjects, with a mind at ease. Does Godliness then bless its followers with this inestimable boon? Does it so affect the state of the mind as not only to allow us freely to enjoy temporal things, but also actually to increase the happiness which we may derive from them? We feel no hesitation in asserting that it does. There may be,—there undoubtedly are, often great mental disquietude and anguish, when the first rays of its pure light dart into the soul enwrapped in moral darkness. Nevertheless, in its own good time it whispers to the poor distressed mind, "peace, be still," and invariably there follows a great calm. Godliness brings to its possessors "a peace which passeth all understanding," wholly unlike the so-called peace of ungodly men, the world can neither give it nor take it away. Those that walk in the paths which it points out (as numbers can testify) have "great peace." Those beautiful ways into which it leads, are to those who enjoy it, " ways of pleasantness" and "paths of peace." Men often have their minds disturbed by the recollection of past sins. It is only the most hardened that can quell that "still small voice," which ever and anon reminds them that "sin will not go unpunished." Godliness however exempts its followers from suffering continually the lashes of a guilty conscience; they have no gloomy forebodings about sins past. They have believed on the "Lamb of God who taketh away the sin of the world," and although when looking down the vista of their past life, they behold that their "sins have been many," yet relying on the meritorions sacrifice of that Redeemer in whom they have been taught to trust, they feel that they are all forgiven them. The peace of their minds is not disturbed by thinking of their Creator as their inexorable Judge, for Godliness teaches them to regard him as their reconciled Father. With such a mind the reader will readily conceive how much greater will be the pleasure they derive from temporal things. Behold the godly man sallying forth to behold the beauties of nature. He gazes upon the mighty mechanism of the universe with tenfold more interest than he would do, if he was not taught to regard the Almighty ruler of all, as his reconciled Father. With what interest does a mind at peace with God gaze upon the rising and setting

sun.

With what delight does it watch the lovely moon, as alone in her glory, she pursues her midnight track. How delightful for the mind to be at peace with that Being whose omnipotent arm bowled yon little worlds above us into space. The possessor of Godliness

Looks abroad into the varied field

Of nature, and though poor, perhaps compared
With those whose mansions glitter in his sight,
Calls the delightful scenery all his own.
His are the mountains, and the valleys his,
And the resplendent rivers. His to enjoy
With a propriety that none can feel,
But who, with filial confidence inspir'd
Can lift to heaven an unpresumptuous eye,
And smiling say, my Father made them all!

Innumerous ways (as the reader would find by a more minute examination of the subject) does Godliness protect the mind from being disturbed. So long as we yield to its beneficent sway, the mind retains a sweet tranquillity only known to those alone who have experienced it. Who then will say that the Christian is not prepared to be as cheerful and happy as those around him? We have heard professing Christians talk as though Godliness so affected the mind as to unfit us for enjoying lawful temporal blessings. Many worldlings imagine that to embrace Christianity you

must bury yourself in gloom. No smile must ever cross your features. Sombre must be the aspect of your brows. With a sad countenance, like the Pharisees of old, must you wade your way through this earth as a dark howling wilderness. We must confess that we long kept aloof from coming under the influence of Godliness, because, from the appearance, conduct, and conversation of many of its professors, we had thought its influence was to depress the mind and make us unhappy. At last we were persuaded, by the Superintendent of the circuit (the Rev. M. Baxter) we resided in, to join a class of possessors of Godliness, and we feel profoundly grateful that Almighty God thus led us to find out our mistake.

We would not be thought to advocate an easy religion. We do not believe that the glories of heaven are gained without having battles to fight; notwithstanding this, we are persuaded that Godliness, with all the crosses and the sufferings which follow in its train, exerts such an influence upon the mind and heart as to justify a learned author in asserting, that a gloomy Christian is an anomaly." It is a matter of deep regret that the men of the world appear to have an impression that the religion of our blessed Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ has a tendency to make us mentally uneasy and even miserable.

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We charge two classes of persons with deepening and confirming the ungodly in this impression, the hypocrite and the formal professor.

The former class generally endeavour to make those that surround them believe that they are possessors of godliness by putting on a sad countenance," and whining in a very solemn and, as they think, sanctimonious manner. The latter are often indeed as unhappy in mind as they appear. The mental uneasiness and misery which often distress the mere professor of godliness is easily accounted for. He has not sufficient religion to give up his sins-not sufficient to make him happy. He has, however, too much to remain comfortable, destitute of it. He is generally punctilious in his attendance at the house of God. He has all "the form of godliness," though destitute of the power. Sabbath after Sabbath does the ambassador of God place vividly before him the horrors of hell, and the joys of heaven. Without the power which godliness gives, he cannot "trust in the Lord with all his heart," he "leans to his own understanding." Understanding keeps reminding him that all his formalities will never save him from the former, nor gain for him the latter. Such an one often appears mentally more miserable than he, who bounding from all religious restraint whatever, cries, "let us eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow we die." The world, never exact in its distinctions, attributes to godliness what is in reality the result of the want of it. The world, blinded by prejudice and pas sion, does not distinguish the hypocrite and formal professor from the real possessor. Thus, by the way, we see how the hypocrite with his hollow dissembling, and the formalist by his ascetic formality, may damn souls by keeping them out of the church. Many rob themselves of the peace and unspeakable joy which godliness grants to its possessors by not giving all diligence to make their "calling and election sure." By not "pressing forward toward the mark of their high calling in Christ Jesus." Godliness enjoins upon its followers the necessity of progression. Their course must be onward and upward. "The holy to the holiest leads." As soon as ever we disobey this injunction, and say in effect, to our spiritual life, "thus far shalt thou go and no further," we soon become surrounded with dark clouds of doubt and fear, and unless we seek the assistance of that Holy Spirit which godliness hath taught us to seek, we are found groping about in this darkness" seeking rest and finding none." Such ought ever to remember that the world will attribute all the mental gloom they appear to have to godliness, and not to the want of it. While we avoid appearing