ion, that true religion is not confined to any one sect or party of christians; and that scarcely any thing is a greater evidence of the want of it, than such an exclusive claim. If we trace the history of the church in past ages, we shall find, that exclusive claims have generally been set up in favor of something, as essential to religion, which was never implied in any requirement of God. But we have no conception of any thing, which deserves the name of pure and undefiled religion, but what is implied in obedience to the divine commands. As exclusive claims have generally been set up in support of something which God has not required us either to believe, or to do; so these claims have generally been accompanied with a haughty, overbearing, and hostile spirit, entirely for eign from that love, which is long suffering and kind, and seeketh not her own.

It has been suggested to us, that some have been prepossess ed against the work, from an apprehension that we have a concealed object, which will hereafter appear. But if this work shall ever degenerate into a party vehicle, in favor of any sect or any person, it will be perverted from the original and the present design of its conductors. The cultivation of a christian temper may be considered as the primary object of the work. But in pursuing this object, it will behove us to remark on such things, as shall appear to us inconsistent with the spirit of the gospel; and in a candid, respectful manner, to give light

on those questions which are the occasion of bitterness and alienation. If we remark on doctrines which appear to us incorrect, it will not be with a view to excite prejudice against those who embrace them, nor to wound their feelings; but to open the way for greater unanimity in sentiment, or at least greater charity and christian forbearance.

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Such was the state of society, and such the circumstances under which this work commenced, that it was natural to expect it would have to encounter strong prepossessions, and many founded jealousies; and that its progress would be slow, with whatever wisdom and prudence it should be conducted. But we have occasion gratefully to acknowledge, that the progress of the work has been much greater, and the opposition to it much less, than we anticipated. A disappointment so agreeable we feel disposed to ascribe to the goodness of that God, who worketh all things according to the counsel of his own will. At the same time we acknowledge the kindness of the many worthy friends and patrons of the work, and earnestly solicit a continuance of their patronage and exertions.

Many, we believe, from misapprehension, conscientiously forbear to encourage the work. Towards such, we feel disposed to exercise a tender and compassionate regard. Unless we are self deceived, if our bosoms were so transparent, that our feelings and motives could be visible to all, the objections of many pious

christians would instantly vanish; for they would see, that our main object is in correspondence with the angelic song, "GLORY

TO GOD IN THE HIGHEST, PEACE ON EARTH, AND GOOD WILL TO MEN."

As the present year is near to an end, it may be proper for all who have been concerned, as conductors or readers of this work, seriously to reflect on the long suffering of God. Having obtained help of God, we continue to this day, although millions of our fellow creatures, in the course of the year, have been called by death. Let each one faithfully press these questions on his own conscience: What re turns have I made to the Preserver of men, for his distinguishing mercy? Have my time and talents been employed in his service? Have I rendered according to the benefits I have received? What would have been my condition, had I been taken and others left? What would be my future state, should I be called in the present situation of my heart and character? Could an impartial Judge say to me, "Well done! good and faithful servant?" Have I learned of him, who was meek and lowly of heart? Have I obeyed his commands, and conformed my heart and life to his example? What will be my duty, should preserving mercy still prolong my life?

Can I do less than to live to him, who lived and died for me?

"Surely there is an end." The close of the year should remind us of our advances towards the close of life, and to that solemn period when the current of time shall have carried us all into the ocean of eternity. How rapidly do our days, our months, our years, pass away! What awful ravages are made by death, in the course of every year! Shall we be continually advaneing towards the tribunal of our Judge, and still live regardless of the solemn account to be giv en, and of all the admonitions we receive on our way to the judgment seat?

Of how little avail in the great day will be the party names, by which the christian world is now divided! Not every one that saith Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of God: so not every one that boasts that he is of this or that sect. Who then shall enter into that rest, which remains for the people of God? Let our Saviour and Judge answer the question-"He that doeth the will of my Father, who is in heaven." In view of these solemn considerations, let all unite in this pertinent prayer to the Lord of the universe: "So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom."

the beginning, and of stone at the end. There are twenty in all, by which you ascend to Mount Cal

vary. This spot, once so ignominious, having been sanctified by the blood of our Lord, was an object of the particular attention of the first christians. Having removed every impurity, and the earth which was upon it, they surrounded it with walls, so that it is now like a lofty chapel enclosed within this spacious church. It is lined in the interior with marble, and divided by a row of arches into two parts. That towards the north is the spot where our Lord was nailed to the cross. Here thirty two lamps are kept continually burning.

In the other part, which is to the south, the holy cross was erected. You still see the hole dug in the rock, to the depth of about a foot and a half. Near this is the place where stood the crosses of the two thieves. That of the penitent thief was to the north, and the other to the south; so that the first was on the righthand of our Saviour, who had his face towards the west, and his back to Jerusalem, which lay to the east. Fifty lamps are kept constantly burning in honor of this holy spot.

We visited all the stations till we came to the summit of Calvary. Where shall we look in antiquity for any thing so impressive, so wonderful, as the last scenes described by the evangelist? These are not the absurd adventures of a deity foreign to human nature; it is the most pathetic history-a history, which not only extorts tears by its beauty, but whose consequences, applied to the universe, have changed the face of the earth. I had just beheld the monuments of

Greece, and my mind was still profoundly impressed with their grandeur; but how far inferior were the sensations which they excited to those which I felt at the sight of the places commemorated in the gospel! The church of the holy sepulchre, composed of several churches, erected upon an unequal surface, illuminated by a multitude of lamps, is singularly mysterious; a sombre light pervades it, favorable to piety and profound devotion. Christian priests, of various sects,inhabit different parts of the edifice.

I returned to the convent at eleven o'clock, and one hour afterwards I again left it to follow the Via Dolorosa. This is the name given to the way, by which the Saviour of the world passed from the residence of Pilate to Calvary.

Pilate's house is a ruin, from which you survey the extensive site of Solomon's temple, and the mosque is erected on that site.

Christ, having been scourged with rods, crowned with thorns, and dressed in a purple robe, was presented to the Jews by Pilate. Ecce homo! exclaimed the Judge; and you still see the window, from which these memorable words were pronounced.

A hundred paces from the arch of the Ecce homo, I was shown. on the left the ruins of a church, formerly dedicated to our lady of grief. Fifty paces farther we came to the spot where Simon, the Cyrenean, assisted Jesus to bear the cross.

Having passed the house of the rich man, you turn to the right, and again proceed in a westerly direction. At the entrance of the street, which leads up to Calvary,

Christ was met by the holy women, who deplored his fate. 110 paces farther is shown the site of the house of Veronica, and the spot where that pious woman wiped the face of the Lord.

Proceeding about another hundred paces, you come to the judicial gate, by which criminals were led to be executed on Golgotha. That hill, now enclosed within the new city, was without the walls of ancient Jerusalem.

The distance from the judicial gate to the summit of Calvary is about 200 paces. Here terminates the Via Dolorosa, which may be in the whole, about a mile in length. We have seen that Calvary is at present comprised in the church of the holy sepulchre. If those who read the history of the passion in the gospels, are overcome with sacred melancholy and profound admiration, what must be his feelings, who traces the scenes themselves at the foot of Mount Sion, in sight of the temple, and within the very walls of Jerusalem?

After this description of the Via Dolorosa, and the Churh of the holy sepulchre, I shall say very little concerning the other places of devotion in the city. I shall merely enumerate them in the order in which they were visited by me.

1. The house of Anna, near David's gate, at the foot of Mount Sion, within the wall of the city. 2. The place where our Saviour appeared to Mary Magdalen, and the other women. 3. The house of Simon the pharisee, where Magdalen confessed her sins. 4. The monastery of St. Anne, the mother of the blessed Virgin. 5. The prison of St. Peter, near Calvary. 6. Zebedee's house, situated very near St. Peter's prison. 7. The house of Mary, the mother of John Mark, where St. Peter took refuge when he had been set at liberty by the angel. 8. The place of the martyrdom of St. James the great.

The reader has now before him a complete view of the christian monuments in Jerusalem.

[We have obtained permission to give a larger extract from this sermon, than we originally contemplated, because we think the reflections contained in the first part of the extract are important, and because many of them have an intimate connexion with the concluding part.]

"THE hopes of others rest on their friends; perhaps on their children. We are prompted by instinct to love, to cherish, and to provide for our children. It

is the dictate of nature. It is the voice of God. When a child is given us, we receive it with thankfulness. It is a precious gift. It may be a source of pure satisfaction to us. We cannot lift the veil of futurity and read its fate, but we hope the best. We consecrate it to God in baptism. We watch its opening mind. As its powers unfold, if with a sense of religious obligaour own hearts are impressed

tion, we sow the seeds of piety. We embody our instructions in our example. We mingle the welfare of our child with our own in our prayers. We endeavour to bring it up for God and for heaven. But we labor in vain and spend our strength for nought. Our child despiseth instruction, and hateth reproof; or, he goes forth into the world, is assailed by temptation, and becomes the victim of vice. In the midst of his sins, he is snatched from the world, and summoned to the tribunal of God. Like Aaron, we may hold our peace, yet our agony is great, our anguish is bitter, for our hopes are destroyed;-ah, how completely, how fatally destroyed!

"But, on the contrary, our child may requite our care, anxiety, and labor, by his filial piety. He may be affectionate and docile. He may listen to our instructions, heed our admonitions, receive and improve the lessons of virtue.

We behold him with inexpressible delight, consecrating his early affections to God. We furnish him with the means of improvement, and he diligently employs them. As he advances in life our heart cleaves to him more strongly. No man can describe the feelings of a parent towards an affectionate and dutiful child. No man but a parent can conceive them. We imagine we behold the dawn of a bright and lasting day. We anticipate the eminence he will reach, the good he will do, the happiness he will enjoy in the world. He is to be the staff of our age, to support and to guide our declining footsteps, and when

we are gone, he is to shed lustre on our memory, to add dignity to our family and name.

"But suddenly our fair pros pect is obscured. Disease arrests him, induced, perhaps, by his honorable exertions to render himself respectable and useful in life.

With indescribable an

guish we witness his decline. The rose fades from his cheek. The eyes lose their lustre, or assume a brightness which is unnatural, and which fills a parent's heart with fearful forebodings. The strength decays. We can no longer hide from ourselves the painful truth. We had hoped that he would watch over us in our last moments, and pay the mournful tribute of affection at our tomb. But the scene is reversed. We must watch over him. We must smooth his dying pillow. We must close his eyes in darkness and death. The heart knoweth its own bitterness. We feel as Job felt, when he said, 'Thou destroyest the hope of man.'

"Blessed be God for the hope of immortality! Our hopes do not perish in the grave. By the eye of faith, we penetrate beyond it. We lift the curtain of eternity, and behold our child alive and happy. We behold him still advancing in knowledge and virtue. We behold him filling an important sphere, devoting his talents and his acquisitions to valuable purposes; perhaps employed in doing good. It was not a vain thing then, that we labored for his benefit. It was not a vain thing that his mind was stored with knowledge, and his heart impressed with pi