bars of despair, with a host of devils in the heart of the poor prisoner gaping eagerly to receive the subtle fiend's suggestions. In this state the poor soul has just strength enough to grope about for hope, and to squeeze out a straitened groan or sigh. Here I lay for some weeks, and the tuition I received sunk my soul so low, that I fell down totally helpless. Soon after, I heard the footsteps of my Master; the devil flew, the fretful fire went out, the door of despair flew open, hope stood at a distance, a word was spoken, my head was raised, and my eyes fixed upon hope. I can scarcely say I had got hold of hope, but I hoped for hope; nor of deliverance, but I expected it; and therefore could wait with more composure.

Now here I am, in Questioning Cell, no farther yet, sitting on the cold, clammy quicksands of doubts and fears, with my head up and my eyes fixed on hope, hoping I shall by and by be enabled steadfastly to grasp it. One day, in this cell, as I was bitterly questioning whether I was a child of God or not, seeking up every evidence, both in my convictions and enjoyments, for a proof, but could find none, horrors and painful anxiety of soul coming upon me, the Lord sent that Scripture into my heart, which fitted like a key in a lock, "Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for him; fret not thyself because of him who prospereth in his way.' How did this suit my poor soul! It was just as I felt; I was fretful and impatient, and could not wait the Lord's time for deliverance. Now though the Lord did not give me absolute deliverance and liberty by this passage, yet he removed fretfulness, and gave me patience to wait for him, and inspired a kind of second-handed hope, which for the time gave me ease and quietness of soul. This not only opened the spiritual meaning of this beautiful psalm, but also gave me an inlet into that passage, "Tribulation worketh patience, and patience experience, and experience hope;" and also to this, "Strive to enter in at the strait gate." I saw a soul labouring under straitened tribulation produced patience, and patience, when perfected in humility, contrition, and childlike simplicity and submission, produced experienced proof after that he had been in the fire, and this brought forth a hope that put out the eyes of shame.

One day, not long since, I fancied I could preach well about faith, could explain and define it, could trace its rise and progress to the summit of full assurance. I purposed, in my own mind, preaching on it, from Heb. xi. 9. As I was meditating upon it, this came to my mind like a thunderbolt, "But can you preach about this faith from soul-experience?" I was struck dumb, for I could not say I had experienced it. I immediately found myself at the very bottom of Questioning Cell, even questioning whether I had ever been changed by grace. The devil said I was neither changed by grace nor sent to preach; flesh and blood, carnal reason, and unbelief coincided with him, and I was ready to conclude they were right. In this state I sighed, and groaned, and wrestled, and mourned, and fretted, till my body was literally wet with sweat. I could not preach, nay, I thought I would not preach, except the Lord sent me the blessing. In this plight, I took up my Bible, and opened into the

8th chapter of Romans, and the first words I saw were these, “The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirits that we are the children of God." This was an instantaneous deathblow to my soul, which made me sink many leagues lower than ever. I thought all that the devil said really was true, and that I absolutely was nothing but an hypocrite; for I could not believe that the Spirit had ever thus borne witness to me. In this misery, however, I thought I would read the chapter out, and when I came to the 23d verse, O how instantly the scene changed! "And not only they, but ourselves also, which have the firstfruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves GROAN within ourselves, waiting for the adoption, to wit, the redemption of our body." This just spoke the very language of my heart at that moment. Then I thought if the great apostle and ambassador of Christ thus felt, I must be right after all, for I was truly groaning within myself for the adoption, to wit, my redemption; and instead of stern despair, I felt a cheering, comfortable, something like hope, that all would yet end well; and next morning, instead of preaching my fancied faith, I preached from the last-named text. Thus the Lord, I trust, has wrought in my heart, and made his word to fit in my soul like a sword in a scabbard, or a hand in a glove, and this has produced for the present a solid, solemn, patient waiting for Christ, but no more; no full assurance of faith, nor soul-ravishing enjoyment of the blessing, but a waiting for it.

I am still not out of Questioning Cell, but occasionally feeling its pinching gripe like alternate spasmodic and cholic pangs. Nevertheless, I trust I can thank the Lord for this teaching, for though it be painful to the flesh, I would not be without it for worlds. No other teaching do I want. All the wise and learned opinions in the world on the Bible are nothing to me except the Holy Ghost has made a vacuum in my heart that his word can fill up. This religion is not fiction, nor fancy, nor figure, nor form, nor speculation; but a substance, a solemn reality, a divine thing, known and felt.

A SCHOLAR.

THE NEW YEAR'S CRY OF A WATCHMAN.

Hail! all hail, new-born year, to the new-born heirs of glory, interested in the new covenant of grace, mercy, and peace; for he that sitteth upon the throne saith, "Behold! I make all things new!" He has given us a new heart, new faith and hope, new light and life, and says we shall be called by a new name, which the mouth of the Lord shall name." And all these blessed new things are put in new bottles, the new and elect vessels of mercy, and are all graciously preserved in Jesus. But though we call things new when we receive them, there is nothing new nor old with God. Eternity is neither old nor new; our God is neither old nor new; he is the "I am," in the present tense, the eternal now; therefore, brethren, we are neither old nor new in the eternal decrees aud pur

same.

poses of love. Love had no beginning, love has no end. "God is Love," and he, that "dwelleth in love, dwelleth in God, and God dwelleth in him." And when did we begin to dwell in God? Ah, here we are at a loss to answer. O, blessed source and fountain of love, "thou hast been our dwelling-place in all generations." Ah, more than this: "Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst formed the earth and the world, even from everlasting to everlasting, thou art God."

Notwithstanding all that cometh seems new to us, yet "all that cometh is vanity," except the grace that cometh through Jesus to us, from the eternal overflowing fountain of love in heaven. New minutes, new hours, new days, months, and years keep coming, but they all come laden with vanity! O, Sirs, I have to complain, and confess before God, of the vain thoughts and desires of my poor vain heart, with the vain fancies and pursuits of the past year, and I am sure the coming year will bring thousands of the like to lead and tempt my poor vain heart from Christ my love, should I be spared to live here. So that as days, months, and years increase, they keep unloading their vanities around me, and my vain heart and the vain world meet together with them, and I am constrained to cry out, Vanity of vanities, all is vanity and vexation of spirit."

Every new year, I have been discovering new mercies and new evils; how numerous are the evils around me, and in me; O, what swarms of evils lay hidden in the rubbish of my heart, like snakes and toads, they hiss and spit in the face of God, and still he keeps pouring floods of love, and streams of mercies upon me, because he is Love, and delights in mercy. O, who can describe his love, or number his mercies? They are new every morning, and every moment. May you, my brother correspondents, be kept low, poor, and sinful in your own views and feelings, that you may be such as the Lord enlarges, exalts, enriches, and pours the flowing tides of his numerous mercies upon. And may we have this new year, new writers, new readers, new converts, and new comforts from the Holy Comforter. And may new pens, new hearts, and new prayers be employed in behalf of the Church of God and our correspondents, and though we must never expect to all see one another in this world, may we have one heart, one aim, one Lord, one faith, one Captain, and daily meet at one throne of mercy through this year, and till we meet in one place above, where all our joys must be one in Jesus. And when our correspondents, either readers or writers, have access to the King, may they put up a word on behalf of each other. I sometimes feel a few words come bubbling up out of my heart for you all, and I know when they come from the right fountain, because they are so sweet in my mouth as they rise from my heart, and fly up to heaven as if they went on doves' wings.

But let me tell you, beloved, the more a man is like his Master Jesus, the more enemies he must expect, and the more a book is like the sayings of Jesus, the more opposers it will meet with, and in the coming year you may look out for new complaints and new opposers. Some will say your work can never be popular; others will say you

have many low expressions. Never mind, my brethren, the plainer the better. I dare say that some of the dandy parsons now-a-days would not associate with the preacher who preached about "straining at a gnat and swallowing a camel," if he were now on earth. I believe that much of the writing and preaching in our day, of those we would hope well of, if not done exactly to please the world, are done with abundance of caution not to offend the world, which makes it so tasteless and powerless. I know that the power, sweetness, and fragrant unction of the Spirit is not at our commad, nor is the power of our tongues, or pens at our pleasure.

May we at all times feel a dependence upon the Spirit, and simply rely upon his help, power, and sweet unction, both in our writing and preaching, and when we are laid in the dust, and many summers' suns have gilded the green turf of our graves, and autumn's falling leaves have been blown over them, and winter's snows have covered them, succeeding generations in the church shall rise up and sing unto Jesus the Immortal King of ages, world without end, and our happy spirits shall be with them and join the grand choirs above, at the bright resurrection morn, and sing unto Him that loved us, and washed us in his own blood. Hallelujah, Amen.

Dunmow, Essex.

A WATCHMAN ON THE WALLS.

COMFORTABLE FEELINGS IN RELIGION.

"Her ways are ways of pleasantness" has a truth in it; though not as the bastard religionists of the day understand it. The pleasantness of religion is only attained by the elect: the pleasantness of all the mongrel race of Exeter Hall is the infernal tint on the sea before the great shipwreck of damnation swallows them all up. For proselyte-making, Fullerism, and Arminianism are the A. and Z. of the Exeter Hall Societies.

The peace and joy, the sweet delights from time to time, and the mystic pleasures (hid from all else) of the Almighty's dealings with elect souls, charm, refresh, and entranze more or less the elect race in this sin-clouded world wherein we live at present. The amazing troubles we have gone through about religion, the freshness of honesty encircling all our connection with religion, encourages us. The mysterious dealings of God with us (such as no Arminian, Fullerite, or head-knowledge Calvinist knows any thing of); the single eye to God's glory through sincere fear or love; sensible destruction from the law of works; and life sensibly breathed from electing grace on our law killed souls; a tender conscience; and Christ's sensibly imputed righteousness on our feeling souls; give us such a thrill of real, solid hope and faith at times, as to convince us of our own salvation and of the predestinated damnation of all non-elect souls. "Tophet was ordained of old." To see from our own amazing experience how narrow the road is that leads to glory! And that we are of the number of the highly favoured few predestinated to find it! A sense

eye

experimentally of the eternity and unchangeableness of God! That with Him there is no variableness, neither shadow of turning! That if we are saints, we were so millions of years ago in God's eye as much as we are now! That Christ was the lamb, verily foreordained before the foundation of the world! That before ever Adam or Eve was created, the elect were as much elected and saved in God's as they are now or ever will be. And to feel that we, I say, by the astonishing experience we have gone through, and by the perpetual feelings we have involuntarily about religion, are constrained to feel (whether we will or no) that God has fixed on us as part of the astonishing and small remnant of election; while He has damned all the rest! (Matt. xxv. 46.) These things overcome us! We lay our faces in the dust! We say in the greatness of our confounding humility, "Can these things be so?" While these darting feelings run through our tender conscience, trembling at sin and experimentally trusting on Christ's sensibly imputed righteousness, embroidering, beautifying, and glorifying our souls inwardly; while the very times and ways when the Almighty revealed Christ's righteousness, and sensibly gave it internally to our souls, shine before us; and the renewed persuasion and Almighty feeling that we shall be His at that stormy, yet sunshiny day, when He makes up his jewels and damns the reprobate; this, this is what vessels of wrath hate, and what the vessels of mercy feed on! This is what Cain hated, and what Abel loved! Having seen them afar off, and were persuaded of them, and embraced them, and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth." (Heb. xi. 13.)

A union of likes and dislikes with God, as regards both men and things, is a great blessing in the soul. I do not wonder to hear men say religion does not consist in feeling; for most have no feelings of any account as regards religion. But to say that religion does not consist of feeling, I will be bold to say, is doctrine not fit for devils, or men, or angels to hear? It is an affront both to divine and moral truth to hear it. It is an affront even to common sense to say so. For what either in a divine or natural way can we know except by feeling satisfactorily? What of pleasure or pain can we know except by feeling The angels in heaven know they are happy by feeling. The devils in hell know they are miserable by feeling. Men of common sense know in this world whether they are comfortable or not according to their feelings. And divine men judge whether they are under the clouds or sunshine of God, according to their feelings. And, therefore, what on earth, or in heaven, or hell, men can mean by saying that religion does not consist in feeling, I cannot divine. Neither can any one else, I verily believe, except that it is as dreams, nonsense, and stuff to make such a declaration.

Feeling is the very germ, spark, and kernel of divine life in the soul. Like the pulse, it is the mark of life. When the pulse ceases, a surgeon knows life is fled. When feeling is absent in religion, we know there is nothing but death in the soul. For feeling is the characteristic of life. "For the dead know not any thing, neither have they any more a reward; neither have they any more a portion for ever in any thing that is done under the sun." (Ecc. ix. 5, 6.)