the certainty of the man's salvation, the uncertainty of the woman's salvation would appear. She might be supposed to say, "I see how God loves the man," but as his salvation seems to turn on the difference of the sexes, does not this circumstance prove, that females have nothing to do with the covenant of grace? as circumcision is the outward sign of the salvation of the man, it seems to be the visible token of the woman's perdition! But, if circumcision was not then considered as the introduction into the covenant of grace, these apprehensions could not have been cherished. It appears very plain, that females, as well as males, were members of the Jewish church. It was theirs by birth-right: and, if we must speak of the privilege of one sex above the other, doubtless the female enjoyed the greater privilege of being exempt from the painful rite of circumcision; for circumcision was a yoke of bondage, and we have reason to rejoice, that it is not imposed on the gentiles. Was the man who now pleads so loudly for circumcision as a privilege, commanded to confer this privilege on his son, his very heart would bleed within him; and probably, like Moses, he would defer the bloody rite, till his very life was endangered by his neglect to perform it. Exod. iv. 24. Let us endeavour to give its full force to this pathetic allusion. Picture to yourself a case which must have repeatedly occurred in the course of the forty years Moses spent with his people in the wilderness. An Israelite, we will suppose, soon after he became a father, is bereaved of the delight of his eyes, while an only pledge of conjugal affection remains, alternately to_increase and assuage his grief. How weighty, but how interesting would he feel that charge, which yet he would not for all the world decline or transfer; a neighbour's wife might he hire to suckle it; but he himself would also feed it, with the freshest manna, and as much as possible, take the care of it himself. However long and tedious his march by day, parental affection would make the burden of a motherless babe not only light but pleasant: and, at night, he would lay it to rest in his own bosom. When God visited the sins of Israel with fiery serpents, which bit them, so that much of the people died, how would this nursing father feel his anxiety increased! His only son would scarce ever be off his knee in his tent, never out of his bosom on their journies: and, if in spite of all his precautions, a serpent had bitten his darling child, its deadly poison was spreading rapidly through its veins, he began to be convulsed, and nothing Familiar Illustrations of the Sacred but the remedy prescribed by the mer Writings. No. III. PSALM XXXIX. 1. " I said, I will take heed to my ways, that I sin not with my tongue." It is related of one of the ancients, that a man, without learning, came to him to be taught a psalm. He turned to the thirty-ninth; but when he had heard the first verse of it, he would bear no more, saying, this was enough if he could practise it; and when the instructor blamed him that he had not seen him for six months; he replied, that he had not done the verse; and forty years after be confessed he had been all that time studying it, but had not learned to fulfil it." ciful JEHOVAH could save him from the agonies of death; how would the father run, and hold him up in his arms, gently forcing open his closing eyes to view the brazen serpent! With what gratitude would his bosom glow, when he perceived his infant instantly revive! How would he, after this recovery, pursue his course with renewed vigour; and, though be knew himself doomed to fall in the wilderness, he would fondly anticipate his offspring's future possession of the promised land; and that hope would counterbalance all his present affliction and toil. O, my brethren in the ministry! this is the pattern we are taught by the text to place before us. If any man offend not in word, the same is a perfect man, and able also to bridle the whole body." Numbers xi. 12. "That thou shouldest say unto me, Carry them in thy bosom, as a nursing father beareth the sucking child, unto the land which thou swearest unto Folkestone. their fathers." VOL. XVII, With such feelings as these, may we direct the eyes of our dear people to a crucified Saviour: with such feelings as these may we bear them in our bosoms to the confines of glory. DR. RYLAND. J. B. 166 Obituary and Recent Deaths. REV. JAMES DORE, OF WALWORTH. ON Lord's-day morning, March 20th, died James Dore, M. A. aged sixty-one, late pastor of the church meeting in Maze-pond, Southwark. It is forty-two years since Mr. Dore, then at the Academy at Bristol, received an invitation from that church, to succeed the late Mr. Wallin; which, after twelve months of supply and deliberation, he accepted. He was born of pious parents belonging to the Establishment, and when a little boy, became decidedly religions and devout, by some occasional preaching of Sir Harry Trelawney: but afterwards an aunt, giving him "Reasons in Favour of Episcopacy," set him to search the scriptures, which caused his being baptized at fifteen, by his brother, William Dore, of Ciren cester. His ministry, in which he too ardently spent himself, was remarkably blessed to a numerous circle, of rather retired tastes and character. Though his praise has long sounded among the churches; yet, as by principle he made his own church his home, moving not from it, he was comparatively less known than he deserved. For the last fourteen years he has been wholly confined, and indefatigably nursed by the dearest and best of wives, in his sick chamber; still, however, dispensing instruction, and laying himself out in his Master's service, and exemplifying the tenderest interests of the friend and the Christian pastor; dying, (to use his own words,) "in good hope through grace," with "Maze Pond" written upon his heart. ANNA HIRD, ISLINGTON, LIVERPOOL. OBITUARIES are not exempt from objections on the part of some serious persons. When the lofty joys and celestial triumphs of a dying saint are pictured in glowing colours, the doubting Christian, far from being encouraged, is sometimes tempted to suspect more strongly the safety of his state. The lively hopes and exulting expressions of some, as recorded by survivors, are so remote from all that the feeble and harassed believer bas yet enjoyed, as to induce him even to question altogether the reality of his own conversion, and to anticipate, at his own dissolution, a very different termination. This effect heightened by the silence generally maintained in reference to all the blemishes of the deceased. Their immorality or irreligion before converson, the defects of their Christian pro may be fession, their weaknesses in domestic or public life, all may be unnoticed. The charity of the recording friend covers a multitude of sins; affection for the departed will not permit him to relate the faults which he cannot altogether forget. And, indeed, memory, when under the influence of a well earned partiality, very speedily remits all that once gave pain, and retains only all that is lovely in its nature, and celestial in its origin. Nor will the authority of scripture, in its biography of the most eminent saints, justify that impartial exhibition of good and evil, in the character which some demand in the modern Obituary. He who tries the heart, who is the Head and Lord of the church; He who is to judge the living and the dead; He, in his book, may record the infirmities and the crimes of his own children, for the warning and the instruction of other children. Holy men, in that book, wrote as they were moved by the Holy Spirit. But brethren are not warranted by such a procedure on Christ's part, to publish to the world the weaknesses and vices of their brethren. If a man write and publish his own memoirs, he is at liberty to expose what he pleases of his heart and life for the good of others. But when death bas removed the party from a world of imperfection, let survivors cherish the remembrance of all that was divine, and make no effort to fasten on their own memories, or on those of others, what was human. To give a high colouring to the life or death of the removed is widely different, and may prove injurious even to the cause which it was intended to promote. On behalf of such a practice, no good apology I conceive can be offered. But the profound silence which is often maintained on the defects of a truly Christian character, stands on higher grounds, and may be vindicated on the claims of natural feeling and Christian love. I make these reflections the more freely, because the present Obituary stands clear of any liability to such objections. In the death of Mrs. Hird, there was nothing remarkable. It was her life chiefly wbich honoured the doctrine of God our Saviour. And, in the early part of her days, before she gave any evidence of being on the Lord's side, few persons have been more correct in their deportment. It is my mournful office to record her removal from a church, of which she was a useful member, and a shining ornament; and from a large body of relatives and friends, to whom she had long endeared herself by unaffected piety, by steady benevolence, and by all the offices of kindness and attention. She bore a striking resemblance in many of her spiritual features to the late excellent Susanna Hird, her mother, of whom a brief memoir will be found in the Baptist Magazine for July, 1813. She removed to Liverpool, with her widowed mother, from Yorkshire, about forty years ago. In 1812, she joined the Baptist Church in Lime-street, under the care of J. L. to the great joy of her aged mother; and since that time, she has maintained a spirit and conduct highly consistent with the solemn profession which she then made. She has held fast the truths of the gospel. Towards such as differed from her in the faith, she exercised a steady and continued candour, without com. promising, in any one point, her own belief, or her own experience. Christians, of every denomination, she sin cerely_loved. But in principle sho was a Baptist, and a Calvinist, never shrinking to avow her attachment to the great truths, for the vindication of which the early Protestant reformers, and our Puritan ancestors, bad lived, and written, and preached, and suffered, and died. She adhered warmly to the church of Christ. Taking a deep interest in the affairs of the Society to which she particularly belonged, she held it a sacred duty to discharge her obligations of membership; and spared neither her property, nor her time, nor her pains, to promote its prosperity. How dif ferent is the spirit of some professors, who, from the time they join, till they leave a church, discover no vital con, nexion with it, express no grief at its trials, nor joy in its welfare, and take not one step to advance its true felicity or honour. Mrs. Hird was regular, early, uniform in her attendance upon public ordinances, and made domestic arrange ments and social intercourse subordinate to higher claims.—Her conduct in society recommended her profession. Among an unusually numerous body of relatives and connexions, where, as usual, every variety of rank and character was to be found, she exercised a prudence, a gentleness, a firmness, a kindness, a cheerfulness without levity, and a seriousness without severity, which rendered her society equally acceptable to the young and the old, and threw great weight on her peculiar principles, as a disciple of the Saviour. A friend to peace, an enemy to discord, she rejoiced in their joys, and sympathized in their sorrows; promoting barmony and love among them all. Her benevolence was routed and active. To every class of calls, her purse was open, according to her ability. Public institutions, connected with the spread of the gospel at home or abroad, received her liberal and steady support. Nor was ber benevolence confined to contribution. There were local institutions, in which, from their commencement till her removal, she took a special interest, and in the promotion of whose welfare she em ployed much personal labour. The friends of the Liverpool Female Penitentiary, and the Ladies' Benevolent Society, will not soon forget her works of faith, and labours of love, from which she never desisted till bodily debility prevented. Her last days were tranquil and happy. For a long time her bealth and vigour had been gradually declining. She was repeatedly confined to the house for several weeks, and compelled to abandon, in succession, all her active engagements in the world and in the church. In her last illness she suffered frequently from acute pain, and when that was suspended, from an overwhelming lassitude. She complained of inability to think closely on any subject for a short time, or to hear even a book read to her, more than a few minutes. She had no fears, and no triumphs. Equally remote from despondency and from ecstatic hope, she enjoyed uninterrupted serenity of mind, in a humble reliance on the sacrifice and obedience of the great Redeemer. She repeatedly declared, that she had no other refuge, that Jesus was a sufficient refuge, and that she wanted no other. In Immanuel she had long found and enjoyed a salvation which was complete, which involved all her desires for time and eternity. If one grace predominated over another in her last days, it was submission to the divine will. Not a What, then, can be a more affecting evidence of our calamitous defection from God, than a disinclination to call upon his name! And yet this reluctance is universal, except in so far as the mind is brought under the illuminating influence of divine truth, and the heart sanctified by the efficacious operations of the Holy Spirit. And even then these exhortations, admonitions, and invitations, to the exercise of prayer are by no means superflueus: for so powerful, and often so successful, is the counteracting influence, by which the principle and tendency of genuine piety, are opposed, that every auxiliary which can be brought to bear against the determined foe must be acceptable, and becomes an occasion for gratitude. We have neither space nor disposition to examine the respective merits of these two performances. They are sufficiently distinct to make it desirable that they should both be possessed; and they are sufficiently alike to make preference difficult. They breathe the same spirit; they enforce the same practice; and they seek the same result. We hail their appearance, and are happy, that, in the discharge of our duty, we can conscientiously recommend them both. We wish it were in our power to give more copious extracts than the following. In speaking of the necessity of perseverance in prayer, Mr. Thornton remarks, "That fitful and fluctuating piety, which depends on others, and rises and falls with the tide of fashion, is of very little worth. Some pray in their calamity, while an indefinite calamity hangs over them; for it is truly said. Nature in anguish is no atheist; but, the pain assuaged, and the danger past, their devotion is at an end.' Others keep up a form of religion so long as, like the ostentatious pharisees, they can engage attention, or secure applause. For what is the hope of the hypocrite, though he hath gained, when God taketh away his soul? Will God hear his cry, when trouble cometh upon him? Will he delight himself in the Almighty? Will he always call upon God? Job xxvii. 8-11. The drift of these questions is so easily perceived, that it is almost needless to answer them. The hypocrite will not always call upon God; for his religion is but a creature of circumstances. What never wins and possesses the affections, is readily resigned and given up. If we have no complacency in God, we can have no real communion with him." Pp. 369. Treating" on the importance of divine influence on the thoughts," Mr. Sheppard Bays: "On the whole, these reflections not only expose the shallow presumption, the unintelligent profaneness of those who deride the doctrine of spiritual influence; but they should also greatly heighten my persuasion of the paramount importance of prayer for the gift of the Holy Spirit; of the unknown benefits which such prayer may have already procured me, by influences secretly leading to good, and diverting from evil; and of the still happier and more decisive results which may be expected from continuing, more importunately, to entreat this unseen control and direction. Let me never begin the day without earnestly imploring, that the great Searcher of hearts would cleanse the thoughts of my heart by the inspiration of his Holy Spirit;' that he would turn the current of my soul, as the rivers of water, whithersoever he will!'" The value of this second edition is considerably enhanced by the addition of two interesting chapters, one of which relates to a correspondence between the pious author, and the late Lord Byron, introduced into the Appendix, and the insertion of which in this article will, we have no doubt, be highly gratifying to all our readers. "To the Right Honourable Lord Byron, Pisa. "Frome, Somerset, Nov. 21, 1821. "MY LORD, "More than two years since, a lovely and beloved wife was taken from me by lingering disease, after a very short union. She possessed unvarying gentleness and fortitude, and a piety so retiring, as rarely to disclose itself in words, but so influential, as to produce uniform benevolence of conduct. In the last hour of life, after a farewell look on a lately born and only infant, for whom she had evinced inexpressible affection, her last whispers were, ' God's happiness!-God's happiness! Since the second anniversary of her decease, I have read some papers, which no one had seen during her life, and which contain her most secrot thoughts. I am induced to communicate to your Lordship a passage from these papers, which, there is no doubt, refers to yourself; as I have more than once heard the writer mention your agility on the rocks at Hastings. "Oh, my God! I take encouragement from the assurance of thy word, to pray to thee in behalf of one for whom I have lately been much interested. May the person to whom I allude, (and who is now, we fear, as much distinguished for his neglect of thee, as for the transcend |