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days of our Church, the period of the Reformation, and that immediately subsequent to it, be familiar to your minds; let not novel opinions or novel phrases-novel at least in their modern acceptation tempt you to swerve from the simplicity of the Gospel; let the Articles of our Church form a principal part of your studies; and in this way the essential doctrines of the Gospel will hold a prominent place in your sermons. An inattention to this point sinks the instruction of the pulpit into merely moral essays, and is one cause why the Church of England must and will suffer in public estimation. Above all, let the light of a good example so shine before men, that they, seeing your holy and unblameable lives, may glorify your Father which is in heaven.
Let me, in conclusion, entreat you, my brethren of the laity, in times so full of interesting events as the present, when the Church of England is assailed by countless. enemies, and her very existence as a Church is at stake; when "without are fightings, and within are fears,"-let me entreat you to stand fast in one spirit, striving together for the faith of the Gospel. Above all, let me call on you, with all the earnestness and affection of a preacher of the Gospel of peace and love, to pray always, with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit; with prayer for the Church to which you belong, that the continual pity of its divine Founder may cleanse and defend it; that it may evermore be preserved by his help and goodness; and that the course of this world may be so peaceably ordered by his governance, that it may joyfully serve him in all godly quietness, with prayer and supplication in the Spirit for us; that "utterance may be given unto us, that we may open our mouth boldly to make known the mystery of the Gospel, that herein we may speak boldly as we ought to speak;" and with prayer and supplication in the Spirit for yourselves, that "the word of God may have free course among you, and be glorified, till you all come, in the unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of the Son of God, unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ."
"Now unto Him that is able to do exceed
ing abundantly, above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us, unto Him be glory in the Church, by Christ Jesus, throughout all ages, world without end."
THE GIFTS OF GOD IN NATURE AND GRACE.
BY MISS M. A. S. BAREER.
No. VI. The Light of Truth.
THERE are two sorts of truth: one, the immutable perfection of virtue and knowledge; the other, the conscience, or sense of right in man. The truth, as it exists in its perfect form, neither is nor can be susceptible of change; but in the other sense, all ideas of right and wrong, of good and evil, fluctuate not only under every latitude, but in the heart of almost every individual: like the natural and sensible horizon, of
the first there is but one, fixed and unchangeable; the other, varying with every different position of man upon earth. nicated to us by revelation; for how can the finite take
The knowledge of "the truth" can only be commu
the measure of the infinite? how can perfection proceed from imperfection? or from man, with his folly, ignorance, and wickedness, can there possibly emanate any perfect law of virtue? Unless, therefore, we supknowledge, he can neither, unassisted by revelation, pose any person to possess perfect goodness or perfect know the truth himself, or teach it to others.
Living, however, in the light of revelation, we are to be guided, not by our own weak and corrupted glorious truth which has been revealed to us. To judgment, but by the knowledge of the eternal and live according to our own conscience, without taking any care to consider whether our conscience is in the right or not, is much like the great naval commander, who, not wishing to observe the signal made to him, put the glass to his blind eye, and declared he could not see it. But, it may be observed, both the eyes of the understanding are blind, until they are enlightened by God. This is true; but notwithstanding, we are taught to consider ourselves as accountable beings; and whatever difficulty this may present as a religious creed, we never find it embarrassing the actions of men where their own temporal and immediate interests are concerned; they are ready enough to exert themselves, they are totally and entirely dependent upon God for even in cases where they are willing to acknowledge
the result. When we consider how much the course
of our lives depends upon the degree of knowledge we possess, we cannot but feel ourselves strongly bound to obey the apostolic command, and endeavour to "add to our faith knowledge."
If we are Christians, we receive the revelation made to us by Christ as being indeed the truth; and in proportion as our hearts are illuminated by it, we may judge of our approach to the light. "No man hath seen God at any time; the only-begotten Son, which is in the bosom of the Father, he hath declared him." While we think that to be good which he has declared evil, we are in ignorance; while we practise that as harmless which he has said to be sinful, we are in error; when we are leaning upon a hope of acceptance with God which he has denounced as vain, we are in darkness. There is no other way of peace with God than the atonement of Christ, no other way to holiness than communion with him; by which we may become
adorned with true wisdom and virtue, as the flowers
derive their rich and beautiful colours from the light of the sun.
Doubtless there is much sin which is daily committed against our better judgment; but there is also a vast amount which arises from ignorance, or rather from self-deception; and if the understanding, by which the conduct is guided, be itself deceived, how widely must the life err from the truth! "If the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that darkness!" We do not know ourselves, we do not try ourselves, and we have too good an opinion of ourselves. Among the blinding shadows of sius and passions which pre
of God, and to do that which is good in his sight, ought to guide our conduct: when the praise of men, the love of applause, and the fear of censure, are mingled with it, we begin, like a person with an imperfect sight, to see all things double, and are unable, in judging of our duty, to distinguish the substance from the shadow,the reality from the spectral illusion. Take a work of art for an illustration of this subject: would a poet, would a painter, when meditating a great composition, be continually thinking what would please the beholders? No, certainly not; if he did, he would never succeed on the contrary, he would have a regard only to what he considered as the beautiful and the true, and trust to his imitation of it to secure applause. If this be the case in a matter where the favour of men is the end desired, how much more so with regard to the moral conduct, in which man is not, cannot be, save in a very, very slight and subordinate degree, either the rewarder or the judge?
vent the entrance of the light of truth into the human heart, there is none perhaps more difficult to be penetrated than the pride of self-conceit: "Seest thou a man wise in his own conceit? There is more hope of a fool than of him" (Prov. xxvi. 12). Some African missionaries, who were making a journey through the negro villages scattered among the swamps and forests of Africa, adjacent to the settlement of Sierra Leone, were once entirely silenced in a village where they had been preaching, by the following circumstance. After the English missionary (Mr. Cates) had been occupied some time in endeavouring to instruct the people in the first great principles of Christianity, there arrived at the village two other negroes, a headman and his son. This son had been in America, and in several parts of Europe; and, though he had never learnt a letter, he considered himself a wise man. To these people Mr. Cates was requested to read his bock. No sooner, however, was the small Bible produced, than, before he could begin, the young man observed, that If we descend from the general character into the he knew it was not God's book, as Mr. Cates repre- minute details of daily life, it is scarcely possible, sented, for he had seen God's book in the different perhaps, to find a vice the temptations to which more churches where he had been, and it was much larger | largely abound. Not to speak of wilful lying, which than Mr. Cates's! Argument-reasoning, was, of all know to be a sin, and most condemn as base and course, vain. This sagacious discovery had its full dishonourable, there are a thousand more general and weight upon the minds of the ignorant natives; and more tolerable forms in which falsehood is dressed, until Mr. Cates was scarcely permitted to leave the village it is so disguised, that it sits in its well-chosen masin safety. querade, unknown and undetected, in the very heart which cherishes it. First, there is the deceitful look ; the countenance, upon which at home the clouds of illhumour and discontent perpetually rest, clears up abroad, like night before morning; then there is the deceitful smile, which assures the undesired visitor of a hearty welcome; then the untrue words, the flattering commendation of things really despised, the false assurances of esteem never felt, the kind expressions which mean absolutely nothing: it is all worthless, base gold, mock pearls, false diamonds; nothing can be valuable except in proportion as it is true. may be said, we are not to make ourselves disagreeable to those we are connected with in society, and that it is impossible to please without having recourse to such arts as these: even if it were so, it would be better not to please at all, than to please at the expense of truth; and such unreal courtesy can do no good to the individual receiving it. But the assertion is not true; for the person who really has a kind feeling for others, who can sympathise, even if but a little, in sorrows not his own, and rejoice in prosperity in which he has no share, whose nature is not engrossed by selfishness, and who is willing to yield the gratification of his own small desires to those of others,-and these qualities suppose no heroic virtue, no depths of disinterestedness,-such a person may please without the use of dissimulation; courtesies, from such an one, are current coin, not the base counterfeit. Besides, it is not argued that we should not be courteous to all, but that we should be sincere in that courtesy, and not endeavour to make the eyes and tongue do duty for the heart: such kindness is like the apples of Sodom, which were beautiful to look at, but, when tasted, dust and ashes.
Every person who leans solely upon his own understanding, is as likely to pronounce a moral verdict upon his own actions as egregiously foolish and remote from the truth as the travelled negro, who argued only upon his own limited knowledge. We are so prone to believe ourselves in the right, that so long as we have the approval of our own conscience, we do not trouble ourselves to consider how far its verdict is to be depended upon; and are apt to judge ourselves rather by our own standard, than by the word of God. No stronger human lesson can be afforded us upon this subject, than the crrors of judgment into which many wise and pious men have occasionally fallen, which should teach us always to distrust ourselves; and, remembering how likely we are to err and be deceived, to seek more earnestly for knowledge. Like faith, it is the gift of God, shining into our hearts, "to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God, in the face of Jesus Christ."
Truth, in its other form, is usually characterised by the name of sincerity; it is the conformity of the outward conduct with the inward feelings, that open honesty of character which needs no veil, and wears none. It needs no veil,-for the affectation of virtues which are not possessed are forged title deeds to the esteem of men, used only by those who have no real claim; and it wears none,-for where there is nothing to be concealed, no veil can be needed.
"The devil," it is said by our Saviour, "is the father of lies;" and nothing can be more opposed to the spirit of Christianity than falsehood or deceit in any shape; nothing was more strongly reprehended by our Redeemer. It was this deception of character which drew down upon the Pharisees the severe rebuke which named them "whited sepulchres," whose fair outside contrasts so fearfully with the corruption below, could we see into its depths. But without being guilty of predeterminate hypocrisy, the spirit of it, from the natural deceitfulness of the human heart, is but too apt to insinuate itself into our lives. How much of our conduct is regulated, not according to what we know to be the will of God, not even according to what we feel to be right, but to be "seen of men," to follow the practice, to secure the good opinion of cur fellow-creatures. Is a person, then, not to desire the esteem of others? Yes; but it is not a proper motive for action; every good deed, done with reference to such a motive, partakes more or less of the nature of hypocrisy. A "single eye" to the glory
There is no human law against falsehood, although it is as contrary to moral right as stealing, or any other civil crime; for human laws are enacted, not for the enforcement of moral right, but for the protection of one man against another; yet it may be doubted whether falsehood is not as great an injury to society as theft. From it arises every sort of injustice; there are but few sins which are not practised under the hood of deception-few contrary to moral light, and the interest and happiness of our fellow-creatures, which walk about in the open daylight of truth and honesty. Evil - speaking, for instance, that fruitful source of disquiet in the intercourse of society, generally has its rise in untruth.
If deception is injurious to others, it is still more
so to the person practising it. It has been said, "no cover was ever made large enough and cunning enough to cover itself;" but whether it be successful in the eyes of others or not, the certain effect of it is to darken the mind where it is indulged. The conscience is quaintly called, by an old writer, "“God's officer;" but when habituated to deception, its eyes are blinded, and it loses the power of keeping the heart, of distinguishing between right and wrong, between good and evil; and traitors enter the garrison in the dress of friends without detection.
"When the sun shines, the dial's shade Shews the true time, and never lies; Let truth your every word pervade, Clear as the sun."
Thoughts, words, and actions, the whole line of life, should point with undeviating sincerity to the standard of truth: within, and without; within, in the depths of the heart, there should dwell neither error nor deceit; without, the outward conduct should be a faithful answer to the inward truth. But as the sun-dial can mark the hour only when the sun shines upon it, so will our hearts, to point thus to the standard of truth, require to be illuminated by "the true Light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world," even the "Sun of Righteousness."
THE CHARACTER OF GOD'S PEOPLE.*-Who are the people of God? Are we all his people? Are we all included? We are, in a certain sense. We are his, because he is our Maker. We are his, because we are accountable to him. We are his, because our life, our breath, our very being, is dependent on his sovereign will. We are his, because we have been baptised into his Church, and were thus made members of Christ, children of God, and inheritors of the kingdom of heaven. This is all true; but it is not the point. Are we all his, emphatically? Is there that union, that child-like submission, that fellowship, that love to an unseen, self-existent, holy God, which the term implies. The consciences of many will assent when I say that this is often very uncertain; and hence you see at once the importance of the inquiry. The people of God are habitually in earnest about religion. They think it a serious, all-important concern, the one thing needful. This at the very least must be the case. The people of God are not all vigorous and strong in faith, but they all wish to be so; there are many weak and feeble amongst them, but all are sincere and in earnest. They do not trifle as the world does. You will not hear them talk as the world does about piety and pious people. They do not put off religion; and, what is a still more charac teristic mark, they do not wish to put it off. If they feel, as they often do, disinclined to duty, disinclined to prayer, a little weary in the exercise of devotion, or the use of the various means of grace, they seek to get rid, not of these instruments and aids to piety, but of their disinclination to them. They do not leave off praying, but add to their prayers another, that they may love prayer. They do not lay aside their Bible, but look therein to learn how they may more truly value and love it. They do not cover their sins, because the sight of them is grievous, but mourn over and confess them, and bring them to their Saviour, that the burden may be removed.
LOVE AND GRATITUDE.-Many writers seem to me to place too much of the life of religion in gratitude. It is true that time, nay, that eternity, would be too
This extract from Sermons by Rev. J. Bateman, will give some idea of the simplicity, force, and piety, of the whole. The author, now Vicar of Marlborough, was chaplain to the present Bishop of Calcutta, and the volume was published at the bishop's request. To many of our readers this will be a suflicient coinmendation.
short to pay the debt we owe to Him who loved us, and gave himself for us. But though ceaseless gratitude is due; though duty and happiness here uniteand it is a joyful and pleasant thing to be thankful"-it is nevertheless the property of love to beget love; and where the love of God is shed abroad in the heart, gratitude in a great degree merges in that higher and master principle of the soul. Gratitude, when it is experienced as the ruling sentiment, always implies some distance from the object. If a stranger confers some unexpected favour, or if at some perilous crisis an enemy hasten to my relief, a sense of obligation instantly arises, and I feel at a loss for words to express my thankfulness. Not so with the partner of my bosom, or with the friend that sticketh closer than a brother. They may spend the live-long day in offices of kindness, or pass the sleepless night in ministering to my every want in pain and sickness; and love, not gratitude, is the return they seek; it is the only recompense which friendship prizes, or which tenderness will receive. Nay, it is a thing well known, that where affection, once warm and ardent, insensibly begins to decline, one of the surest and saddest symptoms of the change is, that gratitude begins to pay the debt of love. Heart is no longer bound to heart; distance has commenced; and kindnesses are felt as favours, because they are no longer valued as proofs of love. It is the same as it respects the movements of the heart towards God. In those instances which remind us of our immeasurable distance from the Majesty of heaven, the Divine favours and mercies call forth principally the sense of gratitude; but when, at still happier moments, we draw nigh unto God, and God draws nigh unto us; when we dwell in God, and God in us,-then the tributary stream of gratitude is lost in the full tide of that affection which pours itself into the boundless ocean of love. Thus temporal deliverances, and all the bounties of an indulgent Providence, find their return in gratitude, because these are recognised as the condescensions of the Creator to the creature. The same emotion also predominates in the soul when we contemplate God's mercies in the forgiveness of sin; for this implies the infinite distance of a pardoned rebel from his great sovereign Lord. But when God manifests himself in Christ Jesus as the soul's repose, and the heart's desire; when we feed upon the bread that came down from heaven, and drink of that water which can satisfy the deepest thirstings of the spiritual nature, I would appeal to the subject of this happy experience (for he alone can tell), whether the sense of favour is not lost in the enjoyment of the blessing. To sum up the whole matter: all that we can give to God is but the reaction and return of what he gives to us. If God, then, gives us any thing short of himself, we instinctively repay that gift with something short of ourselves; and thus it is that gratitude is offered for temporal and for lesser spiritual mercies. But where the great blessing is vouchsafed; where God withholds not himself, but reveals and communicates his own essential nature to the soul,-the soul in return gives back itself, without reservation and without limit, unto him; and all its affections centre in the fulfilment of the first and great commandment. - From Rev. H. Woodward's "Thoughts and Reflections."
THE FOUNDATION OF CHRISTIAN HOPE.-The first pillar that props it up is the almightiness of God. "Abba, Father, all things are possible to thee," says our Saviour. Talk not to me how the seas should be turned into dry land, or how the poor can be raised up to sit with the princes of the people; or how stones can be raised up to be children of Abraham; or how palsies and fevers can be cured with a word. I will stop all gaps of infidelity with this one bush, “That God is able to do it." He that is made by no cause
cannot be confined in his being; and he that hath no bounds in his being can have no bounds and restriction in his power. And if any fancy start out of our weak brain, to cavil that somewhat is impossible to God, it is soberly spoken by one, that "it were better to say that this could not be done, than that God could not do it." There is no possibility, therefore, for Christian hope to despair, because all things are possible to God. There is no horizon under heaven or above heaven that hope cannot look beyond it: for that comfort that is commensurable with the strength and power of God is as large as can be contained in the heart of a creature. But if you lean upon the help of men, and hosts, and angels, they are slender reeds, and will give you a fall: as God said of the vain trust of the Jews," They shall be ashamed of Ethiopia, their expectation." How many do I see to sink under a little sorrow, because they have too much temporal comfort! The world is too liberal to them; it hath given them of all things so largely, that they have not the patience to want any thing: as God told Gideon, that he had too much of man in his army to depend upon the Almighty for victory, and he bade him retain but the thirtieth part, and his foes should flee before him. Throw all the miserable comforts out of doors for rubbish, and cast yourself upon the strength of God, and upon that alone, and then say, "Lord, receive me; for I have driven all other solace from me, that I might enjoy thee alone; now I am ready for my Saviour, for there is none to help me but only thou, O Lord."-Bishop Taylor.
THE DUTY OF PRAYER.-What man is he that can help offering up his morning sacrifice of devotion, when, awaking from sweet sleep refreshed and renewed, he beholds all things, as it were, new created? The sun arises, and finds the cattle on a thousand hills waiting for his appearance, and all the birds of the air ready to pay their tribute of thanksgiving for the return of his glorious and enlivening beams. And shall man-man, for whose use and benefit all these things were made,-shall man alone lie buried in sleep, or, when arisen, forget to worship his God? Shall he not rather rouse all his affections at once, with these and the like strains of the sweet singer of Israel: "Awake up, my glory; awake, lute and harp," every organ of my body and faculty of my soul; "I myself will awake right early. O God, thou art my God; early will I seek thee. I will sing of thy power, O Lord, and praise thy mercy betimes in the morning. I will magnify thee, O God, my King, and praise thy name for ever and ever. Every day will I give thanks unto thee, and praise thy name for ever and ever." Now is the time for us to take a view beforehand of every thing that is to be done in the day, to offer it to God with purity of intention, and pray for his grace to direct us in all things: but more especially in those instances in which we are most likely to need it; as the constitution, temper, situation, and circumstances of every person in the world make some particular temptations more dangerous to him than others. Again: who that was in his senses, when the evening closes upon him, and consigns him to the darkness of the night, would venture to go to sleep (when, for aught he knows, he may awake in another world), without having first examined himself concerning the thoughts, words, and actions of the day, and so confessed and repented him of the sins therein committed, as to have rendered himself a proper object of the Divine mercy through Christ, into whose hands he should now commend his spirit, as he would do with his dying breath? Blessed is he who thus begins and ends the day with God, and so passes a life of piety and peace. His sleep shall be sweet indeed. And sweetest of all shall be that last sleep, out of which he shall awake to glory in the morning of the resurrection.-Bishop Horne.
ETERNITY. Eternity! O word of a vast comprehension, how doth this world, and the duration of all things therein, vanish and disappear at the very naming of thee! It is impossible to use exact propriety of speech in discoursing of this matter, and therefore we must express ourselves as well as we can. Before we were, there was an infinite space of time which no finite understanding can reach; and when we die, and shall be no more in this world, an endless eternity of time (if I may so speak) succeeds and follows, in which infinite duration our poor life intervenes, or comes in as a handbreadth, the space of a few minutes, as a small isthmus, or creek of land, between two boundless oceans. In short, our life in this world is but a little point of time, interposed between an eternity past and an eternity to come.-Bishop Bull.
On reading a Poem expressing an opinion that the Attachments of Life are unknown to the Saints in Heaven.
BY CHARLES BAYLY,
(For the Church of England Magazine.) SWEET poet, say not so
Of those who truly love
"Twould wound the faithful heart to know
It could not love above,
And that the ties which bind us here
O no! but rather say,
Attachments kindled here,
Bright and more pure appear;
The good made perfect there
Welcome with holy kiss
The souls they lov'd so dearly here
They strike their lutes, and every string
UP steeps reclining in the autumnal calm,
The Sunday chime is borne ;
Rising and sinking on the silent air,
And fitful bird hard by,
The moon is looking on the sunny earth;
More still and beautiful.
If aught there be upon this rude, bad earth, Which angels, from their happy spheres above, Could lean and listen to,
It were those peaceful sounds.
From "The Cathedral."
There is unearthly balm upon the air,
The week-day cares, like shackles, from us fall,
Not that these musical wings would bear us up,
Of better hopes, and prayer, and penitence,
From many a woodland spire,
THE SERVANT IN SICKNESS.-This is your time of trial, and what provision are you making for it? Here I must speak to you on the duty of strict economy. There is hardly a week passes, but I meet with some instances of servants taken ill, who are destitute of any means of support; forced to find a miserable lodging wherever they can, they are soon obliged to part with their clothing to satisfy their common wants: they are next driven to seek precarious aid from charity, and to press as a burden and incumbrance on some poor lodging-house keeper, whom they are obliged to leave at last in debt. But I implore you to put an end to this degrading system. Be independent when sickness comes; lay up out of your present wages against the demands of illness; study economy in dress; waste none of your income in trifles and finery; maintain your true nobleness of character. I have known most praiseworthy instances of aged parents being supported, or greatly assisted, from the earnings of their children when in service; this is "honouring your father and mother," in a manner most becoming the Christian character, and acceptable to God. I would strongly recommend you to deposit your earnings from time to time in the savings' bank, in such small sums as you can spare. Besides being perfectly secure, and not liable to be spent in a careless manner, your money will there be constantly increasing by the accumulation of interest. It speaks well for a servant's character that she has money in the savings' bank. But presuming that you are making, and will continue to make, a due provision for future wants in this life;-what is your prospect in another world? This is the chief part of my instruction to you. It is, we know, a most important point gained, if the tone of character among our domestic servants be raised, if we find them persons of principle, of integrity, of solid worth, as members of our households, this is most desirable. (God grant that this humble effort may contribute to make them such!) But we have far higher aims than your personal respectability and domestic virtue. We look on you as part of the "Church of God, which he has purchased with his own blood;" you we are to gather from the midst of this present evil world, and to present you to the Shepherd and Bishop of souls. All your duties
or difficulties here will soon come to an end. Our relative characters as masters and servants will soon be lost. Eternity will ere long receive us; we are rapidly passing through life; the Lord is at hand; the trump of God will soon awake the dead; and you and
From "Pastoral Address to Female Servants." By Rev. W. B. M'Kenzie, M.A., Minister of St. James, Holloway.
I must come forth to judgment! To that closing scene we direct you, where we must appear: then all our labours terminate; your duties as servants, as well as those of your employers, will be impartially investigated. Then what do you personally know of the Lord Jesus Christ? I would urge you to immediate and solemn self-examination. It will not then be enough that you shall have pleased your master, or your associates; but to have this testimony, that you have
pleased God." The world has hitherto pleased, engaged, and satisfied you. No, the world never satisfies; its highest pleasures disappoint; it may offer you its fountain of delight, but whosoever drinks of these waters will thirst again; the deeper he drinks, the more feverish and impatient is his thirst." The wicked are like the troubled sea, when it cannot rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt. There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked."
CATHEDRAL MUSIC.-England is entitled to boast that her cathedral music is superior to that of any other country, and that, while the music of the Church in Italy, and even Germany, has degenerated, ours retains the solemn grandeur of the olden time. Our services and anthems, too, are more vocal than the masses and motets of the Romish Church; for, in these, the voices are very frequently subordinate to the rich and powerful instrumental symphony which accompanies them. Our cathedral music is accompanied by the organ only; a kind of accompaniment that is not liable to the changes which orchestral music is constantly undergoing, and, from its grave and solid style, is calculated to support and enrich the vocal harmony without withdrawing the attention from it. The more independent vocal music is of instrumental accompaniment, the less it will be subject to the mutability of taste and fashion; and this is one cause of the durability of our cathedral music. Its choral harmony, too, is of surpassing grandeur, when performed with sufficient vocal strength; but, unfortunately, this is seldom the case in our cathedrals and churches. The body of vocal sound being too feeble to fill the edifice, the organist endeavours to supply the defect by the loudness of his playing. But two and two do not always make four. By doubling the quantity of vocal sound, the greatness of its effect may be doubled: not so when the added quantity of sound is instrumental. This addition, indeed, frequently subtracts from the effect of the whole; for the listener is painfully employed in straining his ear to separate the tones and words of the choristers from the mass of instrumental sounds in which they are smothered. The choral establishments of the cathedrals are, at present, inadequate to do justice to the grand and solemn music which they have to perform.-Hogarth's Musical History, &c.
RUINS OF JERICHO.-The glory of this famous city is departed, and a solitary square tower, called by the monks the house of Zaccheus, is all that remains on the site of the once grand fortifications. A few hedges of wild cactus have supplanted the walls that fell under the blast of Joshua's trumpet; and since the days of Hiel the Bethelite, none has been found bold enough to fly in the face of the solemn denunciation against the rebuilder of Jericho. A few, very few, mud huts, tenanted by naked Arabs, and scarcely visible till closely approached, constitute the modern village of Rihhah, the Turkish name for Jericho. Here we pitched our tents, and the pilgrims strewed the plain
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