his conscience; "then sin revived," and he became, for the first time, aware of its strength, and conscious of enmity to God as a positive, efficient principle.

It is to be lamented that this subject is not always presented from the pulpit, with the clearness which its importance demands. Young preachers, especially, who have studied systems of theology with more attention than they have devoted to their Bible, or to the study of the human heart, sometimes leave the impression, that they consider every unconverted man as positively hating God. Their hearers are conscious that this is not a true representation of their case, and, of course, their consciences are not affected.

In the language of the New Testament, "He that is not with Christ is against him;" he who is not his cordial friend is his enemy, and, of course, the enemy of God. If one text seems to speak a different language, it is easily reconciled: "He, that is not against us, is on our part." This means, not that the vast multitude, who seem to take no decided part between Christ and his enemies, are to be accounted his friends. The occasion on which it was spoken explains its meaning. At a time when any avowal of adherence to Christ was dangerous, his disciples were not to condemn one who made such an avowal, though he might not, in all things, follow them. It was a rule of charity to be used in judging others, under such circumstances, and not a rule for self-examination.

Should the latent, or constructive enmity of the heart to God never be fully disclosed in this world, it will effectually exclude its possessor from the kingdom of heaven. Suppose an infant were rescued from the flames by the exertions of a generous benefactor, who for this purpose encountered great personal inconvenience and danger, when no other person was near who could have afforded aid. As soon as he becomes capable of understanding the story, his mother often recounts the circumstances, and urges upon him the duty of gratitude. But no impression is made upon his heart, and he grows up indifferent to the claims of his benefactor. He cautiously avoids his presence, so far as is practicable, and continues to regard him with feelings of almost total indifference. No incident forcibly reminding him of his forgotten obligation, and no new kindness converts this indifference into positive dislike. In the course of years, he becomes a poor, friendless, lost, benighted wanderer, on the point of perishing with hunger and cold. A servant finds him, and assures him, that his master is ever ready to receive such as are destitute and distressed into his house, where he will be welcome to every thing which he needs. His pressing necessi

ties overcome his love of independence, and he is willingly led to the hospitable mansion. The supper is ready, and the host cordially welcomes the guest to the first place at his table. The wanderer is delighted with his reception, till a glance discovers to him that to his new benefactor he was once indebted for the preservation of his life. This new favor brings past, forgotten claims so forcibly to mind, that hatred, shame, and every torturing passion distract him by turns, and the festive board of his benefactor becomes, of all places, the most intolerable. Such would heaven be to those who have lived and died forgetful of the just claims of God to their love and gratitude, unless there is repentance and reconciliation in the grave.

THE GATE OF PRAYER.

For the Magazine.

I have transcribed the following Allegory from a recent English work, and added to it some remarks by way of interpretation, thinking that it may interest some ot the readers of the Magazine.

AN ALLEGORY.

HAVING been employed, one evening, in reading the first part of the 11th chapter of Luke, which contains various excellent directions and pleasing encouragements relative to the duty of prayer, I leaned back on my sofa, and indulged my contemplations.

I fancied that I was standing opposite a large and ponderous gate, which was the outward entrance to the palace of the King of the country. At the top of this gate I observed the following inscription, written in large golden characters, "KNOCK, AND IT SHALL BE OPENED UNTO YOU." I felt desirous to do this, but resolved first to notice the manner in which others might act.

I had not waited long, before I saw a gay gentleman, elegantly dressed, approaching in a beautiful phaeton. He staid a few moments; but, on reading the inscription, he exclaimed, "I have no inclination to knock, or to enter this gate; I am too much engaged, and I think all the beauties of the palace would not repay my trouble, if I were to go and examine them."Saying this, he dashed away down the broad road, which was opposite.

The next person, I observed, was a man of demure appearance, who seemed to possess an affected gravity of countenance. He went up to the gate in a fearless manner, and appeared secure of admission; for he said that he knew the porter at the gate, that he had associated with many who had been to the King's palace, and had received many proofs of his Majesty's kindness. He therefore called out to the porter, and desired him to open the gate for one who was a friend to the King, and who was well known to many of his best servants and officers. To this request, which was repeatedly made, no answer was returned, and at length he departed from the gate, disappointed and confounded.

The third person who attracted my attention marched up to the gate with an elevated mien and confident step, as if he possessed a right to enter, and was conferring a favor on the Prince by approaching his mansion. He read the inscription on the gate; but, seeing that the knocker was towards the bottom, and that he must stoop to reach it, he resolved to content himself with striking the door with a stick, which he held in his hand; but he could not obtain admittance, and went away with indignation.

When I observed these unsuccessful attempts, I was much discouraged, and thought it was useless for me to try: I was therefore going to depart; but, on looking up to the gate, I saw the inscription written so plainly, and signed by the seal manual of the King, that I resolved to stay a little longer.

Soon a pilgrim appeared, journeying towards the gate. His eye was fixed intensely on the inscription; but he was not sufficiently careful in choosing his way, so that he often stumbled. He knocked at the gate, and it was immediately opened; but, in his hurry, he fell down, and it was shut by the porter, who said to him, "Watch and pray." However, he knocked again, and, being more careful, was then admitted.

I next noticed a poor weary beggar, almost destitute of clothing, and nearly perishing with hunger. When he came to the gate, his eyes glistened with pleasure at reading the inscription. He kneeled down to the ground, and took hold of the knocker; but, on looking at himself, and seeing his unworthy condition to appear before his Lord, I saw tears drop from his eyes; but he soon wiped them off, and resolved, "If I must perish, I will perish in the act of seeking admittance." So he lifted up the knocker and gave a rap, when the gate was immediately opened, and he was admitted with many cheerful welcomes, while he exclaimed, "Open to me the gates of righteousness: I will go in to them, and I will praise the Lord: this gate of the Lord,

into which the righteous shall enter. I will praise thee: for thou hast heard me, and art become my salvation." Psa. cxvii. 19-21.

After this, I beheld another person somewhat similar to the former, though he possessed much more boldness. He continued knocking for a long time without any succcess; but he was not discouraged, and repeated his efforts with ardor and importunity. While he was thus employed, and appeared to meet with no success, he pulled from his bosom a scroll, and read these words aloud: "Verily, verily, I say unto you, whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name, he will give it you." John xvi. 23. "Yes," exclaimed the pilgrim, "these are the precious words of my Divine Redeemer, who shed his blood on the cross for my salvation, and who is now exalted to heaven as my great Intercessor." Then he turned his scroll, and read, "We have not an High Priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities; but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin. Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need." Heb. iv. 15, 16. As he read these words, he lifted his eyes to heaven, the tears rolled down his cheek, and he grasped the knocker and made the gate resound again and again. Still he appeared to be unnoticed, the gate remained close shut. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, his knocks became fainter; but he again pulled out the scroll from his bosom, and read: "Men ought always to pray, and not to faint." Luke xviii. 1. "Pray without ceasing. In every thing give thanks for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you." 1 Thess. v. 17, 18. As he read these words,.he knockedwith still greater energy and importunity. At length he obtained a happy entrance, when he cried out," This is the gate of heaven." Gen. xxviii. 17.

On again looking around me, I beheld, at some distance, a trembling traveller advancing towards the gate. As he approached, he was accosted by a man of a haggard look, and a frightful countenance, who told him it was of no use for him to seek admittance; because such a person as he was would not only be refused, but be punished for his audacity. The traveller made no answer, but continued his course. Soon after, he was solicited by one with whom he was formerly intimate, to go with him down the broad road opposite; and, on his refusal, he was reproached and abused. When he arrived at the gate, and was about to knock, he began to feel his courage failing, and many fears arose in his mind, lest he should be refused admittance: he was almost inclined to depart; but when he looked at the glorious promise just above him, and saw that a

strong light from heaven seemed to shine upon it, he took cour age; he knocked, and was immediately received. He arose from his knees with comfort and joy, and triumphed over all his enemies, and all his difficulties.

Having witnessed these pleasing scenes, I resolved to apply for admission without any further delay. I accordingly went up to the gate, and gave so loud a knock that it roused me from my slumber. I was then enabled to reflect on the folly of neglecting prayer-on the sin of performing this duty in a hypocritical, proud, or unwatchful manner-and also on the benefits of an humble, importunate, and faithful spirit of devotion. Blessed are they who watch daily at the gate of prayer, and wait at the posts of her doors! They shall be received into the presence of their God, and shall obtain eternal happiness, through Jesus Christ, "the way, the truth, and the life."

INTERPRETATION.

1. The gay gentleman in the phaeton. How many such there are. Lucilla, for instance, knows that she is immortal, that she has a soul, which thousands of years hence is to be happy or miserable, and yet she has no desire to pray for its salvation. A walk, a party of pleasure, a visit, or a worldly companion, can engross all her interest, and she goes on down the broad road.

2. The demure man who called upon the porter for admittance, instead of knocking at the gate. I once heard a young man expatiating on the mercy of God, in a company where the conversation turned on the duties of religion. He was honest, he said, and upright, and no man could complain of him. He reverenced his Maker, and obeyed his laws, and he knew he had nothing to fear. Poor man! The question for you is, Do you pray? Have you knocked at the gate of mercy through a Saviour? Do you daily pray for forgiveness and acceptance in his name? If you do not, you must be disappointed and confounded at last, when the Saviour shall say, "I never knew you." A great many young persons, of amiable and gentle dispositions and unimpeached morality, think that they shall reach heaven at last, without knocking at the straight gate,

3. The third case was that of the proud man, who could not stoop to become a Christian. How many such lofty spirits there are. Alfred is such a young man. He has many companions, who look up to him with high regard; and though he secretly cherishes a wish to become a Christian, he is ashamed to avow it. He reads his Bible secretly. He prays by stealth. He conceals the little interest he has in his own salvation. He