there not preach the same sermon you preached in your own church in the morning?' I did, John, and

I will tell you why I did it. I was some miles off, in another town, and in another congregation. If my sermon was of importance to you in Edinburgh, it certainly was so for them in Leith. But, John, I very well observe now the object of your early visit. The questions you have put inform me both of its nature and design. You do not intend, I presume, to number me among the dumb dogs that cannot bark," but you rank me among the idle shepherds," because I preached the same sermon at Leith in the afternoon, that I had delivered in the morning in Edinburgh, being too lazy, as you suppose, to prepare another for them there; and you feel it your duty, did you not, to call upon me to reprove me for such conduct?'

I did, Doctor, yet not exactly to reprove you, but to warn you against such conduct in future, as I consider it very improper, if not very sinful.'

I thank you, John, and am willing to believe you my friend, and that you are sincere in what you have done.' I am all you say, Doctor, and more too.' That I

am ready to admit, John, yet must tell you that I am more than a little sceptical as to what you affirm respecting the sinfulness and impropriety of preaching a sermon a second time, when preached under circumstances such as mine yesterday, was away from home, and to a new congregation. But sceptic as I am, and unable as I feel to believe exactly upon these points as you do, you now have it in your power, John, to convince me of another fact, if you will, namely, the propriety or impropriety of preaching more than once the same sermon to the same people.

'I felt, John, that that sermon was on an important and solemn subject, a subject eminently calcu

lated, aided by the Spirit of God, to admonish and edify, not our church only, but every Christian society, and could not fail of meeting a cordial response in every

sanctified breast that listened to it.'

'It was all you say, Dr. I never have heard a sermon I liked better. It was indeed a solemn and impressive sermon, a convincing and stirring discourse. Just such a sermon as the Church of God in her present circumstances requires; and withal it was so plain as that all could understand and remember it.'

'Well, John, as to the remembering it, you have had an advantage above all others, inasmuch as you have heard it twice, and by your remembering or forgetting of this sermon you have it now in your power to convince me of the propriety or impropriety of preaching the same sermon a second or more times even at home. Now, from the fact that you have heard it twice, and that but yesterday, I hope you are able to repeat, for the assistance of others and the edification of your own soul, the greater part of it, and the more especially so, since you say, it was so plain and easy to be remembered.' The introduction to the sermon was neither lengthy nor farfetched you are able to tell me how I introduced it?'

:

After a good deal of shifting and changing of his position on his seat, he said, 'Well, no, Dr. I have pretty much forgotten the manner you introduced your subject.'

'Well, John, you cannot have forgotten the divisions of the discourse. There was nothing artificial about them, they arose naturally out of the text, and were such as every reflecting mind could not fail to see. What was the first?' too was lost in forgetfulness. Well, the second, what was it? Well, let us pass to the third, you can tell me it?' Not one of them

It

6

SEVERE and sudden sickness seized a young friend of mine, and I hastened to his bed side. In the midst of conversation which seemed to make little or no impression on his mind, I was led to inquire, Did you ever pray?' A faint and hesitating No,' was the melancholy answer. A host of sad thoughts crowded on me, awakened by this reply. A youth of some eighteen or twenty summers was stretched on a dying bed. He had lived in the midst of the means of grace, had been taught the nature and the duties of religion— had been externally moral in his deportment-but had never prayed. He had been taught that he was a sinner, but had never asked to be forgiven. He knew that he was under the curse of the law of God, and exposed to everlasting destruction from the presence of the Lord; but he had never asked God to deliver him from the danger of hell and prepare him for the enjoyment of heaven.

I was distressed beyond measure. It appeared incredible, but I had no reason to doubt the sincerity of the dying youth. Taking his hand, I addressed him in words similar to these:

My dear friend, did you never pray? You a creature dependent on your Creator for every breath you draw, for every mercy you enjoy, for every power you possess, did you never thank that Creator for these gifts? A sinful creature -having no hope and without God in the world-ready to perish under guilt that would ruin the universe -did you never pray for mercy? Brought up in the enjoyment of the gospel, and often told of that Saviour who died for just such sinners as you are, did you never go to that Redeemer, and in the dust, at the foot of his cross, acknowledge your vileness, and sue DECEMBER, 1839.

for an interest in his pardoning and atoning blood? Look, I beseech you, at the sacrifice that God has made for you. Look at the sins which have separated between you and God. Consider the infinite debt which you owe your Maker, and your infinite inability to pay that debt, and then say if you ought not to pray for a discharge. Consider that you are not only a debtor, bankrupt, and in prison, but a criminal condemned already, and awaiting the day of execution to arrive. Another has undertaken to discharge your debt, and waits but for you to ask his aid. He has consented to suffer the penalty of the law in your stead, and justify you in the presence of your condemning judge, but he will extend the benefits of his clemency to you only on condition that you will ask believing. You are a sinner, dying in your sins. Death is feeling for your heart-strings now, and will soon break them. The frail thread of life holds you out of a burning hell. You must perish unless you pray. Pray, and perhaps you may be saved.'

With such words I urged the duty of prayer on this dying friend, and the insensibility with which they were heard was as great as that with which the multitudes of sinners listen to the same entreaties, when death does not appear so near. The work of death is going on, and that youth does not pray. I went from his bed side, reflecting that perhaps disease had made him still more insensible than those in health, and if I made the appeal to them I might meet with more

success.

Some of them have doubtless read this, and wondered that a sinner could die without prayer. But is it not more strange that one can live without prayer? Can you lie down at night and trust

yourself to sleep without prayer, when you know that you are in the hands of an offended God who holds you in being, and might in an instant drop you into devouring fire? Can you presume on his goodness without so much as asking him to keep you while you cannot keep yourself? Can you wake in the morning, and begin the business of the day without once thinking of Him who watched over you while you slept, and whose hand was your shield? Can you pursue the world and never ask his aid in whose hand are all your ways-who must favour your plans or they will fail? And these are but common obligations. These would bind though there were no such thing as sin and misery, or holiness and heaven. A wretch, who believes there is a God, and denies every thing else, ought to pray. But you believe more than this. You believe that the Bible is the word of God, and that every word of that book will have a certain fulfilment. You know that you must pray or God will never have mercy on your soul. And knowing this, and knowing that God is waiting to be gracious. you refuse to pray.

Should the king come to the door of your cell, where you were waiting for the day of death to come, and offer to grant a full and instant pardon, if you would fall down on your knees, and confess with penitence your sin, and trusting in his unbought goodness would plead with him for mercy, would you plead? If he should come to you on the scaffold as you were on the point of suffering the penalty of the law, and make you the same offer, would you pray? There is not a more miserable

evasion of duty than the plea which many put in that they cannot save themselves, and therefore it is of no use to try. You do not feel the force of that objection. If you did, you would pray. Were you

were

in captivity, dependent utterly on the will of your master for life and death, you would put all your hope of escape in prayer. You would fall down before him whose chains on you, and plead with earnestness and tears that he would have compassion and let you go. And the more sensible you were of the impossibility of deliverance except through the mercy of your master, the stronger would be your supplications, and the more abundant your tears. And if you felt your dependence on God for deliverance from hell, you would go down on your knees, and beg for your life as a dying man.

Now God has constituted an inseparable connexion between your salvation and prayer. Your prayer will not make you better, or God more kind. But if you are saved, he must save you, and he will be inquired of by you, to do this thing for you. And oh ! if you never prayed, pray now. If you have, pray more. Cry mightily unto God. Besiege his throne.

Perhaps he will admit your plea,
Perhaps will hear your prayer.

No. There is no perhaps or peradventure in any promise that God ever made. "Ask, and ye shall receive "-not perhaps you shall receive. "Seek and ye shall find” -not peradventure ye shall find. "Knock and it shall be opened unto you. For every one that

asketh receiveth-and he that seeketh, findeth, and to him that knocketh it shall be opened."

P. N. R.

WHEN once a man clearly perceives his state by nature, and has a due insight into his obligations to God, he is necessarily led to a humiliating view of his sins of omission and commission, to renounce all idea of desert, and to believe that every dealing of God with his people is gracious. There appear to be four ways in which God shews this undeserved favour; or in other words, the efficient grace of God may be comprehended under four general divisions, and "All these worketh that one and the self-same Spirit, dividing to every man severally as he will." 1 Cor. xii. 11.

1. Restraining power, by which the passions, desires, and "unruly affections of sinful men," checked.

are

4. Supporting power, by which we can do all things," and "glorify God in the fires.

Even a slight knowledge of mankind is sufficient to convince us that there may be morality without religion in the heart, and that regard to the letter and spirit of God's commands frequently does not exist in the same person; in other words a man may and is frequently restrained from an act which he has the will and desire to perform, and so we believe that God exerts his restraining grace over those who are not partakers of his quickening grace-the former acts upon man before and is distinct from saving grace, though

it is included in it; and in those instances where in the end men are "hurt of the second death." The restraining power of God is exercised for the good of society at large, and for the benefit of his people in particular; it is only under this feeling that we can understand the doctrine of divine permission, which is so practically illustrated in the history of David; a knowledge of this, in connection with the power to check, enables man to trust his almighty and allwise God.

Restraining grace has to do with injurious actions, and does not necessarily act upon the will, and it may be compared to what in Providence is termed particular Providence; it is the blessing of the evil as well as the good.

A

Scripture seems very clear on this point!" Ephraim is joined to idols, let him alone." "He gave them up unto their own hearts' lusts." "To work all uncleanness with greediness." Here is the dreadfulness of divine permission. These seem clearly to shew how far mankind in general are kept by the power of God." In individual cases, and at times, in those of nations, we are permitted to see man as he is, under divine permission, given up to the waywardness of rebellious hearts. review of our own experience, be it ever so little, is sufficient to convince us that many times we should have" followed the multitude to do evil," had not something, of which we then knew not, kept us back "from presumptuous sins." How often can we remember that our feet had well nigh slipt," unless an unseen, though not an unknown hand had made a 66 way for us to escape." Apart from the consideration of benefit to mankind through the exercise of this power, there is benefit to the man