At the expiration of the seven days of unleavened bread, they began their return homeward; but the child Jesus staid behind in Jerusalem, to make inquiries, and to listen to the instructions of those who publicly explained the sense of Scripture, and the traditions of the elders. His mother and Joseph were ignorant of this delay, till the end of the first day's journey; for as it was customary on these occasions to travel in very large companies, and these perhaps often separated into groups at considerable intervals, they took it for granted that he was with some of his friends or kindred, who were no doubt often charmed with his lovely company, and expected him to rejoin them in the evening. The day closed, the different parties assembled—but, to the inexpressible concern of Mary and Joseph, Jesus was not to be found! They searched and searched again, but in vain! The anxious father, but the still more anxious mother, flew to every friend, to every fellow traveller—no tidings were to be heard! Ah, Simeon, thy sword is beginning to pierce this maternal breast! What a night of sleepless anxiety passed, and with what haste did they retrace their steps to Jerusalem! What could they imagine, but that some evil beast had taken their Joseph! The weeping mother chides her negligence, stops every passing stranger, fancies perhaps that some emissary of persecution had seized him, and that Archelaus had accomplished what Herod had begun, searches every house where they had visited or lodged—O what must the mother feel—such a mother—and of such a child!

But—he is found! On the third day, he was seen in one of the courts of the temple appropriated to the Jewish doctors, where they were accustomed to lecture to their disciples. It might be, perhaps, in the room of the great sanhedrim, where they assembled in a semi-circular form. In front of them were three rows of the scholars, containing each three-and-twenty. It is probable, that Christ sat in one of these rows; and, perhaps, the questions he put, and the answers he gave, excited so much notice amongst the doctors, that they called him into the midst of them, which was occasionally done. Thus the Jews state, that "if one of the disciples or scholars say, I have something to say in favour of him (one that is put on his trial) they bring him up and cause him to sit in the midst of them; and he does not go down from thence the whole day." [14]

At the moment when his parents discovered the holy child Jesus, he was hearing and asking questions of the doctors, in which he displayed so much understanding, that they and their disciples were astonished. This is a lesson to youth, who should, gladly and submissively receive instruction, and may with respectful eagerness question their superiors. Let them avoid all offensive forwardness and conceit of their knowledge and attainments; remembering that he who could have taught the wisest of the Jewish doctors, sat at their feet listening and asking them questions!

Feeling as a mother, but ignorant of the cause of this singular proceeding, Mary ventured, as soon as opportunity permitted, to remonstrate in these words, "Son, why hast thou thus dealt with us? Behold, thy father and I have sought thee sorrowing!" We are to consider this language as rather expressive of anxiety, that of anger; yet, perhaps, it may be admitted to contain a mixture of both. His mysterious and unauthorized disappearance might seem to her contrary to the obedience he owed, and was so uniformly accustomed to manifest to his parents. Why did he tarry? Why did he not, at least, inform them of his wishes to remain, and thus spare them the wretchedness which they had suffered during the past three days? Did he not know the tender love of his maternal parent? Did he not know the bitter tears she would shed, and the agonies she would suffer? Did he not feel the claim which she had upon his early years, and the reverence due to her character and piety?

Yes: these were considerations which he never overlooked; but he was absorbed in sublimer thoughts. Jesus was an extraordinary being, and the whole of this transaction ought to be viewed in connexion with the subsequent development of his designs, and the glory of his future actions. In it we have a glimpse of his superiority as the Son of God, and it was, doubtless, intended to attract the attention of his thoughtful mother, and to renew those meditations in which she had formerly exercised her mind, during the miracles of his nativity. His reply, "How is it that ye sought me? wist ye not that I must be about my Father's business," or, at my Father's? [15] would upon any other supposition, seem strange and unintelligible; and, accordingly, his parents did not comprehend him, being at present imperfectly versed in the mysteries of his kingdom. It was, however, perfectly in point, and full of meaning. Mary complained of having been so troubled to find him, and at the same time called Joseph his father. To which he replies, that she might surely have recollected that the temple was the most proper place to inquire for him, who, she knew, though a child, was already consecrated to so divine a work; that he was, in fact, where he ought to be, and about the proper business to which his life was to be devoted; and that, although Joseph were his reputed father, he possessed a higher relationship, and a nobler character than could distinguish mere mortals. God was his father—this was his house—and nothing must impede his purposes. Still, however, he instantly complied with the wishes of his parents, went with them to Nazareth, and during many succeeding years veiled the splendours of his character in the obedience and concealment of his childhood. Mary, in the mean time, "kept all these sayings in her heart."

In detailing the life of Christ, the inspired evangelists do not often introduce his mother; and whenever she is mentioned, it is rather to illustrate his character than hers; but we feel pleasure in collecting even the smallest fragments of this divine record, that nothing may be lost; and while searching for MARY, let us rejoice that we are, at the same time, conducted to JESUS.

The next circumstance that demands our notice, is the history of the wedding-feast at Cana in Galilee. Here the Saviour and his mother appear as the most conspicuous characters. These, with the disciples of Christ, at present few in number, were expressly invited; whence it has, with sufficient probability, been thought that it was the marriage of one of his own relations.

It seems highly becoming the dignity of the Saviour to sanction, by his holy presence, the institution of marriage in general, and to sanctify its observance on the present occasion in particular. Its utility, in reference to individual comfort and to the interests of society at large, renders "marriage honourable in all;" and while it would be ungrateful to Providence, not to accept with suitable emotions of cheerfulness the blessing which has been so long and so eagerly sought, it must always be injurious to character to indulge in extravagant merriment or indecorous festivity. Let persons forming such a connection aim to chastise their mirth with a solid piety, recollecting that while they are allowed to be cheerful, they must not be intemperate.

At the feast of Cana, the wine failed. The poverty of the family might not admit of a very liberal supply, or a larger number of visiters might come than had been expected. Mary immediately informed her Son. She saw that this circumstance occasioned confusion, she knew the power of Jesus, and she wished to spare the feelings of the new-married pair, who might have been exposed to censure for the scantiness of the supply. If these were her real sentiments, they were worthy of her character and sex. Let this example of amiable concern for the reputation of another, and the general comfort of the guests at this nuptial feast, stimulate us to an imitation of her kindness. How common is it for persons to depreciate and ridicule each other, availing themselves of trifling mistakes or unimportant oversights, to awaken prejudices and to exasperate dislikes! Envy is so prevalent in the world, so natural to the human heart, and so inconceivably diversified in its methods of operation, that we cannot be too much warned against it, especially as its venom lies concealed, hut often works effectually.

The female sex, of which we have before us so fine a specimen, are naturally attentive and kind, skilful to discern, quick to feel, and prompt to relieve the wants of others. They seem endowed with a generosity, in which it is their honour to excel, while it is their duty to cultivate and indulge it. Are comforts needed? Their ready hands will supply them. Is pain suffered? Their tender hearts will sympathize and aim to alleviate it. They are officious to replenish the cup of joy, and no less prompt to sweeten and mitigate the bitter draughts of sorrow. To them we look to increase our pleasures in the days of prosperity—for them we do not ask in vain to sustain our aching head, and to smooth the pillow of sickness and of death!

But if the views we have imputed to Mary really dictated the intimation which she gave to Jesus, respecting the deficiency of wine, it may be asked, how came she to meet with so austere a reply, as "Woman, what have I to do with thee? Mine hour is not yet come." This requires some attention.

In the first place, notwithstanding the feeling of kindness which dictated this interference, Christ might have thought it necessary to assert his divine prerogative. It is evident, from her immediately directing the servants to do whatever he commanded them, she expected some miracle; for she was, no doubt, fully persuaded by this time of his being the Messiah. But, though endowed with maternal authority, it was not her province to point out the course of his proceeding as Lord of all. He was willing, however, to grant her wishes; but, by this language, imposed secrecy. He would choose the moment and the proper manner of imparting the necessary supply. One would almost infer from the injunction of Mary to the servants, that he had informed her of his intentions; and that while he felt no displeasure at her request, it was necessary to wait his divine will.

In the next place, the words were, probably, not so disrespectful as they at first appear. Some have thought the original phrase might be rendered, "What is that to thee and me?" meaning, "What concern have we in this want of wine? it is the duty of others to provide, and not ours." It must be admitted, however, that this interpretation is not so honourable to the benevolent character of Christ, nor so natural, under all the circumstances, since Mary was evidently and properly concerning herself, as a relative in this affair, and the use of similar expressions in other parts of Scripture imply some degree of reproof. [16] Considering the divine character of our Lord, this phraseology was not improper, because in what concerned his office she had no authority over him; and Mary, impressed with a sense of his extraordinary character, which was every day increasingly developing himself, withdrew in reverential silence to enjoin the necessary obedience upon the servants. She felt, and let us never forget, that the endearments of friendship and the tender ties of consanguinity must not interfere with the superior claims of religion and of Christ.

The greatest objection seems to attach to the use of the abrupt and disrespectful term "woman;" but the usages of antiquity prove that this mode of address was quite different in meaning from what it appears in English. The politest writers, and most accomplished princes, adopted it in addressing ladies of quality; and even servants sometimes spoke to their mistresses in this manner. [17] In the last and tender scene of the cross, it is not to be imagined that the dying Son should intentionally, or even inadvertently, wound the feelings of a weeping mother, and at the very moment too when affectionately commending her to the care of his surviving friend and disciple; and yet his address is precisely similar: "woman, behold thy Son!"

Jesus soon issued his orders to the servants to fill six water-pots of stone, which were at hand, and were commonly used for washing cups and other vessels, and the hands and feet of the guests, according to the Jewish custom of purifying. [18] The water, to the astonishment of all present, be turned into wine of so excellent a flavour as to excite particular notice. This was the beginning of his public miracles, a wonderful display of his glory, and a means of confirming the minds of his disciples.

"There is a marriage whereto we are invited; yea, wherein we are already interested; not as the guests only, but as the bride; in which there shall be no want of the wine of gladness. It is marvel if in these earthly banquets there be not some lack. 'In thy presence, O Saviour, there is fulness of joy, and at thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore.' Blessed are they that are called to the marriage-supper of the Lamb." [19]

As the extraordinary character of Christ became from this moment increasingly apparent, it is easy to believe that the strong feelings of maternal tenderness in the bosom of Mary blended themselves more and more with a spiritual affection. She was indeed, in one sense, the mother of our Lord, but she was also his disciple—she had been guide of his childhood, but she sat at the feet of his maturity. As he ascended to an immeasurable elevation above every other being of the human race, she must feel that the authority of the earthly parent, although it were never disregarded or disavowed, but, on the contrary, must have impressed a peculiarity both upon his affection and hers, was, however, absorbed in the superiority of his heavenly commission. He obeyed her as a child, but she submitted to him as the Lord.

Does the observant eye of a mother watch with unutterable solicitude the progress of her beloved offspring, tracing the improvement of his mind, the development of his faculties, the career of his life, sympathizing with his sorrows and participating with his joys, taking a fond share in all that concerns him—his prospects, his pursuits, his whole character;—does the maternal heart, even in ordinary cases, feel so much and so long, cherishing such undiminished interest in every vicissitude that affects the son of her love? With what lively sensibility must Mary have contemplated the rising glory of the inimitable Jesus! What a track of majesty must have marked his footsteps! What a winning singularity must have distinguished his actions! What purity must have adorned his conduct! What "grace was poured into his lips!" Who can express the deep interest that his thoughtful mother must have felt in the discourses she heard, the wisdom with which he silenced gainsayers, penetrated human hearts, exposed secret motives and purposes, confounded the most wise and artful, and communicated the sublimest truths in the most commanding and lucid manner! How must she have felt to have been the witness of his astonishing miracles, to have seen the flashes of unearthly dignity breaking through the concealment of a human exterior, and to have traced the accomplishment of all that prophets had foretold and angels announced! O, what an honour to have been the mother, but still more so to be the disciple of him who was predicted by prophets, prefigured by types, attended by ministering angels, celebrated by the most eminent of the Jewish church, obeyed by all the elements of nature, the principalities of darkness, and the powers of heaven;—who, "being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God; but made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men!"

The sacred history, which is chiefly occupied in the life of Christ himself, and the detail of his actions, does not explain how often his mother accompanied him. The incidental mention of her and his brethren upon one occasion shows, however, what we cannot but infer, that she was one of his frequent attendants. He was talking "to the people" in a private house, with the instructive familiarity for which he was so remarkable, when "his mother and his brethren stood without, desiring to speak with him." They had something of importance to communicate, otherwise it cannot be supposed they would have interrupted his conversation; but, being unable to reach him on account of the multitude, their wishes were conveyed from one to another, till the person who stood by him intimated that his mother and brethren were waiting to speak with him. Availing himself of the circumstance to impress his admonition upon the assembled crowd, he said to the person who informed, "Who is my mother? and who are my brethren?" Then addressing the people as he pointed to the disciples, he exclaimed, "Behold my mother, and my brethren! For whosoever shall do the will of my Father which is in heaven, the same is my brother and sister and mother."

Did he then intend to pour contempt upon these near relatives? Did he disclaim the ties of kindred? Did he exclude Mary, James, and Joses, Simeon and Judas, from the honour and the happiness of participating those spiritual blessings which he so liberally dispensed to others?—Surely not. Applying to this the same principle of interpretation which was adopted in explaining his words at the feast of Cana, we infer that he meant to intimate that they who called him brother according to the flesh, and even she who bore him, need not be envied by those whom he admitted to the intimacy and happiness of a spiritual relationship; and that whatever of love and kindness could be supposed to arise from the natural connexion, was enjoyed in a nobler sense by virtue of a spiritual union. Every thing that can consummate the happiness of man, every thing that can secure the most glorious and permanent distinction, arises from being the disciple of the blessed Jesus, and "doing the will of his Father." Let such an one envy no more the possessions of time, for he is heir to the inheritance of heaven; let him not value at too high a price any human honour, title, or relationship, for he is a member of the "household of God."

We now hasten to a scene calculated at once to excite our liveliest sensibilities and our warmest gratitude—a scene upon which the eyes of the remotest ages were fixed with holy anticipation, and which all future generations will contemplate with retrospective joy—a scene distinguished by the most affecting incidents—in one of which, not the least remarkable, the mother of our Lord appears conspicuous.

It is observable, that whenever he alluded to the circumstances of his own death, Christ adopted a mode of speaking which is expressive of the most dignified composure of mind, united with an irresistible firmness of purpose. He advanced to the cross of martyrdom like one who, "for the joy that was set before him, despised the shame." His love to man annihilated the terror of death, and rendered him solicitous to shed his blood. "I have a baptism to be baptized with, and how am I straitened till it be accomplished." In the hour of previous conflict he intimated that this was the tragical but necessary design of his coming into the world. From his radiant throne in glory, he saw, in awful perspective, the afflictions which were destined for his incarnate state; and, instead of a train of angels, he prepared to be attended by a retinue of sorrows, during his abode in the world. Above all, he beheld the CROSS, surrounded with awful clouds, raised amidst the scorn of human and the triumph of infernal enemies. He saw the full tide of misery set in against him; but, with unabating love to man, and perfect obedience of spirit to the Father—melting with pity and glowing with zeal—he prepared to encounter the billows and the storms of death. He was not overtaken by a calamity which he neither foresaw nor could prevent, for ten thousand angels at his word would have hastened to pluck him from the waves; but in fulfilment of the everlasting covenant, to glorify the Father and to redeem a perishing world, he was "led to the slaughter."

At this period all Judea was present to celebrate the paschal festival; the great council of the nation was convened; Herod, the governor of Judea, and Pilate, the tetrarch of Galilee, with their attending armies, displayed the grandeur of the empire; and on the mount of crucifixion a vast concourse of people assembled to witness this tragical scene. What must have been their sensations when nature became convulsed—when darkness veiled the sun—and the inhabitants of the invisible world burst through the trembling earth, and reappeared to many in Jerusalem! Never did an hour revolve since the beginning of time that laboured with such great events. The fate of the moral creation was now weighing in the scales—the happiness of millions was at stake—the interests of eternity were deciding—and the victory over sin, death, and hell, was proclaimed by the expiring Redeemer, when he said, "IT IS FINISHED."

Amidst this scene of wonders, behold a group of females, no less similar in character than in name; Mary the mother of Jesus, Mary the wife Cleopas, and Mary Magdalene. Many women are honourably conspicuous in the records of the New Testament, but never did they appear with greater advantage than at this moment. All the disciples were fled, with the single exception of John, who had overcome his temporary apprehensions, and was returned to the field of danger. These pious heroines, although incapable of affording the glorious Sufferer any assistance, and although surrounded by an infuriated enemy, rose superior to the fears of their sex, and pierced through the crowd, to testify their sympathy, to listen to his dying words, and to watch the expiring flame of life to the moment of its extinction.

What a scene was this for his MOTHER! How could she sustain the horrible spectacle? How could she survive this fiery trial? What inconceivable anguish must it have occasioned to witness the death of her Son! Say, ye mothers who have watched the infant days and progressive maturity of a firstborn, what distress ye have felt at his early loss! The flower perhaps had just expanded to the day, when the pestilential wind blew from the desert of death and withered its beauties! It is gone—but has left behind a sense of unspeakable desolation. How were your most delightful hopes annihilated in a moment, and ye were ready to adopt the language of David in his agony, "O my son Absalom! my son, my son Absalom! would God I had died for thee, O Absalom! my son, my son!"

But this was a death of the most ignominious and painful description. Mary beheld her Son suffering the shame of a public execution and the torment of a cross. She saw him suspended between heaven and earth, as if unworthy of either, crucified between two malefactors, and insulted by an outrageous mob. She heard the revengeful speeches of that infatuated multitude, and the mutual congratulations of those by whom they were instigated, and who ridiculously imagined they had obtained a decisive victory! The terror of this hour and power of darkness pervaded her own spirit, and she lived to feel a greater horror than it is in the power even of the king of terrors himself to inflict.

This was the crucifixion of an innocent Son! He had experienced indeed the mockery of a judicial proceeding, but had been sacrificed to the ravings of a despicable and infatuated mob, the asseverations of perjured witnesses, the timidity of Pilate, and the hatred of every class of Jews. No guile was found in his mouth, no recrimination in his language, no impatience in his conduct. Conscious of perfect innocency, he yet submitted to condemnation and death as a notorious offender; and, with all things under his control, he did not lift a finger to stop the career of injustice, or arrest the course of infernal rage. If the mothers of his two associates in suffering were present on this occasion, whatever bitterness of anguish they had felt to see the mournful end of their own offspring, they could not but admit that public crime demanded public punishment, and sentiments of commiseration must have blended themselves with those of censure when they viewed their fate. But the mother of Jesus saw her beloved Son condemned without reason, and suffering in defiance of justice. In proportion as she knew his innocency she must have felt his loss.

But his character was more than innocent; this, as the astonished centurion exclaimed, "Truly, this man was the Son of God!" Well might she wonder that no angel appeared to rescue the expiring Redeemer, and that he who had saved others did not save himself! Well might she have been confounded at the mysterious circumstance, that he whom winds and waves obeyed, and whose presence on earth was felt by universal nature, should die in apparent disgrace, exposed to the raillery of his inveterate enemies!

This afflicted mother was also a widow! Long since the evangelical narrative has dropped the name of her husband, doubtless because Joseph was no more; but Jesus survived to console her amidst domestic misfortunes, to cheer her declining days, to prop her falling house, to pour the wine of consolation into her cup of sorrow, and the light of celestial truth into her mind. He was all goodness, all perfection, who could never forget a mother—a widowed mother, wherever "he went about doing good"—was to this awful hour her staff and comfort. How keen was the edge of that piercing sword of which Simeon spake, and what unparralleled grief was hers when she saw the cross, and the tortures, and the blood of her Son!

Notwithstanding all, Mary is not seen wringing her hands and tearing her hair in distraction; nor is she heard to utter intemperate language against his persecutors, or to manifest resentment at the dispensations of Heaven: she neither curses man, nor blasphemes God; nor do we observe her fainting beneath the pressure of accumulated woes; but she stands near the cross, in solemn silence, pondering, in an attitude of profound meditation, and submitting to the purposes of Providence.

Let us admire the power of that "grace" which is promised to Christians, "to help them in time of need," and of the efficacy of which the present scene furnishes so substantial an evidence. Is it possible that after such a record as this we should ever doubt or forget the divine assurances—"My grace is sufficient for thee"—"When thou passest through the waters I will be with thee, and through the rivers they shall not overflow thee; when thou walkest through the fire thou shall not be burnt, neither shall the flame kindle upon thee?" Should thy desponding heart be ready to distrust the wisdom or deny the goodness of thy "Father who is in heaven," when sorrows, diversified and oppressive, burden thy spirit, think of the mother of Jesus at the cross of her Son!

If the sublime sympathy of Mary prevented the recollection of her personal condition, Jesus was not so overwhelmed with affliction as to be unmindful of the future lot of his poor, pennyless, helpless, widowed, and weeping mother; but committed her to the care of his disciple JOHN, directing him to regard her henceforward as a mother, and her to consider him as a son. Woman, behold thy son—"My beloved disciple will fulfil every office of filial tenderness, and at my request he will receive and provide for my destitute parent." Behold, said he, addressing John, behold thy mother; "take her to thy house, allow her to share thy means, respect and supply her as the most endeared relative of thy dying Lord. I have no property to leave, no silver or gold to distribute: this is my fond and my only bequest. I have confidence in thy attachment, and when thou dost minister to her thou wilt remember me."

From this exquisitely touching and instructive scene we must take a lesson of dependence on the providence of God. If he inflict unexpected trials, he affords unexpected supplies. His resources are numberless; and he who raised up John to supply the place of an endeared Son to Mary, can never be at loss for expedients when his people are in distress. One prop is removed, another is substituted. "O fear the Lord, all ye his saints, for there is no want to them that fear him." Earthly cisterns may indeed be broken, and temporal streams of enjoyment may cease, but "the fountain of living waters" is inexhaustible.

Take a lesson of filial piety. Children are under an indispensable obligation to succour their aged parents. If amidst the agonies of crucifixion, Jesus so carefully provided for the future comfort of his maternal parent, be assured "he has set an example wherein we should follow his steps;" and disrespect to such claims is a dereliction of our character, and a forfeiture of our profession as the disciples of Christ.

Learn to be prompt in your obedience to every requisition of your Lord. It is an honour to be employed by him in any service, whatever it may cost us. John did not hesitate, or indulge in surmisings; he did not think of the trouble, the expense, or the possible danger of harbouring the mother of one who was executed as an enemy to Cesar; but "from that hour that disciple took her unto his own home." If the sacred history had followed him to his lowly habitation, where our imaginations are ready to accompany John and his venerable charge, it would doubtless have exhibited a specimen of tender friendship and unwearied assiduity. What could John deny to the mother of his Lord? How eagerly would he promote her comfort! What "sweet converse" would they "hold together" upon the life, the miracles, the doctrines, the precepts, the death of Jesus! What a gleam of light and joy would the remembrance of one so dear throw upon the darkest scene of their lives, and how would the glory of his subsequent ascension, and dignity in the invisible world, occupy their daily intercourse and their most devotional moments! "The sweet hour of prime," and the serenity of "evening mild," and "twilight gray," would still find them amidst the wonders of the cross or the triumphs of the resurrection.

Nothing more is said of Mary till we come to the Acts of the Apostles, where a brief but honourable notice closes her history. In an upper room at Jerusalem "abode Peter, and James, and John, and Andrew, Philip, and Thomas, Bartholomew and Matthew, James the son of Alpheus, and Simon Zelotes, and Judas the brother of James. These all continued with one accord in prayer and supplication, with the women, and Mary, the mother of Jesus, and with his brethren."

It is supposed that John took her with him to Ephesus, where she died in an extreme old age. There is a letter of the oecumenical council of Ephesus, importing, that in the fifth century it was believed she was buried there; but some authors think she was buried at Jerusalem.



Section IV.

Brief Account of the extravagant Regard which has been paid to the Virgin Mary at different Periods—the Names by which she has been addressed, and the Festivals instituted to honour her Memory—general Remarks on the Nature and Character of Superstition, particularly that of the Catholics.

After reviewing, as we have done in the preceding pages, the facts which are stated by the evangelists respecting the life of the mother of Jesus, the reader perhaps will not be displeased if he be presented with some of the fictions with which the fancy and the folly of the human race have combined to embellish her history. That she has a claim upon the respect of every age and nation, will not be disputed: but we must condemn as well as compassionate that weakness which has exalted her into an object of worship, and filled the temples, which ought to have been devoted to the service of God, with unauthorized addresses, unscriptural rites, and idolatrous disfigurements.

The first notice we have in history of undue honour being rendered to the Virgin Mary is about the close of the fourth century, when the Collyridians adored her as a goddess; and by various libations and sacrifices sought her protection, and hoped to avert her displeasure.

Soon after this period corruptions multiplied in the church to an extravagant degree, and mankind departed more and more from the simplicity of religion. A disposition to pomp and parade usually marks a decline in piety; for wherever "the beauty of holiness" is preserved, gaudy decorations and splendid formalities will be deemed unnecessary. Surely God is not honoured by a service which he has never instituted, and which is only calculated to divert the mind from the proper business of devotion and the supreme object of religious homage! In the fifth century, therefore, as piety languished, magnificence, with all her costly train, obtruded into notice. The riches of the church increased to an amazing extent; the altars, and chests for the preservation of relics, were made of silver; images adorned, or rather defiled, every niche; and the Virgin Mary, holding the child Jesus in her arms, every where occupied a conspicuous place. She had, besides, universally acquired the title of , or mother of God, which occasioned the Nestorian controversy.

The idolatrous service of Mary assumed, in the tenth century, new forms of extravagance and absurdity. Among the Latin churches, masses were celebrated every sabbath; and afterward, what is termed the lesser office was performed in honour of St. Mary. There are also indications of the institution of the Rosary and Crown, by which her worshippers were to calculate the number of prayers offered: the former consisted of fifteen repetitions of the Lord's prayer, and a hundred and fifty salutations of the Virgin: the latter, of six or seven repetitions of the Lord's prayer, and six or seven times ten salutations, or Ave Marias.

About the year 1138 a solemn festival was instituted to celebrate the immaculate conception of the Virgin, of whom it was pretended, that her own birth partook of a similar purity to that which attached to her divine offspring. This doctrine was opposed by St. Bernard; but the French churches adopted it, and the superstition of the people contributed to its establishment. The subject was again debated with extreme virulence in the seventeenth century, between the Franciscans and Dominicans, in which the pope interposed a mediatorial power. The opinion of the former, who maintained the doctrine, was declared to have a high degree of probability in its favour, and the latter were required not to oppose it publicly; while the Franciscans were prohibited from treating the Dominican doctrine as erroneous. [20]

It is lamentable to see the profusion of eloquence and ingenuity which some of the most penetrating minds have expended on this subject. In all the Catholic writings we meet with impassioned addresses to the Virgin, appeals on her behalf to the feelings of piety, and a frequent celebration of her matchless perfections. The theological oracle of the French church distinctly states that "as the innocence of Jesus Christ is the life and salvation of sinners, so, through the innocence of the holy Virgin, he obtains pardon for the guilty," exhorting his hearers to "cleanse away their sins in the glorious splendour of her incorruptible purity," and adding, that "to undertake to describe the perfections of Mary, would be to fathom a bottomless abyss."

After representing the Saviour as making particular choice of Mary for himself, Bossuet bestows upon her the epithets of beloved creature, extraordinary creature, unique and privileged creature; and continues thus: "The Saviour imparted to his apostles and ministers whatever was most adapted to promote the salvation of mankind; but he communicated to his holy mother whatever was most pleasing, most glorious, and most delightful to himself; consequently, I doubt not that he made Mary innocent. She is his unique, and he is hers. Dilectus meus mihi et ego illi ('my beloved is mine and I am his.') I have only him, and he has only me." I know well that innocence ought not to be easily lavished on our corrupt nature, but it is no profuse expenditure to bestow it upon his mother only: while to refuse to her would surely be too great a reserve.

"No, my brethren, this is not my Saviour's conduct: on Mary, from the moment of her birth, I behold the innocence of Jesus Christ shining and adorning her head. O honour this new ray of light which her divine Son already sheds upon her! 'The night is far spent, the day is at hand;' Jesus will quickly bring this day by his own blessed presence. O happy day! O day without cloud! O day, which the innocence of the divine Jesus will render so serene and pure, when wilt thou come to illuminate the world?—Christians, it approaches; let us rejoice in already discovering its dawn in the birth of the holy Virgin—Natâ Virgine surrexit aurora, says the pious father Damien. Can you be astonished after this, if I assert that Mary was without spot from the first moment of her appearance in the world? As the great day of Christ was to be so clear and splendid, was it not proper that even its commencement should be beautiful, and that the serenity of the morning should indicate that of the day? 'It is on this account,' as father Damien observes, 'that Mary, who introduced this illustrious day diffused a brightness over the morning by her nativity—Maria, veri proevia luminis, nativitate suâ mane clarissimum serenavit.' Hasten then, brethren, hasten with joy to behold the beginnings of this new day: we shall see it shine in the attractive light of an untarnished purity!"......Bossuet's Sermon.

Bossuet had sufficient ingenuity to construct a plausible defence of a sentiment which, however adapted to supply a theme for eloquent declamation, is not to be found in Scripture. "It must be admitted," says he, "that Mary would have been involved in the general ruin of mankind, had not the merciful Physician who heals our diseases determined to imbue her beforehand with his preventing grace. Sin, which like a torrent overflowed the world, would have polluted this holy Virgin with its poisonous waves; but Omnipotence can stop, whenever he pleases, the most impetuous force. Observe with what ardour the sun pursues the vast circuit which Providence has assigned him; and yet you cannot be ignorant that God once caused him to stand still in the midst of heaven at the voice of a man. Those who inhabit the vicinity of Jordan, the celebrated river of Palestine, know with what rapidity it discharges itself into the Dead Sea, if I am correct as to the place; nevertheless, the whole Israelitish army saw it roll back to its source to form a passage for the ark, where their omnipotent Sovereign resided. Is any thing more natural than the consuming effect of heat in fire issuing out of a furnace? And yet was not the impious Nebuchadnezzar surprised with the sight of three happy individuals rejoicing in the midst of the flames which his merciless minions had kindled—but kindled in vain? But notwithstanding all these examples, may we not truly say, that there is no fire which does not burn, that the sun performs his course with unceasing progress, and that no river flows back to its source? We are accustomed to a similar mode of speaking every day, without being checked by these extraordinary occurrences, of which no one is ignorant. Whence does this arise, Christians? Doubtless from the habit of conversing according to the ordinary course of things; though God chooses sometimes to act conformably to the dictates of his own omnipotence, independently of human notions.

"I am not astonished, therefore, that the apostle Paul has expressed himself in such general terms respecting the sin of our first parents' having occasioned the death of all their posterity. According the natural course of things, which the apostle is stating in that place, to be born of the race of Adam necessarily includes, in the ordinary sense of the word, being born in sin. It is not more natural for fire to burn, than for this accursed depravity to infect every one it touches with corruption and death. No poison is more active, no plague more powerful and penetrating. But I maintain, that this curse, however universal, that all these propositions, however general they may be, do not preclude the exceptions which may be made by the Supreme Disposer, or particular interpositions of his authority. And on what occasion, great God, could thine unlimited power, which itself is law, be more properly employed than in conferring peculiar favour upon Mary?" [21]

In the Litanies the Virgin is denominated "the Mother of God, the Queen of Angels, the Refuge of Sinners, the Mother of Mercy, the Gate of Heaven, the Mystic Rose, the Virgin of Virgins," &c. [22]

Father Barry, in his "Paradise opened to Philagia by a hundred Devotions to the Mother of God, of easy performance," says, "It is open to such as confine themselves to their chambers, or carry about them an image of the Virgin, and look steadfastly upon it—who, night and morning, beg her benediction, standing near some of the churches dedicated to her, or contribute to the relief of the poor for her sake—who, out of a pious regard for her, avoid pronouncing the name of Mary when they read, but make use of some other instead of it—who beg of the angels to salute the mother of God in their name, who give honourable appellations to her images, and cast amorous glances at them," &c.

In this work it is expressly stated, that "as many separate devotions to the mother of God as you find in this book, are so many keys of heaven, which will open all paradise to you, provided you only practise them;" and afterward it is added, that "any one of them is sufficient." Take the following specimen: "Salute the holy Virgin wherever you meet her image; repeat the little chaplet of the ten pleasures of the Virgin; often pronounce the name of Mary; commission the angels to give your duty to her; cherish a desire to build more churches to her than all the kings of the world put together; wish her a good day every morning, and a good night every evening; say the Ave Maria every day, in honour of the heart of Mary." [23]

In the earliest ages she was called Queen of angels and Mother of God; afterward, the spirit of controversy induced her advocates to adopt every possible device to make her considerable among heretics, and to accustom her devotees to extravagant expressions. She has been represented as the disposer and depository of God's favours, the treasurer and queen of heaven, the spring and fountain of salvation and life, the mother of light, the intercessor between God and man, the hope of mankind, the ocean of the Deity! Almost an absolute and sovereign power over her Son our Saviour has been ascribed to her. The psalter, nay the whole Bible, has been applied to her, and proofs by miracles and apparitions furnished, that the virgin appeases the wrath of Christ against sinners, and possesses the power of absolving, binding, and loosening. Temples and altars have been erected, and invocations addressed to her.

The Jesuit, who published the Psalter of our Lady, in French, exhorts the devout Christian who pronounces these words in the introduction, Holy Lady, open thou my lips, &c. "to make two signs of the cross when he repeats them, one upon his lips with his thumb, and the other upon himself with his hand, as the priests do when they begin their canonical hours." This method, he assures us, will procure the devotee the honour and happiness of being canon or canoness of heaven; and our lady, to reward so conspicuous and instructive an act of devotion, will admit him into paradise. He gives a pattern of the vows which the devotee is to make "for Jesus and Mary's sake, and for all the lovers of them both, whether male or female." He describes the alliance to be made by him with the most amiable and honourable mother of all mothers, the act of repentance and contrition for the reconciliation of himself with her, and all the ceremonies, great and small, by which he may devote himself to the blessed Virgin.

Whoever hopes to obtain the benedictions of the Virgin, must salute her every day, both at his going out and coming in. The legends have transmitted several remarkable instances of the advantages arising from the repetition of the Ave Maria—not to mention a thousand day's indulgence granted by some of the popes (Leo X. and Paul V.) to those who shall repeat it at the hour of the Angelus.

St. Margarite, of Hungary, said an Ave kneeling before every image of the Virgin she met in her way—St. Catharine, of Sienna, repeated as many Aves as she went up steps to her house.

Fasting on Saturday, in honour of the Virgin, is looked upon as a treasure of indulgences and delights, and as an excellent preservative against eternal damnation.

Various festivals are instituted to commemorate her, such as the Purification, the Annunciation, the Visitation, and others.

The fifth of August is the festival of our Lady of the Snow. We are informed that the solemnization of it was owing to a miracle. When Liberius was pontiff, a patrician, or Roman nobleman, finding himself old and childless, resolved, with his wife's approbation, to make the blessed Virgin his sole heiress. The vow being made with great devotion, their principal concern, in the next place, was to employ their inheritance conformably to our Lady's will: and accordingly they applied themselves to fasting, praying, giving alms to the poor, and visiting the sick, to know her pleasure.

The Virgin at length appeared to each of them in a dream, and told them "it was her and her Son's will, that they should employ their effects in erecting a church for her on a particular part of the Mons Esquilinus, which they should find covered with snow." The pious husband first communicated the revelation to his wife, who told him, with great surprise, that she had had the same revelation that very night. But, supposing the two dreams had not proved alike, an excess of zeal would have been sufficient to have given them all the conformity that was requisite; These two devotees went immediately and declared their dreams to the pope, who perceived that he was a third man in the revelation; for his holiness had been favoured with the same vision. It was no longer questioned, but that heaven was engaged in this affair. The pontiff assembled the clergy together, and there was a solemn procession to Mount Esquiline, on purpose to find out whether the miracle were real or not; when the place specified in the dream was found covered with snow. The ground was exactly of a suitable extent to erect a church upon, which was afterward called Liberius's Basilica, and St. Mary ad præcepe, (because the manger, which was used as a cradle for our Lady, was brought thither from Bethlehem,) and is now called St. Mary Major. Every festival day, the commemoration of this miracle is revived, by letting fall white jessamine leaves, after so artificial a manner, as to imitate the falling of snow upon the ground. [24]

It has even been asserted, that the apostle Peter consecrated a chapel to the Virgin, a story which accords perfectly well with other absurdities. The Spaniards attribute a similar act of devotion to James at Saragossa; and some add, that the angels were the architects of the chapel. It is decorated in the most costly manner with silver angels, lamps, and other furniture, with the Virgin magnificently dressed on a marble pillar. The walls are hung with feet, arms, hands, and other parts of the human body, as grateful oblations to the Virgin, for the miraculous cures she is supposed to have performed upon these members.

At Madrid, our lady of Atocha resides in a chapel which blazes with a hundred lamps made of gold and silver, and is celebrated for as many miracles as at Loretto and other places. The history of her first settlement at Liesse, in Picardy, is thus related. During the crusades, an Egyptian princess resolving to have an image of the Virgin, addressed herself to three gentlemen of Picardy, who were prisoners at Cairo, one of whom made an attempt to paint her, though ignorant of the art. Having failed, he and his companions presented earnest supplications to the Virgin, after which they fell asleep. As soon as they awoke, they found an image of our Lady, accurately performed, which they transmitted to the princess; who, in return, set them at liberty. She was, of course, converted to the Christian faith by this image; and the three gentlemen miraculously escaped out of Egypt, and on a sudden found themselves, by a continuation of the miracle, in Picardy, on the very spot where the church of our Lady of Liesse is now erected.

Her devotees carry representations of the Virgin about them, deck her images with flowers, dress them in silks or other costly ornaments, burn tapers before them, kiss and look upon them with a languishing eye, touch them with their chaplets, rub their handkerchiefs upon them, and salute them with the profoundest veneration.

Her relics are innumerable—such as her wedding ring, handkerchiefs, combs, slippers and goods of every description, as kitchen furniture, toilette, earthenware, lamps; and even, as it is pretended, her gloves, bed, chair, head-clothes, with other rarities.

"Surely," says archbishop Tillotson, "if this blessed among women, the mother of our Lord, (for I keep to the titles which the Scripture gives her,) have any sense of what we do here below, she cannot but look down with the greatest disdain upon that sacrilegious and idolatrous worship which is paid to her, to the high dishonour of the great God and our Saviour, and the infinite scandal of his religion. How can she, without indignation, behold how they play the fool in the church of Rome about her; what an idol they make of her image, and with what sottishness they give divine honour to it; how they place her in their idolatrous pictures in equal rank with the blessed Trinity, and turn the salutation of the angel, Ave Maria, hail Mary, full of grace, into a kind of prayer; and, in their bead-roll of devotion, repeat it ten times, for once that they say the Lord's prayer, as of greater virtue and efficacy? And, indeed, they almost justle out the devotion due to Almighty God and our blessed Saviour, by their endless idolatry to her.

"So that the greater part of their religion, both public and private, is made up of that which was no part at all of the religion of the apostles and primitive Christians; nay, which plainly contradicts it: for that expressly teacheth us, that there is but one object of our prayers, and one Mediator by whom we are to make our addresses to God. 'There is one God, and one Mediator between God and man, the man Christ Jesus,' says St. Paul, when he gives a standing rule concerning prayer in the Christian church. And yet, notwithstanding all the care that our blessed Saviour and his apostles could take to prevent gross idolatry of the blessed mother of our Lord, how blindly and wilfully have the church of Rome run into it! and, in despite of the clearest evidence and conviction, do obstinately and impudently persist in it, and justify themselves in so abominable a practice."

In the homage rendered to the Virgin Mary by the Catholics, the servility of superstition appears blended with the zeal of enthusiasm. Having departed from Scripture, that only light which shines upon the path of obedience, and conducts to God, they naturally lose themselves amidst the perplexities of error and the mazes of falsehood: it need not, therefore, occasion surprise though their course should be eccentric, or their conduct preposterous. The passions being chiefly engaged in this service, and kept in exercise by fear or fondness, reason retires; and imagination, supported by these auxiliaries, sways the sceptre. The absurdities, however, to which under such circumstances the human mind becomes addicted, would seem utterly unaccountable, were it not for the gradual manner of their influence. The victory over judgment and common sense is not secured at a blow, but by perpetual insinuation. The hopes or fears of mankind are wrought upon individually from the period of infancy, long previous to the age when reason attains its vigour and maturity,—and nationally by a slow and almost insensible accumulation of frivolous or ridiculous observances from century to century. A natural consciousness of weakness renders man the dupe of deception, and an equal sense of guilt makes him the slave of terror. Hence he readily avails himself of every means which he fancies capable of alleviating his anxieties, and in his eagerness to escape the wretchedness of apprehension or the suffering of evil, flies to unscriptural resources.

The pre-eminence of man over the brute creation arises chiefly from his capacity of knowing God and serving him in the appointed exercises of religion; and yet the perversion of this capacity, by the invention of superstitious ceremonies, has rendered him utterly contemptible. In the services of real piety, he appears elevated to the summit of creation, his nature seems ennobled, and his character encircled with glory; but, in the practices of superstition, he is degraded to the lowest depth of meanness of which an intellectual and immortal being is capable. By the former he soars to "glory, honour, and immortality;" by the latter he sinks to wretchedness and ruin. In the one case he is useful and happy; in the other, inactive, isolated, and full of disquietude; and thus either rises into grandeur or falls into littleness,—is an angel or a brute!

Whoever reviews the several religious errors of the Pagan, Jewish, and Christian communities, will admit, that the history of superstition constitutes one of the most offensive pages in the annals of mankind; he will see the object of worship misrepresented, the universe partitioned into petty sovereignties, and Deity divided, contracted, and localized; religion turned into mockery, and mockery into religion.

It is somewhat difficult to trace the operations and to ascertain the true character of superstition, although it has prevailed so extensively in the world, and produced such extraordinary effects. Amongst other anomalies, this is observable, that it not only has led captive weak and ignorant minds, which being unable to detect a specious sophism, or to depart from a general practice, may easily be supposed incapable of resisting its fascination; but it has been known to seduce and enchain some of the noblest orders of intellect, and the most cultivated of human understandings. Whole nations and successive generations have been subjected to its influence, furnishing ample evidence of that statement, which, if it be not repeated in every page of Scripture, lies at the foundation of all its truths; and into which many of the peculiarities of this principle may be resolved: "The world by wisdom knew not God."

Superstition is unquestionably founded in mean and absurd ideas of the moral attributes of the Deity, which produce corresponding actions, and in assigning to him an arbitrary character, deriving pleasure from what has no connexion with the happiness of the worshipper. A consistent and dignified conduct can only result from a just estimate of the divine perfections, and a correct view of moral obligation. The worship we render to a superior being, must necessarily be shaped and regulated by our conceptions of the nature of God; consequently, mankind will degenerate into error and folly, proportionate to their departure from the representations of Scripture respecting the spirituality of his essence.

To this source may be traced especially the principles and practices of the Romish church, in which reason is outraged, religion caricatured, and God dishonoured. Transubstantiation is a doctrine manifestly absurd and impious; and the practice of presenting those supplications to dead saints, which the Supreme Being alone can hear and answer, is no less ridiculous, as well as subversive of true piety. Perhaps, however, no deviation from common sense is more remarkable than those extravagancies of the Catholics which respect the Virgin Mary; and yet these have not only been practised by the multitude, but defended by men of learning with the utmost subtlety and the warmest zeal. In fact, she has been praised by every Catholic pen for ages; and every term that language could supply has been put in requisition to extol her merits.

Let the view we have given of these misstatements excite us to self-examination, in order that we may discover any incorrectness or deficiency in our own apprehensions of religion, and become vigilant over those errors into which we may be apt to deviate. It will be studying man to some purpose, if the better we are acquainted with the history of the human mind, the greater the circumspection we exercise over ourselves. We shall then be less imposed upon by the speciousness of falsehood, and less betrayed by the weakness of our passions; we shall be led to "present our bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God," and feel that it is our "reasonable service."



Elizabeth.

Chapter II.

The angelic Appearance to Zacharias—Birth of John—Characters of Elizabeth and Zacharias—Importance of domestic Union being founded on Religion, shown in them—their venerable Age—the characteristic Features of their Piety—the Happiness of a Life like theirs—the Effect it is calculated to produce on others—the Perpetuation of holy friendship through immortal Ages—the miserable Condition of the irreligious.

Obscure as were the circumstances in which Christ appeared, Infinite Wisdom saw fit to furnish miraculous attestations to his character and mission. This evidence attended him during the whole of his career, investing him with a heavenly glory, and rendering his pre-eminence distinctly visible to the eye of faith, notwithstanding his assumed inferiority.

It was in unison with this scheme of Providence to send the most exalted of angelic beings to announce the birth of Messiah, and to prepare the minds of Mary his mother, of the shepherds who were to circulate the intelligence, and of others more nearly or more remotely interested in the event, by celestial visitations. For similar reasons it comported with the nature of this wonderful event, to attach something peculiar and even miraculous to the birth of his precursor, whose destined office it should be to "prepare the way of the Lord," by uttering his "voice in the wilderness," and intimating to mankind the mighty transformations about to be effected in the moral state of the world. Six months, therefore, previously to the annunciation to Mary, the angel Gabriel descended to proclaim "glad tidings" to Zacharias. In the performance of his customary service as a priest, he had gone into the temple to burn incense, while the people were praying without the holy place. On a sudden, he perceived an angel standing on the right side of the altar, and became exceedingly agitated, till the benevolent spirit addressed him in affectionate and congratulatory terms. Ah! they have no reason to dread a message from the world of spirits, or to be filled with apprehensions at the sight of other orders of beings than those with which they are conversant, who are engaged in the discharge of their duties, and live under the influence of religion! However new or extraordinary such revelations, they never could have been real causes of alarm to the servants of God; and were they not at present suspended, in consequence of the completion of the intended communications of truth to mankind, piety ought rather to welcome than to dread them.

Zacharias was assured that his prayer was heard, and that his wife Elizabeth should have a son to be named John. As a sign of the accomplishment of this prediction, and as a chastisement of the doubt with which the message was at first received, he was struck with dumbness, which continued only till the birth of his child.

The interview between Elizabeth and Mary, the mother of our Lord, has been already adverted to in the preceding narrative, where the salutations of these favoured relatives were recited. At the expiration of the appointed time, Elizabeth bare a son whom they would have called after the name of Zacharias, but his mother interposed; and the affair being finally referred to his father, he wrote, to the general astonishment of their neighbours and relatives, who had remonstrated in vain, "His name is John." Immediately his speech was restored, and he broke out in impassioned strains of praise: "Blessed be the Lord God of Israel; for he hath visited and redeemed his people, and hath raised up an horn of salvation for us in the house of his servant David; as he spake by the mouth of his holy prophets, which have been since the world began: that we should be saved from our enemies, and from the hand of all that hate us; to perform the mercy promised to our fathers, and to remember his holy covenant; the oath which he sware to our father Abraham, that he would grant unto us, that we being delivered out of the hand of our enemies might serve him without fear, in holiness and righteousness before him, all the days of our life. And thou, child, shall be called the prophet of the Highest: for thou shall go before the face of the Lord to prepare his ways; to give knowledge of salvation unto his people by the remission of their sins, through the tender mercy of our God; whereby the day-spring from on high hath visited us, to give light to them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace."

Reverting to the commencement of this history by the evangelist Luke, we shall be led to notice the domestic characters of Zacharias and Elizabeth, particularly as they illustrate the excellence of a life of piety. While religion adorns every station, it teaches us to fulfil every relative duty; and acting under its influence, a person becomes a light in the world, diffusing through the family, the social circle, and the more extended sphere of busy life, a mild and beneficent radiance.

Our attention is first directed to the office of Zacharias, and the descent of his wife. He was a priest, and she "of the daughters of Aaron." The world affords too many evidences, that piety is neither created by station, nor hereditary in its transmission. As Zacharias was a minister of the sanctuary, it was both to be desired and expected that he should not approach the altar with a hardened and unsanctified heart. "Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord? and who shall stand in his holy place? He that hath clean hands and a pure heart; who hath not lift up his soul unto vanity, nor sworn deceitfully. He shall receive the blessing from the Lord, and righteousness from the God of his salvation." Yet, alas! it is not always to be presumed that real religion accompanies either the brightest profession or the most dignified office! Korah, Dathan, and Abiram, offered "strange fire," Judas betrayed the Son of God, and Paul expresses an apprehension "lest, having preached to others," he should himself "be a castaway." The admonition, therefore, of God by Isaiah is appropriate and striking: "Be ye clean that bear the vessels of the Lord." It is possible to be a preacher of righteousness, and yet a child of Satan—a priest, and yet a demon—a worker of miracles, and yet a "worker of iniquity:" but a pleasing exception to this remark occurs in the history of Zacharias, who was "a priest, and righteous before God." His office and his character accorded, and the light of his example shone with unclouded brightness and attractive glory.

It is observable, that Elizabeth, the wife of this holy priest, was equally distinguished with himself for a sincere and active piety. "They were BOTH righteous before God;" and it was their privilege to live at that eventful moment when the clouds that obscured the past dispensations of Providence were tinged with the rising glory of the day which was just breaking upon the nations of the earth, and which lighted these pilgrims home to their eternal rest. They were some of the last of the Jewish and the first of the Christian economy, and their life seemed to form the bright line which bordered the typical ages and those of unshadowed truth and Christian revelation.

Zacharias and Elizabeth exhibit an attractive picture of union both natural and religious; the hymenial tie was intertwined with celestial roses, which diffused a fragrance over domestic life; their love to each other was strengthened and sanctified by their love to God.

The perfection of conjugal felicity with every good man depends upon the existence of similar religious principles and feelings with those which influence himself in the partner of his life; consequently, it will ever be his concern "to marry in the Lord." No language can express the bitterness of that pang which rends his heart when a dissimilarity of taste prevails in so important an affair. It is a worm for ever gnawing the root of his peace, and will prevent its growth even under the brightest sun of worldly prosperity. Let those especially who are forming connections in life, and who "love Christ in sincerity," reflect on the fatal consequences of devoting their affections to such as can never accompany them to the house of God but with reluctance, or to the throne of grace but with weariness and aversion. If the object of your fondest regard be an unbeliever, what a cloud will darken your serenest days, what unutterable grief disturb your otherwise peaceful sabbaths! Your pleasures and your pains of a religious kind, which are the most intense, will be equally unparticipated. You must walk alone in those ways of pleasantness which would be still more endeared by such sweet society; and you must suffer the keenest sorrows of the heart—perhaps without daring to name them, and certainly without one tear, one word, one look of soothing sympathy. How could you endure it that the very wife of your bosom should manifest the temper of those assassins that murdered your Lord, while in the exercise of a lively faith you hailed him as "the chief among ten thousand, and altogether lovely?" Would it not agonize your heart that she should be indifferent only, not to say inimical, towards him in whom you daily "rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory?"

In proportion to the wretchedness of such circumstances must be the felicity of the reverse, of which this narrative furnishes a pleasing exemplification. Zacharias and Elizabeth were both righteous, and this union of spirit diffused a holy and gladdening radiance over all the scenes of life. In the family, in the social circle, in the house of God, they were ONE. Together they could bow the knee at the throne of grace, together go up to the temple! The grief or the joy of one was the grief or the joy of both; they could sing the same song, unite in the same prayer, feast on the same spiritual food! This was the perfection of love—this was the triumph of friendship! No contrary current of feeling on either side ruffled the pure stream of domestic and religious pleasure, but it flowed along in a clear, noiseless, and perpetual course. In this case the language of David might be applied with emphatic propriety: "Behold, how good and pleasant a thing it is to dwell together in unity."

Elizabeth and her partner were "both well stricken in years." There is something venerable in hoary age, especially when adorned with the graces of the Spirit. The mind reposes with peculiar complacency on those who, having long "adorned the doctrines of God their Saviour in all things," are waiting quietly and confidently for their admission to heaven. They can see the shadows of the evening deepen upon them without a sigh; and while death is unlocking the doors of their appointed house, can sing, "Thanks be to God, that giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." While the mind of a wicked man, in the near prospect of dissolution, is filled with distraction, and "a fearful looking for of judgment—while his

"———frantic soul Raves round the walls of her clay tenement, Flies to each avenue, and cries for help— But cries in vain;———"

conscious that he is the enemy of God, the abhorrence of saints; the confederate, and will soon become the companion, of evil spirits; the dying Christian looks beyond the confines of mortality into the eternal world, without one sensation but that "of a desire to depart and to be with Christ." In quitting the present world, he expects a transition from sorrow to joy—from the region of shadows to that of realities—from the habitations of sin to the abodes of purity. Embracing Jesus by faith, he exclaims with Simeon, "Now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation;" or with Paul, "I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith: henceforth is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me in that day."

It is pleasing to see the youthful mind impressed with the concerns of religion, devoting its powers to the Saviour, and despising the solicitations of sinful pleasure; but ah! how many cloudless mornings are succeeded by gloomy days—how many false and fruitless blossoms adorn the smiling spring—how many seeds spring up, but perish because they have "no depth of earth!" Early piety, therefore, however gratifying, cannot be contemplated without anxiety, if not suspicion; the force of temptation has not yet been endured—the world has not half exhausted its quiver of poisoned arrows—Satan has not yet tried all his arts and machinations—the race is not yet run!—but in those who, like Zacharias and Elizabeth, are "well striken in years," we witness the stability of principle, the triumph of perseverance, and the reign of grace. Dear and venerable companions in the ways of God, ye have borne the burden and heat of the day! Like a shock of corn, ye shall soon be "gathered in your season;" ye shall soon drop the infirmities of humanity, and be clothed in the robes of light! "Blessed are they that do his commandments, that they may have right to the tree of life, and may enter in through the gates into the city."

The brief, but comprehensive notice of these venerable saints, in the commencement of the Gospel according to Luke, exhibits at once the characteristic features of their piety.

1. It was of a quality approved by God himself: for they are represented as "righteous before God," that is, in the divine estimation. It is this only which can determine our genuine character; for, however "outwardly virtuous before men," the internal spirit and character may be marked by moral deformities which the eye of Omniscience cannot but view with detestation. The most eminent Christians, indeed, are aware that perfection in righteousness is not attainable in the present state, and that when "weighed in the balances," they are in many respects "found wanting:" but while they look for acceptance through the righteousness of Christ, instead of "going about to establish their own," they possess a rectitude of principle, though the degree of holiness be imperfect. They are sincere, habitual in their aim to please God, cherishing a supreme attachment to his name and character, and determined in their resistance of every influence that would seduce them from his service or impel them to commit sin.

2. Elizabeth and her venerable partner regulated their conduct by divine authority, irrespective of the opinions of men. They are said to "have walked in the commandments and ordinances of the Lord." The Jews were accustomed to blend the traditions of the elders with their religious services; but these believers consulted and obeyed the oracles of Heaven. They repaired at once to the spring-head of wisdom, deriving their faith and obtaining direction with regard to their practice from Him who alone possesses the authority of a master.

This was a very decisive evidence of their religion, and is a test which is capable of being applied to every case and to every sphere of life. If the only certain evidence of true piety consisted in becoming martyrs, few could have an opportunity of evincing it, through not being called to this high and holy service; or, if the test were the distribution of ample charities, or self-devotement to the labour of the Christian ministry, the poor, and the ungifted, and ineloquent, would be excluded from the prescribed means of testifying their love to God: but obedience to his commands may be practised in the humblest circumstances, in the lowliest station, and by the most obscure individual. Any where and every where it is possible "to take up our cross," to "deny ourselves," to "mortify the flesh," to "walk in the Spirit."

3. The obedience of Elizabeth and Zacharias was universal—not partial or restricted; for they "walked in all the commandments and ordinances of the Lord."

An insincere profession will be distinguished by partiality in its observances. It will practise some duties and reject others, believe some doctrines and hesitate to admit others. Influenced by many subordinate considerations, it will select those requirements which are most easily performed, most calculated to attract public attention, or most conformable to natural prepossessions. It will dispense with some things as difficult, and with others as unnecessary or unimportant. "Then," exclaimed the Psalmist, "shall I not be ashamed when I have respect unto all thy commandments."

4. Elizabeth and her aged companion were distinguished also for a piety which was blameless. It is possible to merit blame even in our very acts of religious obedience. How seldom do we attain that purity of motive, that unostentatious simplicity of manner, that uniformity of conduct, which constitute a blameless piety! In this respect we have daily reason, at the footstool of mercy, to deplore our deficiency, our lanquor, our lukewarmness of spirit, our unprofitableness and vileness. "If thou, Lord, wert strict to mark iniquity, O Lord, who could stand?" There is not a prayer we utter but would be rejected, were it not for the prevalence of the Redeemer's intercession, nor a service we perform, but is so defiled with guilt that it would be an abominable offering, but for the efficacy of that blood which "cleanseth us from all sin." Nor, indeed, was the piety of Zacharias and Elizabeth in itself "blameless," irrespective of this atonement; nor were they "righteous," but as accepted and justified "through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus." To a lively faith they, however, united a holy conversation, and an habitual obedience: their life was a perpetual sacrifice to God, and diffused around a sweet savour of piety.

Let us contemplate the happiness of such a life. It is common to represent religion as incompatible with true enjoyment, and to describe those who are under its influence as gloomy fanatics, dragging out a miserable existence—the dupes of prejudice and the slaves of melancholy. If a perpetual sense of the divine presence, a well-founded confidence of pardoned sin, free access to the throne of mercy, abundant communications of spiritual good and lively anticipations of a felicity beyond the grave, commensurate with the capacities of an immortal spirit, and with the everlasting ages of eternity; if these produce wretchedness, then, and in no other case, is religion a source of misery. Be not deceived; such allegations result from ignorance and depravity. Zacharias and Elizabeth, joined together by the dear bonds of mutual affection, and the still dearer ties of grace, present a picture of happiness unrivalled in the gay and thoughtless world. We appeal to them, and to those who resemble them, as "epistles" of God, that teach the efficacy of genuine religion. Read them, ye profane, and blush for your impieties! Read them, ye sons and daughters of strife, and banish discord from your houses! Read them, ye fearful, hesitating, lukewarm professors, and learn to walk in "all the commandments and ordinances of the Lord!" Read them, ye worldly wise, ye ambitious, ye "lovers of pleasure," and confess ye have mistaken the true means to happiness, and have "forsaken your own mercies!"

It is a supereminent excellence of the religion of Jesus, that "the peace and joy in believing" which it inspires do not depend on external circumstances. As no worldly condition can create, so neither can it destroy the Christian's felicity; it is firm and immoveable amidst the changes and revolutions of human affairs—in the bright or cloudy day. Like the mariner's compass, which continually points in the same direction amidst changing seasons and varying climes, the most extraordinary vicissitudes of the "present evil world," cannot "move" the mind of a believer from the "hope of the Gospel."

Reflect further, on the effect which such a life is calculated to produce on others.

A holy life is a powerful argument for the "truth as it is in Jesus;" and that suspicious eagerness with which the wicked watch the conduct of professors, that patient malignity with which they wait for their halting, and that Satanic joy with which they exult over their misconduct, prove their own convictions of the strength of such an argument. Let us then be concerned to falsify their predictions and disappoint their enmity by "walking in all the commandments and ordinances of the Lord blameless." Consider the impressive appeal of the apostle: "Only let your conversation be as becometh the gospel of Christ." Shine, ye professing Christians, for "ye are the lights of the world"—shine with a holy and steady radiance in the church of God, and pray for daily supplies of the oil of grace, that your light may not degenerate into a feeble glimmering or totally expire; otherwise you may become accessary to the fall and ruin of others, and "their blood may be upon you!" Such a pious union, such holy friendship as that of Elizabeth and Zacharias, will be perpetuated through infinite ages. It is not a transient but an everlasting union; it shall survive the grave and defy the stroke of mortality. They who "sleep in Jesus" will God bring with him. The sepulchre, to such as die in the faith of Christ and in a state of holy friendship with each other, only resembles a vast prison, in which dearest friends are separated only for a time in different cells, and from which they shall be released when the gloomy keeper resigns his keys, when "death is swallowed up in victory." Those humble and affectionate disciples who have "walked together in all the commandments and ordinances of the Lord, here, shall take sweet counsel above, and walk together in the fields of immortality." In a nobler sense than the original application of the words, it may be said of all Christian friends, "they were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in their deaths they were not divided."

This perpetuation of Christian society and love, is intimated in the most striking manner by our Redeemer when on the point of departure from his disciples, whom he called his "friends." "I will not henceforth drink of this fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father's kingdom." Who can describe the joys of that "marriage-feast," the felicities of that endeared spiritual and eternal intercourse, that union of hearts, that concourse of affections, that flow and mingling of souls! These are some of "the mysteries of godliness"—this is what "eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive."

Let these glorious expectations revive our failing courage amidst the conflicts of life. Let us not despair, though we may weep over the companions of our pilgrimage, slain at our side by the irresistible stroke of death. The separation is transitory—the reunion will be eternal. "But I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not even as others which have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him. For this we say unto you by the word of the Lord, that we which are alive, and remain unto the coming of the Lord, shall not prevent them which are asleep. For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first: then we which are alive and remain, shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord. Wherefore comfort one another with these words."

Such as are opposite in character to Zacharias and Elizabeth, and who are "walking in none of the commandments and ordinances of the Lord," should reflect on the misery of their condition, as utterly destitute of all those hopes and privileges which have been described. Who instituted these ordinances?—who gave these commandments?—whose authority is it you dare despise?—or who has released you from your obligations to this authority?—what madness induces you to fly in the face of God—to measure your power against the sword of Omnipotence? O, remember—"the wages of sin is death!"



Anna.

Chapter III.

Introduction of Anna into the sacred Story—inspired Description of her—the aged apt to be unduly attached to Life—Anna probably Religious at an early Period—Religion the most substantial Support amidst the Infirmities of Age—the most effectual Guard against its Vices—and the best Preparation for its End.

Two illustrious women have already been presented to the reader as adorning the era of our Saviour's incarnation; the one, the mother of his humanity, the witness of his miracles, and the weeping attendant upon his crucifixion; the other, her venerable relative, the wife of Zacharias, and the parent of John, who was the destined precursor of the "Desire of all nations." We are now to contemplate another female, whose age superadds a charm to her excellences, and whose privilege also it was to witness the commencing brightness of the evangelical day. Like Elizabeth, her "memorial" is short, but it does not "perish with her." She has a place in the chronicles of the redeemed, a name before which that of heroes and heroines fades away, and which it requires no "storied urn nor animated burst" to perpetuate.

Anna is introduced to our notice on the memorable occasion which has been already mentioned, when the parents of Jesus took him after his circumcision to Jerusalem, to "present him to the Lord." Then it was that Simeon broke forth in eloquent and prophetic congratulations, expressive at once of his own triumph over death, in consequence of having witnessed the accomplishment of those prophecies which had so long and so often filled him with delightful anticipations, and of the "glory" which he foresaw would irradiate Israel and enlighten the Gentiles. Scarcely had he finished his address, when Anna, a prophetess, remarkable for her extreme age and exemplary piety, entered the temple, and not only united with Simeon and the rest of the interesting group in "giving thanks unto the Lord," but "spake of him to all them that looked for redemption in Jerusalem."

It was benefiting the majesty of the event which had occurred, that the spirit of prophecy should revive after being dormant for about four hundred years. Since the days of Malachi no such inspiration had been afforded; but the new and glorious period commencing with the incarnation was marked by this as well as other signs and wonders. When Simeon held the infant Saviour in his arms, the Spirit of God touched his tongue with a live coal from the altar; and when the aged "daughter of Phanuel" approached, she caught the glow of kindling rapture, and blended with his her praises and predictions. This eminent woman is represented as "of a great age," as having "lived with a husband seven years from her virginity," and as being "a widow of about four-score and four years, which departed not from the temple, but served God with fastings and prayers night and day." This form of expression does not seem to furnish decisive evidence whether her entire age was eighty-four, or whether she was a widow during that period; if the latter, the seven years in which she had lived with a husband, together with the probable number which constituted her age at the time of her marriage, must be added to the calculation, which would produce considerably more than a hundred years; in either case she must be allowed to occupy a conspicuous place in the records of longevity.

It has been observed of the aged, that although existence, when extended beyond the usual period of "threescore years and ten," is nothing "but labour and sorrow," they still adhere to life with the utmost tenacity, and are even less disposed to relinquish it than those whose more vigorous powers and undecayed youth capacitate them for its enjoyment. But however surprised we may be to witness this anxiety to live in those who are bending beneath the pressure of years and the load of decrepitude, and to see that this anxiety rather increases than diminishes, there is something in it by no means unnatural. In addition to the love of life which is implanted in every human bosom for the wisest purposes, the aged person cannot but feel that he is nearer than others to that hour of separation from all the connexions and interests of time than the multitude around him—an hour at which nature instinctively shudders, and which is always regarded as painful, whatever may be the result. Corporeal suffering may be considerable; and that change of being which the mortal stroke produces has always something about it awful, mysterious, and terrific. There are few instances in which it can be approached without some degree of dread, some shrinking of mind, whatever be the state of detachment from the present world, and whatever pleasing anticipations may exist with regard to another: as the patient, however assured of the necessity of the measure and the importance of the result, trembles while preparations are making to amputate his disordered limb. It may be observed also of the young, that while they compassionate their aged friends as the prey of a thousand imbecilities both of body and mind, and lament over a state in which man is reduced to a second childhood, there is scarcely an individual who does not harbour in secret the wish to attain an age equal at least, if not superior, to any of his cotemporaries. The reason is similar to that which influences persons at an advanced period of life; the thought of death, with all its concomitant evils, is unwelcome at any time, and consequently it is grateful to the mind to place it at the greatest conceivable distance; so that, were it now within the appointments of Providence or the bounds of probability, little doubt can be entertained that the great proportion of mankind would readily accept as a blessing a patriarchal or antediluvian age.

Anna is particularly noticed as the daughter of Phanuel, of whom we have no other information; and as belonging to the tribe of Asher, which was situated in Galilee. This, whether recorded for that purpose or not, might serve to refute the charge, that "out of Galilee ariseth no prophet," since from that quarter proceeded the very first inspirations upon the revival of the prophetic spirit. Asher was a very inferior tribe, and one of the ten carried captive by the Assyrians, having departed from the worship of the true God, and from the house of David, under Jeroboam. But notwithstanding this general defection, there were individuals who returned and reunited themselves with Judah, that they might enjoy the ancient privileges of the people of God. Thus even in the worst of times, and amidst the least favourable circumstances, some portion of true religion has always been preserved in the earth. Though the watchful eye of Providence has occasionally suffered the flame of devotion to languish and almost expire, yet its total extinction has been prevented, and unexpected coincidences have frequently excited it into new and more vigorous action.

We have in the history before us a specimen of a pious old age, remarkable in itself, and calculated to suggest a variety of useful considerations. This holy woman probably lodged in the immediate vicinity, if not in some of the outward apartments of the temple, which gave her an opportunity of indulging in those constant devotions which accorded with her wishes and comported with her age. On every occasion she was present at appointed services, and so entire was her self-devotement to religion, that she was incessantly engaged in fasting and prayers. The world had no claims upon her, being alike unfitted for any of its avocations and indisposed to any of its pleasures: she had bid it a final farewell, and had withdrawn behind the scenes of this vast theatre, which are so artfully painted as to allure and deceive the imaginations of mankind, into the secrecy of devotion and the sanctuary of her God. Peace was the companion of her retirement, and piety shed its serenest ray upon the evening of her mortal existence.

It may be presumed that the religion of Anna was by no means of recent date, but that the seeds of so rich a harvest were sown "in the fields of youth." Whatever is great or eminent is usually the work of time. Nature does not produce the oak, with its spreading branches and solid trunk, in a day or a twelve month; and, in general, a rapid luxuriancy is connected with corresponding weakness and quick decay. The plans of Providence require the lapse of years or ages to accomplish: events of importance seldom burst suddenly upon the world, and without a previous course of preparatory dispensations, tending to point out the purposes of such occurrences, and to awaken human expectations. Nor can excellence of character be formed without the use of means, opportunities of progressive improvement, and that experience which must be slowly gained.

Far be it from us to limit the operations of divine grace: it can, indeed, and in some instances has, produced effects of a nature to which no general rules and principles are applicable: it has instantaneously converted a furious persecutor into a faithful, laborious, and eminent preacher of "the faith which once he destroyed;" it has transformed a malefactor into a saint, and in one hour raised the criminal from the depths of infamy and the agonies of crucifixion to the dignity of a believer in Christ and the joys of paradise. But these surely ought not to be regarded as the ordinary methods of its operation, but rather as miraculous interferences. In general, religious ordinances are to be constantly and perseveringly attended, in order to the acquisition of eminence in religion: holy vigilance must concur with devout and fervent prayer, day by day, to check and finally vanquish the power of depravity, to elevate the mind above the world, and prepare the Christian for his future bliss; as the child must commonly be "trained up in the way he should go," if we hope that "when he is old he will not depart from it." Impressions deepen and acquire the force of principles by degrees, knowledge is obtained by perpetual accumulation, and faith is increased by constant exercise. It would be as vain to look for the wrinkles of age in the face of youth, or the strength of maturity in the arm of an infant, as to expect the experience which can only result from the witness of changes and the operation of circumstances, with its corresponding stability of character, in him who has but just commenced a life of piety. As "the husbandman waiteth for the precious fruits of the earth, and hath long patience for it until he receive the early and the latter rain," so we must in general look for a slow and gradual formation of the character to eminence and spiritual luxuriancy. The account given of Anna would therefore lead us to infer that she had been many years, and in all probability from her youth, devoted to the service of God.

She had not to regret that her best days were spent in riot and dissipation, in opposition or indifference to religion, by which so many debase their nature, offend their Maker, and ruin their souls: but while she contemplated the future without alarm, and perhaps with joy, she could review the past with satisfaction.

As memory predominates over the other faculties of the mind in declining life, and as so much of our happiness or misery at that period must necessarily result from its exercise, it is of the utmost importance to lay up in store a good provision in the "sacred treasure of the past." Nothing can be more desirable than to leave the mind filled with pleasing recollections; and this can arise only from a life of holiness and purity. How awful is it to think that the last hours should be disturbed by images of crime unrepented of, the intrusion of which into the dying chamber no force can prevent! How lamentable to see the terrors of death aggravated by the remorse and horrors of retrospection! "Life," says a profound writer, [25] "in which nothing has been done or suffered to distinguish one day from another, is to him that has passed it as if it had never been, except that he is conscious how ill he has husbanded the great deposit of his Creator. Life, made memorable by crimes, and diversified through its several periods by wickedness, is indeed easily reviewed, but reviewed only with horror and remorse.

"The great consideration which ought to influence us in the use of the present moment, is to arise from the effect which, as well or ill applied, it must have upon the time to come; for, though its actual existence be inconceivably short, yet its effects are unlimited, and there is not the smallest point of time but may extend its consequences, either to our hurt or our advantage, through all eternity, and give us reason to remember it forever with anguish or exultation." We may take occasion from the account of Anna to remark, that true religion is the most substantial support amidst the INFIRMITIES of age. This is emphatically the period of "evil days," when diseases prey upon the constitution, and the faculties both of body and mind decay. Then "the sun and the light, the moon and the stars are darkened;" the greatest change takes place in the outward circumstances of gladness and prosperity, the countenance of the man is altered, his complexion faded, and his intellectual faculties, as the understanding and the fancy, weakened. It is at this time "the keepers of the house tremble, and the strong men how themselves; the grinders cease, because they are few, and those that look out of the windows are darkened;" the strongest members of the body fail, the limbs bend beneath the weight of decrepitude and the effects of paralytic distempers, the teeth drop away, while the eyes grow dim and languid; "the doors are shut in the streets when the sound of the grinding is low," the mouth becoming sunken and closed; they "rise up at the voice of the bird," awakened from imperfect slumber when the cock crows or the birds begin their early songs; and "all the daughters of music," the tongue that expresses and the ears that are charmed with it, are "brought low;" they are "afraid of that which is high, and fears are in the way," alarmed at every step they take, lest they should stumble at the slightest obstacle, and especially apprehensive of the difficulties of any ascent. At that age their gray hairs thicken like the white flowers of the "almond tree" when it "flourishes," and even the very "grasshopper is a burden," for they cannot bear the slightest inconvenience, not even the weight of an insect, and "desire fails:" then is the "silver cord loosed, the golden bowl broken; the pitcher is broken at the fountain, and the wheel is broken at the cistern;" all the animal and vital functions at length cease, and every essential organ of life decays; "then shall the dust return to the earth as it was, and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it."