8. But suppose the churches should treat a convert from infidelity as the church at Jerusalem treated Paul, what should he do? We would say, Take all quietly, and go zealously on with your work. You are the servant of God, and not of man; and you must not desert your Master, because a number of His servants err in their judgment of you, or show, in their conduct towards you, a lack of charity. Serve your Redeemer all the more faithfully. This was the course which Paul took. He "increased the more in strength;" and he abounded the more in labors. It would be a poor excuse for the neglect of your duty to God and Christ, to yourselves and your fellow creatures, to say, "The churches did not treat us as kindly as they ought; they doubted our sincerity." Such conduct would not only be exceedingly wicked, but extremely foolish. It would be the surest way to confirm the doubts of the churches, and make them feel, that in treating you coldly, they had acted wisely. The surest way to gain the confidence of the Church, is not to care too much about it. If you show that you are satisfied with the favor of God, and with your own sweet consciousness of the happy change you have experienced, everything else will come in its season. Goodness will draw after it the reputation of goodness. The shadow will follow the substance. And whether it does or not, your duty is to be resigned and cheerful. A man that has really been converted from infidelity to Christianity, will be so happy, and will feel so thankful for the blessed change, if he appreciates it as he ought, that he will hardly care whether he has the favor and confidence of his brethren or not. There is no intimation that the returned Prodigal looked black at his father, and threatened to go back again into the far country, because his elder brother refused to join in his welcome home. The probability is, that he felt so ashamed of his sin and folly, so overpowered with the tenderness of his father, and so happy to find himself at home again, that he never inquired whether other people were satisfied or not. The father noticed the unhappiness of his elder son, and sought to soothe and comfort him; but the younger son was occupied with other thoughts; and having suffered long the grievous pangs of hunger, he would, for a time at least, be busy at the table, speculating in raptures, it may be, on the difference between the flesh of "the fatted calf," and "the husks that the swine did eat."

It is, in one respect, an advantage to the converted unbeliever to be treated by the Church with shyness. It affords him an opportunity of proving his attachment to Christ and Christianity, in a way in which he could not prove it, if every one welcomed him with demonstrations of affection, and signs of joy. None are so slow to believe in the sincerity of a converted infidel as infidels themselves; and to be able to give to his old associates a proof so decisive of the genuineness of his change, and of the value he puts on Christianity, will be regarded by the convert as a privilege of no light value. And it is fit and proper, as well as better for the convert, that he should be reminded of his former weakness, and incited to watchfulness and humility, by the pain of some kind of life-long disadvantage.

9. Let no one expect to get through the world without trouble. The thing is not possible. Nor is it desirable. We need a little trouble now and then to keep us awake; and God will take care that we have it. We had better therefore look for it, and when it comes, bear it patiently. It is no use fretting or fuming; it only makes things worse. When we are restless under little troubles, God sends us greater ones; and if our impatience continues, he sends us greater still. And there is no remedy. An eel may wriggle itself "out of the frying-pan, into the fire;" but it cannot wriggle itself back again out of the fire, even into the frying-pan. And so it is with us. We may wriggle ourselves out of one little trouble, into two greater ones; but we cannot wriggle ourselves back again out of the two greater ones, into the little one. The longer we resist the will of God, the worse we shall fare. We had better therefore bear the ills we have, than plunge into others that we know not of. It is best to submit at once. If we were wise we should say with the Redeemer, "The cup that My Father giveth me, shall I not drink it?" God knows what is best for us, and He will never inflict on us a pang which He does not see to be necessary to our usefulness and welfare. It is not for His own pleasure that He afflicts us, but for our profit, that we may be partakers of His holiness.

And sorrow is the seed of joy. And pain adds to the sweetness of our pleasures. Hunger sweetens our food, and thirst our drink, and weariness our moments of rest; and "our light afflictions, which are but for a moment, work out for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory."

We are quite mistaken when we look at our trials as unmixed evils. They "are blessings in disguise." The dripping clouds which hide the sun, enrich the earth. The difficulties with which we have to contend, increase our strength. The tail of the kite, which seems to pull it down, helps it to rise. And the afflictions, which seem to press us to the ground, help to raise us to heaven.

Let us take our lot with meekness then, and learn in all things to say to our Heavenly Father, "Thy will be done."

10. Join the Church. The Church is an institution of Heaven, and connection with it is necessary to your spiritual safety. Some think they can stand alone; but when they make the attempt, they fall. No one can stand, who does not use the means which God has given him for his support; and one of those means is fellowship with the Church. Without civil society men gradually sink into barbarism; and without religious society Christians sink into earthliness and impiety.

Some of the sweetest and most beautiful of our flowering shrubs, and some of the richest of our fruit-bearing trees, are unable to raise themselves from the ground without the assistance of their stronger kindred. This is the case with the honeysuckle, the ivy, and the grape vine. Left to themselves on the open plain, they sprawl upon the ground, choked with the grass, and cropped and trampled on by beasts, until at length they perish. But placed in woods or hedgerows, they clasp with their living tendrils, or embrace with their whole bodies, their vigorous neighbors, climb to the light and sunshine by their aid, display their blossoms, and bear their rich delicious fruit in full perfection. And we are like these trees. We must have support from others, or perish.

This is not all. Even the stoutest and strongest trees, such as the oak, the ash, and the sycamore, do best in company. Plant those trees in groves, and guard them from the crushing steps and greedy maws of cattle, and they grow up tall, and straight, and smooth. They shield each other from the stormy winds, and they show a sort of silent emulation, each raising its head as high as possible, to catch the freshest air and the fullest streams of light. But plant one of those trees alone in the open field, and leave it unfenced and unguarded, and the probability is, it will perish. If it should escape destruction, its growth will be retarded, and its form will be disfigured. It will have neither size nor comeliness. It will be cropped by the cattle, and bent and twisted by the winds; it will be stunted and dwarfed, crooked and mis-shapen, knotted and gnarled, neither pleasant to the eye, nor good for timber. Not one in a thousand would ever become a tall, a straight, and a majestic tree.

Mr. Darwin says, that on some large tracts on which, while they were unenclosed and unprotected, there was not a tree to be seen, there soon appeared, after the land was enclosed by a fence, a countless multitude of fine Scotch firs. The seeds of these trees had been sown by some means, and they had germinated, and the embryo trees had sprung up; but the cattle had cropped the tender shoots, or crushed and trampled them down, and not one had been able to raise its head above the grass or heather. On looking down and searching carefully among the heather, he found in one square yard of ground, no fewer than thirty-two small trees, one of which had been vainly trying to raise its head above the heather for six and twenty years. After this tract of land had been enclosed for awhile, it was covered thick with a countless multitude of fine young trees. And so it is with Christians. Leave them in the open common of the world, and they gradually come down to a level with the tastes and manners of the world. Place them within the guarded enclosures of the Church, and they rise to the dignity and glory of saints. "He that walketh with wise men shall be wise; but a companion of fools shall be destroyed." Hence "the Lord added to the Church daily such as should be saved."

When you get into the Church, stay there as long as you honestly can; and honor it by a truly Christian life; and aid it by your labors; and support it liberally with your money. The best spent money in the world is that which is employed in promoting the spread of Christianity. And try to live in peace both with your pastor and your fellow-members. Obey the rules. Do not dream of unlimited liberty; you cannot have it; and it would do you no good if you could, but harm. And unlimited liberty for one, would be slavery or martyrdom for the rest. Judge the Church and your pastors charitably, as you would like to be judged yourself. Expect to find imperfections in them, and make as much allowance for them as you can, that they may be led to make allowances for the imperfections they find in you. Look more at the good that is in your brethren than at the evil; it will cause you to love them the more, and make you feel happier in their company. If any of them be overtaken in a fault, try to restore them, in the spirit of meekness. And let the mishaps of your brethren remind you that you too are exposed to temptation.

Calculate on meeting with trials or unpleasantnesses in the Church occasionally; for offences are sure to come. Churches are made up of men, and men are full of imperfections, so that misunderstandings, and even misdoings at times, are inevitable. You may be misjudged or undervalued. There will be differences of tastes and opinions, and even clashings of interest, between you and your brethren. And trials may come from quarters from which you could never have expected them, and of a kind that you could not possibly anticipate. But make up your minds, by the help of God, to bear all patiently. Remember how God has borne with you; and consider what Jesus suffered from the weaknesses, the errors, and the sins of men; and how meekly and patiently He endured.

And understand that others may have to bear with as many unpleasantnesses from you, as you have to bear with from them. You may misunderstand or undervalue others, as much as they misunderstand or undervalue you. And others may be as much disappointed in you, as you are in them. And you may try their patience, as much as they try yours. We know when we are hurt by others, but we do not always know when others are hurt by us. And we can see the defects of others, when we cannot see our own. And we should consider, that they will know when they are hurt by us, when they may not know that we are hurt by them; and that they will be able to see our imperfections, when they will be quite unconscious of their own. And if we would not have them to make too much of our defects and blunders, we must not make too much of theirs. If they can bear with us, we must learn to bear with them, and think ourselves well off to have things settled so. If we could see ourselves as God sees us, we might be more astonished that others should be able to bear with us, than that we should be required to bear with them.

And the trials we meet with in the Church will do us good, if we look at them in a proper light, and receive them in a proper spirit. They will reveal to us the defects of our brethren, and draw us to labor for their improvement. And in laboring for the improvement of others, we shall improve ourselves.

And the unpleasant friction which takes place between us and our brethren, will only tend to smoothe the ruggedness of our temper, and rub off the unevennesses of our character, provided we can keep ourselves from impatience and resentment. In going along the course of a brook or a river, you sometimes come upon a bend, where you find a heap of smooth and nicely rounded pebble stones thrown up. Did you ever ask yourselves how these pebbles came to be so round and smooth? When broken off from their respective rocks, they were as irregular in form, they had as sharp corners, and as rough, and ragged, and jagged edges, and were altogether as ugly and unsightly things as any fragments of rocks you ever looked upon. But they got into the water, and the stream rolled them along, and rubbed them gently one against another, and this was the way they came to be so round and smooth. There is no doubt, that if the stones could have talked, and if they had had no more sense than we have, whenever they found that their neighbor stones were rubbing them, they would have screamed out, "Oh! how you scratch;" never dreaming that they were scratching the other stones just as much at the same time. But fortunately the stones could not talk; and though they had not so much sense as we have, they had less nonsense, and that served them as well—so they took their rubbing quietly; and hence the smoothness of their surface, and the beauty of their shape. Now here we are, living stones in the great stream of time, tumbled about and rubbed one against another. Let us take our rubbing patiently, and give ourselves a chance of getting rid of our unevennesses, and of being brought to a comely shape. Have patience, my friends. The trouble will not continue long. When we have got our proper shape, God will remove us to our proper places in that living temple which He is building in the heavens, and our rubbing will be at an end for ever.

When I was first invited by the Primitive Methodists of Tunstall to preach in their chapel, one of the class-leaders and local preachers in the circuit threw up his plan, and sent in his class-book, saying he would not belong to a society that would allow Joseph Barker to preach in their pulpits. He was under a wrong impression with regard to my views. One of the Tunstall travelling preachers went to see him, and told him that he was laboring under a mistake, and advised him to take back his class-book and plan. "Come," said he, "and have a little talk with Mr. Barker." He came, and found he had been mistaken. "Forgive me," said he. "I cannot," said I; "you have committed no offence. I will save my pardons till you do something really wicked." "Then let us pray," said he; and we knelt down, and prayed for one another, and we all felt better. He came that night to hear me lecture. The subject was THE CHURCH. I spoke of the unpleasantnesses with which we sometimes meet from our brethren, and while exhorting my hearers to take their trials patiently, I used the illustration I have given here. The old man sat on my left in the front of the gallery, and was much excited. He wept. At length, unable any longer to restrain his feelings, he cried aloud, "Glory; Hallelujah; I'll stop and be rubbed." He did stop. But he had not much more rubbing to endure. In less than twelve months, on retiring one night to rest, in his usual health, he passed away suddenly, and peacefully, to his rest in heaven. Let us "stop and be rubbed." Better be rubbed in the Church, than thrown out into the broad highway of the world, and broken with the strong man's hammer.

11. And now with regard to reform. It is right that we should be reformers. There are plenty of evils both in the Church and the State, as well as in individuals, and it is our duty to do what we can to abate or cure them. But there is a right and a wrong way of going about the business, and if we would avoid doing mischief while we are trying to do good, we must proceed with care.

Reformers must learn to wait as well as to work. You cannot make churches, or states, or even individuals, all that you would like them to be, in a moment. You cannot make yourselves what you would like to be as quickly as you would wish. If you are like a man that I know, you will find the improvement of your own habits, and tempers, and manners, a task for life. And if the change for the better is so slow in yourselves, whom you have in your hands continually, and with whom you can take what liberties you please, what can you expect it to be in others? It is the law of God that things shall pass from bad to good, and from better to best, by slow and almost imperceptible gradations.

All the great and beneficent operations of Nature are silent and slow. Nothing starts suddenly into being; nothing arrives instantly at perfection; nothing falls instantly into decay. The germination of the seed, the growth of the plant, the swelling of the bud, the opening of the flower, the ripening of the fruit, are all the results of slow and silent operations. Still slower is the growth of the majestic forest. And the trees of greatest worth, which supply us with our choicest and most durable timber, have the slowest growth of all. And so it is with things that live and move. Their growth is silent as the grave. And man, the highest of created beings, advances to maturity most tardily of all. Our development is so gradual, that the changes we undergo from day to day are imperceptible. And the development of our minds is as gradual as the growth of our bodies. We gather our knowledge a thought, a fact, a lesson at a time. We form our character, a line, a trace, a touch a day.

Society is subject to the same law. Churches and nations are collections of individuals, each changing slowly, and must therefore themselves change more slowly still. You cannot force the growth of a single plant or animal at pleasure; still less can you force at will the advancement or improvement of society. You may change a nation's laws and institutions suddenly, but the change will be of no service, so long as the minds of the people remain unchanged.

All the great beneficent changes of Nature are gradual. How slowly the darkness of the night gives place to the morning dawn, and how slowly the grey dawn of the morning brightens into noon! How slowly the cold of winter gives place to the warmth of spring and summer. How slowly the seed deposited in the ground springs up, putting forth first the blade, then the ear, and then the full ripe corn in the ear. And how slowly we grow up from babyhood to manhood, and how slowly we pass on from early sprightly manhood, to the sobriety and wisdom of age. And how slowly the nations advance in science, in arts, and in commerce; in religion, and morals, and government. And so it is in all the works of God. Even the startling phenomena presented by the earth's surface, which earlier philosophers supposed to be the result of violent and sudden convulsions, are now regarded as the result of the slow and ordinary action of natural powers. Leisurely movement is the eternal and universal law. And it is no use complaining; you cannot alter it. You cannot make a hen hatch her eggs in less than three weeks, do what you will. You may crack the shells, thinking to let the chickens out a little earlier; but you let death in, and the chickens never do come out at all. "The more haste the less speed." I have had proof of this more than once in my own experience. I once lived in a house terribly infested with rats, and I wanted to get rid of them as quick as I could, for they were a great nuisance. But, I was in too big a hurry to succeed. One night I heard a terrible splashing in the water-tub in the cellar. "That's a rat," said I, "I'll dispatch that, anyhow:" and I took the lighted candle and poker, and hastened into the cellar, thinking to kill the creature at once. When the rat saw me with candle and poker, it made an extra spring, completely cleared the edge of the tub, and got safe away into its hole. I was in such a hurry to kill it, that I saved its life. When I got to it, it was drowning itself as nicely as it could do; and if I had had patience to wait, it would have been dead in ten minutes. But because I would not wait, and let it die quietly, it would not die at all. And it may be living now for anything I know, and may have bred a hundred other rats since then, and all because I would not give it time to die in peace. There are rats everywhere still. There are rats in the Church, rats in the State; rats in palaces, and rats in hovels. There are rats of despotism and tyranny, rats of slavery and war, rats of rebellion and anarchy. There are rats of superstition and idolatry, rats of heresy and infidelity, rats of intemperance and licentiousness. And it is right to try to kill them off. But we had better go to work carefully. We cannot put things right in an instant. And when wicked laws, or vicious principles have received their death blow, we had better give them time to die in quiet. Haste and impatience may spoil all.

12. Though unbelief may not always be a sin, it is always a great calamity. As we have said, its tendency is always to immorality, and immorality always tends to misery and death. Byron perished in his prime, and his short life and his untimely death were both unhappy. Unbelievers are seldom happy in their domestic relations. And in cutting themselves off from God, they reduce the noblest affections of their souls to starvation. They have no suitable exercise or gratification for their natural instinctive gratitude, their reverence, or their love. They have nothing in which they can securely trust. Even their family and social affections often decline and die.

Many unbelievers are poor, and infidel poverty is always envious. The world is a very trying one to unbelievers: hardly anything pleases them; and nothing pleases them long. Rulers do not please them: they are despots and tyrants. Their fellow subjects do not please them: they are cowardly slaves. Their masters do not please them: they are extortioners. Their men do not please them: they are knaves. The rich do not please them: they are leeches, caterpillars, cormorants. The poor do not please them: they are mean, deceitful and dishonest. Religion does not please them; it is superstition: and philosophy does not please them; it is a bore and a sham. Priests do not please them; they are cheats: and the people do not please them; they are dupes. The climates do not suit them: they are too hot, or too cold; too damp, or too dry; and the seasons do not please them—they are always uncertain, and seldom right. The world at large disgusts them: it takes the part of their enemies. It favors the religious classes, and mocks and tortures the infidel philosopher. Their bodies are not right; they are always ailing, and threatening to give way: and their minds are not right; they are never contented and at rest. There is nothing right in the present; and there is nothing promising in the future. They think themselves the wisest people in the world, yet people in general regard them as fools; and they themselves can see that their fancied wisdom does not prove their friend.

They can give no explanation of the mysteries of the universe. They cannot account for the facts which geology reveals with regard to the natural history of the globe. They cannot account for the mechanism of the heavens, or the chemistry of the earth. They cannot account for life, organization, or intelligence. They cannot account for instinct. They cannot account for the marks of design which are everywhere visible in Nature, nor for the numberless wonders of special arrangement and adaptation manifest in her works. They cannot account for the difference between man and the lower animals. Animals can indulge themselves freely and take no harm; man cannot indulge himself freely without misery and ruin. Animals can be happy without self-denial; man cannot. Man excels in the gift of reason, yet commits mistakes, and perpetrates crimes, which we look for in vain among the beasts of the field. Man, with a thousand times more power than the brutes, and with immensely greater capacities and opportunities for happiness, is frequently the most miserable being on earth. On the supposition that man was made for a different end, and endowed with a different nature from the brutes—on the supposition that man was made for virtue, for piety, for rational, religious self-government, for voluntary obedience to God, for the joy of a good conscience, for heaven—in a word, on the supposition that the Scriptural and Christian doctrine about man is true, all this is explained; but on the infidel theory all is a torturing, maddening mystery.

And let infidels do what they will, and say what they please, the world at large will hold to the religious theory. Mahometans, Pagans, and Christians all insist that man is made for higher work, and meant for a higher destiny, than the lower animals. The Christian theory is accepted by the highest of our race. They regard it with the deepest reverence. The books that unfold it they regard as divine. They read them in their families. They read them in their temples. They teach them in their schools. They publish them in every language; they send them round the globe. In England and America, the first of the nations, you see them everywhere. You meet with them in hotels, in boarding-houses, at railway stations, and on steam packets; in asylums and infirmaries; in barracks and in prisons; in poor-houses and in palaces; in the drawing-rooms of the wealthy, and in the hovels of the poor. The greatest scholars and rarest geniuses devote their lives to the diffusion of their doctrines; and there is no probability of a change. If Christianity be false, the world is mad: if it be true, the case of the infidel is deplorable in the extreme.

And that many portions of the Christian system are true, is past doubt. They carry the evidence of their truth on their very face. And other portions admit of easy proof. The truth of many Christian doctrines can be proved by experience. And the rest are probable enough. There is nothing absurd, nothing irrational in Christianity. The teachings of Christ are the perfection of goodness. They are the perfection of wisdom and beauty. Even Goethe could say, "The human race can never attain to anything higher than Christianity, as presented in the life and teachings of its Founder." And again he says, "How much soever spiritual culture may advance, the natural sciences broaden and deepen, and the human mind enlarge, the world will never get beyond the loftiness and moral culture of Christianity as it shines and glistens in the Gospels."—Farhenlehre, iii. 37.

And nothing can be more true.

Look for a few moments at Christ and Christianity.

And, first, what is Christ as presented in the Gospels?

1. He is, first, holy, harmless, undefiled; a lamb without blemish and without spot. This is the lowest trait in His character. Yet it is a great thing for any one to remain innocent in a world like this, with a nature like ours.

2. But He was, second, an example of the highest moral and spiritual excellence. He was devout, pious, resigned, towards His Heavenly Father. He was full of benevolence towards men. He did good. The happiness of mankind was the end, and doing good the business, of His life. He had no other object. He paid no regard to wealth, to power, to pleasure, or to fame. He was so fixed and single in His aim, that there is no room for mistake. To do good, to bless mankind, was His meat and drink.

3. And He did good to men's bodies as well as to their souls. While He taught the ignorant, and reformed the bad, and comforted the penitent, He healed the sick, gave sight to the blind, hearing to the deaf, bread to the hungry, and life to the dead.

4. He enjoined the same way of life on His disciples. "Freely ye have received," said He, "freely give."

5. While He lived and labored for the good of all, He paid special attention to the poor.

6. Yet He never flattered the poor, nor pandered to their prejudices or passions. He never taught them to envy the rich, or revile the great, or to throw the blame of their sorrows on others.

7. While kind to the poor, He was just and respectful to the rich. His conduct to Nicodemus, to Zaccheus, to the young man that came to question Him about the way to heaven, and to the Roman centurion, was courteous and comely to the last degree. He was faithful, but not harsh.

8. He was good to all classes. He loved the Jews, yet He was just and kind to the Samaritans, to the Syro-phenician woman, and to the Roman soldier.

9. He was especially kind to women, even to the fallen ones. He showed none of that indifference or disdain for woman that the proud barbarian exhibits, or of that heartless contempt which the vicious sensualist manifests. He rose alike above the selfish passions and the inveterate prejudices of his age, and conferred on the injured sex the blessings of freedom and dignity, of purity and blessedness.

10. He showed the tenderest regard to children. "He took them in His arms and blessed them," and said, "Suffer little children to come unto Me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of heaven."

11. He was kind to the outcast. He was a friend of publicans and sinners. He went among the lowest, the most neglected, the most despised, the most hated and dreaded of mankind, and labored for their salvation. The parables of the Lost Sheep, and of the Prodigal Son, speak volumes in His praise.

12. He was always gentle, tolerant, and forgiving. He refused to bring down fire from heaven on the villagers that had slighted Him, saying "The Son of Man is not come to destroy men's lives, but to save them." He commended the virtue of Samaritan heretics. He has nothing harsh even for the infidel Sadducee. He complies with the unreasonable wishes of the skeptical Thomas. He pardons Peter. He is severe with the Scribes and Pharisees only, who made void the law of righteousness by their traditions, and took the key of knowledge, and used it, not to open, but to keep shut the door of the kingdom of heaven.

13. As a reformer, He went to the root of social and political evils, and sought the reform of laws, institutions, and governments, by laboring for the instruction and renovation of individuals.

14. He was patient as well as disinterested. He was willing to sow, and let others reap; to labor, and let others enjoy the fruits of his labors.

15. He formed a Church, employing the social instincts and affections of His followers as a means of perpetuating and extending His beneficent influence in the world.

16. He checked the impertinence, and silenced the vanity of captious cavillers.

17. He carried the truth into markets and sea-ports, as well as taught it in the temple and in the synagogues.

18. He had the eloquence of silence as well as of speech.

19. He could suffer as well as labor. He bore reproach and insolence, and at last laid down His life for mankind.

20. He could make allowances even for His murderers. When they mocked Him in His dying agonies, He could say, "Father, forgive them; they know not what they do."

He excelled as a teacher.

1. He was very practical; seeking always to bring men to be merciful, as their Father in Heaven is merciful.

2. He was very plain; using the simplest forms of speech, and the most natural and touching illustrations.

3. He presented truth and duty in His parables in the most impressive forms.

4. His doctrines about God and providence, about duty and immortality, about right worship and the proper employment of the Sabbath; about true greatness, and the forgiveness of injuries; about gentleness and toleration; about meekness and humility; about purity and sincerity, as well as on a great variety of other subjects, were the perfection of true philosophy. His parable of the talents, His remarks on the widow and her two mites, and on the woman and the box of ointment, showing that nothing is required of us beyond our powers and opportunities, are striking, instructive, and impressive in the highest degree.

5. He made it the duty of all whom He taught to instruct others. His words, "freely ye have received, freely give;" and the sentence, "It is more blessed to give than to receive," are among the divinest oracles ever heard on earth.

6. He illustrated and enforced all His lessons by a consistent example. He practised what He taught.

7. And He commanded His disciples to do the same. "Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven."

8. There can be nothing juster or kinder than His great rule, "All things whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so unto them."

9. His doctrine that God will treat men as they treat each other, is most striking and important. "Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy." "With what judgment ye judge ye shall be judged; and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again." "If ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will forgive you your trespasses; but if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your heavenly Father forgive you your trespasses."

10. His remarks on riches and poverty, on honor and reproach, on suffering and glory, though regarded by some with shyness and distrust, contain a world of important truth.

11. His lessons on spiritual or religious freedom, on self-denial, on the true mark of discipleship, on the great judgment, on the future of Christianity, and on the heavenly felicity, are all remarkable for their wisdom, and for their purifying and ennobling tendency.

But it would require volumes to do Christ and His doctrine justice. And I feel as if I were wronging the Saviour to speak of His worth and doctrine, when I have neither time nor space duly to set forth their transcendent excellency. Every peculiar trait in His character that I have named, deserves a treatise to present it in all its importance and glory; and I, alas, can give but a sentence or two to each.[A]

But Christ has our devoutest love and gratitude, and our profoundest reverence. And the more we contemplate Him, the more constrained we feel to regard Him, not only as the perfection of all human excellence, but as the revelation and incarnation of the eternal God. And we feel it a great honor and unspeakable privilege to be permitted to bear His name, to belong to His party, and to labor in His cause. We are indebted to Him for everything that gives value to our existence, and we give Him, in return, with cheerfulness and gladness, our heart, our life, our all.

Ah, why did I so late Thee know, Thee, lovelier than the sons of men? Ah, why did I no sooner go To Thee, the only ease in pain? Ashamed I sigh, and inly mourn That I so late to Thee did turn.

[A] Since the above was written we have published a book entitled JESUS: A PORTRAIT. Look at it.

CONCLUDING REMARKS.

1. While the tendency of infidelity is to make men miserable, it is the tendency of Christianity to make men happy. When I was living at Burnley, an infidel came to me one morning and said, "Barker, we may say what we will, but those Ranters, (meaning the Primitive Methodists) are the happiest men alive. There is one lives next to me, and he sings all the day long. He gets up singing and goes to bed singing." They are the happiest men alive. And real Christians of all denominations are happy.

2. Some time after my return to Christianity, I spent a few days in the house of a Primitive Methodist, a farmer, on the Cheshire Hills. I seemed in Paradise. The master and the mistress were cheerful and kind, and the daughters and girls were almost continually singing delightful Christian melodies while busy at their work. One moment they were singing of a BEAUTIFUL STREAM, and then of a HAPPY LAND. One would begin, "Jesus, Lover of my soul"—and when that was finished, another would begin with, "When I can read my title clear, to mansions in the skies,"—and the singing and the work went on together all the day. It was heaven. And a thousand such facts might be given.

3. My own experience is in harmony with these facts. My return to Christ made me happy beyond measure. It brought me enjoyments, transports, to which, for years, I had been an utter stranger. The fact is, for a long time the worth of my life was well-nigh gone. I lived, because I felt I ought to live, for the sake of those who were dear to me. But for myself, the light and joy of my life seemed gone for ever. My existence was a long dark struggle with crushing destiny. Though naturally hopeful, I was made to feel the bitterness of blank despair. I had moments of relief, but I had weeks of gloom and despondency. Now all is changed. I have moments of sadness and depression; but weeks and months of joy and gladness. I see the universe in an entirely different light. And instead of murmuring at Nature as cruel, I adore a gracious and merciful God. Of my errors and misdoings I must always feel ashamed, and a consciousness of them must for ever tend to make me sad at times; yet notwithstanding all drawbacks, I have enjoyed more satisfaction, more real happiness, a hundred times over, during the last twelve months, than I enjoyed during the whole period of my alienation from God. The simple-hearted Christian knows what he says, when he tells you "There's something in religion." It has a power and a blessedness altogether different from anything else under heaven. Knowledge is sweet, and love is sweet, and power and victory are sweet; but religion—the religion of Christ—is sweeter, infinitely sweeter than all. It is the life and blessedness of the soul. It is its greatness, its strength, its glory: its joy, its paradise, its heaven.

4. If the churches abound with defects, the cause is in humanity, and not in Christianity. Men are not imperfect because they are Christians, but because they are not Christian enough. The worst men are the farthest from Christianity, and the best are nearest to it. And the worst creeds are the least Christian, and the best are the most Christian. And Christianity is better than the best. There is not a virtue on earth, nor a truth in the universe, which does not form a part, or a consistent and fitting appendage, of the Christian system. The best, the wisest, the noblest man on earth is no better, no wiser, no nobler, than the teachings of Jesus tend to make the whole human race.

5. The influence which Jesus exerted on the world, and the influence which He is still exerting, is the mightiest and most beneficent ever experienced by mankind; and the monument which He has raised for Himself, the Christian Church, with all its institutions, its literatures, its agencies and achievements is, beyond all comparison, the grandest, the noblest, and in all respects the most magnificent and glorious that the history of the world can boast. He has indeed gained for Himself a name above every name; a glory and a power which have no equal and no resemblance; and His followers may well adore Him as the brightness of the Father's glory, and the express image of His love and majesty.

6. And what can we do better than chime in with the anthem of His worshippers? What can we do better than teach His beneficent doctrines, and follow His glorious example? Talk as we will, the noblest and the happiest life a man can live is a life of Christian love and beneficence. And the best association on earth is that which is organized on the principle of love to Christ, pledged to the self-sacrificing labors of a wise philanthropy, the work of serving and blessing mankind.

7. A belief in Christ gives one a power to do good to mankind which no skeptic can have. It kindles love, and stimulates to activity, as nothing else does. And it inspires courage, and produces patience, and gives comfort under persecution. And it lays on us no unnecessary restraints. It leaves us free to every good word and to every good work. And it is friendly to science and to unlimited progress. It offers a bond of union for all great minds, and for all good hearts. It increases our power to reform both churches and states, without urging us to wild and revolutionary measures, which might imperil the interests of both. To accept this religion, to avow this faith, involves nothing of which we need be ashamed, but everything in which we may reasonably glory. We escape alike the follies of theological dreamers, and the gloom and horrors of infidel philosophy. We live amidst the soft mild glories of eternal light; we cheer ourselves with the richest and most glorious hopes, and we spend our lives in the grandest contemplations and the noblest occupations the heart of man can conceive.

8. The vainest of all vain things, the most unseemly and revolting of all forms of pride, is the pride of disbelief in God and immortality. And the maddest if not the wickedest of all occupations, is to labor to destroy the faith and blight the hopes of others. What good, humane, or merciful motive can a man have to impel him to such a horrible undertaking?

9. How soothing the thought that your sufferings are marked by a loving God, and will be overruled for your good! And how cheering the thought, when life is in danger, or drawing to a close, that death is the gate of a higher life! And how comforting the thought, when your loved ones are leaving you, that they are going before you to a happier home, and that by-and-by you will see their faces, hear their voices, and share their presence and society again! And what a relief, when visiting the sick, the sorrowing, or the dying, to be able to speak to them of an infinite Father, of another life, and of brighter scenes, and of a happier lot, in a better land!

10. We have spent time enough among the dead. And you can see with your own eyes which are the living, loving, and laboring portions of the Church. You can see which portions build the most schools, teach the most children, reclaim the most drunkards and profligates, and do most to develop and cultivate the religious and moral sentiments of the masses. And one of the lessons we always pressed on you was, to judge a tree by its fruits. We do not intend to swerve from our plan of avoiding sectarian and theological controversy; but we may ask you to compare the amount of good religious work done by the Methodists in fifty years, with the good done by the so-called liberal Christians, and to draw your own conclusion. The Primitive Methodists alone, with the smallest amount of means, have done incalculably more good in fifty years, than the Unitarians, with unlimited supplies of wealth, and all the advantages of learning and position, have done in a hundred and fifty years. We have cast in our lot with the living, working portion of the Church. It is our home. We had rather be a doorkeeper of the humblest living, hard-working church in the land, than dwell with the spiritually dead and cold in the palaces of princes. We will help the men that are doing the hard and needful work of humanity. If you can see such men as the Primitive Methodists and the orthodox Churches generally, working as they do work, and succeeding as they do succeed, and not respect them and love them, and take part in helping them, you have not the heart of tenderness and the spirit of Christian manliness for which we have given you credit.

11. The influence of Christianity cannot be otherwise than beneficial; nor is it possible that Christianity should become the ruling power on earth without greatly abating, if not entirely curing the evils of humanity, and making mankind as happy as their nature and capacities admit.

Imagine Christianity to be received and reduced to practice by all the people on earth, what would be the result? Disease would gradually diminish. Nine-tenths of it would quickly disappear; and life would be both happier and much longer.

Along with disease would go want, and the fear of want. All would be well fed, well clad, well housed, and well supplied with all the necessaries and comforts of life. The world is stored with abundance of natural wealth. The surface of the earth is vast enough, and its soil is rich enough, to supply homes and plenty to all its inhabitants, if they were fifty times as numerous as they are.

Three or four hours a day would be the utmost length of time that men would need to labor. The cessation of war would set the soldiers free for productive employment. The peaceful disposition of the people at home would allow the police forces to devote themselves to useful labor. The idle classes would set to work, and the wasteful classes would become economical. A limit would be fixed to the extravagances of fashion. Things comely and useful would satisfy the desires of both men and women. The powers of nature would be pressed more generally into our service, and compelled to do our drudgery both in the mine and on the farm. A sense of justice would dispose men to be content with their share of the blessings of Providence, and Christian generosity would prompt the rich to supply the wants of the helpless. The dangers of useful toil would be diminished. The catalogue of mournful accidents in flood and field, in mines and factories, would be abridged. Oppression would cease. The wisest and best would be our legislators and rulers. Patriots, philanthropists, and philosophers would take the place of selfish politicians. Political trickery would give place to honorable statesmanship. All cruel forms of servitude would cease. All wicked laws would be abolished. All needless burdens would be removed from the backs of the people. All would be well taught. All dreams of impossible equality, and all thoughts of violent and bloody revolutions, would pass away. Vice and crime would disappear, with all the tortures both of mind and body which they occasion. Commerce would flourish. All nations would freely and lovingly exchange their surplus products. All classes would deal with each other honorably. Each one would do to others as he would that others should do to him. No one would suffer from fraud, or from the fear of fraud. Trade would be a mutual exchange of benefits. Business would be a pleasant pastime, gainful to all, and ruinous to none.

Marriage would be universal, and would prove in every case a comfort and a blessing. The family circle would be the abode of love, and peace, and joy. Each home would be a little heaven. Children would be wisely trained and carefully nurtured in knowledge and piety. The virtues and the graces would adorn their lives from youth to age. All talent and skill, the powers of eloquence and of poetry, the influences of music and of song, and all the powers of art would serve the cause of truth and virtue, of religion and humanity.

Superstition would die. Unnatural conceptions of God, and cruel, wasteful, and useless forms of worship, would give place to faith in a God of light and love, of wisdom and of purity, and to a spiritual, rational, and rapturous kind of devotion. All ignorant dread of natural phenomena would give place to joyous and loving admiration, and to devoutest adoration, of the great eternal Ruler of the world. If calamities came they would be accepted as divine appointments, as needful means of everlasting good. Death would lose its terrors. Belief in a blessed immortality would enable us to pass from earth in peace and joy. Bereavements would be less distressing. The departure of our friends would be but a transition to a better state of being.

The world itself would change. Its beauties would become more beautiful; its glories would become more glorious, and all its joys and pleasures would be more transporting. The eye, the ear, the taste, the smell would all become the inlets of more and richer enjoyments. Science and literature in their divinest forms would become the common lot of our race. The glory of God's character and the brightness of the eternal future, would shed unwonted radiance over the present life, and make it rapturous, glorious, and divine. The religion of Christ, while raising men to heaven, would bring down heaven to earth.

On the other hand, the want of trust in God and of a hope of immortality tends to darken earth, and to embitter life. When men are severed from God and Christ, they suffer loss both in character and enjoyment. We can speak from experience. We never ruined our health by vicious indulgence. We never became the slave of intemperance or licentiousness. We never dishonored our family, or lost the love and confidence of our wife and children. But we lost our trust in God, and our hope of immortality. And the heavens above grew dark, and the earth became a desolation. Life lost its value, and sorrow its consolation; and many and many a time we wished that we had never been born. For hours have we trod the earth with heavy heart and downcast eyes, groaning beneath a weight of sadness indescribable. Loss of faith in Christ, even with men of a naturally cheerful and hopeful spirit, renders life a burden too heavy to be borne. Hence for years before we fully regained our own faith in Christianity, we encouraged others to cherish theirs. An infidel once said, that the Christian's hope, if false, was worth all this world's best truths; and we felt the truth of the remark, and shrank from attempts to take from men the inestimable treasure. And now we would rather die than shake or undermine the faith of any Christian soul on earth. To the work of cherishing a belief in Christ in our own heart, and nurturing it in the hearts of others, we consecrate our life, our all. We would rather live on a crust, in a mud hut, with faith in God and Christ, than feast on all the dainties of the earth, in the palace of a king, with the hopelessness and gloom of the Atheist.

We have no disposition to exaggerate; but we are constrained to say, that if all the wisdom and all the virtue on earth had dwelt in one man, and if that one man had presented a revelation of God with a view to supply the strongest, the mightiest, the most touching, the most tender, the most varied, and the most irresistible inducements to renounce all selfishness and sin, and to live a pure and godly, a holy and a useful, a divine and glorious life, that revelation could have assumed no better, no more perfect or effective form, than that which is presented in the revelation of God by Jesus Christ. We feel, while we contemplate it, that it can have no fitter or truer name than that bestowed on it by the Apostles, 'The power of God to salvation to every one that believeth.' And we are reminded of the words, 'We all, with open face beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image from glory to glory, as by the Spirit of the Lord.'

Of course the destruction of this belief can operate no otherwise than as an encouragement to evil, and a discouragement to good. The loss of Christian belief in God can be to the virtues and the graces of the heart and life, but as a blight to plants and flowers. The Christian belief makes it summer to the soul, giving birth, and power, and full development to all that is godlike and glorious in human character. The loss of that belief is winter to the soul; killing with its frosts each form of life and beauty, and making all a waste and desolation.

There have been three great disbelievers in God in our own country during the present century, all of whom have written books denouncing marriage, and counselling unbounded sensual license. If their counsels were generally taken, the result would be a state of society as horrible as that portrayed in the beginning of Paul's Epistle to the Romans, and a return to faith in God alone could save the race of man from utter extinction. But we will not dwell on this dreadful side of the subject. We know the effects of the light and warmth of the sun; and we may safely be left to infer the horror, the misery, the world-wide ruin, and the utter dreariness and desolation that would follow if the orb of day were extinguished, or for ever and utterly withdrawn. Religion is the sun of the spiritual world; it is its light and life, its joy and blessedness; and its extinction would be the death and destruction of our race.

While belief in God is favorable to virtue generally, it tends also to produce displays of superior excellence; of unusual courage, perseverance, and endurance. The believer in God may brave the most appalling dangers. His feeling is, that he who is for him is greater than all that can be against him. It is no vain boast in him to say, 'I fear God, and know no other fear.' It is natural that he should say, when threatened by mistaken or malignant men, 'You may kill me, but you cannot hurt me.' The Christian believer can afford to be a martyr. When excited by ungodly or inhuman opposition, he naturally displays the martyr's courage. He can bear too to suffer disrepute. He can trust his reputation to his omniscient and almighty Friend. He can bear to look with patience both on the adversity of the good, and the prosperity of the bad. He knows the fate,—he sees the end,—of both. The Judge of all the earth will do right. He knows no evil but sin. He knows no security but righteousness.

And Christian faith is a fountain of all conceivable comfort. It is a comfort to feel secure. It is a comfort to feel strong. It is a comfort to feel assured that we are beloved of God. It is a comfort to feel that we love Him in return. It is a comfort to believe that the universe has a Head, a Lord, a Ruler. It is a comfort to believe that we are not orphans, fatherless inhabitants of a Godless world. There is pleasure in admiration and reverence. There is pleasure in feelings of gratitude. There is a pleasure in tracing the wonders and beauties of creation to a living, loving Creator. It adds to the pleasure of science to believe, that behind the wonderful phenomena which we behold, there is a Great Unseen from whose all-loving heart they all proceed. It is a pleasure to believe that our ways are ordered by infinite wisdom. It is a pleasure to believe that our sorrows are known to an almighty sympathizing Friend. It is a pleasure to believe that our kindred and friends have a helper greater than ourselves. It is a pleasure to believe that our lot is appointed by an infinite Father; that we shall not be permitted to be tried beyond our strength; that in every temptation, a way will be made for our escape; that nothing can harm us, however painful; that nothing can destroy us, however terrible; that all things work together for our good. In short, there is no end to the strength which a Christian belief in God is calculated to give to our virtue, or to the consolation which it is calculated to impart to our souls.

But what can be sadder than to be without God, and without hope, in a world like this? With all our science how little we know! How terrible the thought that we have no unerring guide! With all our powers how feeble we are! How terrible the thought that we have no almighty friend! And vast and numberless as are the provisions that are made for our happiness, how often we are thwarted, how prone we are, even in the midst of plenty, to be dissatisfied; and how soon we may perish! And how sad the thought that there is no restorer! Is it strange that, when faith in God is lost, the value of life is felt to be gone?

We have no harsh word for the doubter or the disbeliever, but we raise our warning voice against the dangers which beset the way of youth, and counsel all to consider well their steps. 'There are ways which at times seem right unto men, but the end thereof is death.' 'The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and to depart from evil is understanding.' Science has advanced; arts have multiplied; governments have changed; and many are tempted to believe that the principles of religion and virtue are exploded. But woe to the man that yields to the temptation. His days shall be darkened with grief; and his heart distracted with horror. But peace and purity and joy shall be the lot of the faithful Christian. The light of life shall shine upon his path. The wisdom of the Holy One shall be his guide; and, living and dying, he shall be secure.

12. The Christian has the highest, the happiest employment. He works in the spirit of eternal love. He works for the highest and the holiest ends. And he works in hope. He sees the harvest in the ploughing of the field, the coming crop in the scattered seed. The result of his labors may come slowly, but he can afford to wait. The Lord reigneth; and the plans of His eternal love can never fail.

And all things rich and beautiful are his. The earth and its fulness are his. The heavens and their glories are his. All sights of beauty, all sounds of melody, all emotions of wonder, all transports of delight are his. There are no forms, no elements of bliss from which he is excluded. All the innocent pleasures of sense, all that can delight the soul through the eye, the ear, the taste, or the feelings; all that is rich in art; all that is rapturous in song; all the pleasures of science and literature, all are his.

And all earth's blessings, all pure and harmless pleasures, he can enjoy more truly and more fully than other men. While his faith in God gives greater beauty and glory to the universe, his hope of immortality gives greater sweetness to his earthly life. The brightness of the eternal world throws a celestial radiance over the present, and gives to earth a portion of the blessedness of heaven.

A FEW TESTIMONIES OF GREAT MEN IN FAVOR OF CHRISTIANITY.

We live in the midst of blessings, till we are utterly insensible of their greatness, and of the source from which they flow. We speak of our civilization, our arts, our freedom, our laws, and forget entirely how large a share of all is due to Christianity.—Coleridge.

There never was found in any age of the world, either philosopher or sect, or law or discipline, which did so highly exalt the public good as the Christian faith.—Bacon.

As the man of pleasure, by a vain attempt to be more happy than any man can be, is often more miserable than most men are; so the skeptic, in a vain attempt to be wise beyond what is permitted to man, plunges into a darkness more deplorable than that of the common herd.—Colton.

Since the introduction of Christianity, human nature has made great progress; but it has not got in advance of Christianity. Men have outgrown other institutions and systems, but they may grow for ever and not outgrow Christianity.—Channing.

I have lived long enough to know what I did not at one time believe—that no society can be upheld in happiness and honor without the sentiment of religion.—La Place.

It is heaven on earth to have one's mind to move in charity, to rest on Providence, and follow truth.—Bacon.

Of all the dispositions and habits which lead to political prosperity, religion and morality are most essential. In vain would that man claim the tribute of patriotism, who should labor to destroy those great pillars of human happiness; these firmest props of virtue. And let us not suppose that morality can be maintained without religion. Whatever may be conceded to the influence of refined education on minds of peculiar structure, reason and experience both forbid us to expect national morality to prevail in the absence of religious principle.—Washington.

I have carefully and regularly perused these Holy Scriptures, and am of opinion, that the volume, independently of its divine origin, contains more sublimity, purer morality, more important history, and finer strains of eloquence, than can be collected from all other books, in whatever language they may have been written.—Sir William Jones.

THE END