in this country may justly be entitled a true church. Such, then, is the attitude of the church in relation to Popery, she condemns it with spiritual authority, and therefore she meets it on equal ground, and comes on to the battle with all the advantages afforded by orthodoxy. And the very same principles which we employ in combatting Romanism, we use to shew dissenters the mischiefs and guilt of schism, and to preserve our own members in the unity of the brotherhood and faith of Christ. So that we are in all respects consistent in principle, and our arguments against one party cannot be turned against ourselves by the other. But what has the dissenter to reply to the Papist? He cannot appeal to primitive antiquity against Popish novelties, because he has already thrown antiquity overboard in his controversy with us, and shewn a total disregard for those primitive customs which the church retains. He has no succession of doctrine or of polity to shew. He must be always engaged in a war of first principles with Papists, in which they will be pretty sure to triumph. Such, then, are the reasons I would give, why all men, who value Christianity, should support the church. It is obvious that she has advantages and facilities for the maintenance and propagation of religion infinitely beyond those afforded by the dissenters. Her pure doctrines, her numbers, her spiritual power, the dignity of her attitude, the consistency of her principles, the high recollections connected with her,—all these things must render her triumphant, if not impeded by the lukewarmness of her members. But let them know their own position, let them forsake all sectarian ground, and act and speak in the way which they ought, and our success is certain. If the unhappy men, who are now leagued together for the plunder of ecclesiastical property, shall succeed in their unhallowed designs, it is not merely the church that will suffer. The result will be fatal to all dissenting societies, and the church will, after a few years, be the only Christian community existing in the country. Already the continuance of dissent is most precarious,already multitudes of their societies are on the verge of dissolution; but what will be the inevitable result of that general unsettlement of all property, which must inevitably follow, if the legal and equitable rights of the church are violated? In the stagnation of commerce, in civil broils, in popular agitation, the dissenting societies will gradually expire. To the country at large, the effect of any such spoliation must be most injurious. The immediate result would be a most serious diminution of the means afforded for the religious instruction of the agricultural population; and it would be impossible to maintain any thing like a generally resident clergy in the country. Our clergy would then, as in the early ages of the church, be obliged to travel occasionally from the towns to preach the gospel in the surrounding districts; and, amidst the ruins of their ancient churches, to instruct the people in the ritual and faith of their forefathers. But however we might mourn over the destruction of our country, and of a system which was raised by the piety and wisdom of many ages; yet we know too well the devotion of our brethren to the cause of Christianity, and of that church which is bound up with it, to be despondent. Come good, or come evil,amidst the destruction of our civil rights, the change of dynasties, the fall of mighty empires, we stand unshaken and immoveable. The great and divine principle of the apostolical church will never fail. The fire may devour all human works-all sects may be rooted up by the whirlwind-weak faith, and uncertain doctrines, and human inventions, may, and must, perish in the torrents of persecution and bloodshed; but the church we cling to must endure, for it is founded on a rock, against which the waters of persecution shall rage in vain. We are too strong in our faith, too rooted in our convictions, too confident in divine protection, to express any other sentiment but adoration of that Supreme Power who permits the storm to rage until the time that his mighty voice is heard. The sight of terrors only rivets us more firmly to that sublime truth, to which our lives, our souls, and the whole energies of our existence shall be devoted. In this world we may be poor and persecuted; but the sustaining hope within us cannot be overthrown. The immortal soul cannot be enchained by man. The body may be destroyed; but, even in death and in the future world, our unceasing prayers will be for the preservation of the faith, the unity of the brethren, and the purity and prosperity of the glorious and holy church. Let us, then, rally around the church of God, and solemnly devote ourselves, for life and death, to the service, the defence, the propagation, of that divine system; and let us send up, with one accord, our fervent prayers, that the Eternal Father may preserve the vine that he hath planted, the mystical body of his Christ; and that he may send down on us abundantly the Holy Ghost, that, with the discretion, the wisdom, the zeal, and the intense charity of the apostles, we may be able to surmount all difficulties, may triumph over human weakness and infirmity, and sustain, with unfaultering devotion, the incomparable, the sublime, the unspeakable charge which he has committed to our trust. P. VOL. III-June, 1833. 4 L A TALE, BY THE AUTHORESS OF " SCENES IN OUR PARISH. "Of all that pass me by, and this grave see, Who that shall view this stone would change with me; The toilsome journey, or the traveller's rest.” The It is a dark blowing evening, just like the one on which I went to watch poor old Samuel's funeral. There is the difference only that one month makes. The trees are nearly as bare-but the damp leaves have not yet been swept away; they lie in heaps over our path. The Michaelmas daisy has not yet been cut down, because here and there still one pale flower opens to invite the bee as she passes on her last visit to the ivy blossoms. evening is not quite so dark, but the grey clouds drift about, and the branches toss and shake, and the poor little marygolds and the late heart's-ease look afraid of the hail storm as they did then, and as if only a day had passed, and yet it is really three years. Three years, with their rounds of births and deaths, their springs, and their summers, and their winters. An eventful three years it has been. As a nation, the period has been fraught to us with tremendous interest. I need not record it. though so crowded with events, how swiftly and how silently have these three years past; and how merciful is that dispensation of Providence, by which to each separate heart every day's evil and every day's support are together meted out in sufficient measure for each other. But I dare say poor Old Hetty this time three years did not think she should have toiled on so long alone. Nor did I-yet she has. True, it has been labour and sorrow; and yet, strange to say, she has found herself capable of much more exertion than, whilst the old man was living, we thought possible. The Sunday after his funeral, and almost every Sunday since, she has found that she can reach the church; which, till the effort had been once made, seemed to us all a matter quite out of the question. She came first for the pleasure of seeing that his grave was in order; and since, for the exceeding comfort she has found in even the little she hears of our beautiful service. She feels pleasure in taking her seat just where her old husband used to sit. Many things are only nature that the world calls romance. "I like my feet to tread where poor Sam's did," says Hetty. She looks at the golden letters-the commandments over the communion tableand says, they remind her of the golden city, and the shining streets, where he is walking in heaven. The passage in our glorious This tale is a memoir of the survivor of the "Old Couple," mentioned in "Scenes of our Parish." Te Deum, "Thou! when thou didst overcome death, hast opened the kingdom of heaven to all believers," always strikes her dull ear, and brings tears of hope to the dim eyes. "I think," she tells us, "how the blessed Saviour has opened the gate to blind Samuel, and he will for old Hetty." She listens for the fourth commandment, and fancies what a blessed Sabbath "Sam,”—for she generally calls every one, high and low, by the briefest and most countrified appellative, what a glorious and eternal Sabbath he is keeping in heaven; and that thought, and the singing which follows, generally melts her to tears, and she wishes she were keeping sabbath with him, for indeed it can scarcely be called a day of rest to her now. We are often surprised at the labour she gets through in the week, and the exertions she makes to reach church on Sunday; for the walk, to us easily accomplished there and back again before breakfast, is, to her bent form and failing feet, many an hard hour's toil. "The grasshopper is a burden, and little troubles throw long shadows on life's evening;" yet, indeed, you and I might find old Hetty's temporal troubles very heavy. Pain, and weariness, and want, and cold, and hunger, are things that need more than human philosophy alone to bear. And yet," the lowly, the despised of all" "Seek and obtain, and often find unsought," a strength, a peace, that passeth all understanding. What a proof of the more than human might, the god-like power of the religion of Jesus Christ! "I was going home," says Hetty, "from church on Easter Sunday (now a year and a half ago), and just as I was toiling down the hill, under the poplar trees, my poor arms were swollen with resting on my crutches, and every step was weary, and I was bowed down, and I thought I should have hard matter to travel home. The enemy put sinful thoughts into my mind, and I said to myself 'There's nobody to get thee a bit of dinner, and the fire'll be gone out, and there's no good maid nor boy to make it in for the poor old mother; and when poor Sam used to come from church, he found some one to comfort him at home, but thou hast none to be glad to see thee.' So I went on desponding and complaining-but then I seemed to hear a voice speaking to my very heart, and it said, 'Thou shalt walk the golden street.' "What!" she continued, bursting into tears, "Shall I walk the golden street-shall I see my blessed Saviour, who has taught me from my youth up? Don't find fault then- don't complain any more, poor old Hetty. Toil on a little bit longer; may be but a little bit. The blessed Saviour has given thee his word - thou shalt walk the golden street!" I do not plead for superstition; there is no need of enthusiasm to make these feelings our own. It was not indeed a sensible voice that rung in old Hetty's ears, but the very voice of truth which has awakened a corresponding echo in her heart. "They that are wise will ponder these things, and they shall understand the loving kindness of the Lord." Those whose eyes are least dazzled with the glare of this world's wisdom, are permitted, I believe, the clearest view of the pure light of heaven. Those who have least of earth's comfort may often be most refreshed by that which comes from above; and the uneducated, losing much in other ways-as no doubt they do-have, where once the heart is really purified, a counterbalancing advantage in the unconstrained flow of feeling and affection which is allowed them. It is delightful to observe how practical a principle true faith is. Old Hester is the most honest, the most grateful creature you ever saw; she is scrupulously exact with regard to her debts. She takes "Owe no man anything," literally; and if she died tonight, I believe it would be found that she did not owe a penny in the world. Let us, in examining ourselves, be well assured that where the acceptable root is, there will be the healthy fruit. Profession is a little matter. The unfruitful tree that was withered by the divine curse, was not a bramble, but a fig-treea barren fig-tree. I was much struck the other day by Hetty's brief but forcible illustration of the effect of genuine religion. She had been lamenting a want of comfort in her feelings; probably the depression arose from weakness and great temporal suffering. "I can't see the brightness of his face as I could in better days," she said; "yet He has said, I never will leave nor forsake thee;" and she added, laying an emphasis on every word, and using the ungrammatical, but not inexpressive modes of speech common here, "He shews me every thing that I did not ought to do, and He makes me hate sin with a perfect hatred." Is not this the religion of the royal psalmist " through thy commandments I get understanding; therefore hold I straight all thy commandments, and all false ways I utterly abhor"? My poor old friend seems now to think that her toil is drawing to an end, but I cannot say that she appears to me much otherwise than usual. She thinks she has some internal disease, and sometimes suffers great pain; but she checks herself in her complaints, and says, "If I'm not ready to go now, when shall I be? I'm almost ashamed to take medicine, as if I wished to be on earth for ever. What not yet? Not longing to see my Lord yet? What should poor old Hetty wish to live for? Oh! that I may get safe at last." And then, with all the warmth of a strong imagination, she discourses on what she fancies the glories and beauties of heaven, and ends with a natural recurrence to earthly feeling. She is more desponding however, and cast down, than I have ever seen her. Her labour is really too much for her, and yet I dare say she will get through it. I advised her not to trouble |