ed the Jordan, just opposite to the tents which were pitched at the distance of a few yards only, from the river. The stream appeared to us to be little more than twenty-five yards in breadth, and was so shallow in that part as to be easily fordable by our horses. The banks were thickly lined with tall rushes, oleanders, and a few willows; the stream was exceedingly rapid, the water tolerably clear from its flowing over a bed of pebbles, and, as we drank of the stream while our horses were watering, we found it pure and sweet to the taste." Burckhardt, after giving a similar description of the general scenery, adds:"The river, where we passed it, was about eighty paces broad, and about three feet deep. This, it must be recollected, was in the midst of summer. In the winter, it inundates the plain in the bottom of the narrow valley, but never rises to the level of the upper plain of the Ghor, which is, at least, forty feet above the level of the river. The river is fordable in many places during summer, but the few spots where it may be crossed in the rainy season are known only to the Arabs. The ford which Mr. Buckingham and his companions crossed, is that which is delineated in the engraving which accompanies this article. It is taken, by permission, from a plate belonging to the proprietors of two elegant volumes, entitled, "Landscape Illustrations of the Bible, consisting of views of the most remarkable places mentioned in the Old and New Testaments." The drawings were made from original sketches taken by distinguished travellers, at the various places to which they refer. We are in- | formed that sixteen thousand pounds have been expended in this work; and it is matter of congratulation to the Christian portion of the community, that this large sum should have been employed in a manner so admirably adapted to elucidate the holy writings, and promote the purest pleasures which human beings in our present stage of existence can enjoy. The company in the foreground consists of pilgrims, collected for the purpose of bathing in the venerated stream. "The annual procession for this purpose, says the Rev. T. H. Horne, "takes place after the festival of Easter. The pilgrims quit the Holy City under the protection of the governor of Jerusalem and his guards, who defend them from the assaults of the plundering Arabs of the district. The journey and ceremony of bathing in the river generally occupy the greater part of three days; though many of the travellers perform it in two. The stream flows between steep banks, overshadowed by willows and other shrubs. After riding along the bank for about two miles, and passing through a thicket of tamarisks and oleanders, at a bend of the river thickly shaded with willows, the pilgrims reach the spot delineated in our view; they then immediately strip, and rushing down the steep bank, plunge into the sacred stream. Many carry with them a white robe, to wear at this ceremony. When they are clothed again, and have filled their bottles with the holy water, they return to Jerusalem." Greatly as this superstition is to be lamented, the utility of the picture, as well as its beauty, is heightened by the exhibition thus afforded of the admirable adaptation of the spot to that ordinance which John was sent to administer. DEAR SIR, SPIRITUAL SLEEPERS. To the Editor of the Baptist Magazine. You have asked me to render you some assistance in the new duty to which you are called, as the Editor of our Magazine. To show you how willing I am to do what I am able, I send you the following paper; only desiring that the perusal of it, may, under the divine blessing, awaken some sleeper, and thus promote the great object which I suppose you must have in view, in conducting your periodical,-the spiritual benefit of its am, dear Sir, readers. I Your fellow-servant in the gospel, Camberwell, EDWARD STEANE. THE Commencement of a new year seems to be a period calling to renewed activity, and requiring us faithfully to admonish one another on the great concerns of an approaching eternity. The following paper is designed to attempt something of this kind, in reference, not so much to Christians, though they perhaps, if they read it, may meet with a word not inapplicable to them,-but to unconverted persons. Such persons are said in the word of God to be spiritually asleep. They are asleep in their sins. Careless of their souls' salvation, they are slumbering away the precious season of mercy, till presently it will be all gone, and they will awake to find themselves for ever lost. Let me bespeak from the persons I have in view, a candid and patient attention, while I endeavour to show them what a criminal and perilous thing it is thus to be indulging in spiritual drowsiness, when they ought to be earnestly seeking the salvation of their souls. With this intention I submit to their consideration the following remarks. Persons asleep do not see the light. "They that sleep, sleep in the night;" or if they sleep in the day, to them the day itself is as the night. Hence it is an inversion of the order of nature for men to slumber in the day-time. The light is good, and it is a pleasant thing to behold the sun; but if men shut their eyes and compose themselves to sleep, to them it is all one as if it were midnight. The pleasant beams of the sun's glory may shine all around them, but they do not perceive them: they may even shine upon their faces, and play upon their eyelids, but still they are in darkness. They neither see the light itself, nor any thing the light reveals. So it is with you who are spiritually asleep. The light of truth shines upon you and around you, but you do not see it. Gospel light in its noonday brightness is illuminating the world, but you are in darkness. This is the very distinction which God's word makes between you and those who are awake. They are the children of light and the children of the day, but you are the children of darkness. And this it is that constitutes your misery and your guilt, for "this is the condemnation, that light is come into the world, but men love darkness rather than light, because their deeds are evil." You who are asleep do not see any of those divine and eternal things which are revealed in the gospel. A man who is awake sees God and Christ, and heaven and hell. He sees that he himself is a guilty and lost sinner, and that the crucified Son of God is an all-sufficient and willing Saviour. He sees that time is short, and eternity at hand; and he sees that it will not do for him to spend his time in vanity and sin, while his immortality is at stake, and to-morrow may be too late to repent and turn to God. But you see none of these things; and therefore you pay no regard to them. You shut your eyes, and fold your arms, and compose yourselves to sleep, and midnight darkness settles on your souls. In sleep men are apt to treat dreams as realities, and realities as dreams. Sleep locks up the senses, the great inlets of knowledge. Not only are the eyes closed, but the ears also, and every other avenue to the soul. And the consequence is, that vain and airy phantasies are raised in the mind. False and imaginary representations of things float before it, and the soul is filled with illusory images, deceptive figures, or distorted conceptions of things that are true. "So a hungry man dreameth, and behold, he eateth; but he awaketh, and his soul is empty; or a thirsty man dreameth, and behold he drinketh, but he awaketh, and behold he is faint." The most absurd things imaginable present themselves in the visions of the night, but it never occurs to the sleeper to detect and expose their absurdity. To him they all pass for the sobrieties of reason, and the natural realities of life. Just so it is with those of you who are spiritually asleep. How eager are you after the present world! How much engrossed in its vain pursuits! What a mighty thing does it appear in your estimation to be rich, or respectable; to live in a little style, and to be saluted with titles of dignity! But what is all the pomp and grandeur of the world, its affluence and honours, is it not all walking in a vain show"? Riches or poverty, its smiles or its frowns, what are they better than a "dream when one awaketh?" Like a vain and shadowy phantom, "the fashion of the world passeth away," yet, like men in their dreams, you grasp at this phantom as though it were reality and substance: and then the great realities of life, the grand concerns of the soul, the truths of the everlasting gospel, repentance and faith in Christ, his sufferings and atone Persons asleep are insensible to danger. They are not conscious of danger, though the house be in flames, or the midnight assassin at their bed-side. The tempest may howl, but they heed it not; the lightnings flash, but they dread not the fiery bolt that may smite them with instant death. And is it not exactly thus with you whose souls are asleep? What danger do you fear? What threatened judgment can make you afraid? Destruction is certainly coming upon you; but you are not alarmed. You see death seize upon your companions and friends, but you lay it not to heart. Where'shall Ishow you a just picture of yourselves? If you have it any where, you have it in the guilty prophet who fled from the pre ment, death, judgment, and eternity, these are all treated as if they were dreams. If we talk with you of these things, you treat them with indifference, perhaps with contempt; and the man that would feelingly expostulate with you on the sinfulness of such conduct, you set down perhaps as an obtrusive meddler with what does not concern him, or at best, it may be, as a wellmeaning but weak enthusiast. Can any thing be more absurd than to live every day in danger of dying, and yet unprepared to die? Can any thing be more absurd, than to stand on the verge of eternity, and yet take no account of the world where you are going? Can any thing be more absurd, than to devote all your time and attention to the gratifi-sence of God. The gale was blowing, cation or comfort of the present moment, and neglect the interests and risk the salvation of your soul? And yet, of these gross, these criminal absurdities, you are guilty; and such is the deep slumber into which you are fallen, that they appear to you no absurdities at all. What can be a more plain and melancholy proof that you are fast asleep? Sleep is a state of stillness and inactivity. In these respects it is the image of death. As the eyes are closed, and the ears are closed, and every sense is shut; so the tongue is silent, and the limbs are motionless. All the restlessness, the excitement, and the vigorous voluntary action of life stand still. All business and all pleasure are alike suspended. Every thing is quiet and in a state of deep repose. "Creation sleeps ; 'tis as if the general pulse Of life stood still, and Nature made a pause." So also with the spiritual sleeper ;—the stillness of death is upon him. None of the powers of his mind, none of the members of his body are employed in the service of God. There is no motion in his soul towards divine and spiritual things. There is no cry in his lips, "What must I do to be saved?" He lies in his slumber without anxiety and without effort. This is, perhaps, the spiritual condition of the reader. You put forth no determined exertion to break off your sins. You never set yourself deliberately and earnestly to seek after God. You are admonished, but repent not; exhorted, but believe not. You compose yourself to a drowsy slothfulness, and make no effort to escape from destruction, or to lay hold on eternal life. the sea raging, the ship tossing, and the mariners crying every man unto his God; but "Jonah was gone down into the sides of the ship, and he lay and was fast asleep." Alike insensible to the noise and the danger, he dreamt of nothing but security and peace. So guilty and unconverted sinners slumber upon the brink of hell. They are standing upon the slippery edge of that abyss where billows of eternal fire are rolling, but they stand as if there were no peril. They bind the bandage over their eyes, and rush to destruction. We see your danger, and warn you of it; but you are not to be disturbed. " Knowing the terrors of the Lord, we persuade men," but oh, how few will be persuaded! These solemn realities are treated as idle dreams, and we are repelled to weep over your insensibility, and our fruitless attempts to induce you to flee from the wrath to come. These statements on the danger and criminality of those who are spiritually asleep, or, which is the same thing, of the unconverted and impenitent sinner, are applicable to all who are in that condition; and I wish to make no exceptions. If I were to compare the different kinds of sleepers, no doubt I might observe different shades and modifications of character; but while these varieties all merge into the one great and common resemblance, while they are all impenitent, all asleep, all living in sin, without God, and without Christ, the distinctions are nothing, the agreement is every thing. Let no man, therefore, deceive himself; but let all my readers faithfully examine into the state of their souls, and turn unto God and live. But yet, for the sake of helping you in this examination, and of still more accurately describing the persons who are warned and admonished, I shall divide them all into three classes. And, 1. There are those who are so profoundly asleep, that no efforts used for the purpose have been able in any measure to awake them. There is reason to fear that not a few must be comprehended under this description. They have settled themselves down into a deep and permanent slumber. If they were only asleep like persons taking their natural rest through the night, and who when morning dawns will wake and rise to the duties of life, we should feel no anxiety about them; but this is not their state on the contrary, they are habitual sleepers, they never wake; no morning dawns on them; they are always in darkness. Their sleep is so intense, that nothing disturbs them; no alarm from without, no tendency to wakefulness within, ever makes them so much as once open their eyes. They are sealed as in the slumber of the grave. Such persons are not merely asleep, they are dead. The apostle describes them Ephes. iv. 17-19. 2. There is another class of those who have been aroused from their slumbers, and are partially awake, persons who have felt in some degree the admonitions and warnings in which they have been addressed. Just like persons who, in the midst of a profound sleep, have been touched with some sharp pointed instrument, they start and open their eyes, and look round to see from what quarter the disturbance comes; so you have been roused, your deep sleep has been broken, and in a sort of half-conscious and half-insensible state you are gazing about you, scarcely knowing where you are, or what it is proper for you to do. Something you understand of the necessity of caring for your soul, and of your need of Christ; but your knowledge is very limited, and your light very obscure. You are not in the morbid, death-like sleep of those I have before described, but neither are you fully and wide awake. 3. There is a third class of those who were once half awakened, but they are gone to sleep again. These must be pronounced the worst of all; their condition is more hopeless than that of all others. "He that being often reproved hardeneth his neck, shall suddenly be destroyed, and that without remedy." But while it is thus, the most guilty, and therefore the most dangerous, it is, I fear, by no means an uncommon case. Such is the drowsiness induced by sin, that there is in the sinner, a constant proneness to fall asleep. It is most natural to him to indulge in slothfulness, and to comfort himself in his carnal security. He loves to fold his hands in idleness, and to nurse his conscience into quiet though false repose. How many of you sleepers have stifled convictions, closed your ears to the truth, and shut your eyes against the light? Of some of you better things were once hoped, and things which accompany salvation. Your christian friends thought you were breaking away in earnest from the world and sin; the church was making ready to welcome you to her holy fellowship, and the ministering spirit was on the wing, to carry the tidings to the celestial world, that there might have been joy amongst the angels in the presence of God over your repentance, but it has all ended in disappointment: the angels have not rejoiced, the church has not received you, but you are returned to the world, and are faster bound than ever with the chain of your sins. O miserable man, your condition at last, if a miracle of grace prevent not, will be that of the "tree whose fruit withereth, twice dead, plucked up by the roots." I call upon you then, O ye sleepers, to awake. "Awake thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee life." "What meanest thou, O sleeper? arise, and call upon thy God." By calling upon you to awake, I mean to urge you to rouse up yourselves from that state of supineness and security into which you are sunk. Consider the condition of your soul, its guilt and depravity, its obligations and its wants, its immortality and its danger. "Repent, and be converted." "Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ." "Flee from the wrath to come." Flee to him whom God hath given for salvation to the ends of the earth. Come away from the world; snap the chain which holds you in bondage to sin. "Resist the devil." And let your heart and your life be given to holiness and God. Do this now, my message is urgent, it admits of no delay; for "now is the accepted time, and now is the day of salvation." How much of the day is spent! How rapidly its hours are flying! How short a portion of it remains! Remonstrant voices on every hand are crying aloud, Awake! awake! CHARACTER OF THE LATE MR. B. STUCHBERY, OF NORTHAMPTON. BY THE REV. W. GRAY. In briefly sketching the character of the late Mr. B. Stuchbery, in membership with the church in College Street, Northampton, and also for several years one of its active deacons, it may be observed, that, "trained up in the way he should go," "he feared the Lord from his youth." He was born at Buckingham, A.D. 1799. The family of the Stuchberys is as beloved, as it is well known, in that town and county, and far beyond their locality, for its integrity, and benevolence, and for the uniform consistency with which it has maintained the Christian profession. The subject of this short account was therefore privileged with an education strictly religious; the prayers of father and mother were offered in his behalf, and parental intercession, accompanied by the example of piety, led to the happiest effects. Most of the children, as they grew up to maturity, chose "the good part" not to be taken from them, and have joined themselves to the fellowship of the saints: "The children of thy servants shall continue, and their seed shall be established before thee." Yet not to these advantages, otherwise than as means, did our friend ascribe the great moral change. No one more than himself valued means; no one less trusted to them; nor can they be substituted for the work of the Holy Spirit, or supersede its immediate necessity. Early piety is the safeguard of character, and the shield of moral defence against the seductive influence of youthful temptations. "Take fast hold of instruction; let her not go: for she is thy life." The mind of our friend, thus disciplined in youth, prepared the way, and supplied, in no small part, the material of those useful engagements which awaited his subsequent career. Piety not only laid the foundation, but, as character developed itself, it guided, it stimulated, it sustained, it sanctified all. Possessed of intellectual powers above mediocrity, and those powers placed under the high control of religion, he was fitted for active service; in the service of Christ he felt himself at home, and to do good was his delight. The Sabbath-school department suited his genius, invited the exercise of his benevolent wishes, gave scope to his opening talent, and yielded him some of his purest pleasures. First as teacher, and then as superintendent in our Sabbath-school, his labours have shed a fragrance over his name ; and not a few of the children have risen up to call him blessed. In the spring of 1836, in pursuance of an appointment of the Northamptonshire Sunday-school Union, Mr. Stuchbery and another person visited most of the schools, both in the town and country, to inquire into their state, and to suggest instruction. Our own school came under the examination of the brethren in February last, and the address of our departed brother produced a very powerful impression; and in that impression, or from it, we hope we see the germ of piety already shooting forth in the bud and the blossom; may it reach the ripened fruit! At the close of the examination and address to the scholars, the teachers were requested to remain, to whom our friend, in a close, pointed, and affectionate exhortation, urged them to an immediate decision on the subject of religion, and appealed to those who had given their hearts to Christ, inviting them to profess his name before men. And it is pleasing to mention, that, as the result of this appeal, under the divine blessing, six or seven of the teachers have felt it their duty to put on the Lord Jesus Christ; nor is it a little remarkable, that on the very day in which his funeral sermon was preached, three of the teachers were received into the church; and the preceding Friday evening, at the Church-meeting, four others were proposed as candidates for communion. The preacher, in noticing the fact in the sermon, said: "This is singularly impressive; and should be regarded both with sentiments of regret and pleasure. He who so lately from this pulpit, and in this place, encouraged and exhorted the teachers, is no more with us; his voice will be heard no more among us, but some whom he so faithfully instructed in their obligation, and called upon them, without delay, to discharge it, have this very Sabbath put on Christ; and to them we have given |