infinitely easy for Almighty God to effect it; and yet Many appalling inquiries might be raised on the state of the finally condemned. But let us rest satisfied with what infinite wisdom has disclosed. As for those who are heirs of glory, they have no occasion to distress themselves with such unwarrantable investigations; and as for those who are on the broad road to destruction, they will know all about the subject too soon. What more can be needful towards awakening us to flee for refuge to the hope set before us in the Gospel, than to know, that if we refuse, we shall bring on ourselves misery, certain, heavy, unmitigated, uninterrupted, and eternal? | pastures of sweet grass. The whole length of the vale may be altogether, probably, about ten or twelve miles, from the spot where the little river abruptly emerges from the recesses of the mountains to where it joins the Sunday River. The scenery of the upper part of the dell is very picturesque. Accompanying the course of the stream, as it meanders through the meadows, you have, on the right, lofty hills covered with woods of evergreens, and broken by kloofs, or subsidiary dells, filled with large forest-timber. On the left the hills are lower, but also covered with copsewood, and in many places diversified by rocks and cliffs of deep red and other lively colours. The valley, winding among those woody heights, spreads out occasionally to a considerable breadth; and then again the converging hills appear to close it in entirely with huge masses of rock and forest. At every turn the outline of the hills varies, presenting new points of picturesque scenery; while, scattered through the meadows, or bending over the river margin, appear little clumps of evergreens, willows, and acacias; and sometimes groves of lofty foresttrees (chiefly yellow-wood, or Cape cedar,) enrich the vale with a stately beauty not always met with in South African landscape. This combination of the wild, the grand, and the beautiful, is heightened in its effect by the exotic appearance of the vegetation: the lofty candelabra-shaped euphorbias towering above the copses of evergreens; the aloes clustering along the summits or fronts of the weather-stained rocks; the spekboom, with its light green leaves and lilac blossoms; the more elegantly shaped mimosa, with its yellow-tufted flowers; Scripture gives us various grand and captivating de- the baboon's ladder, wild-vine, and other parasitical scriptions of heaven, representing its glories and felicity plants and creepers, that climb among the crags, and fesby all that is beautiful and sublime in nature, and all toon in grotesque exuberance the branches of the loftiest that is esteemed exalted and desirable among men. But trees, intermingled with jasmines and superb geraniif it be asked, how far are these representations to be ums; these, and a thousand other shrubs and flowers, understood literally, and how far figuratively? Where of which only a few are known to our green-houses, is heaven situated? What is its extent? What its pre-adorn even the precipitous rocks, and fill up the intercise nature? What is it to see the living God face to stices of the forest. face? In what language do the blessed inhabitants converse? What extent of knowledge have they of what is passing in this world? These are points to which Scripture either alludes not at all, or alludes in very general terms; so that, in respect of these and many other inquiries," it doth not yet appear what we shall be." Having, however, the certain knowledge that heaven is a place of perfect holiness and happiness, it is much better for us to leave uncertain conjectures, and to improve that knowledge, as an encouragement to lead us to seek both a title and a fitness for so desirable a place, to lead us to follow Christ, who, having opened up and led the way to glory, is now saying to "If any man serve me, let him follow me; and where I am, there shall also my servant be." us, The meadows, too, or savannahs along the river banks, are richly embellished, at least in the spring and early summer, with the large purple flowers of a species of amyrillis, which has a very splendid appearance. At the time of my visit, which was the autumn of the southern hemisphere, the vale was thickly overspread with a small, white, delicate flower, somewhat resembling the snow-drop. The river itself, like our own River of Baboons, is but a large mountain torrent, bursting down, after heavy rains, in floods which sweep over a great part of the level meads above described, and which fling up, in their violence, immense quantities of large rolled stones and gravel, through which the stream, when diminished by the summer heats, filtrates silently and unperceived. The current, however, even in the greatest droughts, is never entirely interrupted, though sometimes invisible, but always fills the large pools, or natural tanks, which spread out like little lakelets along its channel, and which its temporary floods serve to sweep and purify. The Moravian Settlement of Enon was situate near the centre of the valley of the White River, and in the midst of the scenery which I have attempted to describe. It stood upon a level spot of alluvial soil, near the margin of one of the deep lagoons formed by the river, and which the brethren have named the Leguan's Tank, from its being frequented by numbers of the large amphibious lizard called the leguan, or guana. It was also, I observed, well stocked with a species of carp common to many of the South African streams. The village was laid out in the form of a long street, at the upper end of which were to be erected the church, school-room, work-shops, and dwelling-houses of the missionaries. A small part only of these buildings had as yet been completed; for the good brethren and their Hottentot disciples had returned but a few months be Hottentot congregation, or to one of the several sections in which the people are classed, agreeably to the progress they may have attained in knowledge and piety. All then retire to rest, with an appearance of cheerful satisfaction, such as may be naturally imagined to result from the habitual practice of industry and temperance, unembittered by worldly cares, and hallowed by the consciousness of having devoted their mental and bodily faculties to the glory of God and the good of men. The extent of cultivation here was much inferior to what I afterwards witnessed at the elder Moravian Settlement of Genadendal, where the whole village is enveloped in a forest of fruit trees; but, considering the short period that had elapsed since the inhabitants had returned to their labours, as much had been accomplished as could reasonably be expected. The appearance of the whole place was neat, orderly, and demure. There was no hurried bustle, no noisy activity, even in the missionary workshops, though industry plied there its regular and cheerful task; but a sort of pleasing pas-youth of different sexes, &c., still their precision and toral quiet seemed to reign throughout the settlement, and brood over the secluded valley. There were at this time three missionaries at Enon, besides another brother who was absent on a journey, all of them natives of Germany. The eldest of these, who was also the superintendent of the institution, was the venerable Brother Schmitt, who, after spending his earlier years as a missionary on the desolate coast of Labrador, had been sent to Southern Africa. Mrs Schmitt, an English woman, and at this period the only white woman in the settlement, appeared to be a person exceedingly well adapted for the station she occupied. The two younger brethren were plain mechanics. Regularity is one of the most striking characteristics of the Moravian system; and a love of order, even to excess, pervades every part of their economy. In order to give some idea of this, I shall mention the daily routine at this place, which is, I believe, precisely similar to that established at their other institutions in this country. At six o'clock in the morning, the missionaries and their families are summoned together, by the ringing of a large bell suspended in front of the mission-house. The matin hymn is then sung, and a text of Scripture read, for all to meditate upon during the day; and after drinking a single cup of coffee, they separate to pursue their respective occupations. At eight o'clock the bell reassembles them to a substantial breakfast, consisting of fish, fruit, eggs, and cold meat; each person commonly drinking a single glass of wine. This meal, as well as the others, is preceded and followed by a short hymn, by way of grace, in which all the company join. As soon as breakfast is over, they retire to their separate apartments, for meditation or devotion, till nine o'clock, when the active labours of the day are again resumed, and continued till noon. At twelve o'clock precisely the bell is again rung; labour is intermitted; the school is dismissed; and the brethren and their families assemble in the dining-hall to the mid-day meal. The dishes are sometimes numerous, (especially, I presume, when they have visitors,) but the greater part consist of fruit and vegetables of their own cultivation, variously dressed. I did not observe that any of the brethren drank more than a single glass of wine, and that generally mixed with water. meal is enlivened with cheerful conversation, and is closed with the customary little hymn of thanksgiving. All then rise and retire, to occupy or amuse themselves as each may be inclined. Most of the missionaries, after dinner, take a short nap, a practice generally prevalent throughout the Cape colony, except among the English. At two o'clock, a cup of tea or coffee is drank, and all proceed again with alacrity to their various occupations, which are prosecuted till six. This latter hour concludes the labours of the day; the sound of the hammer is stilled, and the brethren assemble once more at the evening meal, which consists of light viands, and is soon over. After supper they adjourn to the Church, where a portion of Scripture is briefly explained, or a homily delivered, either to the whole The Though the Moravians find it impracticable or inexpedient to follow up in their missionary settlements some of the peculiar and rather monastic regulations, which are observed in their European establishments, such as separating the married and the unmarried, the formality in classification are very remarkable. Among other peculiarities of this description, I may refer to the singular arrangement of their burial-grounds, which are divided and subdivided, by walks crossing at right angles, into several compartments. One of these plots, thus marked off, is appropriated for the sepulture of the married missionary brethren and sisters; a second for the unmarried brothers; a third for the unmarried sisters; a fourth and fifth for baptized and married natives, male and female; a sixth and seventh for the unmarried and unbaptized natives, and so on. This cer. tainly is carrying classification to a most fanciful pitch, especially that of mere mortal dust and ashes! Passing over this, however, there is unquestionably something very touching, as well as tasteful and picturesque, in the appearance of a Moravian burial-ground in South Africa. Situate at some little distance from the village, yet not far from the house of worship, cut out in the centre of a grove of evergreens, and kept as neat as a pleasure garden, the burial-ground of Enon formed a pleasing contrast to the solitary graves heaped with a few loose stones, or the neglected and dilapidated church-yards usually met with in the colony. The funeral service, too, of the Moravians is very solemn and impressive. And still more solemn must be the yearly celebration of their service on Easter morn, when the whole population of the settlement is congregated in the burial-ground, to listen to an appropriate discourse from the most venerable of their pastors, accompanied by an affecting commemoration of such of their friends and relatives as may have died within the year, and followed by hymns and anthems sung by their united voices amidst the ashes of their kindred. The missionaries at this place, like their German countrymen in general, appeared to have a fine taste for music; and the voices of the Hottentots being peculiarly mellow, there was nothing vulgar or discordant in their singing, but, on the contrary, a sweet, solemn, and pathetic harmony. Nothing, indeed, can well be conceived more exquisitely affecting than the rich though simple melody of one of these missionary hymns when sung by an African congregation in the bosom of their native woods, where only a very few years ago no voice was heard save the howling of wild beasts, or the yell of savage hordes.* thrown together in the concluding chapter. We propose to make it now the subject of a few observations. In considering the import of the precept, it is evident from the manner in which it is thrown in amongst others, that we can gather little information from the context. It is only from the terms of the precept, according to the natural meaning which they bear in themselves, or as they are used in other parts of Scripture, that we can appreciate the words of the apostle. We are elsewhere taught, Gal. v. 17, that the "flesh lusteth against the spirit, and the spirit against the flesh;" that is, the Spirit of God suggests thoughts, awakens emotions, or implants desires, that are contrary to the will of the flesh. In the same passage, in the verse preceding, we are exhorted to walk in the Spirit, being assured that, if we do so, we shall not fulfil the lust of the flesh, i. e., to walk in the exercise of those views and affections, which are called the fruits of the Spirit, and then we shall not be debased by an unholy submission to the desires and propensities of nature, the chains which bind the soul, and with which it is cast into outer darkness. Without further proof, then, we shall consider the expression, "the Spirit," as signifying, what indeed it most obviously imports, the influences of the Spirit, whatever they may be, upon the mind. Then, also, the other term in the language of the precept, " quench not," will evidently mean, give way to these influences, yield to them, encourage them, desire them, do not efface them, do not oppose them. There is a great variety of ways in which the Divine influence is exercised, and in all of which the exhortation of the text may be observed or neglected, the spirit received and encouraged, or resisted and quenched. God may speak to us in the early instructions of infant years, or afterwards in the checks of the warning monitor within us, or in the counsels and admonitions tendered to us by those who take an interest in our welfare, or in the reproaches and abuses dealt out by an offended partner in guilt. Or the Almighty speaks to us in his oracles, where the word of man is exchanged for "thus saith the Lord God;" and there he speaks to us either in the language of just indignation, hating sin, marking the ways of the sinner, lifting an arm of vengeance, sweeping with a besom of destruction, and consuming the adversary with fire unquenchable; or he speaks in the mild and encouraging accents of an affectionate parent, not willing that any should perish, beseeching and exhorting us to return, sending his own Son to allure and to win us over to a confidence in his mercy, offering in an unqualified manner to wash away all our iniquity by his blood, and giving his spirit to teach, and comfort, and sanctify. Or God speaks to us in every thing we see, or know, or hear of in the ordinary events of life. He speaks to us in the daily course of his Providence, in the bread which we eat, and the water which we drink, reminding us of the imbecility of a frame constructed of and dependent upon materials so weak and decaying. He speaks to us in the fall of the leaf, and the flowing of the stream, so universally acknowledged as emblematic of the constant rolling on of the tide of time, and with it of the insensible gliding away of the days and years of human life. And when we will not hear the still small voice, unceasingly addressed to us in the common matters of daily occurrence, God again speaks to us in the thunders of his power, in sudden alarms, in sore bereavements, in severe disappointments, in painful distempers, in deaths at the morning of existence, or the noon-day of health, and fulness and freshness of human strength. In these, and in many other ways, too minute and diversified to be particularised, does God speak to each and to all of us. Most justly may it be said, "Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night teacheth knowledge. There is no people nor language where the voice of God is not heard. Its line hath gone out through all the earth, and its words to the end of the world." And to whomsoever the Almighty thus speaks, in any of the diversified methods, by which he would arouse us to consideration, the language of the precept is also addressed, "quench not the Spirit.' In directing your attention to these many occasions on which the Spirit of God would exert an influence upon the mind, there are three prominent instances which we cannot forbear to draw into more especial notice. 1. We quench the Spirit when we shut our minds to the knowledge of the Gospel, and prevent the entrance of that light which would flow in upon the understanding from the reading or preaching of the truth. Man naturally shuns the light of evangelical truth, as the bird of night shuns the light of day. The light shineth, but man is unwilling to come to the light, because his deeds are evil. He has a presentiment of the rebuke which it will give. He has a feeling that religion, even the knowledge of it, is inconsistent with the course which he has been pursuing, and because he is not disposed to abandon that course, he therefore puts away from him that knowledge which would trouble and torment him in following it. When therefore the light of Divine truth is fled from, when the lamp of reason and intelligence in spiritual things, about to be kindled, is extinguished, and darkness is courted as more convenient for the works of iniquity still to be done, then is the Spirit quenched, then is that voice, which would tell us of our errors, and guide us into wisdom, silenced; and we continue to prowl under the shades of night, afraid of that sun which would disclose our deeds, and hold us up to the reprobation of our own minds. Now I fear there are few who may not have experienced in themselves, at times, a wish to escape from a knowledge of Christ and salvation, as if that knowledge were our evil and not our good. And some there may be, or are, who have indulged the wish, and succeeded in it, and who remain in a sottish and death-like ignorance. All are not guilty to the same extent. But all may be con scious that they have often shut their ears to in- | too much upon their own minds; their peace, and struction. The admonitions of teachers have often respectability, and welfare, here and hereafter, are been slighted; the counsels of parents often ne- all too nicely interwoven with it, to allow them glected, and an anger has been conceived against now openly to renounce it. But still they will the friend, who, at the hazard of friendship, has, not be humbled into its lowliness; they will not through friendship, given a seasonable advice; nay, cultivate its broken-heartedness; they will still blindness and error have sometimes been desired; hold fast their integrity, and rejoice in their merithe office of reason has been sometimes wantonly torious acts, and hope that through them they will abused and perverted, that a criminal purpose find favour with God. All men have naturally a might be the more unhesitatingly accomplished. high and unbending spirit within them. All would Many may be conscious that at this day they might fain build a tabernacle of their own merits for their have possessed much more wisdom and understand stronghold. And whether, therefore, reflection ing, had they not even violently repelled instruction; smite them with a conviction of guilt, or rememhad they not for the very sake of killing thought brance carry them back, with a feeling of shame, and time, plunged into some vain and unsatisfying to actual transgressions, or whether they read the amusement; had they not, not only with mere Divine record, and behold there the sun-bright thoughtlessness, wasted away days, or months, or characters in which human nature is portrayed, years, which might now have yielded the fruits of and which for the moment may compel all to beenlarged views and more exalted enjoyments, but, lieve in the general doctrine of original sin and absolutely and in very deed, put away from them, universal guilt, all do manifest a disposition still to or abused, or slumbered over the invaluable means cling to a righteousness of their own. Some stoutand opportunities of improvement, which were ly, and long, and resolutely put away from them not only within their reach, but solemnly, assidu- the call to repentance. None frankly and freely ously, and repeatedly pressed upon them by the comply with it. None comply with it at all, until course of God's providence, and the warnings and a necessity is laid upon thein; until the mighty admonitions of God's servants. hand of God takes hold of them; until their hearts are radically changed; until they are bound by the silken cords of Divine love, instead of the chains of sin, and contemplate, in beauty and in power, the splendours of redeeming grace, and feel the charms and bewitchments of a Saviour's kindness and generosity, and then look to themselves as children of corruption, as heirs of mortality, as slaves who have been hugging the chains of their own bondage, or as worms of the dust living upon their own abominations. Until the effectual change is wrought, all men give the same resistance. And even whilst the change is going forward, they exhibit more or less of the disposition. How do they cling to any little virtues, by which they may be distinguished amongst others! Or, how do they endeavour to rear these virtues into the merit of a sacrifice, by which they may make atonement for their sins! How anxious are they to bury their iniquities in oblivion, as if, because they forgot them, God also would forget them! Or, how do they wish to give to them the gentler names of misfortune or imperfection, as if the change of name changed the character of the act, or would alter the mind of God! How careful are men to conceal their faults, as if concealment from men were the same as concealment from the eye of Heaven! Or, how do they add sin to sin for this purpose, as if the shame of detection were a greater evil than the wrath of God, and continued iniquity! Or, if their sin be discovered, how often do they harden themselves against confession and repentance! Or, how do they attempt to justify them To all, therefore, in these and similar circumstances, the precept of the text says, quench no longer the Spirit of God; shut no longer your ears to instruction; open now your mind and receive the word of salvation; slight not now any more the knowledge of the Gospel; listen, and listen attentively to the sound of peace, and of good will to men, which was first heard in the land of Judea; which has since been heard, and repeatedly heard, and is renewed to us every day, to us in these distant isles, and which will at length be heard, for a witness unto all men, echoing on every shore, and on every mountain-side within the circuit of the habitable world. 2. We quench the Spirit when we refuse, in obedience to the command of God, to humble ourselves into the lowliness of penitent sinners. Man may have an aversion to Scriptural knowledge, but he has a still greater aversion to a penitential confession. The former aversion may therefore be in part overcome, whilst the latter remains. A general conviction of the truth of Christianity may be effected, whilst a conviction of sin is resisted. It is amongst the many strange inconsistencies which we meet with in man, that there are persons who both receive and reject the truth, that is, they receive it generally as a whole, but in many parts of it they reject it; or, receiving and acknowledging it, they yet practise a deception upon themselves, and instead of adapting their minds to it, they colour, and pervert, and explain it, so as to adapt it to them. This is particularly the case with those who retain a self-selves against the clearest evidence, or to prove righteous spirit. They cannot brook humiliation. At the same time, they cannot boldly discard Christianity. It has gained too firm a footing in the world. It is accompanied with too clear and demonstrative evidence of its truth. It has gained that, in the circumstances of the case, they were excusable! Now, all this springs from an unwillingness to be humbled and abased, and when persevered in is a quenching of the Spirit. And, if angels in heaven rejoice over the sinner that repenteth, they may mourn and weep over him that hardeneth himself against conviction, and persists in his error. 3. The Spirit is quenched when sin is knowingly committed. Ignorance will not justify transgression, but transgression is dreadfully aggravated when committed against the light of the understanding. So great is the aggravation felt to be, that in general, before a deed of wickedness is perpetrated, an attempt is made to extinguish the light which shines upon the mind, and to stifle the intimations of a faithful warning conscience. When the endeavour succeeds, sin is then plunged into, crime perpetrated, or unhallowed pleasures indulged in, with less disturbance from compunctious feelings, and fears of the consequences. But it also happens, that passion is often too violent, temptation too strong, and desire too impetuous, to wait for the slow and gradual extinction of reason and conscience, and the knowledge and fear of God. Sin is committed then in broad daytight, in direct and daring defiance of all those monitors put around us to guard the path of righteousness. All the fences of religious truth are fearlessly and awfully trodden under foot, and man, little man, with the impotence of a worm, and a duration in the world short and uncertain as a dream, maintains a proud will of his own, lifts his arm against the fiat of the Almighty, and rushes with his eyes open, upon the thick bosses of Omnipotence. on the contrary, rather studied how to escape from the serious impressions which the day was calculated to make, or, counting it a weariness, have endeavoured to get it passed by in as easy, slumbering, and profitless a manner as possible! Or are there not also some who have endeavoured to seduce others into wickedness, that they might countenance themselves in a course of folly which they were knowingly pursuing? And are not multitudes daily taking shelter, and that with eagerness and with rejoicings, under another man's example, and, against their own understanding, consciously making use of a weak and false argument to justify and encourage themselves, that because another man, who ought to know better, and to be better, unhappily falls into sin, or daringly does wrong, therefore, they also may fall into sin without danger, or do wrong and be excusable? In one word, is there one person here, or any where, who has not frequently left undone that which he knew and felt he ought to have done, or done that which he knew and felt he ought not to have done? It is not here a matter of consequence, what be the particular sin of commission or omission; but the question is, have we not all a thousand times, from the call of indolence, or of pleasure, or of interest, inviting us in an opposite direction, knowingly left undone things which we knew it to be our duty to do, or done other things which we equally knew it wrong to do at all, or wrong to do at that time? Considering, then, the broad question, and considering the others that precede it, we are all compelled to plead guilty to the charge. Perhaps there are few who have that awful spirit of hardihood, mentioned in the commencement, by which they would avowedly defy God; but others only do, in a more covert, artful, and self-deluding manner, the same that the few do openly and fearlessly with the spirit of violent daring. Being then found guilty of often thus quenching the Spirit of God, let us humble ourselves and acknowledge our guilt, lest we be doubly chargeable, first, with sinning against light, and second, with resisting the call to repentance. I wish, my friends, it may not with truth be said, that all, at times, have been more or less guilty of something of this kind. Is there any one who has not sometimes made choice, contrary to the convictions of his mind, of that which is evil and profitless, in preference to that which is good and wholesome for the soul? Are there not many who, at some period of life, have done a deed of darkness, and yet knowingly, and with a feeling that if the truth were published, it would deservedly cover them with shame? Have not most of us, at times, cherished within our breasts wicked thoughts and passions, feelings of irritation, malevolence, envy, disdain, pride, scorn, impiety, dissatisfaction with the course of providence, opposite to the scheme of redemption, or of enmity to a life of holiness, to the commands of God, and the cause of religion, which feelings our own mind at the moment informed us were wrong, and yet we would not for a season restrain them? Or have not all of us, or most of us, at times had opportunities of doing good presented, and felt it to be our duty to embrace them, and yet, because our disposition was contrary at the time, have turned away like the priest and the Levite, and In reference to them, what can be more disastrous passed by on the other side? Or, when the Sab- to the best interests of mankind, than an attempt bath of God made its weekly return, and all was to extinguish in the mind the light of truth just quiet and peaceful, and when the tranquillity of the as it begins to dawn? What can be more desday and solemnity of the occasion invited to piety, tructive to the fine moral sensibilities, which we when a favourable occasion was thus offered, and ought to cultivate, than shutting our eyes to the when, in gratitude, we ought to have felt our-baseness of sin, or committing it against the conselves called upon to use it for the religious im-victions of the understanding? This is to exprovement of ourselves and others, have not many, punge from our soul the hand-writing of God. We should now give, in conclusion, some reasons for complying with the exhortation. Having dwelt, however, so long upon the precept itself, we shall be extremely short. Enlargement, indeed, is quite uncalled for. Compliance is equally and plainly both our duty and interest. The exhortation carries its own importance in it; and the observations which have been made, bear upon them, we think, the impress of truth. We shall add a single remark upon the evils resulting from resistance to the Spirit. |