It is proclaimed that mankind may believe it, and be saved. Any thing short of this can scarcely be considered less than contemning it. In the parable of the marriage supper, what other purpose can be imagined in the benevolent King, than that the invited guests should partake of his feast! Had they, therefore, undertaken to preface their flimsy excuses with commendations of the generosity of him, whose invitation they were resolved to refuse-had they with one consent joined in praising the benevolence of their King, or the excellence and abundance of the provisions of his table, and then had closed by refusing to partake of it, do you think they would have secured the favor of him, whose gifts were thus lauded with their lips, but contemned by their conduct? On the contrary, would not such palpable inconsistency have given more depth and intensity to the indignation which moved him to destroy these men, and lay waste their dwellings? But is the inconsistency less glaring to profess as thousands do, that 'religion is a good thingO, there is nothing like it—there is nothing else worth living forand nothing else can make us happy here or hereafter," while at the same time, and by the same people, the gospel is unheeded, and Christ practically and continually contemned. Again, let me say, be not deceived. The God who is not, and cannot be mocked, sees through the shallow artifice, by which you would deceive others, if not yourself, with the appearance of high regard for Christ, while by not cordially embracing the gospel, you fully prove that you make light of Him."

[To be concluded in our next.]

INDISCRETION ACKNOWLEDGED AND CORRECTED.

A letter from a minister in America, to a minister in England.

Mr. Editor,

This letter is calculated to do much good in this wicked world; and every Minister and every Christian ought to have a copy of it in his study or in his parlor, that he may reduce it to daily practice. I hope you will find room to insert it in your useful Magazine. G.

BELIEVE me, my greatly valued friend, there is nothing belonging to the character of a minister of Jesus Christ, more essentially necessary than patience; whether we contemplate the happiness of the minister or the people. God's children, not in F. only, but in every place are froward children; and if the minister should happen to be froward also, dreadful must be the consequence. I am naturally froward, peevish, and fretful; this has been to me a source of much vexation.

It is very natural for children to tell tales of each other: God's children frequently do. I remember, in a congregation where I once labored, one of my hearers told me a story of another, but

begged I would say nothing about it. This, by the way, is a vile way: I gave full credit to the report; this, by the way, was wrong. I felt very much hurt on the occasion, and expressed myself with some degree of asperity. This was soon carried to the offender, and lost nothing of the asperity in its passage. Reports which tend to mischief, are like snow-balls, the further they roll, the more they gather. The offender was, in his turn, offended; he spake also with asperity; said, "he would not be so treated, he would be no man's slave, he was not accountable to any man, he would go no more to the meeting, &c. &c." Soon, very soon, was all he said communicated to me. I was assuredly right, and would let him see, that I would not be his slave; nay, I would not be his servant; I would call no man master on earth: I had but one master. This gentleman was one of the first characters in the meeting: he was not at the meeting the next Sunday; I was not sorry, I secretly hoped he never would be there again. The storm began to thicken, the parties began to form; some affirmed that he was very censurable; others thought that I was as much so: I should have gone to see him in the first instance, and talked to him, not of him. I soon found I was wrong; but the difficulty was, how to get right. Observe, not to know what was right, but to bring myself to do what was right.

You must know, when I first set out on my present mode of life, my gracious Master provided me a tutor, who was to accompany me as a Mentor. I could not see him, but I could very sensibly feel his reproofs, and understand his admonitions. He advised me to retire with him awhile; I felt my face glow at the motion; I knew what it was for; I dreaded the severe account I was going to be brought to; but there was no avoiding it with trembling dread I retired. 66 Come," said my Mentor, "sit down." I began; he certainly was wrong-" stop," said my Mentor, "it is you I have now to deal with; you have done wrong; you, who by precept and example, ought to lead in the way of peace." But I ought to exhort, and reprove, and rebuke. "Stop sir," said my Mentor, "and call to mind that the snuffers on the altar should be of pure gold. Reproofs and rebukes come with a very ill grace from an offend

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An offender! "Yes, an offender, and of the worst cast; an offence in you, and of this nature, is peculiarly offensive. Suppose any of your hearers in like circumstances-what advice would you give them? Suppose them offended by a brother-you would advise them to be calm, to suspend their judgment, to seek an opportunity alone with the supposed offender; address him in the language of love, of charity-hope it was not so bad as was expected; at least, you would hope the intention was not bad, &c. &c. Thus you would have advised your hearer; but thus you have not done. You have by your conduct, in this instance, injured your cause, injured your Master's cause, and, perhaps, made wounds that may never be healed. You know not, at this moment, what this once kind friend is suffering, what his dear wife, his venerable parent, each of whom, having a regard for both, can say nothing, but must suffer in silence. O! you have done wrong."

The tears gushed into my eyes; I thought of praying. "No," said my Mentor, "not yet; you should first do right. Go, and acknowledge your fault." I cannot. "You must, indeed you must." But he will treat me roughly. "You deserve it, you must bear it; you will, at least, have the pleasure of knowing you did all you could, in your present circumstances, to repair the wrong you have done. When thus you have done, should you not meet forgiveness and reconciliation from him, you may apply to your offended Master, and, peradventure, you may find forgiveness and reconciliation from him." I went out with an aching heart, experiencing the full force of that truth as I went along—“The way of the transgressor is hard." I arrived at his dwelling; I entered his doors; but O, with what different sensations, when unconscious of offence! O, how painful is a guilty conscience! I found him reading; he did not lift up his head, he did not speak: I could not. His dear companion blushed, she trembled, she spoke. However, he read on. I attempted once and again to bring out what my Mentor charged me to do—I failed. At length-for i must come to it—I said with a faltering voice, You are justified, sir, in your conduct on this occasion; I deserve it all; and all this, yea more, I can bear, with much more ease than I can the reproaches of my own heart. I am come to give this troubled heart some ease, sir, by acknowledging my error; I have done wrong, sir, in taking up a report of you, or saying any thing about you to any but yourself; I beseech you forgive me and was going to add; but he got up, his countenance suffused with tears, and would have spoke, but could not: he gave me his hand, however, and it was filled with as warm a heart as ever beat in a friend's bosom it has never cooled since, though this was many years ago. On my return, I was congratulated by my kind Mentor, and then poured out my soul to my heavenly Father, whose consoling language was: "Neither do I condemn thee; go and sin no more."

It is an old saying: "a burned child dreads the fire." I have ever since been very cautious how I again pierce myself through with many sorrows. But much poor ministers have to bear with froward children, and know nothing among them but Christ and him crucified. Be as little acquainted with differences as possible; but at all events, never become a party in their disputes; it is indeed beneath the character of a parent thus to act. Blessed are the peace-makers and preachers of peace should be makers of peace, amongst the people they preach to, as much as possible: but all our Saviour's servants may, with much truth, say, "without thee we can do nothing."

Boston, October, 1795.

In the last Magazine, an appeal was made to Christians against conformity to the world, on the ground that it would greatly diminish their usefulness. The following, addressed to their regard to personal happiness, may not be less appropriate or beneficial.

On a former occasion we made our appeal to the most disinterested principles of the Christian's nature. We now address his selflove, and assure him that conformity to the world must inevitably deprive him of spiritual joy and prosperity. Peace and joy are found only in the path of honorable obedience. He who tampers with the temptations, and sips the vain enjoyments of the world, may seek, but shall seek without success, the pleasures of religion. It is a law of our spiritual nature that the soul which wanders from God must be restless and unhappy. How can it be otherwise? "In his favor is life," and without a sense of its enjoyment, the utmost which this could afford must fail to give us satisfaction. The Christian, in a proper frame of mind, sings with the poet,

Let others stretch their arms like seas,

And grasp in all the shore;
Grant me the visits of thy face,

And I desire no more.

Yes, this is indeed sufficient-a good which always satisfies but never satiates, lasting as immortality itself, and whose real worth shall only be known amid the desolations of expiring nature. But can the favor of God and the pleasures of the world be enjoyed by the same mind? Impossible! Worldly conformity, wherever it exists, tends to quench the benign and cheering influence of the Holy Spirit, incapacitates the soul for prayer and every heavenly delight, and thus disqualifies us for that fellowship with the Father and his Son Jesus Christ which constitute the life and felicity of every real believer. Are you willing then, my brother, to forego these secret and sacred pleasures with which the Lord graciously cheers his pilgrims while travelling here below-an antepast of still more exquisite enjoyments preparing for them in the mansions above are you willing to forego these, for the sordid and empty delights of a present evil world? "No; you are ready to say, "in my best moments the world, with all its parade of vanity, vanishes from my view as a morning dream; and I feel that in religion, and in religion alone, the correspondence of the soul with its Creator and Redeemer, true and stable happiness is to be found." Cherish these convictions-yield your heart to these sacred impressionscultivate communion with God. The allurements of the world will then be deprived of their power to ensnare; its wealth will appear but contemptible dust, and its applause as the noxious breath of the devouring pestilence.

Finally, we remark that conformity to the world diminishes the future glory of the Christian. He is placed here in a state of trial. This implies the existence of danger and difficulty; and one design of his heavenly Father, in leaving him in such a situation, is his own ultimate benefit. To be surrounded by enemies, or beset

with temptation, seem at first sight far from pleasant; but it must be remembered that the christian, by the influence of faith and constancy, can make these enemies his friends; and, from the real or apparent evils by which he is encompassed, draw a large revenue of heavenly glory. This interesting truth appears to be involved in the following passages of sacred Scripture :-Our light afflictions, which are but for a moment, work for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory."-"My brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations-Blessed is the man that endureth temptation."

"That the trial of your faith being much more precious than of gold that perisheth, might be found unto praise, and honor, and glory, at the appearing of Jesus Christ." Is not this principle contained in these passages, that if the Christian endure afflictions with patience, or overcome temptations with firmness, or sustain trials with fortitude, his future bliss will be enhanced, in proportion to the frequency, the extent, or the poignancy, of these various tests of his fidelity? Now the existence of such a world around us is a permanent test of our attachment to Christ-is a trial which we have continually to sustain. And the only way to educe good out of the seeming evil is to keep at a distance from the world, or to preserve ourselves unspotted from its pollutions. Thus shall the trial of our faith be found to our praise, and honour, and glory, at the appearing of Jesus Christ. But, if the future bliss of the Christian is increased by a steady endurance of temptations, the necessary consequence is, that it must be diminished if he falls under its power. By his worldly conformity, and the meagreness of his Christian character, he not only mars his present happiness, but casts a gloom over the prospect before him. By every unholy action he dashes a jewel from his crown, and extinguishes in darkness those rays of glory that might have encircled his head! Let . us then, like Moses, choose rather to suffer affliction with the people of God, than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season, and esteem the reproach of Christ greater riches than the treasures of the world, supported and animated by the prospect of a glorious reward. If any one can be satisfied, merely with such a degree of holiness as he imagines will secure his safety, and can with unconcern leave the higher stations in glory to the pursuit of others; let me warn him, that, by such a feeling, he betrays his utter destitution of vital godliness. Such is not the cold and calculating nature of Christian obedience. No, the man who has a spark of heaven's love, burning within his bosom, feels that he cannot be too holy and too devoted in the service of Him "who died for his offences, and rose again for his justification. He feels that he is not his own, but bought with a price, and therefore aims at "standing perfect and complete in all the will of God."

In conclusion, let us seriously review the baneful effects of worldly conformity, whether on the church at large, or on the individual Christian; its direct opposition to the ultimate design of the Redeemer's sufferings: its tendency to amalgamate two bodies so essentially distinct as the kingdom of God, and the kingdom of Sa