hopes of the Gospel acted upon the minds of the early Christians. They appear to have possessed so lively a perception of the excellency of the treasure which was laid up for them in heaven, that neither trials nor persecutions, neither the temptations of their spiritual nor the malice of their earthly enemies, could quench the ardour, or even long interrupt the pleasures, which flowed from their holy affections. The religion of the early Christians was unquestionably a cheerful religion; full of feeling, full of energy, full of elevation; triumphant over sin, and sorrow, and suffering, through the power of the Holy Ghost. It was in the midst of pain, and weariness, and want, in the constraint of a prison, in the anticipation of death, that St. Paul addressed to his young converts most of those Epistles in which the habitual tenor of his feelings is so eloquently pourtrayed; in which he exhibits, with the powers of the deepest sensibility, "the riches of the glory of God," and the excellencies of his heavenly inheritance. Himself he describes as "sorrowful, yet always rejoicing;" "filled with comfort, exceedingly joyful in all his tribulation." Of the Thessalonians he declares, that they became followers of him and of the Lord, having received the word in much affliction with, joy of the Holy Ghost; so that they were ensamples to all that believe in Macedonia and Achaia." For the Ephesians he prays; "that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give unto you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation in

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the knowledge of him; the eyes of your understanding being enlightened, that ye may know what is the hope of his calling, and what the riches of the glory of his inheritance in the saints." For the Roman converts; "Now the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing; that ye may abound in hope, through the power of the Holy Ghost." How far it is fitting that Christians in the present day should indulge that joyful and triumphant spirit which appears to have animated the early Church, must doubtless materially depend upon their proficiency in real religion. But it is surely natural to suppose that the temper which the Apostles enjoyed themselves, and laboured to communicate to their disciples, is that to which we should, with all diligence, though certainly with all humbleness of mind, endeavour to aspire. And when we consider that two at least of the three chief Christian graces are, in the nature of things, sources of the most lively happiness, and essentially allied to "the bright sunshine of the soul," it may be reasonably doubted, whether any one can properly rest satisfied with religious attainments, which, with a due allowance for natural temper and incidental circumstances, do not promote a substantial joy and gladness of heart.

The hopes of a Christian are secured to him by the most sacred and inviolable pledge, even the promise and the oath of Him who cannot fail; "that by two immutable things, in which it was impossible for God to lie, we might have a strong

refuge to lay hold which hope we have

consolation, who have fled for upon the hope set before us; as an anchor of the soul, both sure and stedfast, and which entereth into that within the veil; whither the forerunner is for us entered, even Jesus." But St. Paul has urged in another place arguments, if possible, still more powerful: "He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him freely give us all things?" And, "if when we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, being reconciled, we shall be saved by his life.” It is impossible for any reasoning to be more cogent or more consoling. The first part of the argument is pretty generally admitted, and doubtless in some measure felt, by every sincere Christian; though very imperfectly by the best of us. But I have doubts whether the second observation is as often remembered; though in its nature practical, and peculiarly fitted for our apprehension. It appeals to our own experience for an assurance of the bounty of our Maker, and refers us, for evidence of his future mercies, to a recollection of the past. Indeed, our religious attainments are too generally so low, and the nature we have inherited is so frail and so corrupt, that it is not always easy to feel as sensibly as we ought the inestimable value of the blessings which we enjoy. Sufferings and temptations, though but moderate in their degree, are sufficient to cloud our brightest hopes; and we are, sometimes ready to stand in doubt whether we

have not altogether mistaken the path of happiness. But these are only feverish dreams, the phantoms of an hour of darkness. Consider the import of those blessed words, "Being reconciled to God." They contain a picture of happiness more rich; more full, more glorious, than the pen of poetry or eloquence ever delineated. And compare now the state of those who possess this heavenly assurance, with the sad condition of our less happy brethren. Be it that the Christian sacrifices the pleasures and the honours of this life: be it (though it is not always so,) that through "much tribulation" he inherits eternal life ;-yet "there is hope in his end, saith the Lord;" "his light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for him a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory" he is not forgotten of his God; in a few years all his labours are ended, and he enters into his everlasting rest. Meanwhile, what is the world which he has renounced, and what the too-often envied enjoyments of those who claim it as their por tion; He who understood and enjoyed them all, has left us the testimony of his experience; "Vanity of vanities, all is vanity." Not that life indeed is scantily supplied with satisfactions, for God has showered his blessings abundantly around us. But without Him the brightest pleasures, though they delight us for a moment, are essentially unsatisfying, and leave nothing but regret behind them. The hour-glass is soon run out, and a death-bed reveals in a moment the folly of all our pursuits, and empti

ness of all our enjoyments. There Louis, who for eighty years had been the idol of his people, felt at last and acknowledged his errors, and transmitted to his successor a lesson of wisdom, which he had learned only when it was too late. There Condé, the darling of victory, the prince of heroes, slighting all his achievements, and the glory they had purchased for him, declared that virtue was the only object worthy the pursuit of a wise man. There Salmasius*, after a life of literary labours and triumphs, deplored with his expiring breath the vanity of his acquirements; "Eheu! vitam perdidi operosè nihil agendo." "Alas! I have wasted my days in toil, and have done nothing." Indeed, it should seem quite sufficient to read the language in which the inspired writers speak of this world, and to cast a hasty glance on the notices which history has left us, to convince us that those only are to be envied, who can relinquish it entirely, having their hopes secured upon a better inheritance. In the New Testament it is described as, in a considerable measure, subjected to Satan, whom Christ appears to have designated by the title of "the prince of this world;" words of an extensive and awful import. Doubtless his authority is greatly contracted, through the merciful interposition of our Redeemer. Yet how is it possible to hear of the tragedies

I am not quite certain whether it was Salamasius or Grotius, of whom this anecdote has been preserved. Nor is it important: their literary fame is equal.