is determined by the predominance of religion | not stay from redeeming;' nor could Paul stay or of sin, of the sensual or the spiritual mind. from proclaiming that we are redeemed. The Saint Paul eminently exhibited, both in his apostle, like his Creator, loses not a moment to example and in his writings, the spiritual mind. comfort the soul which he has been afflicting. He was not only equal in correctness of senti. In this divine effusion we at once discern the ment and purity of practice with those who are difference between natural weakness and superdrily orthodox, and superior to those who are added strength; between the infirmities which coldly practical; but he perfects holiness in are fortified by the assistance of the Spirit, and the fear of God.' He abounds in the heavenly the sensual mind, which not only is not, but mindedness which is the uniting link between cannot be subject to the law of God; between doctrinal and practical piety, which, by the unc-him who not having the Spirit of Christ, is tion it infuses into both, proves that both are the none of his,' and him in whom Christ, the result of Divine grace; and which consists in an spirit of life, dwells;' between him, who, if he entire consecration of the affections, a voluntary yield to the pleasures of sense, shall die, and surrender of the whole man to God. him who, through the Spirit mortifying the deeds of the body shall live.

This disposition the apostle makes the preliminary to all performance, as well as the condition of all acceptance. This it is which constitutes the charm of his writings. There is a spirit of sanctity which pervades them, and which, whilst it affords the best evidence of the love of God shed abroad in his own heart, infuses it also into the heart of his readers. While he is musing, the fire burns, and communicates its pure flame to every breast susceptible of genuine Christian feeling. Under its influence his arguments become persuasions, his exhortations entreaties. A sentiment so tender, and earnest. ness so imploring, breathes throughout them, that it might seem that all regard for himself, all care for his own interests, is swallowed up in his ardent and affectionate concern for the spiritual interest of others.

The exuberance of his love and gratitude, the fruits of his abundant faith, break out almost in spite of himself. His zeal reproves our timidity, his energy our indifference. 'He dwells,' as an eloquent writer has remarked, with almost untimely descant,' on the name of Him who had called him out of darkness into his marvellous light. That name which we are so reluctant to pronounce, not through reverence to its possessor, but fear of each other, ever sounds with holy boldness from the lips of Paul. His bursts of sacred joy, his triumphant appeals to the truth of the promises, his unbounded confidence in the hope set before him, carry an air not only of patience, but of victory, not only of faith, but of fruition.

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It is worth observing, that he does not make the line of demarcation between the two classes of characters, to consist merely in the actual crimes and grosser vices of the one class, and the better actions of the other. It is to the sen sual and spiritual mind, the fountain of good and evil deeds, to which he refers as the do. cisive test. This radical distinction he further conceives to be a more obvious line of separation than even any difference of religious opinions, any distinction arising from the mere adoption of peculiar dogmas.

That the reviving assurance may appear to belong exclusively to real Christians, he marks the change of character by the definite tense now, implying their recent victory over their old corruptions, which he had been deploring. This precaution would prevent those, who remained in their former state from taking to themselves the comfort of a promise in which they have no part. He guards it still more explicitly, by declaring, that the true evidence of this renovation of heart, was their walking after the Spirit; a term which describes habitual progress in the new way, to which we are conducted by the new nature, and which, if it do not always preserve us from deviating from it, recalls us back to it.

The power Paul felt; and on this principle ho wrote; and he never wrote on any principle on which he did not act. After he had carried piety to the most heroic elevation; after he had pressed the most fervent exertions on others, and gained the splendid conquests over himself, still he considered himself only in the road to salvation; still he never thought of slackening his course; he thought not of resting; he had not reached his end. He was not intimidated from pursuing it by new difficulties ; his resolu tion rose with his trials; all he feared for him. self, all against which he cautioned others, was declension; his grand solicitude for them and for himself was, that they might not lose the ground they had gained. He well knew, that even the present position could not be long maintained without the pursuit of farther conquests. He walked after the Spirit.

Whoever desires more particularly to compare this spirit of Divine power manifested by the apostle, with the opposite spirit of the world, let him carefully peruse the eighth chapter of his Epistle to the Romans. After describing the strong and painful conflict with the malig. nant power of sin in the seventh chapter, with what a holy exultation does he, in the opening of the eighth, hurry in, as it were, the assurance that there is now no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus.' It somewhat resembles that instant, I had almost said, that impatient, mercy of God in the third of Genesis, which seems eager to make the promise follow close upon the fall, the forgiveness upon the sin; The terrible forms of distress which he sumto cut off the distressing space between terror mons to view in this, as well as in other parts of and joy, to leave no interval for despair. God, his Epistles, always remind him of the principle who is so patient when he is to punish, is not so which makes them supportable. He enume. patient when he is to save. He delays to strike, rates human miseries in all their variety of but he hastes to pardon. After the first of shapes,-tribulation, distress, persecution, fafence,' says Bishop Jeremy Taylor, 'God could ] mine, nakedness, peril, sword. But to what end

Having cordially confided in him for salvation through the blood of Christ, he found, as is al ways the case, the greater involving the less: he found that he had little difficulty in trusting Him with his inferior concerns. To Him to whom he had committed his eternal happiness, to Him he could not scruple to confide his fortune, his health, his reputation, his life.

We have not, it is true, these manifestations, of which the apostle was favoured with a tem. porary enjoyment. But we have his testimony, added to the testimony, the evidences, the proofs, the promises, the demonstrations of the whole New Testament. Why, then, are we not supported, encouraged, animated by them? It is because we do not examine these evidences, because we do not consult these testimonies, because we neglect these proofs: therefore it is, that we are not nurtured by these promises. We entertain them as speculations, rather than as convictions, we receive them as notions, rather than as facts.

does he muster this confederate band of woes? | import, and it involved indefinite consequences. He calls on them not to avert the sufferings they inflict; no, he challenges them to separate the Christian sufferer from the love of Christ. He presents himself to us as an instance of the supreme triumph of this love over all earthly calamity. The man whose distresses abounded, who was pressed above measure, comes out of the conflict, not only a conqueror,-that to one of his ardent spirit seemed too poor a triumph, he is more than a conqueror. But how is this victory achieved? Through him who loved us. That lowliness which made him say just before, 'that which I do I allow not, but what I hate that I do,' must have been lifted by a mighty faith when he exclaimed, I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor life, nor death, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.' In speaking, in this chapter, of the glories of the eternal world, his rapture does not escape him as the sally of the imagination, as a thought awakened by a sudden glance of the object; he does not express himself at random from the im. pulse of the moment; his is not the conjectural language of ignorant desire, of uncertain hope; it is an assumption of the sober tone of calcula-served for the final portion of the humble Christion. I reckon,' says he, like a man skilled in this spiritual arithmetic,-'I reckon,' after a due estimate of their comparative value, that the sufferings of the present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed.'

If ever a cordial desire of these devout assurances is conferred, it is in fervent prayer. What an encouragement to this holy exercise, is the hope of being raised by it, to the heart-felt belief that such felicity is real, and that it is re

tian? Too humble, perhaps, to give full credit that such great things can be in store for him. For a moment he is staggered, till faith, the parent of that humility which trembles while it believes, enables him to apply to himself the promises of Him to whom nothing is impossible, the merits of Him for whom nothing is too great, the death of Him who died that we might live forever.

No man was ever so well qualified to make this estimate. Of the sufferings of the present world he had shared more largely than any man. Of the glory that shall be revealed, he had a In whatever part of his writings the Apostle glimpse granted to no other man. He had been speaks of the efficacy of the death of Christ, and caught up into Paradise. He had heard the of the constraining' power of his love, there is words of God, and seen the visions of the Al-a vehemence in his desire, a vivacity in his senmighty,' and the result of his privileged experience, was, that he desired to depart, and to be with Christ; that he desired to escape from this valley of tears; that he was impatient to recover the celestial vision, eager to perpetuate the momentary foretaste of the glories of im. mortality.

We perceive, then, how this hope of future felicity sustained him under conflicts, of which we, in an established state of Christianity, and suffering only under the common trials of mortality can have no adequate conception. His courageous faith was kept alive and fortified by fervently practising the duty he so unwea. riedly urges upon others; continuing instant in prayer.

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To encourage this practice in his readers, and at the same time to point out the source of his own heavenly hope, and continual intercourse with the Divine presence, he adds, the Spirit helpeth our infirmities, for we know not what we should pray for as we ought, but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us.' Nor does his high trust and confidence in God, thus gendered, easily find its limit. On the contrary, he adds, we know that all things work together for good

to them that love God.'

This trust was an assurance of the largest

timents, an energy in his language, an intensity
in his feelings, which strongly indicate a mind
penetrated with the depth of his own views. He
paints the love of his Lord as a grace, of which,
though his soul was deeply sensible as to its na-
ture, yet as to the degree, it is exceeding abun
dantly above' not only all that he could ask,'
but all that he could think.'
His boldest con-
ceptions sink under the impression which no
language could convey.

Yet these sublime portions of his writings, which bear the more special stamp and impress of the gospel, which afford the nearest view of realities as yet unapproachable, are set aside by many, as things in which they have no personal concern. They have, indeed, a sort of blind reverence for them, as for something which they conceive to be at once sacred and unintelligible, such a kind of respect as a man would naturally entertain at the sight of a copy of the Scriptures in a language which he did not understand.

Eloquent as he was, we often find him labouring under his intense conception of ideas too vast for utterance. In describing the extent of the love of God, its height and depth, its length and breadth, his soul seems to expand with the dimensions he is unfolding. His expressions seem to acquire all that force with which he in

When Paul and Silas were imprisoned at Phi. lippi, it is recorded that they prayed at midnight. This would naturally be expected from such men, under such circumstances; but it is added,

timates that the soul itself, so acted upon, is in. vested. To be strengthened with might, would have been reckoned tautology in an ordinary writer on an ordinary subject; and to be strength. ened with all might, would seem an attribute im-they sang praises unto God.' Thus they not possible to mortality. But holy Paul had himself felt the excellency of that power; he knew that it is derived, and that the fountain of dura. tion is the glorious power of God.

only justified, but glorified Him, under this suf fering, as well as degradation. For it must not be forgotten, that this imprisonment was not merely a measure for securing their persons,they were stripped bare-many stripes were laid upon them, and the iron entered into their soul. Yet they sang praises unto God.

What a triumph is here of the element of spirit over the force and violence of outward cir

Th' oppressor holds

His body bound, but knows not what a range,
His spirit takes, unconscious of a chain;
And that to bind him is a vain attempt,

In delineating the mighty operations of Divine love on the human mind, the seeming hyperboles are soberly true. Where the theme is illimitable, language will burst its bounds. He preaches riches which are unsearchable-exhorts to know the love which surpasses knowledge-cumstances! promises peace which passes understanding — we must look at things which are not seenagainst hope we must believe in hope-while sorrowful we must always be rejoicing-as having nothing we must reckon that we possess all things -dying, and behold we live-though unknown we are well known-In short, he reconciles contradictions, unites opposites. Antipathies by nature become affinities by grace. The love of God in Christ is the point where he makes contraries centre, and impossibilities meet.

Whom God delights in, and in whom he dwells.'

In the Epistle to the Ephesians, to which we have just referred, we are presented with a fresh instance how much his devotion rose under the same circumstances of distress. It was written from a prison, and is almost one entire effusion of love and praise. It is an overflowing expression of affectionate gratitude, that has no parallel. It seems to be enriched with an additional

His spirit seems most intimately to identify itself with the church of Ephesus. What an improbable union! The late idolatrous wor-infusion of the Spirit of God, and has perhaps shippers of Diana, and the late persecutors of the saints of Jesus, have now but one heart and one soul! These recent enemies to Christ, and to each other, now meet in one common point of attraction. With what holy triumph does he dilate on their common faith! that love of God in Christ Jesus which is their common centre and bond of union!

Still, as we have such frequent occasion to observe, he does not sacrifice practical duty to the indulgence of his rapture. Still he does not allow even these Ephesians to rest satisfied with the grace they have received. It is not enough that they have been favoured with a vocation, they must walk worthy of it.' The perfecting of the saints' must be carried on; they must reach the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ.' No such perfection had been attained as would allow them to rest in their present position. Even in this highly favoured church, progress is enjoined, pressed, reiterated.-No elevation of devout feeling sets him above attention to moral goodness.

more of the heroism of Christian feeling than, except in the discourses of our Lord, is to be found in the whole sacred treasury. It seems to come fresh from the celestial world. He speaks not as from a prison, but as from a region of light, and life, and glory. His thoughts are in heaven, his soul is with his Saviour, his heart is with his treasure: no wonder, then, that his language has a tincture of the idiom of im mortality.

As Archimedes, when Syracuse was taken by the besiegers, was so intent on a mathematical demonstration, that he knew not when the city was lost: so the apostle, absorbed in a concern as much superior to that of the philosopher as Scripture truth is to scientific, lost sight of the cruelties of Nero, forgot his former sufferings, felt not his present captivity, thought not of his impending fate-present, past, and future, as they related to himself, were absorbed in his zeal for the salvation of the church, for the glory of its founder! Mark the divine supports vouch. safed to this imprisoned Saint! Note his state Nothing can be more beautiful than the abrupt of grace! Observe the perfection of his faith! apostrophes of praise and gratitude into which, How the motion of his spirit was accelerated as in the midst of sorrow, of exhortation, of reproof, it drew nearer to its centre! He whose deep he unexpectedly breaks out. The love of his humility had suggestod to him the possibility, Redeemer so fills his soul, that it requires an that, after converting others, he might himself effort to restrain its outward expression. Even be rejected: he who had desired not to be un. when engaged in the transaction of business, clothed, but to be clothed upon-now declares and directing the concerns of others, which, by that he is ready to be offered up, now desires to an ordinary mind, would have been pleaded as a depart; not in the gentle decay of exhausted valid reason for suspending spiritual ideas, and nature, not in the weaning languor of a sick dismissing spiritual feelings, they yet mix them-bed, not in the calm of a peaceful dissolution, selves, as it were involuntarily, with his secular suffering only the pains inseparable from an or cares; there is not only a satisfaction but a joy-dinary death; but he is prepared to meet the fulness in these escapes of affection which seem to spring from his soul, in proportion to the depression of his circumstances, to the danger which surrounded, to the deaths which threat ened him.

hand of violence: he is ready to pour out his blood upon the scaffold; he is longing to join the souls which were beheaded for the witness of Jesus, and for the word of God.' So far from being dismayed, because he knew that his mar

tyrdom was at hand; he who knew not what it, of the common comforts of life, when the former was to boast, yet knowing in whom he had trust-could with propriety be observed, or the latter ed; feeling his eternal redemption drawing nigh, could exclaim with a holy bravery; I have finished my course; I have kept the faith.'

Then in a rapture of triumphant joy at the mental view of the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, had prepared for him against the great day,' that same unparalleled philanthropy, which he had so constantly manifested, breaks out and consecrates a moment, when we might have supposed the immediate nearness of his own unspeakable blessedness would have engrossed his whole soul. His religion was no selfish piety, his hope no solitary salvation. Gratitude swells into its highest transport from the reflection that the Lord Jesus had not exclusively reserved the crown for him, no, nor for the beloved Timothy, to whom he writes, nor for the multitudes of his own friends, nor for the converts who were to be peculiarly his joy and crown of rejoicing;' but for ALL them also which love his appearing,' for all the redeemed of the Lord' to the end of the world.

CHAP. XIII.

A general view of the qualities of Saint Paul his knowledge of human nature-his delicacy in giving advice or reproof-his integrity.

be lawfully enjoyed; no coveting of sufferings, when they could be conscientiously avoided. He was no pattern for ascetics, no prototype for Stylites. He bequeathed no example of bodily macerations, nor uncommanded austerities, nor penances unprofitably aiming at atonement. His idea of self-denial was to sacrifice his own will; his notion of pleasing God was to do and suffer the Divine will.

His discretion was scarcely less conspicuous than his zeal: unlike some enthusiastic Christians in the early ages of the Church, who, not contented to meet persecution, invited it; he never sought, whilst he never shrunk from danger. Though his life was one continued mar. tyrdom, to which the brief suffering of the stake or the axe would have been a mercy, yet he was contented to live for lengthened services; though he would have finished his course with joy to himself, he was willing to protract it for the glory of God; though he counted not his life dear, yet he knew it to be useful, and therefore desired its continuance.

He was entirely exempt from that indiscreet zeal which seems to glory in provoking the displeasure of the world. He had nothing of that bad judgment, which seeks distinction from sin. gularity. His straight-forward rectitude neither courted the applause, nor despised the good opi. nion of men. He who, in the integrity of his heart could say, We sought glory neither of you nor yet of others; in the tenderness of that heart could say, to the same persons, for what is our hope, or joy, or crown of rejoicing; are not even ye,-ye are our glory and joy."

He was totally free from any irrational confi. dence in supernatural interpositions. Though living under the influence of the Holy Spirit, he felt no enthusiastic inflation.

THERE is in Saint Paul's writings and conduct, such warmth and openness; so much frankness and candour; such an unreserved pouring out of his very soul; such a free disclosure of his feelings, as well as of his opinions; such an elevation, mingled with such a sober. ness of thinking; so much social kindness, with so much Divine love; so much practical activity, with such deep spirituality; so much human Though, in his perilous voyage, assured by prudence, with so much of the wisdom which an angel of God that there should be no loss of is from above; so much tenderness for the per- lives, yet he helped with his own hands to throw sons of men, with so little connivance at their out the tackling, and the ship must be worked faults; so much professional dignity, with so by his direction. He went farther, declaring, much personal humility, as it would be diffi-except the men abide in the ship ye cannot be cult to find in any other human being.

Yet in all these opposite excellences, there is nothing that is not practicable, nothing that is not imitable. His religion, like his morality, has a peculiar sedateness. His ardent feelings betray him into no intemperance of speech, into no inequality of action. His piety is free from eccentricity, his faith from presumption.

Uniformly we find a great reasonableness in his character; and it adds to his value as an example, that he was, if we may be allowed so familiar an expression, eminently a man of business. His transactions, indeed always tended to the same end with his devotions and his instructions; he was full of care, but it was the care of all the churches; each day was fully occupied, but it was that same 'care' which came upon him, not only as a Sunday, but as a daily care.'

The perfection in which he possessed this quality, proves that his devotedness had in it nothing of abstraction. He exhibited no contempt of the common usages, no renunciation VOL. II.

saved.' Could the boldest impugner of Divine Providence have exercised more prudence, have exhibited more activity?

Not only from this passage, but from the general spirit of his writings, we may learn, that merely to say, we trust in God for the accomplishment of any thing within our power, without using ourselves the rational means of accomplishing it, is a total want of sense; and not entirely to trust in Him, while we are using them, is an utter want of faith.

Though favoured with immediate revelations from above, yet was Paul so singularly modest, as only slightly to advert to Divine communica tions, and then in the name of a third person,— I knew a man in Christ.-So continent of speech, as not even to disclose this distinction till near fourteen years after it had been conferred. May we not then agree with the sagacious Paley, that Saint Paul's mind had none of the characteristics of enthusiasm; that the coolness of his

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*Acts, ch. xxvii.

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head always kept pace with the warmth of his

heart?'

His conduct uniformly exhibits the precise distinction between Christian wisdom and worldly policy. His boundary line is clearly defined, and he never steps over it to serve a purpose. Of that prudence which is a kin to selfishness, of that discretion which leans to craft, of that candour which tends to undue pliancy, of that wisdom which is sensual and earthly, he had not the slightest tincture. What an illustrious orator of our own time said of his contemporary statesman, may be far more ap. propriately applied to Saint Paul,-that, in gain. ing admiration, his virtues were his arts.*

His intellectual powers were admirably constituted to second his high moral and spiritual attainments. He had an intuitive sagacity of mind. This deep master of the science of man was intimately acquainted with all the doublings and turnings, the intricacies and perverseness of the heart. In short he knew the exact point from which to take the most comprehensive view of this scene of man; and his writings possess this great advantage, that they also put the intelligent reader in the position to take the same view. He knew every plait and fold of the human character. He had studied the species in all its modifications and varieties, from the monarch on the throne to the meanest officer in his court; from the high priest presiding in the Sanhedrim to the pharisee praying in the street of the intolerance of the one, he had had personal experience; through the duplicity of the other, his keen eye could pierce, without consulting the breadth of his phylactery.

trines of which they were acquainted. This manner of addressing them is a proof that their progress was already considerable.

The first Epistle is inscribed to all that are at Rome, beloved of God, called to be saints, whose faith is spoken of throughout the world.' The next is to the church of God at Corinth, with all the saints in Achaia.' Another to the saints that are at Ephesus, and to the faithful in Christ Jesus.' Again, to the saints and faithful brethren in Christ at Colosse.' His letters to individual friends, designate also the piety of his correspondents. To Timothy, his son in the faith;' to Titus, his own son after the common faith.' And in writing to the Hebrews collectively, he denominates them 'holy bre thren, partakers of the heavenly calling.'

It would be well if the generality of Christians could aspire to rank with any of these classes. Saint Paul's knowledge of mankind, however, of which we have said so much, would prevent his addressing the best of his converts, as characters who did not require either caution, correction, or improvement. He knew even after they had adopted the Christian profession, how pertinaciously bad habits would cleave to some. how much besetting sins, natural infirmity, temptation without, and passion within, would impede the progress of others. He was aware that many who thought themselves sincere, and perhaps really were so, were yet careless and cold hearted; that many who were warm in profession, were selfish, indolent, covetuous; that many who appeared to be lovers of God, were yet inordinately lovers of pleasure; that some who professed to be dead to sin, were alive The same acute penetration brought him no to the world. Alexander did him much evil,' less acquainted with the errors of the well-inten-Demas forsook him; Phygellus and Hermotioned, with the weaknesses of the wise, with the failings of the virtuous, and the inconsisten- The persons to whom he wrote might, on the cies of even the conscientious. Yet did he never whole, be considered as no unfair specimen of convert his knowledge of all the shades of the professing Christians in every age. Consequenthuman mind to an unkind, malevolent, or selfish ly neither his doctrine nor his precepts can, by purpose. It never taught him to hate the un- any fair rule of judgment, be limited to the comworthy, with whose obliquities it made him ac-munity, or even to the individual, to whom they quainted; or to despise the weak whose infirmities it had discovered. So far was he from availing himself of his sagacity, by turning the vices or imbecilities of others to his own account, that it inspired him with a more tender and compas. sionate feeling for the frailties of their common

nature.

In perusing his Epistles, we should always bear in mind, that Saint Paul is not addressing the profligate and profane, but converts, or, at least, religious professors. This consideration would prevent our putting the reproofs and corrections which he thought necessary for them at too great a distance from ourselves. Into this danger we may be too much inclined to fall, if we do not bring these people nearer to what we suppose to be our own level. They were already Christians. It was not, therefore, always necessary to arrange all the fundamental doctrines into a regular system, much less to begin with a formal exposition of the elements of a religion, with the principles of which they were already imbued; or at least with the doc

Mr Burke of the Marquis of Rockingham.

genes turned away from him.'

were immediately inscribed; he has erected his mandate into an unalterable standard of general Christianity.

The inspiring guide of Saint Paul knew that human nature, left to its own specific operation, would be the same in that church of Rome to which his Epistle was addressed, as in the now existing church of that metropolis,-a church which has so far departed from the simplicity of its founder; that the church of Ephesus would differ only in its local circumstances and form of government from the church of England; that the same sort of beings, with the same wants and weaknesses which composed the church of Galatia, would compose that of Geneva and of Holland; that it was not the Corinthian convert alone who should become 'a new creature;' that it was not the member of any particular community that must put off the old man with his deeds;' he knew that the transmuting power of true religion would con fer the same character of newness upon every genuine believer; that as in every age the prin ciple is the same, so also will be the results.

In illustration of these general remarks, let