ther's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye; or how wilt thou say to thy brother let me pull out the mote out of thine eye, and behold a beam is in thine own eye."

The immediate occasion of this paper, however, is to seek information relating to the property of the once flourishing church, which, assembled in Bury Street, Saint Mary Axe, and which successively enjoyed the pastoral labours of Owen and Clarkson, Caryl, Watts, and Savage. Passing by one of the avenues which leads to the ancient meeting-house, my eye was attracted by a paltry board, with this inscription, "To Bury Street CHAPEL, formerly Dr. Watt's!" This at once indicated to my mind some great, and as I apprehended from the quackery of the announcement, an unfavourable change. I therefore inquired of a friend in the city, what might be its present state, and learned indeed that strange changes have taken place. It appears that the Rev. T. Beck was the last minister who preached there in the line of pastoral succession from Owen. But since that gentleman's removal, the meeting-house has been in other hands, and is now the property of the individual who fills its pulpit, who is not considered by my informant as learned as Owen, or as practical as Clarkson, or as eloquent as Watts.

With that, how ever, I have nothing to do; the gentleman, doubtless, had a right to purchase the place, for Walter Wilson informs us" that it is leasehold," and he has also, without doubt, a right to preach in it; for as Cowper says,

"Who will may preach, and what they will."

There is one sentence of Mr. Wilson's, however, with which, if it be correct, I have to do, in common with every other member of the Independent denomination, viz. "there

is a good endowment belonging to this church, and it would have been more considerable had not part of the principal been sunk in the time of Dr. Savage, to defray the expences of repairs."

It appears, then, that the church, for whose use this endowment was bequeathed, has ceased to meet in their ancient house of prayer, which is now occupied by a minister whose name is not enrolled amongst the members of the dissenting body. I would, therefore, thank any of your correspondents who can inform me, to say,

1. Whether this ancient church

still exist, and where they meet for worship? and,

2. What is the amount of the endowment, and how it is appropriated?

I know nothing, and therefore would not be understood to insinuate any thing against the character of the last pastor of this ancient church in Bury Street, who, I understand, yet lives, venerable for his years and his piety. But he ought to feel that he owes it to the cause of God in the metropolis, to the reputation of the ministerial office he sustains, and to his own fair character, to explain why that place, so long the seat of a learned, intelligent, and truly evangelical ministry, was abandoned by him, and in what way the endowment is appropriated for the present, and secured in future for the benevolent purposes the donors contemplated when the present beneficiary is no

more.

C. C.

A REPLY TO THE COMPLAINT OF CERTAIN PERSON'S RESPECTING THE TOLLING OF PAROCHIAL BELLS AT DISSENTER'S FUNERALS.

GENTLEMEN,- In reading over in your last number, the answers to correspondents, I observe you lay claim to the parish bell, as well as to the church, on the ground of their being national, and therefore,

in common with the services of the clergy, consider them as the joint property of the whole community. The parish burial-ground also, I suppose, you view in the same light, and although you recommend that every dissenting meetinghouse should have a cemetery attached to it, I imagine that Dissenters generally entertain the idea, that because they pay in common with their fellow-subjects for the support of the national establishment, with all its appendages, they have a just right to interment in that ground for the support of which they, in common with others, pay their rates. And hence it arises, that because some clergymen have objected to the right of sepulture in consecrated ground, claimed for such as have not been baptized within the pale of the national church, they are accused of displaying a spirit in opposition to the christian character. Now, Sirs, I claim the privilege of rescuing the clergy of the establishment from such an imputation, and contend that the conduct of such clergymen is strictly consistent, and in full accordance with the various services of "the Book of Common Prayer." In the services enjoined upon the members of the Church of England, provision is made for the baptism of children, by the proper administration of which ordinance those who partake thereof become Christians, and this is carefully taught to the children themselves, as soon as they are capable of learning the catechism; "wherein I was made a member of Christ, the child of God, and an inheritor of the kingdom of heaven;" and in full consistency with this, is the thanksgiving which is offered to Almighty God, that it hath pleased him to regenerate this infant. Now, it must be very obvious to any attentive mind, that a wide differeneé exists between those who are thus received as it were, into covenant, and those who

in consequence of not having submitted to the ordinance of baptism, as thus practised in the national church, can only at best be partakers of "uncovenanted mer cies." The Church of England further manifests her zeal for the salvation of her members, (considering, no doubt, that although they were regenerated in baptism, they may, nevertheless, in after life, have committed some trespassés,) by authorizing the priests who minister at her altar to afford absolution to those whose minds may be uneasy under the conviction of having erred and strayed from the right way, and thus in "the order for the Visitation of the Sick," we find, that after the sick person shall be moved to make a special confession of his sins, the priest shall absolve him after this sort, "our Lord Jesus Christ, who hath left power to his church to absolve all sinners who truly repent, and believe in him, of his great mercy forgive thee thine offences; and by his authority committed to me, I absolve thee from all thy sins, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost." And that this power is possessed by the ministers of the Established Church, who will be sceptical enough to deny; when it is known that in their ordination by their diocesan, they have not merely received the imposition of the bishop's hands, but that the imposition is accompanied with these solemn words- "Receive the Holy Ghost."

The church, therefore, in the order for the Burial of the Dead, may with great consistency authorise the minister to commit the body of a member to the ground, "in sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life," because, if he has been régénérated in baptism, and subsequently absolved from all his sins by the priest, who can entertain a doubt; but the case is different with those who have

never been baptized in her communion, or absolved by her priests; what right have such to expect that at their interment their bones should be laid amongst those of the faithful; or that the minister of religion could commit their bodies to the ground with an expression of a sure and certain hope of their joyful resurrection? Seeing, then, how matters stand, I would seriously advise Dissenters to adopt your recommendation, and endeavour that every meeting-house, however small, might have a cemetery. I am, Gentlemen, Your obedient Servant,

་་་་་་་་་་

Z.

DIFFICULTIES OF THE CHRISTIAN IN THE OUTSET OF HIS COURSE.

THAT genuine piety has a vast advantage over irreligion and profligacy, even in this life, must surely be acknowledged by all who are competent to form a fair and impartial estimate; and this has been uniformly granted by those who have fully tried both sides. Yet we dare not conceal the difficulties which the real Christian has to meet, especially in the beginning of his destined course. Some of these arise from the dimness and limitation of his views, in regard to points both of doctrine and practice; others from the strength of his constitutional passions and early habits, or the temptations to which his sphere and station expose him.

When a man is awakened from the sleep of sin, the torpor in which all his faculties and best feelings have been locked up and benumbed, he often asks, "What is truth?" with a sincerity and earnestness strikingly contrasted to the sceptical or careless spirit which prompted Pilate to put the same question. He is desirous to know the will of God, and he sits down to the diligent perusal of the Bible. He feels, perhaps, the need of

comments and helps, and soon acquires a variety of religious books; but discordant opinions and systems, from writers equally famed and admired, create a perplexity in his mind. The mere speculatist feels much at his ease, in sifting and discussing doctrines ; but it is otherwise with him who apprehends that his eternal happiness or misery hinges on his receiving or rejecting the truth. Even while he is advancing towards a settlement and decision of mind, on the grand fundamental articles of the christian faith, he has many painful doubts and drawbacks. Nor is it in reference to principle only, but also to practice, that he stands at times in trembling suspense. The path, which, to one more enlightened, may seem clear and plain, is to him dubious and intricate; and the solicitude he feels is proportioned to the magnitude of the consequences anticipated from taking a false step.

But the Christian, at the outset of his course, has often to encounter other difficulties, arising from the strength of his constitutional passions and early habits. The grace which enlightens the understanding and arouses the conscience, will, indeed, eventually subordinate the affections; but this last is not effected without many arduous struggles. Whether the man has been a slave of mammon, a dupe of ambition, or a votary of fashion and pleasure, to subdue propensities which have been long indulged, and break down habits which have been firmly consolidated, will be no easy task. The young convert is frequently ready to congratulate himself on the gaining of a victory, when he too soon finds, the enemy has only changed his position, and is prepared to renew the assault with increased subtilty, though, perhaps, with diminished force. The same pride, or lust, or levity, which before put itself forth in

gross forms, now assumes a specious, sentimental veil.

In commencing his course, the Christian finds many of his difficulties in the sphere, or station, to which he is allotted. His former friends become his enemies; where he once met a welcome, he now meets a sneer or a taunt. His very business, it may be, places him in the focus of temptation. Does he wish to conciliate, and to disarm prejudice?-his gentleness lays him open to the urgency of their persuasions and intreaties; and he finds, that, instead of drawing them to righteousness, they are winding and alluring him into the paths of danger. Does he determine to act a bold and decisive part, and break off at once connections which are uncongenial and injurious? - he incurs the charge of rashness, and creates hostilities by his manner, not less than by his motive.

It may be thought, that young persons, brought up in the bosom of religious families, have to struggle with few of these difficulties, in their entrance upon a course of godliness. We grant, that they are highly favoured; but the gate is strait, and the way narrow for them, as well as for others. These young recruits are to be told, even in training, that the war rages at no great distance in which they must soon be warmly engaged.

But if difficulties constantly attend the outset of the christian course, how are they best to be surmounted? This is an inquiry of the utmost importance to all who are just entering the lists, to run the race set before them, and striving to reach the immortal prize.

To attain clear and comprehensive views of divine truth, let the

Bible be studied in the spirit of devotion, not in the spirit of controversy. The volume of inspiration unfolds the great essential doctrines of Christianity, and exhibits them in their practical bearings, connected with facts and characters which interest and elevate the mind. He who daily searches the Scriptures, and, while he reads, prays for the guidance and unction of the Holy Spirit, will not long be agitated and perplexed, but find his soul in a region of light and liberty, cheered and animated by the discoveries which open upon him.

Corrupt passions, and evil habits of every kind, must be mortified and destroyed. Whether the young convert has been left to range through the haunts of dissipation, or has been educated under the fostering care of pious parents, the axe must be laid to the

root.

We dare not promise him peace in the indulgence of his lusts. If it be asked, How is this internal war to be prosecuted? the answer is, With the weapons of grace and truth. Go, then, young soldier of the cross, to the great Captain of salvation. Be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might. Put on the whole armour of God, and fight the good fight of faith. In regard to those temptations which arise from circumstances, there will be need of fortitude and prudence, vigilance and prayer. Be valiant for the truth upon the earth. Give no just occasion of offence, to Jew, or Gentile, or the church of God. Be more afraid of sinning than of suffering; and while you desire Christ as your portion, ever make him your pattern and guide.

AMICUS B.

THE DESCENT OF SATAN.

(On seeing a Painting upon this subject by Fuseli, in the Marquis of Bute's Collection, Luton, Bedfordshire.)

I SEE thee falling from thine height,
Like lightning from the sky;
Who wast but now a son of light,
A morning star on high.

But, oh! how fallen from glory now;
How dimmed the splendour of thy brow,
The radiance of thine eye!
How are thy beams of lustre lost,
Once brightest of the heavenly host.
Below thee roll the shades of night,
To greet thy downward way;
Above, hard breaking on thy flight,
Th' eternal lightnings play;
Thy gloomy wings in terror spread,
Seem shadowing thy defenceless head]
From that all-blasting ray.

That head which well deserves to know,
The wrath of thine Almighty foe.

And yet not quite thine angel form

Has lost its show of state,
E'en in the thunders of that storm,
Which hurl thee to thy fate.
Though from thy crown of lustre riven,
Though from thy throne of greatness driven,

Yet even now, how great!
An angel's form, but, ah, the while
A heart of most envenomed guile.

And in the features of that face,

That heart may be descried!

There all those passions we may trace,

1

Which led thy faith aside.

And first, the fatal cause of all,
The demon that hath wrought thy fall,

Indomitable pride;

Which bade thee turn thy rebel sword,
Upon thy Monarch and thy Lord.

And stern defiance even now,
With terror struggles there;

And hatred on thy darkened brow,
Yet stronger than despair.

O fiend, thou well hast earned thy doom,
Thy hell, thy chains, thy living tomb,

Since thy weak arm could dare T'assail his everlasting throne, Whose goodness deigned to fix thine own.

THE PITY OF THE WORLD. OH, I would weep and mourn alone, Nor hear the careless passer by Express a grief he cannot own,

Which only lives within his eye; The world may pity, smile, or frown, It cannot soothe a single sigh.