been weakened by its straining on the rack of previous troubles, and when he increasingly felt his need of all the soothing and sustaining power of friendly pity. I am satisfied that it was this, which, superadded to the afflictions by which his spirit had been already distracted, fairly unmanned him-and, driving him to desperation, extorted from his lips the hasty and terrific imprecations of the third chapter: "After this, Job opened his mouth, and cursed his day!" Only think of his condition. Think of the ingredients of his cup. His whole property destroyed, and his whole family swept away, by one day's fearful disasters; his bodily frame tortured all over without intermission, and loathsome to himself and to all about him; the wife of his bosom misgiving him, and proving a tempter instead of a comforter; and now, not only his friends failing him, and offering him none of the kind assurances, so precious and cheering to the afflicted spirit, of friendship and confidence, and condolence and piety, but withholding their consolations on a ground the most distressing that imagination can conceive to a mind of conscious integrity, of high honour, and acute sensibility. To a good man, character is dearer than life itself. The knowledge that we are suspected, as Job now was, is, in itself, at any time and in any circumstances, like the sting of a scorpion to a sensitive spirit. But to have this suspicion entertained, in addition to trials already so overwhelming; to have the heart assailed by it, just when it is oppressed with its need of all the supports of friendship, and all the soothings of kindred spirits, "touched with a feeling of its infirmities:" to have it entertained by bosom friends and intimate associates: and to have it entertained on account of trials, which are interpreted as the merited judgments of offended Heaven, for secret crimes by which we have been making God our enemy: oh! if all the bitterness of life were distilled into one concentrated essence, it could hardly exceed this. These, I apprehend, were the circumstances in which, "at length" (for so the words in our version" after this" have been rendered) “Job opened his mouth and cursed his day." His heart-strings had been racked to their utmost bearable tension; and at this last wrench-the failure of his only remaining earthly hope, and the secret surmises of what his soul abhored-they gave way. I am inclined to think, that this last trouble is the one to which the patriarch refers in chap. iii. 25. "For the thing which I greatly feared is come upon me, and that which I was afraid of is come unto me:" on which words observe— 1. What he there speaks of could not be his affliction in general; for he himself tells us, that he was not previously living in the prevailing dread of them. In the twenty-ninth chapter, after the beautiful and touching portraiture of his former prosperity, we find him adding "Then I said, I shall die in my nest, and multiply my days as the sand." 2. What, then, was it? I can conceive of nothing more likely to occur to Job's mind--to the mind of a good man suffering under visitations so extraordinary of the Divine hand, and aware of the sentiments of some of his friends on the subject of providence, than the possible and probable consequences of events so unprecedently strange to his character and reputation. What would be the conclusions drawn by those friends, and what their sentiments and feelings towards him? Might he not, very naturally, anticipate the likelihood of their coming to visit him? and then, what would they think? what construction would they put upon what they saw? will they not regard me as a mark for the arrows of the Almighty-one deserving this exhaustion of his quiver? And this explanation of "that which Job feared" is confirmed by the terms of the following verse-"I was not in safety, neither had I rest, neither was I quiet; yet trouble came." He could not say that, before his afflictions collectively considered, he had no peace, no rest, no quietness. He must, therefore, have in his eye, some new, some additional trouble, that came upon him amidst others "I had no peace, I had no quietness, I had no rest; and still trouble came:" a succession of tribulations; "deep calling unto deep :" and the last, not the least, the immediate subject of this pathetic and bitter complaintthe disappointment of consolation from his friends, or rather, perhaps, the realization of his distressing apprehensions-which yet he would fain have suppressed and discredited-of the jealousy and suspicion with which they might regard him. Here it was, all "come upon him.” He heard it in their very silence; he read it in every look and every gesture; their whole manner expressed it, too plainly alas! for the spirit of the distracted sufferer. He could stand it no longer. He gives vent to the anguish of a breaking and bursting heart in the terrific imprecation of the following chapter. Here we stop for the present; and shall close with two reflections:1. Let us beware of the adoption of any erroneous principle. There can hardly be a principle in the mind, that does not, in some way or in some degree, operate upon the conduct. The sentiment of Job's three friends exerted an influence the most pernicious, on this occasion, from the very first; and the evil increased most distressingly in the course of their subsequeut controversy with him. It utterly unfitted them for one of the most interesting and important offices of friendship and charity, the office of administering comfort to the afflicted. Never was there a case in which all their powers and resources of consolation were more needed; and never a case in which they ought to have been more freely, and liberally, and unhesitatingly bestowed: but their false principle rendered them "miserable comforters," who only added affliction to the afflicted-infused fresh venom into the rankling wounds. 2. In our judgment of the conduct of others, let us learn to take into our estimate every circumstance of alleviation: let them be the judg ments of charity. We cannot justify him for the utterance of impatience, so painfully different from his previous posture of pious resignation: yet the circumstances of his case are such, that we cease to wonder. We condemn; but it is with the tenderness of pity. Amidst the consciousness of our own infirmity and corruption, we feel as if it would almost be presumption to blame. The language of Job's failure is, "Let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed lest he fall :" "Be not high-minded but fear;" and, in regard to the judgment we form, and the censures we pass, "with what measure ye mete it shall be measured to you again :" "He shall have judgment without mercy, who showed no mercy." At the same time, let not this charity run to an extreme. Let it not be that unscriptural charity, which, under the specious mask of liberality, confounds things that differ; "putting evil for good, and good for evil, darkness for light, and light for darkness, bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter;" and thus ruining souls, by "suffering sin upon them," and allowing them to sleep on in their delusions. And, while every human example fails, let "us look unto Jesus" as our only perfect pattern; and, while we admire and adore, seek his grace to enable us more and more closely to imitate. INTERPRETATION OF COLOSSIANS II. 16, 17. Μὴ οὖν τις ὑμᾶς κρινέτω ἐν βρώσει ἢ ἐν πόσει, ἢ ἐν μέρει ἑορτῆς, ἡ νουμηνίας, ἢ σαββάτων· Α ἐστι σκιὰ τῶν μελλόντων, τὸ δὲ σῶμα τοῦ Χριστοῦ. "Let no man therefore judge you in meat or in drink, or in respect of a festival, or a new moon, or sabbaths; which are shadows of the things to come, but the body is Christ's." From this place, Calvin, Suicerus, and others conclude, that the Sabbath-day, commanded by the law of God to be kept holy, is entirely abrogated. They say that the σaßßárov being included in the things which are a σkià тŵv μeλλóvтwv, the Sabbath-day is abolished by the "body of Christ;" that he has accomplished all which was intended by it, in becoming our righteousness, and giving us rest for our souls. Now, though Christ has indeed done this for us who believe in him, and we should rejoice in this glorious deliverance, yet it does not follow that he has abolished the Sabbath-day. On the contrary, he assures us that he is "Lord of the Sabbath." Besides, the Sabbath-day was instituted not merely as a type of future things; but as a temporal benefit, to afford rest from labour, both to man and beast. And, although some assert that it was appointed for the first time at Mount Sinai, the contrary is clear from Gen. ii., where we are told that God sanctified that day at the close of his six days' work, as an example to the human race to the end of time. It is not, therefore, exclusively a Jewish institution, any more than the other nine commands, among which it stands the fourth, are merely Jewish precepts. It is there placed as a memento of former times-" Remember the Sabbath-day," &c. It was not a new commandment any more than the rest. They were all as old as time and the human race; and, if not one of them is abolished or possibly can be, as long as man lives, then must their fourth brother survive with them throughout all ages. If the Sabbath-day was abolished as exclusively Jewish, then must the whole moral code be abolished too. So some affirm. But our Lord tells us he came "not to destroy, but to fulfil." And, though we are delivered from the "curse of the law, Christ having been made a curse for us," yet we are not released from the obligation to obey it. If we were, then murder, and adultery, and idolatry, and covetousness, would cease to be crimes. But we Christians are "not without law toward God, but under the law to Christ." However, after all, it is highly probable that by the word cars, the apostle did not intend the Sabbath-day. He does not say roÙ σαββάτου, but σαββάτων, which was the Jewish name given to the days of the week, and to the periodical solemnities of the passover, pentecost, &c. thus, See Lightfoot on Matt. xxviii. 1. (Hor. Heb.) Σάββατον πᾶσαν ἑορτὴν ἐκαλοῦν, καὶ διὰ τοῦτο εἴρηται σάββατον σαββάτων. Suidas. Οἱ Ἰουδαῖοι πᾶσαν ἑορτὴν σάββατον ὠνόμαζον. Theophylact on Luke ri See Suicerus in voce σάββατον. The reasoning of Calvin and others about every day being a Sabbath to a Christian, is quite inconclusive; for supposing the commandment to be yet in force, every day is still a day of rest to a true Christian. But it is so only in a spiritual and doctrinal sense. While he is engaged in tilling the ground he may certainly enjoy a "Sabbath of the soul." But the command respects the body, as well as the mind; and this rest from labour is indispensable both to man and beast. It is a pity that Calvin should have taken this view of the apostle's words to the Colossians; as his opinion has weighed with multitudes, and has established a habit in the reformed churches, which loudly calls itself for reformation. July, 1841. PHILONOMOS. REVIEW. History of the Secession Church. 2 vols. 8vo. By the Rev. John M'Kerrow. The volumes before us are full of interest. Their author has done much justice to a great subject. They bear the distinct impress of much care and laudable industry. It appears to us, that Mr. M'Kerrow has performed his laborious and responsible undertaking in the spirit of Christian integrity. He has declared the truth "plentifully as it is." If, at times, he has occasion to blush at the blunders of bigotry, he hides not his face; but makes such an apology for the errors of excellence as the case admits, without straining, perversion, or concealment. If he succeeds, with the feelings of an honest advocate, he rejoices; but otherwise, he leaves the matter to the charitable judgment of Christian men. This point is beautifully exemplified in the historian's account of the matter between George Whitfield and the Fathers of the Secession, and also in his remarks relative to the "work" at Cambuslang. There are many things in this history, which but too plainly demonstrate, that "to err is human," on which he makes little or no comment; and on which distant readers, less able to allow for time and circumstances, will be disposed to animadvert in terms of severity. In many of the earlier ecclesiastical movements of the body there was not a little bitterness and narrowness; but such cases find no defender in the historian. A good deal of the strife and confusion, which he shows to have occasionally obtained among his people, has arisen about "mint, anise, and cummin." The record of the facts, however, is of no small importance as a means of preventing this recurrence. To record them, is to expose their folly to every passer-by. We believe, that no class of the community are more sensible of that folly, and of the mischief of the matters to which we refer, than the present generation of Secession ministers, and their more enlightened office-bearers. Leaving all such matters, then,-which are but as the dust in the balance,— and stating, once for all, that we consider the history before us an able performance, a work very much calculated to serve the interests of the writer's own community, and to promote the cause of Christ at large, we shall proceed to exhibit some of the leading features of the character and history of the churches that form its subject, after a few observations on the past and present position of the Scotch established church. It is not a little remarkable that Auchterarder, which at present stands associated with so much trial, mortification, and loss to Scottish churchmen, occupies a prominent position in the pages of Mr. McKerrow, |