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had been begotten of my own body. Those within a inile of the church still had the greater weight on solemn occasions."

Whilst he was at Etterick, any time that he could spare from other duties was devoted to the publication of his works, and to the composition of a treatise on the Hebrew points. His practical works, especially his "Fourfold State," will never be forgotten while there Some there are Christians in our country to read it. are, indeed, who are prevented from perusing his writings, by a sort of floating imagination, that though a very good man, he was a weak man. And true it is he knew his own weakness, but this is the very reason why the power of godliness was so well known to him. If, however, any would regard him as weak compared with others, we venture to say, that few have equalled His him in mental power, any more than in piety. Miscelpractical writings may shew this truth, but his " laneous Questions" shew it still more clearly. Though it is not to be expected that all who read them will be convinced by his arguments, considering that the subjects involve the most difficult points in Theology, yet all who read them will acknowledge that there have existed few more skilful reasoners. Indeed, there is one piece which he wrote to prove that the world, properly speaking, was not created once only, but is created anew every instant, where his reasoning is almost identical with that of President Edwards, on the same subject; and although the conclusion of both may be admitted to be erroneous, to err with Edwards is an honour to which very few men can attain.

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The reputation which Boston obtained as a Hebraist 1s, we believe, not generally known; but on this subject it may be enough to mention, that Michaelis, the most celebrated scholar of his day, speaks of him as the most illustrious and most learned Boston," and says, that he had handled the subject of Hebrew punctuation with so much ingenuity, accuracy, cautious solidity, assiduity and attention to the natural principles of the doctrine, as to leave all others whom he had seen or read far behind."

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His domestic character is perhaps better depicted in the following brief quotation than could be done by volumes. While I was walking up and down my closet in heaviness, my little daughter, Jane, whom I had laid in bed, suddenly raising up herself, said she would tell me a note, and thus delivered herself: Mary Magdalene went to the sepulchre-she went back again with them to the sepulchre; but they would not believe that Christ was risen, till Mary Magdalene met him, and he said to her, "Tell my brethren"-they are my brethren yet.' This she pronounced with a certain air of sweetHis brethren yet,' ness. It took me by the heart. (thought I,) and may I think that Christ will own me as one of his brethren yet? It was to me as life from the dead."

In temper he himself tells us," he was timorous and hard to enter on, but eager in the pursuit when once entered." His private walk with God, however, is the most striking circumstance of his life. Not merely had he family fasts upon remarkable and sacramental occasions, but he hardly ever wrote a letter without first asking the divine direction and assistance.

And how did this man die? Such a question is surely unnecessary. He died as he lived a citizen of that city whose builder and founder is God-one who, while on earth, lived by faith and not by sight; and one who, amidst much weakness, was strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might. The following letter, written a few weeks before his death to a correspondent in Edinburgh, and supposed to be the last letter which he wrote, shews a soul weaned from this world, yet patiently abiding the Lord's good time.

My very dear Sir,-I am obliged downright to acquaint you, that I have been of a considerable time, and

am still, in an apparently dying condition. All business is quite given over; and I can no more, as matters stand, correspond with any about the MSS., or any thing else, but must leave them to the Lord, and the management of my friends, as he shall direct them. I do not doubt but your God, who has seen meet to row you into deep waters, will, in due time, bring you out; but there is need of patience.

"I cannot insist. The eternal God be your refuge, and underneath the everlasting arms, and plentifully reward your twelve years' most substantial friendship.I am, my very dear Sir, yours most affectionately," &c. He died on the 20th of May 1732, aged 56. We His public serknow but little of his latter end. vices in the church of Christ were not much interrupted by his indisposition; and when he was so debilitated by it as to be unable to go out to the church, he preached from a window in the manse, the auditory standing without. His fortitude in the immediate prosHis patience pect of dissolution never forsook him. under the chastisement of a Father's hand was uninterrupted. Inured to afflictions, as well personal as domestic, he bore them with that quiet submission, and unreluctant resignation, which a filial spirit can alone inspire. Viewing them as originating from his heavenly " Shall Father, the habitual language of his heart was, I receive all good at the hand of God, and shall I not receive evil."

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BY THE REV. ROBERT LEE,
Minister of Inverbrothock, Arbroath.

"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will
give you rest.

"Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and low-
ly in heart and ye shall find rest unto your souls.
"For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."-MATTHEW, Xi. 28,
29, 30.
"REST!" This is the very thing which all men every-
where are seeking-which they are anxiously running
hither and thither in pursuit of and almost all com-
plaining that they cannot find. Solomon was the wisest
of men, and he thought he might find what others had
sought in vain. He had all the means and the will
to make the search, and accordingly he ransacked the
whole world. If you read his Book "Ecclesiastes,"
you will hear him complaining much like a man who
had been to "gather figs of thorns and grapes of this-
tles." None of us will ever have the power to make
this experiment on the same scale as Solomon; but if
we had, we should infallibly come to the same conclu-
sion. We should all of us become preachers from bis
Vanity of vanities." The whole world lies in
text,
wickedness, and the whole world lies blinded by this
delusion, that in the world itself, in its pursuits, plea-
sures, enjoyments, (as they are called,) there is a sub-
stantial and real good, such, that it being obtained, the
soul will be satisfied. And many thousands of immor-
tal souls pursue this phantom from childhood to youth,
from youth to manhood, from manhood to old age, and
thence into the grave, and never will be persuaded that
it is nothing but a phantom; and the same phantom
assuming many different forms, to suit the changing
tastes of the deluded creatures who chase it.

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Honestus was boy of good parts and dispositions, and one that began early to observe and reason for himself. He thought that if he could escape from the confinement of school, and the drudgery of learning his lessons, and were left at liberty to go and do as he aked, he should be happy. Honestus was surprised, even in childhood and early youth, to find that things did not please him as he expected they would, but that, when he obtained anything he had desired, instead of resting

with that, his only rest was to begin directly to wish | and seek something else.

As he grew up, vanity put on a new dress to suit his altered taste. He fell into those strong and pleasing emotions, in which youth imagines it has discovered the elixir of life. But that passion was quickly consumed by the fierceness of its own flame, and it left only ashes, which happily contained some few grains of wisdom.

The love of knowledge succeeded, and the ambition to be distinguished for learning. "Oh, how excellent is knowledge!" all around him cried; and Honestus sighed," amen," and determined that he should not be left behind in the race for so noble a prize. Neither was he. But this youth soon learned, what none of the books of science taught him, that it was possible to know a great many things, and yet be miserable, through ignorance of the one thing needful. And many thought Honestus must be happy because he was distinguished; they envied the honours which they supposed satisfying, only because they had them not while he was wishing he had never existed, or that God had made him one of the irrational creatures, for which no hell is prepared either in the present world or in the future that he were a dog, a worm, or a stone. For he knew of a God, but he did not know God-the portion and rest of the soul. He knew God enough to feel that he testified in his conscience against Him-to dread Him as an enemy-to harbour dark suspicions, as if he had been created by one who delighted in his misery. He thought of God only as the judge and tormentor of the wicked, and such he felt himself to be. He dreaded God too much to love Him. He was conscious of being God's enemy, and he reasoned that God must be his, and he knew what he might expect from such an enemy. And then, oh how he wished there were no God! He would have that God out of existence if he could. Had there been any such power as Fate, he would have prayed to that power that God might no longer be.

Honestus then tried pleasure and dissipation. He studied the arts of pleasing in society with great success; for he was soon in universal request. He was now almost never out of the whirl of company. The whole circle in which he moved liked him so interesting he was, so gay, so happy he seemed, and then so respectable, so correct, so moral. Honestus soon found this was not the true road. He saw that these people were a set of mutual dupes and hypocrites, who tried to keep each other in countenance by each smiling in the presence of the rest. And all acted the joyful so well, that each imagined he was the only person who was not so; and tried the game again, to see whether it would not bring him what it seemed to bring all others, but in truth brought none. What shall this poor deluded man seek to next? Is his darkened understanding to be seduced by more wiles of the devil? Shall he, like another Sö, be driven over more lands, restless and tortured by an eternal sting? Now he dreams he shall find rest in travel. He crosses the sea, he " surveys the cities and the manners of many nations," and "holds speech with people of a strange language." But alas! he was forced to admit that it was much easier to flee from his home than from himself—that “the eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear with hearing," and that the void of the heart is too large for the world to fill.

What shall now be tried? Is not the man at length satisfied that the evil is not without but within-not in his circumstances, but in himself? Oh! the manifold wiles of the devil, to keep the soul from God!-the frightful expedients and endless refuges of lies, of which the corrupt and darkened mind is the dupe and the slave! Once more Honestus will venture a stake-if he loses now, he knows not what he shall do. He is possessed of a small fortune, but he will engage in professional pursuits, to gain distinction. The prospect pleases, till the distinction is gained. For the man is of such

indomitable energy, that his purposes and their fulfill ment are never far asunder. What next? Amass a fortune, retire, and spend the evening of life in that peace which the morning and heat of the day had been forward to promise, but slow to fulfil. Here is another Moloch, before which this idolater proposes to offer the dearest sacrifices not discerning that this, like all the former, is nothing but a dumb idol-which neither can hear nor answer his vows.

The love of money is frequently the last load which the devil prepares for the backs of his faithful slaves. This is very often the last stage of the life of sin and of alienation from God. Avarice keeps the last inn on the road which leads to hell, and many, at all times, are her elderly and reputable guests. But what Solomon says of the lewd woman (Prov. vii.) is true of her :"Her house is the way to hell, going down to the chambers of death." Most of the cold-hearted respectable class of sinners land here; and as it is a decent house (the men are scrupulous about reputation) they are content to dwell in it, though every thing is frozen, and they lead a kind of frozen life, which if it deadens pleasure deadens pain also, till their summons comes, and they pass to the place where dwell Dives and they that gluttons are, with Judas, Balaam, Demas, and all those who loved the present world and "the wages of unrighteousness."

Did Honestus land here? No. By the mercy of God he escaped that snare. He had long "suspected himself a fool." Lately, "he knew it and he found his place." When he had finished his professional experiment, "he did chide his infamous delay;" and now that he was to retire from the world, "he resolved and re-resolved," as so many have done who yet" died the same." Still he is unhappy. Still plagued with his old disease a vacuity of spirit—a seeking for what he knows not where to find. Long custom, indeed, hath now taught him better to bear his load; and as eternity approaches, it gradually begins to appear to his mind's eye as if it were further distant. This delusion is strange, yet Honestus was distinctly conscious of it, and many others have been so.

But what ails the man? Surely he has committed some monstrous crime, and is haunted with the terrors of an evil conscience! Hath he, like another Orestes, done foul murder, that, like him, he is pursued by a chorus of implacable furies? To human eyes, the man hath lived on the whole well. He hath not been dishonest, nor dishonourable, nor cruel. And if his youth was not altogether stainless, yet he did nothing which the world is not very ready to palliate, yea excuse. All that know the man love him, they esteem and even admire him. Why then doth his open and ingenuous countenance convey nothing but emptiness, sorrow, and fear?

When Orestes was pursued by the furies for the murder of his mother, who deserved to die, though not by the hand of her own son, he was directed by the oracle to take shelter at the altar of the god of light. Would that all who are haunted with fears those furies of the mind-would listen to that oracle, spoken from Heaven, a “most sure word of prophecy," which directs to seek the temple and the altar of Him, who is both the light and the life of the world! Run we then, and lay firm hold of this altar, on which one sacrifice hath been offered that purges the conscience from guilt and fear, and on which the blessed radiance of God's forgiving love and mercy beams and rests so sweetly, that confidence and hope shall be kindled by it, and that "perfect love" shall follow, which "casteth out tormenting fear," and "maketh His commandments not grievous," and peace, the peace of God," which passeth understanding"-an indescribable serenity, too perfect a gift to descend from any but from the Father of Lights, shall keep our hearts through the knowledge and love of God.

Does any one still ask why this respected and ami

able person is not happy? I answer, the causes are these two:-The absence of good is evil, the want of pleasure is pain, the want of happiness is misery. The soul of man has been created with an appetite for good, not apparent but real, as his body has been with an appetite for real and solid nourishment. And without the former, the soul can no more be satisfied than the body without the latter. We may deaden or mock those appetites. When they "ask bread we may give them a stone, when they ask a fish we may present them with a serpent;" but without their proper supply they never can be at rest. The bodily appetite and the spiritual may, both of them, be abused with that which has the appearance merely of what they crave, but they will rest in this only till the deception has been detected. "It shall even be as when an hungry man dreameth, and behold he eateth; but he awaketh, and his soul is empty: or as when a thirsty man dreameth, and behold he drinketh; but he awaketh, and behold he is faint, and his soul hath appetite."-Isaiah, xxix. Many people think, that if a person has nothing to make him miserable he must, of course, be happy. How foolish this supposition! As foolish as to conclude that a man must therefore be rich because nobody robs him; or strong and healthy because no one wounds him; or live for ever because no person stabs or poisons him. Happiness is not the negation of misery, though misery is the negation of happiness. This is the first cause why Honestus has all his life resembled that man in the Gospel, (Luke xi.) "out of whom the unclean spirit went, and who walked through dry places seeking rest but finding none." Did any one ever think it wonderful that a thirsty person was uneasy till he got drink wherewithal to quench his thirst? or should we pronounce it strange that he felt still unsatisfied, though many things were presented to him which had got the name, but not one of them the nature and properties of what he sought? The second cause of this man's discomfort, was a certain light which had got into his conscience-a light which came from heaven doubtless, but was to him worse than darkness, for it gave him nothing but fear. He knew thus much, that his whole life had been one series of rebellions against God, or rather one continuous act of rebellion. He did not remember, that during his whole life he ever performed one action, on the simple ground, that God required it; and he shuddered at the judgment of his Maker therein already pronounced in his own conscience, against more than fifty years of actual and active opposition to His government and will, of contemptuous disregard of His authority. He was filled with consternation at his own madness in having so daringly despised an enemy out of whose hands he could not even hope to escape. And when he awoke in the morning and found himself still out of hell, he wondered whether this forbearance on the part of God were an overflowing of mercy, or a refinement of cruelty, reserving him for a severer punishment. The devil helped him to favour the last supposition, which encreased his fear and hatred of God.

Honestus, having got out of the world, and having found that his calm retreat was only another of the "clouds without water," by which a lying spirit had promised that his soul should be refreshed and satisfied, saw at length, with a clearness not to be mistaken, that his whole inner man was wrong; that his whole notions and sentiments must be radically false; in short, that the fault was not without in his conduct, but within, in his own mind. But how did other men feel? Honestus was a person of extensive reading and observation, and he remarked that the great majority of people were not very unlike himself, though not to the same degree dissatisfied; that, when they spoke candidly, they confessed they had followed shadows,

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sown the wind and reaped the whirlwind." The

only exceptions to this, seemed to be that class of persons, who are enthusiastic about Christianity, and who are commonly called "saints." These men did confidently affirm they had found what all others, and themselves aforetime, sought in vain. Two things respecting these people Honestus remarked as singular; first, that they were unanimous in their assertion; and, second, that they were all very confident in it, and the more enthusiastic they were, so much the more confident. It might not be amiss he thought to try this experiment also. The hopes of religion extend to another world, and therefore, if delusive, they would at least please him during the whole of this. Honestus had never been a professed infidel, he had been infidel only in fact and in life. He had never laughed at the Bible, he had only despised it by every thing he did, and said, and thought. As for atheism, his had never gone farther, than " being without God in the world," and wishing there were no God. He had even sometimes said his prayers, but God had never given him what he did not wish. And though he went occasionally to church, which he thought a laudable custom, and useful for example's sake, he found all he sought there, that is nothing at all.

Honestus knew something of the evidences of Christianity. He had read Butler's "Analogy" many years ago, and this was the chief reason why he had not grown a professed infidel in self-defence. He now began seriously and diligently to read and study the New Testament. He was astonished to find the book so interesting, so full of vivacity and variety-such pathos-such power and vividness of description. But the thing which now impressed Honestus most, and convinced him of the divine inspiration of the Scriptures was, the true and striking picture which they gave of himself; of the wickedness of his heart, and the misery which accompanied it. They discovered to him more of his condition not only than any other book had done, but even more than himself had ever discovered or known, but which, when discovered, he could not but acknowledge was perfectly true.

But now his distress increased tenfold. He knew himself diseased, of this he had a most painful conviction, but he saw not where or what was the cause. He felt much more wretched than formerly; as a prisoner, found guilty, condemned, ordered for execution, is more wretched than one who only suspects he may be found guilty, and if so, may suffer some secondary punishment. For, as the Bible describes his character in that of "the wicked who through the pride of his countenance called not upon God, and in all whose thoughts God is not ;" when he perceived himself accurately painted, as "the proud," "the high-minded," "the sensual, who have not the Spirit," "the hater of God," "the covetous;" when he could not deny that he was all these, he saw not how he could be otherwise than cursed, with all the curses uttered against such persons. And now, like Luther, he " was horribly afraid of the day of judgment." For he no longer dreamed about God, and heaven and hell; but he was now fully awake and alive to their reality. He felt as sure there is a God as that he was a man; he had no more doubt there is a heaven than that there is an earth; and he was as much convinced there is a hell to come, as that he had a foretaste of it in the hell he now carried about in his own bosom. He had the faith of devils, he "believed and trembled." The same evil spirit which had led him formerly to despise, made him now distrust and disbelieve the mercy of God. have sown to my flesh," he said, "therefore I must reap corruption;" I have neglected" so great salvation,' therefore, "I cannot escape." God" has called" during more than fifty years, and I all that time "have refused;" and he does what he has threatened, "he laughs at my calamity and mocks when my fear cometh."

"I

And then he thought he must have committed "the sin against the Holy Ghost, which will never be forgiven in this world or in the next." And he fancied he resembled Judas the Traitor, in his sins and in his despair; and he would have killed himself like him if he could have hoped that God would be provoked to annihilate him. But to be brought nearer to what he felt so near already, was to him an awful thought, and this

restrained him.

After Honestus had remained in this fearful condition some time, he went to his parish church one Sabbath morning. From that time Honestus has not known despair nor slavish fear which hath torment, but has understood that the gift of God is eternal life through "Jesus Christ our Lord;" he has had the liberty, and he confides in the love of one in whom there is the spirit of an adopted child, crying, "my father, my father." Nor hath it since come into his mind

to doubt, that as one who is his brother, and "the propitiation for his sins," as a God maketh intercession for him with the Father, so the Spirit proceeding from the same Father, maketh intercession in him as a God, "with groanings that cannot be uttered." Oh, how blessed to know, that the yoke and the burden which he had begged all men and all things to take off, and which he found not one of them could remove, hath been removed by the hand of God himself; yea, God who became flesh, for this express purpose of mercy, that we who have exhausted ourselves in seeking rest, might from him receive it to our souls.

The sermon which Honestus heard on the occasion above-mentioned, and which was made the means of illuminating the eyes of his mind, so that he perceived "to what hope he was called," (Ep. i. 17—20,) and also, whence must come both pardon for past offences and power to do the will of God, was a very plain and ordinary production; probably the reader hears two much better sermons every week. And the effect which so feeble a weapon produced, the minister who preached it always looked upon as a signal illustration of the words, Not by might nor by power, but by my Spirit, saith the Lord;" and of these," This treasure we have," not in vessels of gold or silver, but "in earthen vessels." This Gospel is oft committed to men who are not able to enforce it by the most powerful arguments, or to press it with the most striking eloquence, "that the surpassing power of it might be evinced to

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be of God and not of men;" that its effects in appeasing the conscience, purifying the heart, transforming the life, might be acknowledged to be the issue not of any human but of a divine power. And yet his mind was forcibly arrested in listening to the following

DISCOURSE.

"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."-MATTHEW, xi. 28. It is incredible what pains men take to render themselves miserable-what diligence they use to quicken their progress to hell. They are not content to be carried thither in the natural course of things, but they will strain every nerve to go as fast as possible, as if terrified lest others should outstrip them in the road. If they only walked in ways of their own, they would very soon come to the end of their journey, but to arrive in the bottomless pit very soon, is not soon enough for their impatience and fury, hence they run post-haste, and lose no time. They appear terribly afraid lest God's mercy should catch them, lest it should rob them of their dearly-beloved sins, and forthwith plunge them into heaven. What infinite pains they take

to escape such a calamity! Jesus Christ, the Son of God, saveth poor creatures; and, oh! how He pitied them, when He perceived that, instead of running to Him as a friend who could ease them of their burdens, they fled from Him as if He were an enemy and a task-master. And here He stands by the wayside, and tries to convince the infatuated men, that they are now nothing better than slaves and beasts of burden, and those who are become sensible of this, and feel weary of the galling yoke, He encourages to cast it off resolutely, and for ever, and to take on them his yoke which is easy, his burden which is light, and he gives them the Word of God for an assurance, that "they shall find rest to their souls."

laden," seeking "rest to their souls," but finding There are many persons "weary and heavy it not, who have heard of Jesus Christ, and these "gracious words which proceeded out of his mouth;" why then hear they not what the Son of God so freely offers? The causes seem to be chiefly these: 1st, They want faith in Him that makes this gracious offer, they have no confidence that He will do what He says; or, 2dly, They suspect the rest which Christ proposes to confer is not the kind which will suit them-they cannot comprehend, that "learning of Him to be meek and lowly," should prove so pleasant a yoke, as to give rest to their souls; or, 3dly, If convinced both of the veracity of Jesus Christ, and that His burden is as light as he says, yet they imagine it is too great a favour for them, they are not worthy to receive it, and that therefore they must remain In order to weary and heavy laden unto eternity. correct these three mistakes, let us set ourselves to answer the three following questions:

1. Who is the person that makes the promise in the text? Our confidence in the truth of the message must depend very much on the character of Him that delivers it. But who speaks the promise, "I will give you rest?" The Word of God speaks it. The wisdom of God speaks it. God's Son, His messenger, His apostle, speaks it, in whom His promises are all of them yea and amen, i. e. faithful and true, to whose divine commission the Father set His seal, when there came that voice from the surpassing glory, "This is my beloved Son." Will any man call God a liar to his face? Doubt not, then, reject not His word, turn not away. When God commands, "hear ye Him," i. e. listen, believe, obey. In short, since God speaks, let us receive, without the least doubt or hesitation, with absolute and implicit faith, whatever He says. For I tell you plainly, that God will sooner extinguish hell, and revoke His sentence of condemnation against all reprobate men, angels, and devils, than any one who comes to Jesus Christ and takes His yoke upon him, shall be disappointed of finding that rest to his soul which the Lord Jesus has given him reason to expect. God willeth that all his threatenings should be void rather than any one of his promises should fail to be accomplished.

2. To whom does this exalted person speak?

of devils, forsaken of God? Hath He done and endured so much to bring us a remedy for our weary and labouring spirits, and yet will He not give the remedy but to some, who happen to be weary after a special manner? This is not the way in which his grace proceeds. If you are weary and heavy laden, so that you wish to be relieved and delivered, let this be your gratification, this your title and warrant. And let no man and no devil persuade you, that you are presumptuous, or will be unsuccessful, till Jesus Christ himself revokes his own words, "come unto me all ye that labour and are heavy laden." To thee, O man, the Saviour speaks, who art troubled and seekest rest, which thou knowest not where to find. Put not away his gracious words which He penned, so that thou mightest understand they are addressed unto thyself, and, that thou being weary with running elsewhere to seek relief, mightest find it here—that thou who art sore

hath loaded thee withal, mightest by that gracious hand, which touched the blind, and they saw, and being stretched out, saved the drowning and frighted disciple, and broke the symbol of His own body in the sacramental bread, having first been raised to bless it,-by that gracious hand which was fixed through with a nail, and fastened to the cross, which convinced His disciples, and struck the distrusting Thomas dumb-that hand which was lifted up to bless His followers before he left the earth, and is even lifted up, in intercession to the Father, for them in heaven-from the fulness of whose grace, blessings perpetually descend upon them; and that by that gracious hand, thou, O my soul, mightest have thy burden taken off, and mightest run in the way of His commandments, "with enlarged heart." And wheresoever thou art, thou canst find no other just argument to shew that these words are not meant for them, except this, that thou art not weary and heavy laden.

To what manner of men does He address himself? | it, groaning on a cross, derided of men, assaulted Perhaps to those who are very joyful, or very satisfied, or very good? To them who are very prosperous and very happy? To such as have heard of calamity and a sorrowing spirit only by the hearing of the ear? Is any among you in distress, is any in fear and great dismay, harassed by present misfortunes and painful doubts? Who is in perplexity, or despairs of God's mercy, or suspects that he has sinned away all his day of grace, and for him now nothing remains but night and thick darkness? Who is there, that when he reads the Bible, the message of God's mercy, the good news of His grace, fancies that the threatenings and the curses, the condemnation, the fire and the worm, alone were prepared and designed for him? To thee, O man, Jesus Christ speaks this message of peace now by his spirit, as truly as if he had addressed it to thee actually in his flesh. What persuades the man that he has not a right to obey the command "come," when Jesus Christ gives him that command? Who should know bet-spent with the huge burdens of sorrow, which sin ter than Jesus Christ? And how can any imagine, that coming, he will not be heard by Him that said, "I will give you rest,”- "He that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out?" Does the Lord Jesus not know what he means? or not mean what he says? Does he give us commands which he does not permit us to obey? or hold out hopes which he will never realize? Resist that thought. "Let God be true, but every man a liar." His word is true whether we believe it or not, for "He continueth faithful, He cannot deny himself." Say not, you are perhaps "not weary and heavy laden" in the particular way, or from that particular cause, intended by the Saviour. What have you to do with particular ways or causes? Not one word does Christ speak about any such thing. But, to those who are in the state he mentions, by what means soever they may have come into that state, or whatever may be its peculiarities, the gracious words of the Lord are spoken. Do you suspect that the great Physician first sends messengers round the world, to assure all people, that every one labouring under a certain mortal distemper, shall, on coming to Him, be infallibly cured, but that, when the poor creatures have prevailed on themselves to come and get the infallible cure, the Physician begins to explain to one that his distemper, though that which He promised to cure, did not arise from that particular cause which rendered him a fit subject for His applications; to another, that though he was seized with the genuine disease, yet there were peculiarities in his case which prevented his being taken on treatment;-to a third, that his disease was not far enough advanced ;to a fourth, that his was too far? Oh, who can think thus dishonourably of the great Physician, who travelled all the distance from heaven to earth, from the throne and the bosom of God, to the bosom of a poor woman, and assumed the form of man, of a servant among men; who began His life in a manger among the beasts, and ended

3. Such being the person who speaks, and such being the persons to whom He speaks, let us hear next what it is He says to them. "Come unto me, and I will give you rest.” First, a command, then a promise. "Come." How? As a scholar comes to his master-as a patient to his physician-as a man who had taken poison would to a person who, he knew, possessed an antidote -as one who hath a great need, to another who hath an ample store, and a ready will and an open heart. "Come," as a condemned criminal would apply to him who could reprieve and pardon him, and had assured him he should have a pardon, if he would but apply for it. Thus come, ye weary and heavy laden souls, to this Master and Lord of life, nothing doubting, casting away fear, for your own doubts and fears are more formidable obstacles than all the things you fear. How dare you fear, when God commands you to hope? How dare you doubt, when God bids you be confident? Nay, but obey the precept “Come," and you cannot but receive the promise" Rest.”

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