"The appetite is thus whetted for the pleasures of society, and as soon as the last school examination has been endured, they are entered upon with the eagerness of fresh delight. She who is not strong enough to walk a few squares on a cold day, or in the muddy street, is quite able to spend half the day with the dressmaker, and all night in the dance. Whatever degree of exposure fashion may require, she submits to with alacrity, and does not learn until months or years are passed how fatal is the result to her physical health. Even after health is already gone, the love of excitement remains; and I have known some to rise from a sick-bed, throwing off the covering of blankets for a covering of gauze, and mistaking the feverishness of pulse for the natural return of strength. How frequently, when the winter is over, and the days of Lent or the close of the season require the resumption of a more staid manner of life, do we see young ladies pale and languid, almost as if recovering from a long sickness! How can we then wonder that the number of healthy women, in the higher classes of society, is so small? The causes which I have now named explain it at least in part, and while the laws of the physical nature are so much neglected at school, and so much outraged in the earlier years of womanhood, there seems to be no reasonable hope of amendment." pp. 94-96. We conclude with one suggestion to our youthful readers. We think highly of the practice adopted by many young girls on leaving school, of meeting by twos and threes to read aloud to each other as they work. Usually their selections are of a purely literary taste, carrying on the courses of their recent studies. But sometimes they inquire of a religious friend for a work not bulky or tedious, but adapted to a more serious want than those of the intellect or taste. To such, to all, we earnestly recommend Mr. Eliot's Lectures, supposing, of course, that the Bible is already a book of familiar study. If, unfortunately, it be not so, he will do them his greatest service in teaching them the insufficiency of every thing else. 18 * L. J. H. ART. III. CHRIST: THE HEAD OF THE CHURCH. THE united action of the Father and the Son in the salvation of man is a prominent doctrine of the New Testament. Yet their intimate union in this work is often lost sight of by many Christians. It is a common opinion, that the Saviour has now no personal connection with his disciples; that his mission is ended, as far as his personal agency is concerned; and that he can be said to act for men now only through the influences of his Gospel, the power of truth. The Saviour is often separated from the Church and the world, and no quick and living sympathy is going forth from his followers to him, as a present, active agent in the affairs of the world. We think this view is erroneous. It chills the love which we ought to cherish for the Saviour, the Head of the Church, the Advocate with the Father. The personal agency of a friend has more influence upon the mind in leading men to love and revere that friend, than secondary and indirect agency; and hence, when we reject the view that Christ is present, aiding his people, we lose one of the strongest bonds which bind us to him. It is true that we may feel under obligation to him for what he has done, in having set in operation a train of causes which are still blessing the world and ourselves; yet it is not like the gratitude which we feel for a present and personal watchfulness over us. When we place the barrier of eighteen centuries between ourselves and the Saviour, and think that he has had no care of us, and offered no prayer for us, and breathed no holy influence upon us during this long lapse of ages, our affections are chilled, the warmth of our feelings is dissipated, in passing over the long waste of generations, which have received no smile and been cheered by no personal sympathy of the Head of the Church. This feeling we cannot resist if we would; we ought not to resist it if we could. It is nature. And to our minds it appears to be one of the chief means which God has appointed to convince us of the fact, as it does convince us of the need, of a present, personal influence exerted by him, whom all men are bound to love, with an affection inferior only to that which they are required, and should rejoice, to cherish for his Father and our Father, his God and our God. Nor is this all. Our Saviour often speaks of his intimate union with God in laboring for the good of the world. He speaks upon this subject fully and minutely in the last conversation which he had with his Apostles before his crucifixion. He lingers at the table after the supper, expressing to them, in the strongest language, the certainty and depth of his future interest in their welfare, and in the prosperity of all his disciples. He endeavors to convince them, all trembling and disheartened as they were in view of his death, that he should not be entirely separated from them; that in some respects he should be even more near to them; that not himself alone, but the Father also, would be with them and in them. This conversation of the Saviour strongly confirms and establishes the opinion, that he still acts in man's behalf; that he is a present, living Saviour; that he is a personal helper of the tried, tempted Christian. His mission is not ended. His work is not accomplished. He and his Father are still laboring together for the salvation of sinners, for the edification of saints, for the ultimate triumph of the Gospel. It is our purpose in this article to give some of the reasons, derived from both nature and Revelation, which favor and sustain the opinion that the Saviour is still with his people; and also to notice the influence which this doctrine should have upon the minds of Christians. What, then, are some of the grounds for believing that the Saviour is still active in promoting the salvation of men? The language of Scripture in so often uniting the name of the Son with that of the Father, when speaking of the spread of the Gospel, impresses us with this belief. That the Father is acting in our behalf, we can have no doubt. Why then should the Son be spoken of in such close connection with the Father, unless he too is an agent in his Father's hands for the present benefit of mankind? The Father and the Son are said to take up their abode with the good man. The Son is said to unite with the Father in sending the Comforter, the Spirit of Truth. It seems, therefore, that the Saviour is still a messenger of God for good, a medium through which blessings are conferred upon the world. Let it not be said that this destroys the agency of the Father. It does this no more than any other means destroys the agency of him who uses it. Through the agency of rain and sunshine we receive the fruits of the earth. Still we look upon them as the gift of God. So, too, when our Saviour was upon earth, men were blessed through him; and yet the agency of the Father was not destroyed. No one has ever supposed it was restrained thereby. God is just as near us as if he did not act, to some extent, through the Son. He still is, in the ultimate sense, the Author of all, for he raised up the Saviour and appointed him to this office of Mediator. We infer, then, that Jesus is now employed in rendering men benefits, because he is spoken of as acting with the Father; as with him dwelling in us; as making his abode with us; as being the medium through which the Father bestows blessings upon us; as pouring into the soul copious supplies from his Father's fulness. Nor is this all. There is a presumption in favor of our Saviour's present personal influence upon the world and his Church, arising from the nature of spiritual existence. There is not an iron barrier between this state of being and the other. It is not removed from us beyond the sun and the constellations. The spiritual world is all around us. This world is its shadow. The departed are here. They hover round the familiar seats which they formerly occupied on earth. The eye is not put out by death; it is opened to new and glorious prospects. It was not earth the less, but heaven more. The ear is not deaf to the music of autumn's solemn anthem, the trumpet of the winter's storm, and the jubilant song of spring. It is opened alike to the harmonies of earth and heaven. The spirit, after it escapes from its frail tenement, loses no power which it possessed before it was introduced to higher and brighter mansions. As the astronomer, when he turns his telescope to the heavens, and ranges at will in the celestial field, does not lose the power of tracing the course of familiar hill and stream, so the soul, when the glories of the spiritual world are unveiled, is not so dazzled and enraptured by their splendors, as to be unable and unwilling to view and enjoy the gorgeous and mellow coloring of autumn and spring. Much less will it cease to love its friends and visit them in their earthly dwellings. It is true philosophy as well as poetry, that "Millions of spiritual beings walk the earth unseen, It is Nor is there any thing unphilosophical in supposing that spiritual beings can exert an influence upon our minds. If they live, why should not they desire to do it? If they have power, why should they not do it? We can see no objection to such influence. We think that it is a reality. Spirit can influence spirit without the use of sensuous organs. Power is not lost, but gained, by death. This supposed influence no more interferes with the freedom of man, than any other influence which is exerted upon him from without. good to the heart. It is enlightening to the mind. Such a view makes spiritual things a reality; brings them near to us, and unites us with those who have gone before us. If such is the fact, if this view is not all imagination, how strong is the presumption that our Saviour is still engaged personally in the great work of redeeming men from the power of ignorance, error, and sin! Can it be that he who so loved the world as to die for its redemption, who prayed in the agonies of the last hour for his crucifiers, has lost all interest in man's welfare? Can he have ceased to act for their good? Has he retired to some lone, distant, lofty seat, and there given himself up to repose and inaction, without further desire for human improvement, or, at least, without any agency in promoting it? Gethsemane and Calvary forbid such an opinion. That life of self-denial, that patient endurance of wrong, that meek, forgiving love, all forbid such an opinion. He prayed for his enemies on the cross; has he forgotten to pray for his friends now he is on his throne? He bowed his head in tears over the grave of his friends at Bethany; has he no sympathy for the sad and bereaved since his glorification? Has he, who, in his humiliation, would take little children in his arms and bless them, forgotten in his triumph to love the little ones and bless their innocency? Our affections repel the opinion that the tenderest heart, and most sympathizing bosom, ever upon earth, have become indifferent and cold towards men, now they throb and breathe |